Professor Winderly's Assignment

Part 11: The professor returns

Dear Reader,

You may know of the current spate of claims of sexual misconduct that have invaded the college campus. On her own campus, Professor Winderly has been hauled before the Provost, as many times as her former mentor had been in his day, to answer claims that she has engaged in activity that was a poor reflection on the college. It seemed as if history were repeating itself.

Professor Winderly had received the backing of no less than three granting agencies and had published academic articles to great acclaim, saved her job, and likely added to her dossier for promotion and tenure.

Alas, this turmoil delayed the publication of the last two installments of her completed field reports. In this first installment, we record Professor Winderly's return from the warrior camp. In it you will find she is greatly changed by the initiation and has become more alive to herself and her feelings. That is, instead of pushing away sexual feelings in the vain attempt to look at things objectively, Dee Winderly now sees her own feelings as useful to her research. She has enjoyed the company of women so much, that she reaches the point that she believes she may even enjoy living and loving as a lesbian.

Upon her return to the camp, she reviews her doctoral student's journals and collected artifacts with deep interest. He is becoming a good anthropologist in his own right. She not only recognizes that, but sees him as more than a junior colleague, and as an attractive man as well. What she had previously viewed with detachment now becomes more alluring. Nor does she fight the feelings within her.

Part of the difficulty in the last months has been the nature of the journals that have been reviewed and transcribed by a corps of students. Whereas water damage delayed some of the work in Professor Winderly's written journals, because Jim's were recorded on flash drives, they did not suffer any loss of legibility or, rather, readability. It was the content that caused the stir. They were not simply written words but moving images. It seems the videos were copied by the students and passed around campus. Their value as pornography made them popular. Of course, they were not porn films, but carefully recorded field notes of activity. Jim was the subject of some of the videos thus raising the issues of poor supervision, ethical lapses, and violations of the IRB rules by his supervisor.

Now that those pitiable investigations are concluded in the favor of the anthropologists, Professor Winderly has authorized the publication of this installment.

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The early morning sun penetrated in and lit the inside of the tent in which Professor Winderly and Meelo lay curled together. The last night in camp had been a celebration of Dee Winderly's completing the training mandated by King Moloko. The female warrior clan had exercised her and tested her in ways that taught Dee about herself. They had opened feelings and experiences she had never allowed herself to have.

In the process of being in the company of strong women, Dee found real strength, not the kind of bravado she had displayed but which had merely revealed her vulnerability, but something more. This new strength was equal parts endurance and humility. The weeks of training had also given her a great deal of affection for her teachers, especially Meelo who had attached herself to Dee as a sort of guide/companion.

Dee felt deep affection for Meelo and it had blossomed into physical attraction. Neither shuffling those feelings aside nor shoving them deep into her psyche, Dee allowed herself to experience and enjoy the attraction she felt toward this lovely native woman. As the days went by and as Meelo helped with Dee's initiation, there were kind touches, intimate touches. Dee found herself unafraid to let her fingers caress Meelo's skin, to hug her, or even offer a chaste kiss.

The sun illuminated a new Dee Winderly, naked and entwined with a woman. They had spent the few hours before dawn in a careful exploration of each other. Dee eagerly accepted Meelo's probing tongue and fingers. In returning favors, Dee copied the exploration and charted Meelo's body with her lips, tongue, and hand.

New waters of life flowed from Dee's swollen vagina. She was alive to sensuality in ways she could not have imagined possible. She dared to allow her emotions to surface and bubble over as she licked at the native woman's tenderest parts. She tasted Meelo's warm juices, licked the area between her vagina and anus and even darted her tongue onto the dark rosebud. Meelo moaned her approval, reinforcing Dee's free roaming tongue.

Changing positions to explore each other, they groped for heaving breasts, nipples taut with arousal. Not rushing toward orgasm, they let their climaxes build. With eyes fixed on the other's eyes to gauge responses, they fingered each other's pussies, making slurping sounds from the active manipulation of labia, clitoris, and hot, open vaginas. They only broke their stares to engulf one another's tongue and lips, trying to swallow the other in a well of passion.

Their orgasms erupted in due course; they could not be denied. The women tried to urge the orgasms and yet retard them at the same time, hoping to lengthen and strengthen theme. When orgasms broke over one, the other's rushed on as well. Shivering in afterglow, their skin was raw, alive, hot. Yet, they craved to be held tightly as the fire smoldered inside them and they each drifted back into slumber

Dee woke first, looking at the woman in her arms, feeling her breathing against her own chest. She kissed Meelo tenderly, not wanting to wake her, but more to honor the affection she felt welling in her. A thought had been building in Dee's mind over the weeks and was now allowed full consciousness: 'I am a lesbian.'

Stated affirmatively, her scientific mind could now test the idea as a hypothesis. Stating it affirmatively also allowed Dee to try on the identity. She knew that she would be a different kind of lesbian, as if the state could be divided into types. She knew her sexuality was and would always be different, individual. Of course, anyone could have told her that one's sexual experience and expression is always unique. But Dee was so naive in her sexual understanding, even the commonplaces about sexual orientation, her advanced training in anthropology was no help. She had begun to learn about herself after so many years of learning about others.

So, as the morning lit the dust-streaked atmosphere, it dawned on Dee Winderly that she may be forever changed. She did not worry about the consequences of her hypothesis. That is not how science works. Rather, first comes the hypothesis, then the method and procedure, the data collection, and finally the conclusion. She would allow the scientific method to unfold. As it was an n=1 investigation, a study where the single subject is the entire trial, it would not be rigidly quantitative, more qualitative, phenomenological.

Dee felt, more than saw, Meelo's eyes open. She was looking at Dee tenderly, affectionately. Serenity equal to the passion she had expressed and received only hours earlier. Tilting her head, Meelo opened her mouth to receive Dee's tongue and lips in a deep, loving kiss. Their blood began to surge and soon hands would have started to caress, but a rattling outside interrupted the escalation.

"It is time to return!" The voice was firm not harsh. They were indeed to return to the village that very day. The Feast of Carnal Knowledge was coming onn soon. "We have food for the journey, but you should wash and eat something very soon."

Giving each other wry looks, they unwound themselves and prepared to crawl from the tent. Facing each other, there was time for one more, deep kiss before heading out to the pool at the base of the falls. The other women had finished their bathing and were donning short breech cloths. They were adjusting gold, braided breast adornments, circling underneath their breasts, wrapping over and crossing in ways that both pronounced their shapes and held them firmly. Their nipples remained uncovered and erect. No piercings, no clamps, just evident, firm nipples.

As Dee finished her own bathing, she was given a long, gold-braided cord of her own. It was a symbol she had gone from initiate to member of the women's clan. Her eyes filled. She nodded so deeply it appeared she was bowing. Her chin was lifted by the senior woman and Dee was told to stand with her arms out-stretched. The golden braid was wrapped around Dee's chest twice and then the weaving around her breasts began. Dee tried to watch so she could repeat the wrapping herself.

At last her breasts were fastened in their gold coils and, like the others, her nipples were left exposed. The gentle squeezing had stimulated her, so her nipples erected. Pleasantly erect, Dee thought. She would return to the village with her breasts adorned, inviting looks, notice of her proud nipples.

Dee was also given a new breech cloth to wear, of the design and style the others wore. All nine of the women wore the same uniform as they stood to eat a light meal before lining up to leave. Dee was assigned a place at the rear next to Meelo, as part of the formation, not as a prisoner on a forced march. The proof of her equal stature was in the uniform, of course, but it was confirmed when Dee was given a lance to carry.

The lance was heavy, its shaft made of ebony, dark and polished. It seemed perfectly round, but was, in fact, on closer examination, finely faceted, marks of hand scraping along its length. It came to Dee's shoulders, so she could see very clearly the tip. It rose from a well-formed base of a circle of six distinct globes. The rest of the tip rose about seven inches and resembled an erect penis. It was carved in a lighter, equally dense wood, perhaps the sapwood of the same ebony. The evident tube of an urethra arose from the balls, fading inward as it neared the end of the tip.

Dee hefted the lance and admired it. She would take good care of it, for sure. She drew the lance toward her face, allowing the wooden penis to pass across her cheek. As she pulled it away, she kissed the penis gently. She felt a sudden, pleasant warmth in her groin, imagining the wooden cock atop the lance being slid into her vagina. No time to linger in that thought as they were soon en marche.

As they walked, the women used their lances as walking staves, carrying them lightly, measuring their paces. They marched in easy unison, the penis-tipped lances rose and fell in rhythm, fucking the air, guided by women, as it should always be in the Molokoni tradition.

Entering the Village

The walk back to the village took several hours, no rush to return to greater companionship and indeed men. But no fanfare. It was evidently expected that at some point the women who had led the professor away would return her. It was evident to those who saw her that she had achieved what was intended for her. King Moloko observed the return in the shade of the doorway of his hut. Palace might have been somewhat overstating it, though it was, in truth, larger than the others. She did not see him, did not see the nod of approval when he saw Dee was dressed alike with the women and proudly carrying the staff of life. He smiled and turned away satisfied his choices had been the right ones. She would be presented at the Feast of Carnal Knowledge.

"You are free to go about your interests Dr. Winderly," Meelo said to her. A startling formality, cool even. A thought raced in Dee's head: "But I want to stay with you..." Meelo turned formally and left her. A glance cast over her shoulder, though, told Dee that this formal exit was also part of the ritual. She was now an independent woman of the warrior clan. She was indeed free to roam about, as if on patrol.

Suddenly a little uncertain of her new status, Dee stood for a few moments looking after her friend as she walked away. But standing still made her feel conspicuous and awkward, thus she was soon on the move, cautiously making her way through the village square and then venturing out to the shimmer bush plantation. Dee had encountered her student there several weeks back as he had watched the outpouring of semen onto the young bushes. As she neared the plantation—several acres of shimmer bushes in even rows but at different stages of growth.

In a line of men, she spied her student, Jim, stripping the bushes of leaves and stuffing them into a sack. His skin was tanned deeply and glistened with sweat. Neither he nor the other men wore any clothes other than a cloth covering their penises. Not for modesty, but to protect the men from scratches from the branches. It being hot work, the only other thing Jim had on was a woven hat to shade his eyes. His muscles rippled across his back and his arms and legs were chiseled. From a distance, Dee admired her student and the other men at work. After weeks in the company of women she found herself more than admiring the maleness of what she saw. The musculature and strength.

Something about him, though, had changed. Jim had, she knew, also gone through a period of training, but it was also likely that Dee had changed enough that she saw him differently. She continued looking at the men working, observing them, guarding, over-watching.

At the end of a row, the branches stripped clean of leaves, the line of men turned toward her and worked their way along the next row. As he turned Dee saw Jim's penis-head hanging in front of him below the cloth. It swung as he moved, the heavy bell end, inevitably exposed in her own people's tribal ritual of severing the protective covering at birth. A pendulum moving with just a little of the shaft of his cock clearly visible under the light cloth. Dee was fascinated by the sight. Shaking her head, she tried to reconcile her fascination with her student's penis—she had seen it often enough before—with her assertion earlier in the morning that she was a lesbian. Was it that she was suddenly returned to a world with men? Confusion reigned.

Snapping her out of her confusion and introspection, Dee heard him call her name. "Professor! Professor Winderly" He waved so exuberantly, his flaccid cock wagged from side to side under his cloth. Dr. Winderly gave a half-hearted wave, unsure how a warrior clanswoman ought to behave, her mind clouded again.

Awkwardly, she tried to listen or talk or do anything but stare at her student's magnificent cock. She had seen it before, of course, even held it for examination the night he had his epiphany about cock rings. But something was different this time. She beheld his manhood, not just a fleshy appendage.

Jim had removed his cloth, by pulling it from the slim belt that held it in place. He was casual and unselfconscious of his exposure. Dee could see his manhood very clearly now. Jim's cock and balls were circled with bands woven from a fine thread that had been laid into a cord. In addition he wore a rattan cock ring that settled just behind his glans. It was the ring Miriam had given to him weeks ago. Today a circlet also lay against his pubic bone and coursed around his testicles and another ran around the base of his penis. Most people would have recognized it as a cock-and-ball arrangement easily available in her own country, but then Dee Winderly's closed-mindedness had prevented her from going into an adult shop where she would have seen many on display. She saw such things from an anthropological perspective, an understanding of human ritual and adornment but strangely disconnected from modern urban life in the Western world. She could see things and make the connection to tribal practices such as the topping out ceremony with the tree or tree branch but was remarkably naïve about what really happened in her own culture.

She liked how her student's cock and balls stuck out. Even in this semi-flaccid state, Jim was filled enough to show off a rather fine-looking penis. Perhaps it was his demeanor that attracted her eyes to his manhood. He knew she was looking. She had noticed right from the start but was not to know it had carried on, how the women of the village looked at it. For the last several weeks, ever since they had arrived, women had looked at his cock a lot. His "naked" as they called it. "Naked" because he was circumcised. The men in the village had hoods covering the ends of their cocks until they were aroused. So, it was with surprise the women saw Jim's penis always exposed, the sometimes red mushroom end of a white man's cock always exposed. Moreover every feature was evident from the bell-shaped glans, the scar of the circumcision to the pulsing veins. On the village men their skin tone made it difficult to discern such landmarks unless in bright sunlight. Jim's penis was truly 'naked.' It occurred to the professor that perhaps she should make more of a study of the ritual of circumcision, how it was practiced in both primitive and sophisticated societies; the reasons, rituals and practices. Thus ever with anthropologists, by studying the Molokoni she was able to better examine her own cultural nest.

"I've been wondering how you've been. You look...well...wonderful," he blurted. "This..." he said, waving his hand toward her, "looks like the uniform the guards wear. Have you become...(his voice trailed off a bit but brightened) and that spear is pretty impressive. But there is also something different about you. You seem more relaxed, more comfortable."

"It's been quite an experience, actually. I have learned so much. That is why we came here after all. So interesting, so much to write up and..." For a moment the old professor-style in her threatened to come out, so she quickly added, "About myself mainly. About how I used to be. I think I am a new person, sort of. So, if I look different, it's probably because —maybe—I am." Her voice rising at the end as if stating a tentative hypothesis she was unsure of.

"Like how?" He asked.

Not ready to expose everything, Dee simply said, "I saw that I was pretty uptight. I learned about myself psychologically... (summoning her courage) and sexually. Let's just leave it at that."

"Oh, okay. Sure, whatever. I've been doing the same thing while you were away. Got a lot of good work for my dissertation, but in the process experienced some things that were pretty new to me."

Now it was her turn to probe. "Like what?"

"I have all my journals if you want to see my field notes. It's all in there. I decided I could not possibly learn about my topic unless I was willing to experience it. So, I went native, I guess you could say. More ethnography than physical anthropology. You'll see what I mean. And I used the camera to take the notes. We had it in the kit, so I thought it might be a good way to record things." He motioned for her to follow him and he headed off toward his hut with her in tow.

Dee watched Jim's body as he walked. He flowed more than walked. His unshod feet seemed to be floating on the top of the ground rather than walking upon it. She stared at his ass, bare, smooth, and firm. She was tempted to poke his buttocks with her spear, catch him with its lovely rounded end twixt his cheeks, but being playful did not seem appropriate, dressed as she was in uniform.

Jim spoke over his shoulder to her as they walked. "I was worried about you, Dr. Winderly. I didn't know what had happened to you. So, I made careful notes and took GPS positions so I could recreate the scenes in case you did not come back and I had to escape to get help. The king assured me you were okay, but I asked every day about you. About two weeks went by and, my concern grew, I decided to go looking for you. I didn't get far and I had an accident and they brought me back."