Chapter 2 – Chapter 2

"There, I can tell you like this. God, to have your stamina; tell me this is giving you pleasure."

"Yes," I groaned.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No," I groaned.

"Come again? Do you want me to stop?"

"No, no, don't stop," I said in a louder voice.

"Want to know . . . want to feel what all this G-spot prostate experience is about now?"

"Yes . . . I guess so."

"You are quaking. Why are you quaking?"

"I guess I'm scared. I'm scared of what is happening."

"Ah, welcome to grad school—forever penetrating the unknown. But trust me; you can trust me." And with that, I felt another large glop of the ointment drop between my crack and he was working it into my ass with his fingers, fingers that were probing ever deeper into my ass."

"Uh, your fingers. Your fingers are . . . uhhh!"

"That's what I have to use to get to your prostate. There are, of course, other methods, but we are working on the medical one now, so tight. Come on, just relax. Ah, there we go; now we're there." I jerked and lurched as my body betrayed me. Something inside my ass had actually grabbed his finger and drawn it in, and then I felt the oddest, most sensual sensation. The pad of his finger had landed on what must have been my prostate, and it rubbed that gland gently but relentlessly. I writhed and moaned and groaned above him. Electric sensations went through my body, and I felt, at first, like I had to piss, and then cum started dribbling out of my cock, and it I'd had time to reload, I'm sure I would have ejaculated again.

But then the finger was gone, to be replaced by something thicker than the finger, and I realized that he had entered me. I was being fucked by my professor. I protested loudly.

"No, No. Get off—"

"This is about pleasure, pleasure that doesn't hurt anyone else," the professor answered me amid his heavy breathing. "It's about my pleasure as well as yours. And it's about your education, your experiencing everything before deciding what you want to do, what path you want to follow. What's the logic to denying any possibility without knowing what you're denying? Answer me that son. What's the logic in that?"

But I didn't need to answer, because almost as quickly as he had begun, he had finished. When he realized he was about to climax, he pulled out of me and came across the small of my back in one fairly weak eruption. He cleaned my back with his cloth and let me collapse onto the bearskin rug.

"There, and that is why you'd want to take logic, son. With logic you can talk your way into anything you want to do. This little role play illustrated that point quite nicely, I think. I'm going to go take a shower now. You can see your own way out. And I'll be looking forward to seeing you in class. A good job; a very nice body and a tight ass. I think you are going to do very well this semester. And he was gone. After a few minutes, I stood up, nursing a few stabbing pains and a soreness inside me that I'd never felt before, bleakly pulled on my clothes, and went out into the night.

For a couple of weeks after that, I managed to avoid Professor Hollings, but the campus wasn't all that big and I was walking down a hall in the political sci building, when his hand shot out and he pulled me over to the side.

"You haven't been back to see me," he hissed.

"I'm sorry, Professor," I've really been busy.

"My place in an hour," he shot back.

"I'm sorry, but I have to—"

"No excuses. You're mine now. My place in an hour; I'm going to fuck you and then you're going to give me a nice massage."

I couldn't think of any way out of it. He was just too powerful on campus and I'd lose all of my tuition money for the semester if I pulled out now. And where would I go anyway. An hour later, I was standing at the front door of his house.

He answered the door in his robe.

"The room where I take my massages is through there. Through the kitchen. But first. Take everything off. Take it off right here." I stripped, wondering if he'd gone off his nut or something.

"Here. Follow me to the kitchen." We'd gotten half way through the kitchen, when he turned on me and said. "Up on the counter; hop up on that counter."

Well, Hokay. Up I perched on the kitchen counter, between the sink and the stove. The counter was some sort of granite; cold on the butt cheeks. He slipped his robe off and was naked. He already had a half hard on. I watched him cross to the refrigerator and return with a tub of butter. To my surprise, He dipped his hand in the butter, came up with a big glob and started smearing in all over my chest and belly.

Hey, I thought—and think I said it as well—but he pushed me back on the counter and his lips went to my chest, while his hand kept coming up with gobs of butter, which he smeared onto my cock and balls and then into my asshole as his lips followed, down my body, playing cleanup. But his lips didn't follow into my asshole. He slid his cock in there, without removing the butter and gave me a butter fuck. I had to admit that it was all a little kicky.

After he was finished, he pointed to a bathroom with a shower between the kitchen and his workout room. When I emerged, all clean again, he was laying face up on his massage table. I gave him a massage, both front and back, and he toyed with my cock whenever he could get to it. So, as fringe benefit, when I was done with his back, I whipped out that old tub of butter and started buttering up his ass.

"Hey, wait," he said, "that isn't part of my plan."

"No, but it's part of mine," I said, as I got up over him on the table, I was down on my right knee beside his thigh on one side, and up on my left foot on the other to maintain leverage and aid thrust. I ran my arm under his belly and lifted him up to me and entered him. He was disagreeable at first, but after the first five minutes, he was panting and groaning, and sighing, and moaning, and asking for more. And I gave him more. I gave him a whole lot more. I gave him more than seven inches. It seemed the only logical thing to do. He'd been the one who started this whole process. I gave seven inches of logic to him, and we were on much more equal footing thereafter.