Part 10: The Professor

Charlie and The Ceramics Studio

Parts 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9

It was a lazy Sunday. I slept in, enjoying the rare luxury of having the whole bed to myself. I wondered if my boyfriend, Blair’s morning masturbation ritual was maintained when he worked out of town. I figured he probably put the volume up on his phone at least, or maybe he even treated himself to porn on the big TV screen, and jerked himself off right there in bed. But probably he kept to his usual habits. Without him here to make me my morning coffee my own morning ritual was thrown off. I could make myself coffee of course, but I missed the treat of him prepping me a cappuccino. It was a part of his love language. I decided I would head to the coffee shop on campus.

I pulled on a tiny pair of jean shorts and a tight yellow t-shirt, skipping the bra. It was going to be a hot one out today and I wanted to stay ahead of it. I paused when I saw my reflection in the bathroom mirror. Hmmm… was this too much? I snapped a pic and sent it to Blair. I squeezed a line of unnaturally blue toothpaste onto my brush as I waited for his reply.

“Oh my! Are your trolling for college boys at the cafe? 🔥🔥🔥” he replied not a full minute later. and then he followed up with “I hope so.”

“Ha ha. Good morning. Maybe, or maybe a cute barista?” I texted back.

“I will save this picture to jerk off to later, and I will think of you fucking some eager young humanities student. Just, please, no frat boys.”

I pulled my shirt up over my tits, and snapped another photo. I loved the idea of him jerking off to my picture and figured I’d help. I smiled as his “OMFG!” reply blinked back. I headed out the door.

I did indeed get attention from a table of young men who invited me to sit with them as all the tables were occupied. “Maybe later.” I replied with a smile. “I think I’d like to be outdoors before the heat sets in.”

“Good choice.” an older man in a stylish polo replied.

“Here you go, Charlie.” the barista said as she handed him his own mug from home with the college’s logo on it.

“Are you a student here?” I asked.

He laughed. “A student? No, haven’t been a student in quite some time. I teach a few art classes, and run the ceramics studio. You?”

“Just a neighbor. My college days are behind me as well.”

“To days gone by.” he said, taking a sip, raising his cup as like he was toasting, and then he turned and went outside. I laughed at myself as I realized I was watching him go. He was at least twenty years older than me, charming in that calm and easy way of older men who are intelligent and confident. He was clean shaven, and had short thick gray hair, tall with broad shoulders, and muscular in that wiry way of runners or bicyclists.

The young men at the table, were still grabbing looks at me, not being obnoxious about it but not trying to hide it either, their obviousness being their idea of flirting I guessed. And having handsome young men so flummoxed at the sight of me was flattering. I might have been interested in playing MILF fantasy to one (or more?) of them if not for the contrast with the debonair older man. I felt more inclined to continue chatting with Charlie.

My drink came up and I took it outside. I was mildly disappointed not to see him at any of the patio tables, all of which were occupied by excitedly talking young people. I hesitated for just a moment, remembering I’d been offered a seat with the boys inside, and then, deciding against it, I started off for home.

“Hello again.” Charlie was sitting on a low wall in the shade of a gorgeous red maple, it’s fiery leaves offering shelter from the warming midmorning sun.

“Oh, hi. So this is where one sits when the cafe is full?”

“Well, yes, if one isn’t inclined to sit with a bunch of horny freshman.”

“Ha, saw that did ya?”

“They were practically drooling.”

“It’s nice to know a pair of tiny shorts and a tight t-shirt can still get me offered a seat at the table.”

“Well, I wish I’d had a table to offer you a seat at.” he said. I was caught off guard, and felt myself blush a little bit.

“You could always offer me a seat on your wall there.” I volleyed back.

“Oh, yes, of course.” his turn now to be surprised. He scooted over to make room. “By all means, please, join me.”

I had a seat, and I passed a wonderful hour talking with Charlie. He’d grown up in Vermont and then went to the Maine College of Art and Design in Portland. I had family in New England, and we knew many of the same hiking spots. We talked about books; Raymond Carver, and Octavia Butler, and we had in common that Stephen King novels were our irresistible guilty pleasure. “He will be looked back on with great appreciation and esteem, much like Poe. He’s just too popular for the intellectual set at this point.” Charlie said. I’d made the same point during many a wine soaked evening and I told him that I agreed with him enthusiastically.

“My real guilty pleasure is my Aunt’s Jackie Collins books that I’d read voraciously on summer vacations at her place.”

“Ha, I also had an aunt who loved Jackie Collins. Perhaps we’re related.”

“Well that would really be too bad.” I commented, and in the silence that followed I realized what I’d said and what it implied and I saw Charlie’s small smile and started to get a little warm in my tummy.

I hadn’t enjoyed talking with someone this much in quite some time. I thought he would likely be a great lover. He was confident, and in great shape, and he had that intelligence and ability to connect in conversation that, in my experience, usually translated to connecting in the bedroom as well. I looked at his face, at his lips, and thought that I would love to kiss him.

But I hesitated. I was really enjoying chatting with him and saw potential for friendship. Other than Ed, I didn’t have regular lovers outside of my relationship with Blair. In fact, I preferred not to even know their names. Maintaining a friendship with someone you’d recently fucked was difficult, and complicated, and I wasn’t looking to complicate my romantic life which was exciting and full of adventure right at the moment.

And as the silence following my accidentally suggestive comment grew, Charlie took his shot. “If you’re free, I’d love to show you the ceramics studio.” he offered.

“Charlie, I should tell you up front, I have a boyfriend.” I said.

“That makes sense.” he replied. “And I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t very interested in kissing you,” (I blushed again) “but I’d be delighted to continue enjoying your company. Someone I can discuss books, and design with is always appreciated. My offer to show you the studio still stands, though it is a limited time offer.”

“Oh? Limited time, why is that?”

“I’m retiring. I’m keeping the studio running through the summer until my replacement comes, and then I’m back to Portland, Maine where I’m going to manage a gallery for an old friend. Perhaps you and your boyfriend can come up and pay us a visit.”

Well, this certainly changed things, and the warmth in my belly shook a bit, and moved down between my legs. I smiled, and wondered how well this bright, intuitive man could read me. Did he know that I’d just decided it was very likely I was about to fuck him in his ceramics studio?

“I would love to see some of your work. Shall we?” I asked, standing and trying to appear cool.

“Wonderful.” he said, almost jumping to his feet. “Right this way.” and he guided me with a light touch to my waist that convinced me he did indeed know, at least on some level, where this was headed. I took a deep breath, and let the excitement set in. I was now very much looking forward to seeing this ceramics studio.

The studio was cool and cavelike inside. I followed Charlie past metal framed tables with well worn wooden tops. A few tables were covered in ceramics projects in various states of completion. On the far side was his office, less utilitarian than the rest of the studio but still clearly a place designed for someone who gets their hands dirty. Quite different from the office I reported to during the week. A display case with glass shelves held work from students present and past, the glossy perfect pieces of sculpture standing in wonderful contrast to the rugged surroundings. Behind his desk another case held his work.

My new friend loves vulvas it would seem. One shelf held five different, beautifully sculpted vulvas in rich colors, dark colors, like the photos you see of the galaxy, with purples and pinks swirling about one another with occasional pockets of warm yellow. The other shelves had abstract shapes, but sitting above and below the vulvas it was easy to see the other pieces as phallic, and sometime yonic or both, circles being gently but deeply pierced by missile shaped rods.

“What do you think?” he asked, taking a seat on his desk behind me.

“They’re beautiful. I gotta ask, do you use live models.”

“I work from memory. Otherwise I’d be far too distracted.”

“I hope you’ll remember mine, and preserve it in clay.” I said, turning to face him.

He smiled. “What about this boyfriend of yours?”

“I have permission to fuck other men, in fact it drives him wild. He’s on his way home from a work trip as we speak, and if I spend the afternoon fucking you here in your studio, he’ll consider me perfectly ready for him when we see each other this evening.”

“Well, I would be delighted to help you get ready.” Charlie said, but he made no move to get up from his seat. “Would you undress for me?” It was worded as a question but delivered like clear directions and I was happy to follow. He pulled his phone out, and some Coltrane sounding Jazz came out of the speakers mounted high up near the ceiling in the far corners of his office.

I looked him in the eye, and beamed thoughts of lust at him as I lifted my t-shirt over my pert breasts. I stopped before taking it all the way off, and ran my hands over my body, showing off for him the treat I was offering. I tugged at my nipples, and I could feel my pussy growing warm and wet. I unbuttoned my pants, and pulled them open. I reached into my panties, and pressed my finger between my lips. My mouth opened and a soft moan escaped. I took my finger from my pussy, and made a show of putting it in my mouth and closing my lips around it, tasting myself.

“Get your cock out.” I commanded, trying to take charge.

“In due time.” he replied, maintaining control. “But first, finish taking those shorts off and turn for me.”

I did as I was told, dropping my shorts to my feet, and stepping out of them. I liked this older man giving me orders. I was now in my panties, with my t-shirt pulled up over my chest. I slowly turned, and ran my hands over my body as I did so, letting him see me from every angle.

He stood now, but still he did not touch me. “Bend over, with your hands flat on the top top of my desk.” he said, in a clear strong voice and I did as directed. He hooked his thumbs under the waistband of my panties which were now soaked through. He lowered them over my ass and halfway down my thighs. He pulled up a metal stool, and he sat behind me. I moved my ass slowly, side to side as he took it all in. I could see through the door of his office into the studio where a new ceramic vulva, recently glazed sat on one of the table tops waiting to be fired in the kiln and I was so aware of the artist’s eyes looking at my own wet, aroused pussy. He made soft sounds of approval, and then he stood and placed himself at my side. He pressed his right palm against my cunt, his fingers bending around the front of me, feeling my small strip of closely trimmed pubic hair. He moved his palm up, and his fingers explored me.

His sculptors fingers gently squeezed my lips, finger tips tracing every fold. I bent over further, now resting on my elbows, as his touch was equal parts exploration and expertly playing me like an instrument. He slid his middle finger inside me, and then brought his left hand into action, sliding it over my belly, between my legs, and finally fingering my clit as his right middle finger slid in and out of me. My God this man knew how to touch a woman! His hands were a combination I’d never experienced before, large and strong, but so precise and delicate where they needed to be. I felt the orgasm growing as he worked my pussy with two perfectly placed fingers

I felt his thumb push firmly against my asshole. “Yes, please.” I moaned, I was on the edge and looking to be pushed over. I was worried my asking for it would mean being denied as he was so clearly playing the part of commander, but to my delight his middle finger pressed all the way in to my pussy, as he gave me slow, shallow strokes to my clit with his left hand, and his thumb pressed against my asshole until it opened around him. As the tip of his thumb sank into my ass I started to cum.

I thought he touched me well but I hadn’t seen his true talent until I was cumming, and he continued working my pussy, my ass, and my clit. He expertly kept me going, never pushing into too-much, just steadily keeping my orgasm rolling, and rolling as I cried out, “Oh God, Oh God, Yes! Yes! OH YES!” over and over for an inconceivably long time. I shifted my weight forward onto the desk as my knees were buckling.

Finally, as I began to slow he took his hands off of me, undid his pants, pulled his cock out, and gripping my hips he positioned himself, pressing the head of his hard dick against the wet opening of my pussy. “May I?” he asked simply.

“Please! Please fuck me.” I answered, and he immediately slid into my slick, welcoming pussy. It was unusual to have a cock sliding into me without touching or even seeing it first, and I was delighted to find that it was a tight fit. He filled me up well as he slowly but steadily pushed his impressively thick cock into me. He fucked me bent over his desk, slowly as I recovered from my earth shattering orgasm even as I felt a new one begin building, and as my pussy was adjusting to his big cock gently loosening me up.

His hands slid up my sides, and under me, cupping my breasts as his stroke sped up. His cock felt so good fucking me, filling me up. I raised myself back up onto my hands, and with the strength returning, I straightened my legs, and rock forward and back opposite his thrusts, driving his cock into me.

He smacked my ass, and I yelped, and the sting, and the warmth made me feel his cock now pounding my pussy even more intensely. “May I have another, please.” I begged. I was close to cumming. He smacked my ass on the other side, harder this time. It stung. For a second I thought it might be too hard, and then my pussy let me know it was not too hard, and we could definitely handle more. “Another! Please, Smack My Ass again!” and he obliged, switching sides once more.

It stung so bad, on both sides, as the warmth rushed to my reddening rear end and I’ve never felt every inch of a cock more vividly, and again I started to cum, yelling, panting, moaning screaming, cumming. “Don’t stop! Oh God don’t stop fucking me! Fuck me. Fuck my pussy.” I was almost singing, chanting.

He kept fucking me, kept me cumming until it was mostly done. It didn’t stop abruptly, and I was still feeling a buzz throughout my body centered on my cock filled pussy. He was pushing into me with more urgency now. I pulled forward, taking his cock out of me, and flipped over onto my back. I spread my legs wide, and he stepped forward and slid his cock right back into me.

I could see him delighting in the site of me. I finally pulled my t-shirt the rest of the way off, pulled on my nipples, and held my legs open, all for his benefit. I knew how to show myself off. “Now I’m in charge.” I said. Fuck me hard. I want to be your slut. Make me your slut, and cum in me. Cum in your slut.” I hoped the dirty talk that never failed me with men my own age would work on him. He thrust his hips driving his cock into me hard, and fast, and he started to moan, almost growling, so I kept going. “Come on, fuck me. Yeah, that’s it. Oh god, yes, fuck me, fuck me with your big beautiful cock. Fuck me. Cum in me. I want to feel that cock cumming inside me. Oh god, come on, cum in your sexy young slut.” and he did, he came, and came. Pressed into me hard, he put his hands on the table and abandoned himself to it. His dick was pulsing in my pussy as he filled me full of cum.

We both stayed still, our hearts beating hard, as we caught our breath. “You are a delight.” he said at last.

“I need to hurry home. My boyfriend will be back waiting for me to bring him this pussy, all warmed up and ready for him.”

“So you still have more fun ahead of you. You lead a wonderful life. May I offer you a gift?” he said, motioning at the display case.

“Really?”

“Yes, please. you’ve been so kind as to share your pussy with me, please, take one of mine.” I selected a beautiful sculpture from the shelf of galactic vulvas. Pulled my clothes back on and felt his cum, soaking my underpants as I made my way home to Blair. I texted him to have his cock out and ready, that I was bringing him a wet, well fucked pussy. I felt a bit of cum run down my thigh as I reached the door.

I will definitely have to see my new favorite artist again before this summer is over, and then I’ll be making plans to visit Portland. This was far too good a fuck for just one taste.

Part 11: The Gift

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