An Indecent Obsession. Mudrooroo

I remember my last blow job with her, my Elaine. She was not really into oral sex, though she knew that I enjoyed it, especially when I forced my prick deeper and deepest when I spurted far down her throat. She let me do this, and made no complaint, for as I said she loved me. This last one occurred on our final night together. We still were sharing the marital bed though by then racked by a coldness we both suffered. She lay there angrily and suddenly her hand jerked out and squeezed down on my penis. Then she ducked down and gulped me down. She flung herself into the act in frenzy as if it would save our marriage. It wouldn’t or did it didn’t matter, for by that time I was getting my regular mouth jobs from Darlene. Once as she knelt before me, she said that it was like going to confession. I smiled at this, like a kindly, but perverted priest. It was one of the few jokes she made and she wasn’t one to talk about sex either. She just visited my office almost daily, served me with her mouth and then left to clean up at the bathroom. This state of affairs might have continued forever, except that I decided to have a social evening at my house in Chapel Hill which was a newish suburb where academics lived. There was a direct bus to the university and I did not have to take in my car, a dark SAAB 9-3 AERO, I liked a bit of style.

      The party was a disaster. Darlene White, my girlfriend, lover or paramour, put on a show for my wife. They ended up sitting together at the kitchen table. I sat across from them. There was my paramour with her mat of thick red curls, her narrow chin and thin lipped mouth, her long body slumped in her seat and beside her sat upright my wife, Elaine, petite and dark and self contained. Except for her lips there was nothing excessive about her. She was compact. Now, Darlene began harping on about her working class background as if it mattered from what class she had originated. Australia, in class, was extremely fluid and well there was the example of Alan Bond, poor yesterday, rich today and in prison on the morrow. Being working class had instilled in Darlene not only an inferiority complex, but the urge to put down others as being middle-class, though she herself aspired to that supposed status. Such notions she had were strengthened by some absurd Marxism from a lecturer other than me. I would never teach out of date 19th century rubbish about class warfare and the eventual victory of the proletariat. Now, she sprouted this garbage into the face of my spouse, every now and again glancing across at me to see my reaction. I carefully kept a blank face.

      Elaine, playing the role of sophisticated Academic wife to the hilt, replied that she too was working class. This elicited a hoot from my girlfriend. Elaine, in that patient way that raising two children had given her and knowing that students were often ill-mannered, smiled. She saw her as a girl, not knowing that she was a thirty year old woman. Perhaps, this was because Darlene dressed young. For the occasion she wore wide red pants and a white silk blouse and bottomed it off with dirty white sneakers. My wife was forty to my forty three and merely smiled at this odd creature, though as the tirade continued, her mouth tightened as much as it was able. She did have a luscious mouth, like strawberries. In looking at it, I thought that she could never match the thinness of Darlene’s lips even when she wanted to show her displeasure, though lips were not everything as I had found out. Darlene had some sort of mouth distortion or defect that gave her a high arched roof into which my penis felt naturally at home.

      ‘You’re not working class,’ Darlene sneered.

      The best thing for my wife to have done was admit she was not and leave it at that, but she didn’t and fell into her trap.

      In fact, although she and her family were no longer of that class, they had long ago risen from it by dint of hard labor. They had been a Welsh coalmining family and had migrated to Australia to better their lives. When she tried to explain this, Darlene shrugged and glanced towards me in disdain as if I agreed with her.

      Elaine noticed her expression and also looked at me. She stared at the girl, then at me again. She couldn’t believe that there could be anything between us, and so she shrugged, and sought to change the subject, but Darlene kept niggling at her until she was happy to see her to the door.

      ‘What was that all about,’ she asked, after the social evening was over.

      ‘Oh, you know students,’ I replied, shrugging.

      And that merely signaled the beginning of Darlene’s campaign to replace my wife whom I thought I loved dearly. She after all was the mother of my boy and girl, Jake and Amelia, both of whom were still in primary school; but, no, all thought of family was replaced by those trysts in my office. The blow jobs continued even more regularly so that I avoided going to my wife except for a bit of the other, which I missed. Elaine enjoyed her sex and was a vagina woman rather than a mouth one. She began to complain as I became colder and less able to fulfill her needs. It was then that Darlene decided that she wanted me for a whole night. I hemmed and hawed, for I was quite prepared for the office, but not to continue the liaison outside it. She after all she was a student and thus forbidden to me as a lover. Our relationship had to remain unobtrusive, but how secret it was I could not know, for some of the staff had begun treating me differently as if I was out of line. Well, I was, wasn’t I, but they had no need to be so judgmental. It can happen to any man.

      When you entered our university campus a large sign proclaimed, Sexual Harassment will not be tolerated. This meant that liaisons between faculty and students were forbidden as being from a position of dominant to subordinate. If such a liaison came to the attention of the university or a student complained, it was investigated and the faculty member would have a notation made on his personnel file to this effect. Not only this, but the Dean would take the so-called guilty party, always the faculty member, into his office and lecture him about it. Everyone knew this and the Women’s Collective went out of their way to advise students to be very careful in their relationships with their teachers and tutors. Doors of offices were to be left open and the student was never supposed to allow herself, male students were usually left out of this equation, though there were several active homosexuals among our colleagues, to be in the position of being alone with a faculty member.

      Darlene took advantage of this official position on teacher-student affairs. Even with her mouth smelling of my cum, she labored the point excessively. If I had been wise, I would have ended the relationship then and there, but I was in too deeply and that is not a joke. In this stage of our affair, instead of rushing off to the bathroom to relieve herself of my sperm, she had brought along a box of large tissues which she left on my desk and even carried a bottle of mineral water for a quick rinse out after-wards. A rinse out of what, for although I entered her mouth, I did not stay the whole course there, and withdrew, or rather her head withdrew at the crucial moment, though there was that time when I gripped her thick curls of red hair and pressed her face tightly against my groin and finished off directly into her mouth. She made such a fuss about it that I desisted, for a while until there came another day when I was feeling hassled by a student who had submitted a late assignment. I confessed that I did like it a bit rough.

      She was playing the confessee’s role down on her knees, though she had long given up the joke. Now, we were serious and she had me where she wanted me and that did not mean only in her mouth. She hesitated before doing so to say, ‘I’m not satisfied with just this. It’s not enough. I want you to myself and all night. Elaine has you each and every night, why can’t I have just one?’

      She sucked a bit while I bent down and got through to her breasts squeezing them and fumbling at her nipples. I was gasping when she took her mouth away and said: ‘What about it? When can we go away, just the two of us?’

      As you may imagine my mind was on other things and I merely grunted, then her mouth came away completely and she began whining about her being deprived of me by that middle-class bitch of a wife. To stop her and continue my pleasure, I grabbed her head and forced her back on me. I pounded into her mouth, hitting the back of her throat and she was almost choking when I came. She gagged then went quiet though still remaining in that kneeling position, that supposedly subordinate position. ‘Does she want absolution,’ I thought to myself. She looked up at me with her mouth dribbling, though I had ejaculated so far down that she would have had to swallow it, then at my wilting cock with those slightly cockeyed eyes of hers. She had said that she had had to wear glasses as a child to correct some defect or other. Now she gazed up at me with that lopsided look and said: ‘You know you hurt me!’

      ‘I’m sorry,’