Professor Johnson

Professor Johnson

Professor Johnson

By Max H.

Chapter 3

The usual warnings apply.  Don't read this if it's not legal for you to do so where you live.  Always practice safe sex. 

In this chapter I'm not going to try to keep things in perfect chronological order.  Instead, I'm just going to give you an idea of what my life was like for the rest of that semester with Denny and Fred in charge.

One of the first things I did was to take a roll of paper towels, a box of tissues and some wet wipes to the office.  I needed the paper towels and wipes to clean up my face, hair, desk, and so forth.  And the Kleenex was to stuff in my ass to catch the cum that drained out so it wouldn't stain my pants.

You remember the slits I had to cut in the seam of the seat of my pants and shorts?  And that I was forbidden to wear any kind of underwear?  For about a week after Potts and Denny took over my life, I was required to wear the doctored garments.  And wherever I was, in the building where I worked, in the library, walking across campus, in the supermarket, I would be surprised by a finger in my ass crack, sometimes entering my hole.  They sneaked up on me, or lay in wait for me.  Imagine what it would be like to be in the stacks, looking for a book, or in the produce aisle of the grocery store picking out tomatoes, and suddenly feel a finger invading your rear!  

Fortunately they lost their enthusiasm for that sport.  I became more wary, learning to look over my shoulder wherever I went, and I think they tired of that particular form of harassment after about a week.

The noontime visits to my office continued, however.  Each day I went to my office after my 11:00 class, stripped, and waited for my masters to arrive, hoping no one else opened the door and entered to see me there naked.  I'd say one or the other or both of them showed up three days out of five.  When they didn't come, I sat there for an hour, naked, nervous and yet tremendously horny.  I often thought, `For this, I got a PhD?'  I was in constant fear of even greater public humiliation than I'd already endured.  But I must admit that it was all a tremendous turn-on as well.

Most often during my lunch hour I gave blowjobs to whoever appeared and wound up afterwards with cum on my face and a very importunate cock.  

When it was just Denny, it was usually great.  He'd kiss me when he arrived, play with my nipples, stroke me.  It was hot as hell, and the fact this was my office and there were people walking past the door made it even sexier.  When he was alone, he didn't spray his spunk on my face.  Instead, he came in my throat, which I'd learned to accept and even enjoy.

When Fred came along, it was another matter.

Sometimes I had to suck them both.  I spent a lot of time on my knees taking care of  first one cock and then the other, or doing the best I could to suck them both at the same time.  It was always Fred who insisted on coating my face with his sperm and making Denny do the same.

Other times I had to rim Fred while Denny sucked him off.  Afterwards I'd get to clean up Den's face with my tongue.

And, of course, sometimes I'd get fucked by both of them.  That was when I had to stuff tissue in my crack to keep the spooge from making stains on the seat of my pants in my 1:00 class.

Whatever happened, I always went off to class hot, hard, and horny.  I was never allowed to come.  Denny understood my predicament.  He said he was sorry, but those were Fred's orders.  In that class, I usually had to sit at my desk to hide my steely dick.  And Denny, whatever he said about being sorry, knew why and would sit there grinning at me, sometimes adjusting his cock or licking his lips.  But I couldn't hate him.  I knew he was being blackmailed by Potts just like me, though it was a while before I learned how.  

And then there were the evenings and weekends, when almost anything could happen.

I never knew when they might show up.  They didn't require me to always be naked at home.  But whenever they arrived I was required to strip immediately.  Sometimes I was made to watch as Denny sucked Potts or got fucked.  Sometimes Den and I both had to service Potts.  He liked to have one of us suck his dick while the other either licked his balls or rimmed him.  And he loved trash talk.  He'd call us bitches, ass lickers, boy pussies and anything else he could think of to degrade us.

And he always had a camera with him.  He never explained why, but I assumed its purpose was to keep us in line, the implied threat being that he could produce pictures that would cost me my job and cause embarrassment for Denny as well.

Denny usually had to strip as soon as he came in the door.  Potts usually just pulled up his shirt and dropped his pants and boxers.  One of the things he liked was for us to get him hard by licking and slobbering on his dick and balls.  I liked that because Denny and I could sneak in kisses.  When he noticed us doing that, he'd cuff one or the other of us on the side of the head and tell us bitches weren't there to have fun, just to service him.

He made me shave all the hair off my body below the neck, even my arms and legs.  He didn't make Denny do that because of the phys ed. class Den was taking.  But I had to quit going to the gym, not only because of my hairless body, but also because Potts liked to use a black felt tip marker on me.  He wrote all kinds of degrading things.  And, of course, he took pictures of them.

And then there were the toys.  I recall one evening when Denny and I were kneeling side by side with our forearms resting on the sofa while Potts fucked us both with dildoes.  Actually that felt pretty good.  And we were able to sneak kisses once in a while.  He didn't have a hand free to hit us, and he was apparently in a better mood than sometimes so he didn't even yell at us.

If it weren't for being controlled, for the humiliation, much of what happened wouldn't have been bad.  Potts, as I've said, had a great body.  He had a nasty personality, but I often got hard sucking on his big pecs or even while I had my face shoved between his rock-hard glutes.

What I liked best, though, was ass play and being fucked.  I'd never realized before Potts took over my life how much of a bottom I am.  I loved to be rimmed or finger-fucked, and they both knew it.  And once they'd started that, I was beside myself until one of them put his cock up my ass.  They'd get me hot and then make me beg to be fucked.  And, slut that I'd become, I begged.

Oh, there was one other given.  At the office or at home, I was never allowed to get off while they were around.  I wondered sometimes whether Fred would think of a chastity device, but he didn't seem to care that I pounded my meat every evening when I got home from campus and often again after their evening visits.

Whenever Potts and Denny came to my office or my home together, Potts was clearly in charge.  Denny did as he was told and usually got sloppy seconds.  When Denny came alone, it was very different.  We were more like lovers.  As I've said, I never got to come, but he tried to make me feel good when he fucked me, and he'd occasionally suck me or rim me, always being sure I didn't come.  Best of all, we snuggled and kissed and generally made out.

It was during one of those sessions that I asked him what Fred had on him.

"My dad is a Baptist minister in a rural part of the state.  If he found out I was gay, he'd yank me out of college and cut me loose.  Fred came on to me during freshman orientation, and while we were fucking, he was asking me all these questions about where I was from and what my parents were like.  I thought he liked me.  And, you know, sometimes I think he does.  Like when I told him how hot I thought you were and he let me have you.  Uh, sorry.  Well, anyway, it was easy for him to get my parents' postal address and email address and phone number from my computer and stuff I had on my desk.  So he says he'll send pics of me to my folks unless I do what he says."

"Poor baby."

"Corey, I've just got to graduate from the university so I can get away from there, so I can have a life for myself without having to worry about what the folks are gonna do."

Even though Den was responsible for my being in the situation I was in, I felt sorry for him.  He wasn't a bad kid.  Just caught.  And, as I knew, he could be very loving.

On a Tuesday evening after they'd grown tired of the business of the pants with the slits in the seat seam, Potts and Denny arrived together as they often did.

Denny had something in a plastic bag.

"Go ahead, Den.  Show him what you've brought him."

Denny handed me a butt plug.  Not the biggest I'd ever seen, but big enough to worry me.  I'd never used one of those before, and I didn't see how I'd ever get it in.

"From now on," Fred announced, "every Wednesday is butt plug day.  You'll put it in before you leave here and not take it out until you get back."

I groaned inwardly.  It hurt just to think about shoving that thing up my ass, and I could imagine what it would be like to try to get through a normal day on campus with it in place.

Wednesdays became torture days for me.  Have you ever tried walking around while wearing a butt plug?  

Before Fred and Denny took over my life, I considered myself versatile when it came to sex.  But one thing I had learned from them was that I really loved having my ass played with.  I loved to be rimmed and fingerfucked.  Dildoes and vibrators made me wiggle my butt with joy.  

So on Wednesdays the challenge was to walk normally rather than with that splay-legged stance that you instinctively adopt when you've got something big up your ass.  But the damn thing kept me hard all day, too.  I found myself sitting in class to hide my erection, but sitting on the butt plug intensified the effect, so that I had trouble staying still.  Wiggling caused it to rub my prostate.  That made me even harder, often causing me to leak.  Since I wasn't allowed to wear underwear, there was usually a damp spot in the front of my pants.

It was my constant Wednesday stiffies that earned me the nickname "Professor Johnson" among my students.  Soon I was known not just among my own students but all over campus that way.

#          #          #

I've already mentioned that Potts often had his camera when they were in my office or at my house.  But there's one episode where the whole thing was a picture-taking session.

It was a Wednesday.  Both he and Denny had showed up at lunch.  They made me take out the butt plug while each of them fucked me.  Then Denny re-inserted the plug, trapping their juices inside me.  Of course I wasn't allowed to come.  So during my one o'clock class I wiggled and squirmed (and leaked) while Denny sat there and grinned.  By now, of course, the whole class knew that I was boned up a lot, especially on Wednesdays, and Denny wasn't the only one grinning.  I needed desperately to get off, and I wanted that plug out of my ass.  I practically came before the hour was over.

But no immediate relief was forthcoming because I had to sit through two hours in my office in case any of my students needed to talk with me.  Callie Henderson from the one o'clock did stop by that day.  The office reeked of cum, and I, of course, was still hard, on the verge of popping because of the continual rubbing of my prostate -- by two dicks during the lunch hour and by the butt plug ever since.  

Eventually 5:00 came and I was throwing things in my bag getting ready to leave when my nemeses showed up.

"Come on, bitch," Fred growled.  "Leave your bag here.  You can come back for it later."

"Where are we going?"

"Shut up.  You'll find out."

They led me back to the classroom where Denny and I had been earlier that afternoon.  When we got inside, Potts closed the door.

"I've fixed it with the cleanup crew so that we won't be disturbed.  Now, today you're going to star in your own photo shoot.  With some help from Den."

"Why?"

He smirked.  "Photography's my hobby.  And I'm getting a good collection of porn, thanks to you and my boy here."  He put his hand on the back of Denny neck and squeezed, not too gently.  "Now, drop your pants, take out the plug, put it on the desk, pull up your pants, and sit down.  Think you can remember that?"

I felt like saying something sarcastic, but I just nodded and did what he said.  When I was sitting at the desk with the butt plug there in front of me, he took a couple of pictures.

"That looks like it might be a visual aid for your next lecture, professor."

I heard him, but my mind was mainly concentrated on what was happening in the absence of the butt plug.  Two loads of semen were running out of my still slightly gaping anus and making, no doubt, a stain on the seat of my khakis.  Which, from his grin, was exactly what the devious Potts had wanted to happen.

"Now, stand up and take off your blazer.  Den, take the professor's coat for him."

I did.  And Denny did.

"Now, stand up, grab a piece of chalk, and write `Professor Johnson' on the board."

As I was doing that, he took a picture – showing the stain on my ass.

"Now, turn around."

I turned around, facing the empty desks of the classroom.

"Denny-bitch, it looks like your bitch has lost some of his wood.  Why don't you help him with that?  I know you two like to make out when I'm not around, so see if you can bring his stiffie back?"

Denny came over, put a hand behind my head, and began to kiss me.  With his other hand he groped my package.  We were just getting into it when Potts said, "Okay, boys, that's enough of that.  Cory bitch, pick up that pointer in the chalk tray and stand in profile to the class.  Point to your name, but keep your other hand somewhere that doesn't block the view of your nice little tent."

Another picture.

"Now, turn and face the class."

I did, blushing, I'm sure, from all this humiliation.

Potts took a couple of shots of me facing out toward the student desks.

"Okay, professor bitch, take off everything but your socks and your tie."

Again, my instinct was to refuse or at least complain, but that would have been pointless.  When I stood there, dick waving and oozing, he said, "Okay, now I want you to lie on your desk.

I started to lie on my stomach.

"No, no!  On your back.  Yeah, that's it.  Now, fuck yourself with that butt plug while you jack off with the other hand."

"Jack off"! He'd said "jack off"!  The best news I'd had all day.  I needed to come so badly I was hardly aware that while Fred was taking pictures of me from various angles, Denny was doing something with the pointer from the chalk tray.

Just when I was getting into it, or more accurately about to get off, Potts said, "Okay, stop."

I nearly wept with frustration.

"Okay, Den, you know what to do next."

Denny came at me with the pointer.  He'd pulled a condom over the butt-end and, from the way it glistened, he'd brought along some lube to put on it.  

It wasn't terribly big and didn't really hurt going in.  It was more the idea than anything else.  So Potts took pictures of me, feet on the floor, body across the desk, while Denny worked the sheathed pointer in and out of my hole.

I was just thinking what a poor substitute that pointer made for a real cock when Potts finished taking pictures of this aspect of the "shoot."

"'K.  Enough of that.  Now, Dens, time for you to strip.  And you, bitch," he said to me, "on your back again."

This was looking more like it, and I quickly lay on the desk with my legs hanging off.  Denny came over, his cock sheathed and lubed, lifted my ankles in the air, and slowly eased into me.  He needn't have bothered.  I'd been fucked twice at noon, worn the butt plug all day, and had the fat end of the pointer up my ass.  I wiggled and practically cooed.

Potts chuckled.  "Too bad we aren't doing video here.  You really are a slut, professor bitch."

Mercifully he let Denny bang away.  I was aware through the sexual miasma that he was taking all sorts of pictures, including some that must have included Denny's face.  Before long, thanks to the stamina of eighteen-year-olds and my tortured prostate, both of us exploded.  Potts made sure to get a picture of me coming all over my belly.

After Denny and I had put our clothes back on, Potts said, "You're on your own this evening, prof.  Denny bitch and I have other plans.  But we'll send you some sample pix from this afternoon."

I went home, took a long, hot soak in the tub, and had my supper.  Then I had some papers to grade.  When I checked my email just before going to bed, I found a dozen pictures from Fred and Denny.  From the first shot of me writing on the board to the final cum-drenched one, there was a mortifying series of shots, all documenting what I had become.  The name on the board might well have been Professor Slut!

I had worried from time to time what Fred planned to do with the pictures he was taking of my degradation (and Denny's too, though to a lesser degree).  But he'd promised not to get me in trouble with the police so long as I did what he said, and he'd halfway promised not to do anything that would jeopardize my job.  I kept telling myself that it would all work out.

#          #          #

And then there was the time we pissed him off.

One evening at my place Denny and I were sort of ganging up on Fred, saying cutting things to him, implying that he wasn't too bright.  He stuck a sock (his) in each of our mouths and went on with what we were doing that evening.  The next day Denny told me that Fred had been angrier than he let on.

That Saturday about mid-morning, they showed up at my door.

"Dress like him," Potts said, nodding at Denny.  So I put on a white wife beater, a pair of baggy khakis, and flipflops.

"That's not quite right.  Go get a pair of scissors.  And take off that shirt."

When I came back, he took the scissors and the shirt.  After he'd cut about 6 inches off the bottom of the shirt he had me put it on again.  This time it left my abs and navel exposed.

He grinned.  "Yeah, now you two look like the bitches you are.  Go get in the car.  You can both ride in the back seat, but no fooling around."

Once inside the car, I looked at Denny and raised my eyebrows questioningly.  He shrugged, indicating he didn't know what Potts had in mind.

We were driven to the largest local mall.  He parked about 100 yards from the Food Court entrance.  

He unfastened his shoulder belt and turned to look at us.  

"Okay, I want you two to get each other good and hard.  And leaking.  I want to see a wet spot on both pairs of pants."

That didn't take long, and it was fun.  It would have been more fun if we hadn't been pretty sure Fred had some payback in mind for our obstreperousness earlier that week.

When he was satisfied with the tents in our khakis and the pre-cum spots there, he said, "Okay.  Den, you got your cell phone in your pocket?"

"Uh huh."

"Get out of the car.  Hold hands.  And walk over to the mall entrance.  When you get there, turn around and face back this way.  Keep holding hands.  But, Denny bitch, you'll need to have your phone in your other hand.  I'll call and tell you what to do next."

We didn't pass anyone coming out of the mall as we walked across the parking lot.  It was still early, and people were arriving, not leaving.  When we got to the door, we turned around and stood to one side.  Then we were facing the incoming stream of people.  And we got a lot of looks and some comments from them, too!  There we stood, holding hands.  Pants tented and showing wet spots.  A couple of pretty brazen gay guys putting on a show for the shoppers.  And I at least was blushing, though with Denny's darker coloring it was hard to tell if he was.  But what if someone from the University saw us, one of my students, or a faculty colleague?  My pounding heart wasn't quieted by the ringing of Denny's cell phone.

"Yeah?"  He listened for a half a minute, maybe.  Then he whined, sounding just like the teenager he was.  "Aww, come on!  Don't make us do that, man!"  More listening.  "We're sorry, we shouldn't have sassed you."  Pause to listen.  Then he sighed.  "Well, okay, I'll tell him."

He closed the phone and dropped it into a pocket.  Then he turned to me.  

"We gotta pee our pants.  Soak `em good.  Right here."

"He's got to be kidding!"

"I wish.  But he's for real, and you know what he can do if he wants to."

That observation quelled the rebellious thoughts that had been forming in my shocked brain.  There was nothing for it but to do what the odious Potts wanted.

So we bravely faced the parking lot and tried to pee our pants.  It wasn't easy at first because of our hard cocks and because of our embarrassment. I stood there with my eyes shut, concentrating, when I heard Denny sigh again.  And the thought of him letting loose caused my faucet to open, so to speak.  Soon the front of my pants was soaked and urine was dripping onto my feet.  

"Ewwww!  Look at those guys!" Three teen couples were approaching the entrance, and one of the girls had spotted us.  They all looked and then broke out laughing.

"Fucking faggots," one of the guys said.  

"How long do we have to stand here?" I asked.

"Until he calls back."

I looked at Fred's car.  He was standing beside it, taking pictures with a camera that had a huge lens on it.  When he finished, he put it inside and pulled his phone from his pocket.

Denny answered the ring, said "Uh huh," and put the phone back.

"We are to walk slowly, still holding hands, back to the car."

By this time we had attracted quite an audience, and that was the longest walk I'd ever taken.  My ears burned.  I just knew somehow this would all get back to campus and my life would be over.

Denny and I were eager to get into the car, but Fred wouldn't let us.

"No way are you getting piss all over my car."  He handed Den a big black plastic garbage bag.  You guys strip and put your clothes in here."

"Strip?" Denny squawked.  "Here."

"Yeah, lil bitch, here.  And maybe the next time you two fuckers feel like getting cute you'll remember who's boss."  Then he grinned.  "You don't seriously think I'm letting you in the car in those clothes, do you?"

He popped the back door of his SUV while we quickly took off our clothes and put them in the bag.  Denny tossed them in the back, slammed the door, and piled into the back seat next to me.

When he pulled up in front of my place, he popped the back door and said, "Bye bye, boys.  See ya!"

"You want me to get out here?" Denny asked.

"You don't want to get out in front of your dorm, do you, lil bitch?"

"Um, I guess not."

So Denny grabbed the bag with our clothes while I made a dash to unlock the front door.  I suspect nosy Mrs. Clay next door got an eyeful.

But once we were inside, Denny and I had a lot of fun while the clothes were washing.

Miraculously, news of our public pissing never got back to campus.  Or if it did, I never heard about it.  But for the rest of the semester Denny and I remembered not to give Potts a hard time.  He didn't take well to teasing, as he'd amply proved.

#          #         #

Things went along pretty much as I've been describing.  I hated the humiliation, particularly since I'd become a sort of standing joke with my students because of my almost constant "johnsons," especially on Wednesdays.  I have to admit, though, that I was enjoying all the sex, especially when Denny was involved.  

Soon it was time for final exams, and after that we were on Christmas break.

To Be Continued

If you enjoyed this, I'd like to hear from you. Email me at lilperv76@yahoo.com.  Please put "PJ" or "Johnson" or something like that in the subject line so I'll know it isn't spam.  Thanks.  -- Max