The Professor's wife My story starts somewhat different than the usual erotic tale. My parents call me Becky. I prefer Rebecca. I am a recent graduate of a Ivy league college. My major was woman's studies, with a minor in Humanities. Yes I can here you think. She is a lesbian. Actually far from it. Although I have explored sexual relations with my fellow sisters I really find no sexual attraction to them. I am however a strident Feminist. I have always felt the male dominant culture has held us back in life. I always dress in a manner that neutralizes my womanhood and allows me to compete in the world as an equal instead of being viewed as a play thing or Bauble for the male power structure. In my last year of college I met and then married my dream husband. He was then an associate professor of humanities. Our dating was so romantic. We read poetry and went to seminars and had long conversations on the need for equality between the genders. After we were married sex for us was a rejoicing of our commitment and I was always treated with respect and equality in bed. I did recognize that my husband had certain hobbies he kept from me. One of which was to write and edit and also read erotic stories. I happened upon his collection and read several. I would prefer he didn't think of women in the manner depicted in his stories and I was put off by the fact that he fantasized and masturbated on occasion. I couldn't hold him fully responsible. He is male and grew up in the sexually pervasive atmosphere found in our country today. What really disturbed me was how easily the images in his stories crept into my private thoughts and even lead me to take care of my own personal needs in the shower on occasion. My husband took a post at a small private college as a full professor so we relocated to a new city. I busied myself with interpretive dance and the martial arts to stay in shape and continued my studies at the college. I always was careful with my appearance. Comfortable shoes, pants almost always, loose sweaters, or if I wore a long dress then a jacket or Blazer. Of course I would not wear a wedding ring. It is symbolic of ownership. Or use anyone else's name. I have my own after all. I also refuse to paint my face for the pleasure of the male power base so I did not wear makeup. The first real social event we were asked to attend was a spring faculty and alumni Gala to honor the honor role students and the student council. My husband very carefully explained to me as the new professor he wanted to make a good impression and was concerned that I may overstep my position if confronted by the good ole boys club that funded this college. He also asked if I could wear something a little more feminine than usual. Even though I abhor the cultural boundaries for what they are today I do know there are times you must play the game or you will never be in a position to influence the future generation. I took into account this might spur my husband's career as well as feed his fantasies. He may even bring his thoughts to bed with us instead of being so secretive and passive about sex. I decided to wear one of my dance leotards with a flowing wrap around skirt in matching colors. The one I choose was mostly back-less and had spaghetti straps over the shoulders and crisscrossing on the back. Red in color I decided not to wear tights and go with my legs bare with just a light sheen of baby oil on them to catch the light. I wore a pair of black dance shoes with heels and ankle straps. I went to a beauty parlor, A place I would normally avoid as a direct assault on woman kind, and allowed them to do my hair and makeup. As a walked into my bathroom and dressed I startled myself with my reflection. I was pretty. Males would even say I was hot. I found it a bit unnerving but also exhilarating. I dug in my old prop trunk from drama and found a beaded black clutch purse and a pair of black short opera gloves. To finish the outfit I put a simple black hair ribbon around my neck and tied a bow on the left side of my throat. I gazed at a vision of loveliness in the mirror. My only concern were my nipples. When dancing in a leotard no one but fellow dancers were close to you. In my bathroom I was painfully aware that my nipples were aroused, hard and prominent in this leotard. My husband arrived as I considered my dilemma and started to dress in a rented tuxedo for the evening. I could here him talk as he dressed in the bedroom and new he was concerned on how I would dress and act at this very important function in his career. I took one more look and decided that I could always tape my nipples but I would ask his opinion first. I did look Elegant As a entered the room and did a slight twirl my husband stopped half dressed and just stared. I finally had to ask him and all he could say was WOW. He was having trouble not staring at my breasts so I asked him if they were to exposed. He said something that disturbed me. He said he didn't realize I even had tits. The only man to see me nude had totally overlooked how pretty I was. Yes it meant we were truly equal but for some reason I felt insulted. I told him I didn't like him using vulgar language when referring to my body but he was still busy staring at my cleavage and nipples. The enormous erection evident in his pants was distracting so I wheeled to return to the bathroom and reminded him to hurry or we would be late. I took another look at myself and had to admit no one new I had tits. Well they would tonight. The tightness of the leotard held the front open where it crossed between my breasts and allowed for a fair amount of cleavage. My nipples if anything were even more prominent. I reached again to my props and dance trunk and came up with some glitter. I sprinkled it on my cleavage and put my newly acquired lipstick and compact in my purse and went to meet the world. As we entered the hall I was aware that I looked much more like on of the coeds than a professor's wife. After polite conversation and introductions we were seated and had our meal. Many of the older alumni and professors secretly, even furtively stole glances at many of the very pretty young ladies present. Oddly instead of being upset I was glad I was included in the secret peaks. I was seated between the student body president and a Basketball star. I introduced my self as Rebecca But they both began calling me Becky almost immediately. In most cases I would have been offended but for some unknown reason it just felt right. They were charming and polite. The fact that the basketball player was black and very large didn't bother me. After we had spoken and I found him to be an intelligent and articulate dinner partner. On the other hand the Student body president was much to full of himself and came across almost condescending. It turns out they are frat brothers as well as several other students at the table. The dinner party was breaking up and the usual groups began to form. The professors and big money alumni were off to the library for there male bonding, The wives were wandering about discussing Interior Decorating and the such. I was sure I would just have to suffer until my husband could break loose and take me home. As my luck would have it the political debate raged on and I was feeling very neglected. Tyrone and Jason the frat brothers from dinner approached and began asking general questions. What classes did I take. Was I pledged to a sorority. How was I enjoying the school. It dawned on me that they thought I was just another student and not a professor's wife. I decided to play along. After years of Drama, the part of the silly Coed named Becky was easy to play and it was better than looking at the Wall paper with the other professor's wives Tyrone guided me outside to the Boat house and there I found a Frat party in full swing. I guess it was one of the ways the Alumni rewarded the top students and athletes. While the stuffy intellectuals ground on and the Rose garden club discussed useless minutia the Frat brothers and there dates were partying like the college kids they were. Now normally I stayed away from this scene but I was bored and intrigued as well as being mildly flattered at being thought of as a young cute Coed. Of course the Beverage available was Beer I had several plastic cups and enjoyed the time with people my own age. I Danced with Tyrone as well as Jason who was much more fun when in his home element. Tyrone was getting pretty fresh with his hands but nothing I didn't rather enjoy. I was getting light headed and having a ball. I danced with several basketball players at once and they passed me around the floor from one to another each groping me in turn. I knew I should stop them but it was much, to much fun. I found myself sitting on a bench out on the dock with Tyrone trying to cool down as the party raged on. His arm was around me and his hand gently grazed my upper breast just above my Leotard. I looked to him to tell him to stop but as I turned my head he kissed me. His long tongue forcing it's way passed my teeth. My hand went to his shoulder to no avail. His hand on my upper chest squeezed and released in a soothing rhythm. My nipple was slowly dragged over the tight material of my top. I could feel it getting closer and closer to the seam at the edge of my cleavage. As it popped out I sighed and shuddered in Tyrone's arms. I couldn't help relaxing even further as he looked me in the eye and gently nibbled and sucked my lower lip. It was as if my body had a mind of it's own. Somewhere deep inside I knew I should run. But I couldn't. The sensations running from my mouth and exposed nipple ran like lightning bolts straight to my pussy. I felt the bench beneath us flex and I turned my head to see why. Jason was beside me. Staring intently at my exposed breast. I would have complained but just then I felt Tyrone's large hand on my upper thigh. It crept carefully under the wrap hem of my skirt. Jason reached to my arms and lowered them to my sides. He slipped the thin straps holding up the top of my Leotard down my shoulders and revealed my chest to anyone that may come out the door. The leotard held my arms to my side in symbolic bondage. I looked over my shoulder into Jason's eyes. He put his hand on my chin and cheek and pulled me to him, kissing me forcefully. I felt his invading tongue pass my lips and enter my mouth as Tyrone's fingers slipped my leotard aside and brushed my clit. I kissed back and surrendered my mouth and tongue to his plundering intrusion. I shuddered through an intense orgasm as Tyrone slipped his finger in my juicy, waiting cunt. Tyrone used his other hand to pull my knee into his lap and spread me open further. I broke my kiss with Jason and all of us looked down and watched Tyrone's fat thumb slide in and out of my pussy. My breathing was getting ragged and Jason was rolling my nipples when Tyrone suddenly stopped and stood up. His hand was quickly replaced by Jason's. Tyrone stepped behind the bench and opened his pants. I couldn't help watching as his huge cock came into view. Even semi hard it was larger than anything I had seen in my life. A tremor of fear passed through me as I realized he was going to fuck me with that black monster. The fear was intertwined with feelings of shame as I realized me, an ardent feminist, was being used by these college preppy studs as just pure mindless entertainment. It was so nasty and against everything I thought I stood for. What was hard to fathom was why my pussy was gushing lubricant and my nipples were rock hard with anticipation instead of me being repulsed by what happened. Tyrone rubbed his cockhead slimy with precum over my rubbery lips. I just looked up at him and relaxed my jaw. Tyrone took me by the hair and slowly eased hi semi erect cock into my mouth. It molded to the shape of my mouth and slid in and out easily. Jason watched over my shoulder intensely and either my design or because of his involvement kept exact pace with his fingers and the hardening prick in my mouth. Tyrone was in command of me. He stiffened and pushed deeper. My eyes watered and my tongue flattened as he fed me more and more of his big black dick. I could feel the corners of my mouth stretch taught and my jaw was forced even further open. Strangely I didn't gag. It seemed so natural. I looked up at Tyrone and our eyes locked as he fucked my face. I felt my hand and arm being moved and realized Jason had wrapped my beautiful opera gloved hand around his cock . I began to stroke his cock in unison to his fingers and Tyrone's dick as they were pushed in and out of my mouth and pussy. Tyrone pulled out with a loud pop. I felt almost robbed. He again walked around the bench and grabbing my hip stood me up. With a light shove I was bent over the bench with my knees touching the front edge. As I began to turn to look. I felt a hand on my face. Jason had taken Tyrone's position behind the bench. He brought his rock hard cock to my mouth and slipped it down my throat with one move. I was forced to grasp the top rail of the bench with my gloved hands . He slipped his fingers into my ribbon choker necklace and held me still as he stuffed his dick in and out of my throat. Behind me Tyrone flipped my skirt up onto my back and kicked my ankles apart like a cop would a suspect being frisked. I felt his monster cock touch my swollen wet and tingly pussy lips as he pushed my leotard all the way to the side. I was about to complain or at least plead for him to be gentle but with his massive hand on my back just above my hips and Jason embedded in my mouth and throat I could do nothing. Tyrone stuffed his cock in my pussy and grabbed my hips and began to fuck me hard and deep. My eyes were rolling back and I was on the verge of an intense orgasm when he slipped his moistened thumb up my ass. I tried to scream but Jason's cock effectively gagged me down to a mutted squeal. My body shuddered and quaked as I experience the most intense feelings I could imagine a human could have. Jason grunted and began pumping cum down my throat. He grasped my hair and pulled out and finished on my face. Tyrone was pumping my cunt full of cum as he grunted through his orgasm. I was exhausted and could barely focus on the two men as they talked about me. What a slut. She loved it when you stuffed her ass. Do you see the cum on her face? They talked about me as if I wasn't even there. Tyrone stuck something in my purse as Jason helped me to sit down. My wobbly knees no longer able to hold me up. I sat there for a minute and pulled my straps up and rearranged my leotard under my skirt. I took a hankie out of my purse and saw the note left with Tyrone's and Jason's pager numbers on it in my purse. I wiped my face as carefully as I could in the semi darkness with shaky hands and again felt the bench creak under someone's weight. I looked up just as my husband slipped his tuxedo jacket over my shoulders. He said nothing and helped me to my feet. As we walked I could tell he had a massive erection. I asked him how much he had watched. His reply was a simple, all of it. I looked at him searching for words and he said simply don't worry Becky, I wont tell Rebecca as long as you do what your told when we get home. I simply replied yes professor and knew in my heart that the rest of the night would be as exciting as I could make it for my man.