smutbyben: A Modest Gathering I’d never seen Professor Robinson drunk, hadn’t even consi

smutbyben: A Modest Gathering I’d never seen Professor Robinson drunk, hadn’t even considered the possibility. As closely as we’d worked on my thesis project, I’d begun to see him as a fatherly figure. I suppose coming from a big Irish Catholic family I ought to have expected that sometimes father figures end up wasted in your living room during a party. “Your advisor is something else,” Craig said with a laugh. Apparently Robinson had grabbed his ass after saying something about the inherent queerness of male friendship in repressive masculine hierarchies. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ll talk to him.” “Talk to him? Please. It’s the most action I’ve gotten in weeks. By the way, you’re out of lemonade.” Craig, my best friend, was straight as an arrow and hotter than God. I’d given up at any chance with him, but I didn’t begrudge my thesis advisor of shooting his shot. Anyone would have. “There’s more lemonade in the back room. I’ll go get it,” I said. I’d been renting a rundown two-bedroom through my final year of grad school. I knew I’d miss it after I moved on; it’d be a long time til’ I had that much space again earning what I would with an MA in Comp Lit. I entered the guest bedroom/storage space without turning on the lights. There was no need: I could navigate the apartment blind and there was a bit of light coming in from the streetlight outside anyway. The door opened behind me. “Oh,” Professor Robinson said. “Not the bathroom apparently?” “One door down,” I corrected. “Having a good time?” He nodded. “Your friend…Craig?” “I heard. He’s got a nice ass. I get it. It’s water under the bridge, by the way.” Robinson sighed. “Good. I am quite drunk. No excuse though.” “None needed. He’s fine.” “Yours is nicer.” “What?” I asked. “Your ass and tight little waist are nicer than his. I imagine you smell good back there, too.” So I can’t say I hadn’t thought about it, working so closely with him, but anything happening between advisor and advisee would be ethically fraught. But then I’d already graduated and he was coming closer. It was less of a decision than a lack of one. In a few moments his hand was down the back of my pants and his fingers were spreading my hole. He smelled like whiskey and vetiver. “Tight everywhere, I see,” he said. “Yes…professor,” I replied. He leaned in and growled in my ear. “Show me.” So I dropped my shorts and lifted my shirt overhead. As the party continued on the other side of the door, I spread my shaved hole for my mentor. He instructed me to play with it, exposing my most secret parts to him as he masturbated. I felt dirty and cheap, but my hole was winking and responsive: it knew better than I did. I bent over and put both hands on the guest bed. “So, professor. What’s next?” I asked. I heard his belt hit the floor. He came close enough for me to feel his cock brush my bare ass. “Finals,” he said, and spat into his hand. BENJI BRIGHT © 2020 | Patreon.com/benjibright -- source link

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