Doing IT support in Academia I'd always been very disappointed that my hook-up app never showed nearby contacts. You'd think with all of the students, staff and contractors passing through - some of whom I knew for a fact were gay - there would at least be one or two that popped up in "Touching distance". Even if they weren't my type and I wasn't interested it'd be nice to know people were out there and we'd perhaps share a nod and a wink in the corridor. The closest I'd ever seen was within a few minutes walk and that was only briefly.
My luck changed one afternoon. It was that quiet part of the year where people's kids are on holiday and the new wave of students haven't rolled in yet. I got a ticket in my queue from a name I recognised as a new starter. A visiting academic working in the department for a year. Apparently he had an issue with knotted cables under his desk. The usual waste-of-time job that some scientists seemed to love. Still, it was a formal ticket and probably a quick job to get out of the way.
I grabbed my bag of assorted wires and tools and headed down the corridor. Professor Wilson's office was tucked away down a currently mostly unoccupied side passage. I knocked on the old, chipped paint, almost bruising knuckles out of fear of not being heard. A few seconds later a gruff "Come!" Came from within. I gripped the door handle and pushed, noting that the door stuck slightly as it opened. Probably needed adjusting.
The man I assumed was Professor Wilson was sitting at his desk, typing with a rough, rhythmic style that left me wondering how often he needed new keyboards. He didn't turn as I entered and I wondered for a second if he even realised he'd told me to come in. Then he stopped typing and turned slightly. I'm not going to say he took my breath away, but he was exactly the sort of man I liked. Older. Stern looking. Slim, balding and looking to be in his mid sixties. He didn't exactly look grumpy but he did look like he took no crap from anyone.
"Hello Professor. Matt from IT. You had an issue with cabling?"
He looked me up and down for a moment. Chinos, polo shirt, toolbag. The very model of a modern general IT tech. The moment stretched out to the point that I was actually a little uncomfortable.
"Yes, come and have a look at this."
He stated it as a command. A little abrupt and I bristled internally, but I also couldn't avoid flushing slightly. Not so much from anger as the fact that an older man telling me what to do like that made certain things tingle. Certain inappropriate things.
I approached the desk, putting my bag down to one side as he continued with his almost appraising stare.
"The cabling under here is an utter mess and something's going to catch fire or get damaged. It needs to be remedied immediately. Kneel down and see for yourself."
The phrasing was odd but the word "Kneel" made that little tingle more pronounced. I mean, I'd have needed to kneel to have a look anyway so I dropped to my hands and knees and stuck my head under the desk. He pulled his chair back slightly and pointed at the mass of old network, VGA and power cables that had been abandoned by successive occupants of the office.
"I have work to do. Get on with it"
I really wasn't sure about the attitude, but he was right. There was a mess to deal with. He turned slightly and picked up a thick sheaf of papers, frowning at them and beginning to flick through. I, meanwhile, dived into the mass of spaghetti.
After the best part of a quarter of an hour I'd learned that nothing under the desk was needed and I'd pushed it all to one side. The during that time I'd crawled further and further under the desk until I was practically in a cave of plaster wall, carpet floor and wooden ceiling. An oddly musky scent had been filling my nose the entire time I was under there. I hadn't noticed to begin with as the carpets in this block were well overdue replacement even if they were cleaned regularly, but there was a heavy, masculine smell I vaguely recognised. One that made that little tingle even more intense and made a particular part of me sit up and demand attention. Attention I couldn't give it right now. I'd seen the Professor get up and return once in the time I was here. He hadn't spoken to me and honestly I didn't mind. As I started to crawl out, however, he turned in his chair and sat in a position that almost blocked me from exiting my cave. I found myself looking up at his stern face from somewhere near his knees. In fact, if he spread his legs I'd be rather near his crotch and that tantalising, musky smell was even stronger here.
He looked down at me. Not precisely scowling but I picked up something of an air of disapproval.
"I'm not happy with the state of things."
It was a very definite pronouncement and one that left me feeling compelled to apologise.
"I'm sorry professor. These things build up over time and..."
"It isn't good enough." He spoke over me and I immediately shut up. "I'm disappointed. Things need to be kept tidy and organised. Anything else just isn't professional. I hate to think what the IT department is wasting its time on to allow such messes to develop!"
I was feeling very warm and a little scared at this point. I wasn't expecting a telling-off. The world had gone sideways and I wasn't sure what was going on. The next pronouncement however rather shattered any calm I had left.
"If the department is wasting its time on this sort of nonsense then no-wonder things have become so untidy."
He held up his phone. Screen towards me. It was logged into my favourite hook-up app with my screen name at the top and the label "Touching distance".
I began to stutter a little. I wasn't at all sure where this was going. Was he threatening me? Angry with me? I was frozen on my hands and knees between the professor's slightly parted legs. If I'd had my wits about me and hadn't been tunnel visioning on his face then I might have noticed the bulge that had formed in his trousers.
"According to this, you like older men who know what they want." I could almost hear that last phrase in italics. "All of this information about you alongside a picture. Not acceptable at all. Very disappointing."
I don't know if I realised his legs were parting as he was talking. He was sliding slightly towards me. That musk smell getting stronger by the moment. I was panicking but at the same time I couldn't understand why I was as turned on as I'd been in months.
"I think I need an apology for your behaviour. A suitable apology."
I started trying to speak. Trying to form words and apologise but nothing was coming out. It was at that moment he dropped his hand to his lap and slowly unzipped his fly. I just didn't have anything left at this point. My brain was far too lost in confusion. His cock sprung free in all of its neatly cut glory. He might not have been hung like a horse but it was thick, firm and the tip was glistening with excitement. Then I felt a hand on the back of my head. Not pushing me down, just guiding. At this point not even capable of refusing I lowered my head and gently wrapped my lips around his hardness and began to bob my head.
I heard a very gentle sigh. Perhaps a sound of approval. I could taste precum on my tongue and I took a moment to pause my head movements and run my tongue over his tip. My body had shifted from panic to slut. I was naturally willing and keen to serve. Men often liked me because I would take orders well and do my best without asking anything in return. I was straight into that space now. Sucking firmly. My hand came up to wrap around his cock and the other teased his balls free from his underwear. After a moment of hesitation I moved forward and down, taking him deep into my throat. Pressing my nose into his trimmed pubic hair as I devoured that tasty meat.
"There now."
I could hear him talking to me. I wasn't really sure how I was processing this but as long as I kept sucking him I had to believe everything would be ok.
"That's better. Obedient boys who apologise properly are much better. Obedient boys don't get punished."
I'm not sure I'd ever been this turned on before. This older, authoritarian man was playing right into my fantasies and right now I'd do anything he wanted. I focussed on sucking. I wanted to do a good job for him. My head and hands worked together and I could feel his firmness twitching slightly in my mouth. His hands were in my hair, stroking my head as I bobbed in his lap. Every so often they'd grasp a handful of my hair and push me down, forcing his cock into my throat and making me gag. I took it as well as I could and he never held me down long enough to make me panic but he rode the line once or twice.
I don't know how long I sucked the Professor's cock. My mind wasn't in a fit state to keep time. But eventually, after an eternity of sucking and licking I felt him tense and a gush of salty warmth filled my mouth. I swallowed reflexively and kept sucking. I felt him relax and his hand left my head. I continued sucking. Gently. Milking out those last few drops. My fingers pressing between his balls to encourage every last taste to flow into me. As I felt him soften I hesitantly pulled back, looking up at him expectantly. Not sure what to say. he glanced down.
"Good boy. You might be worth keeping." |
