Tales From the Help Desk

It was mid-October, and I had just turned twenty-five. I was in the midst of completing a PhD in computer science, specializing in programming languages. I was also working part-time supervising the university’s Technology Help Desk, which was staffed with the usual assortment of geeks and weirdos.

People are always somewhat surprised to learn that I’m in computer science. I guess I’m not the awkward type they generally associate with the profession. I was an athlete in high school, and I still run everyday and lift at home, so I’m in pretty good shape. I’m not especially introverted either. I was Homecoming King, and I guess I’m handsome—I attract a lot of female attention, anyway. I just happen to enjoy coding.

Anyway, it was just past midnight, and I was getting ready to leave the overnight Help Desk crew by themselves to go home and get some much needed sleep when “she” walked in.

If you were a straight male at my university, you would automatically know who “she” was—Professor Hotchkiss—or as she was more commonly known, “Professor Hot-kiss” or among the lewder students, “Professor Hot-tits.” She taught in the English Department, and her classes always had waiting lists, not because she was an “Easy A,” but because she was very easy on the eyes. I had somehow lucked into her English Composition for Science Majors class as an undergrad, and I have to admit that while I still have trouble remembering which punctuation marks go inside and outside the quotes, I have no problem at all remembering her long tan legs, perfect ass, and deep cleavage, which was always displayed “just so.”

It was like she had stepped out of a Playboy spread on “Hottest Profs in the PAC-10” or a porno titled “Boning Up on English,” except that she was agonizingly, tantalizingly real. I know I wasn’t alone in going to see her during office hours, even if I didn’t really have a question, just on the hope of getting a glimpse of something more than she showed off in class. It never happened, by the way. Not to me, anyway. And I know I was far from the only guy who occasionally couldn’t stand up immediately at the end of class for fear of exposing a throbbing hard-on. I’m willing to bet she was the fuel for more self-abuse on campus than all the other teaching staff combined.

As Professor Hotchkiss neared the desk, dressed in a high-cut skirt, low-cut blouse, and stilettos, I noticed my two staffers, Lenny and Prashant, go into full Geek Mode. Lenny made a mad dash for the Men’s Room, tripping over a copier cord in the process, which was his default move whenever he might have to speak to a female human. Prashant just stared, open-mouthed, and turned a sickly color as she strode up to him and asked, “Can somebody help me with a video problem I’m having?” Prashant just continued to stare. I admit I was a bit tongue-tied myself as I watched this pathetic non-exchange before I suddenly snapped into customer-service mode.

“I can help you,” I said quickly. “It’s Professor Hotchkiss, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she said. “It is, and thank you. My husband is on sabbatical this year and we had planned to do a lot of video conferencing, but I just can’t seem to get things to work right on this end.”

Professor Hotchkiss’s husband, also Professor Hotchkiss, was Assistant Dean of the School of Computer Science, and very well respected in the field. I knew he had taken the year to work on a secret project involving the network of computers that CERN had in Switzerland and around the world, but I figured if I knew any more than that then someone, somewhere would have to kill me.

Nevertheless, I said, “Well, sure, I think I can help with that. Let’s take a look at your laptop.”

“Oh, I don’t have that with me. It’s really more of an issue I need to show you.”

“Um, okay. I can try to drop by your office tomorrow afternoon, or I can send out another tech in the morning if you need someone right away.”

“No,” she said, looking me up and down. “It needs to be you, at home, and now.” I might have been wrong, but I swear her eyebrow raised just slightly, and the barest hint of a smile passed her full, kissable lips.

“Uh, sure. Why not? Here at the Help Desk, we aim to please. Just let me grab my jacket.” I mentally kicked myself as I walked to the closet and retrieved my jacket and satchel. “Aim to please?” Where was the smooth guy who had no trouble picking up girls in bars? All the weirdos I supervised must be rubbing off on me.

“Hold the fort, and let Lenny know it’s safe to come out now,” I called over my shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Technically later today,” Prashant corrected.

Right. I had momentarily forgotten the level of nerd I was dealing with.

“So,” I said, as we walked out of the library. “Where do you live? Should I just grab my car and follow you?”

“I’m right here,” she said, pointing to the Porsche parked directly in front of the building. Of course, she had found an incredible parking place just steps from the packed library despite it being the week of midterms. Of course, she drove a Porsche. “I’ll take you.”

“But I don’t want to make you come back to campus tonight,” I said before thinking. Duh. What an idiot I was being. She wasn’t going to drive me back. “I mean, I guess I could get an Uber,” I stammered.

“I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that tonight, she said. “This could take a while.” She opened the doors, and we got in.

“What the heck did that mean?” I tried to act like being kidnapped by a sexy professor in the middle of the night was a common occurrence for me. “What kind of computer do you have?” I asked, trying to make normal conversation, and not think about how she was handling the gear shift, and wonder how she would handle my...

“Let’s not worry about that until we get there,” she said. “I want to know more about you. I feel like we’ve met before.”

“Uh, yeah. I had your class a while back. It must have been five…no, six years ago when I was a sophomore.”

“Right,” she said pulling up to a stoplight. “Words for Nerds.” She gave me a long appraising look and smiled. “Tim something, isn’t it?”

“Actually Jim,” I said. Jim Wilson.”

“I remember now. You always sat in the front row. Seemed like I had your rapt attention, but if I asked you a question, your mind was a million miles away.” She winked.

“Oh God, kill me now,” I thought. She knew I had fantasized about her. Still, she didn’t seem offended.

“And why are you still at the university, Jim? On the eight-year plan?”

“No, actually, I’m a grad student in the computer science department.”

“Really? Do you know my husband, Mark?”

“Only by reputation. Different academic interests, I guess.”

“Hmm.”

We chatted a bit more about where I was from and what my future plans were. I told her I hoped to teach someday.

“All of the opportunities out there for people who are good with computers, and you want to teach? Not much money in that.” Our destination seemed to belie her assertion as we pulled into the driveway of a home in one of the poshest sections of the city. As if reading my mind, she added, “Although Mark does all right with consulting on the side.”

“I guess so,” I said. I trailed her up the walk and to the front door. She unlocked it and invited me inside. She kicked off her shoes, so I did the same, then she started up a staircase leading up to the second level. When I didn’t immediately follow, she turned back to face me.” Well, aren’t you going to join me in the bedroom?”

“Bedroom? I thought you said it was a laptop. It would probably be more appropriate if you just brought it down here, Professor Hotchkiss.”

“It’s more complicated than just the laptop. I really need you to see it to understand the full extent of the problem. And you don’t have to call me ‘Professor,’ you can call me Paige.”

I was in a quandary. I had been invited to join Professor Hotchkiss—Paige—in her bedroom, which was a longtime fantasy of mine. Even if nothing happened, it would be “spank bank” material for years to come. I also imagined that my career would likely be over if her husband ever found out. I stood, unable to move, for an interminable period.

“Are you coming?”

“What the hell,” I thought. On the off chance anything exciting did happen, my entire future was worth risking just to have a go with this goddess.

Once in the bedroom, Paige told me to take a seat in an arm chair. “I just need to run to the bathroom quickly,” she apologized.

I looked around. It seemed like a normal room with a large, comfortable bed in the center, flanked by night tables. On top of one was an open notebook computer. The room also held a dresser and a seating area, which I currently occupied. One door led to what was presumably a walk-in closet, while another obviously led to the bathroom. A flatscreen monitor was hanging on the wall. Then I noticed the cameras. They were small and generally well-concealed in light fixtures or high up in corners, but they were definitely there. I had spied five in all by the time Paige returned from the bathroom.

I was pretty sure I had died, but I wasn’t sure if I was in heaven or hell. Paige had divested herself of all of her clothing save a lacy, sheer bra barely restraining her marvelous breasts and another garment, which could only be described as a g-string. If she was a knockout with her clothes on, she reached a whole new level with her clothes off. I had never seen a more perfect body. My shorts began to get very uncomfortable again, just like when I was in the front row of her old class.

She crossed the room, then climbed onto the bed and stretched out like a cat—on her knees, with her incredible ass in the air, her arms reaching in front of her, the cups of her bra literally running over, unable to contain her breasts. “Like what you see?” she purred.

What was I going to say? I was a man in full possession of my faculties and in my sexual prime. Of course I liked what I saw. Still, Paige was a married woman, and the whole thing was highly inappropriate.

She shifted again, and hopped down off the bed and into my lap, kissing me hard while tracing her hand down my body until she found my stiffening cock in my jeans. “You do like what you see.”

“Oh my God, yes,” I found myself saying as she stroked me harder.

She got up, took my hands, and pulled me up next to her. Unbuttoning my shirt, she asked, “Then why don’t you join me on the bed?”

She climbed up on the bed again, and kneeling, beckoned me over. As I reached her, she put her arms behind her back and unhooked her bra, fully revealing the breasts that had so frequently occupied my daydreams. “I know you want to touch them,” she said. “I know you went back to your dorm and beat yourself off thinking about cumming all over them just like the other guys. So come here, and find out how they measure up to your imagination.”

“Professor Hotchkiss...” I started.

“Paige,” she corrected.

“Fine, Paige.” I was quickly losing my nerve. “Please believe me. There is nothing I’d like more, but I don’t think it’s right. I mean what would your husband say?”

“Hmm, good point,” she said. “I know what we’ll do. We’ll find out. Mark, are you there?“

Suddenly the flatscreen flashed on, and there was Professor Mark Hotchkiss staring at me—and at his practically naked wife. “Gotcha.”

“Professor Hotchkiss,” I stammered. “It’s not what it looks like.”

“You mean you weren’t just about to feel up my gorgeous wife, then rip off that thong and fuck the living daylights out of her?”

“No, sir.”

“Aww.” Paige crawled across the bed, pulled herself up, and put her hands on my chest, rubbing those amazing tits on me. “Now I’m disappointed. And what a waste of this bad boy,” she said, unzipping me, and taking my erection in her hands.

“Paige—I mean Professor Hotchkiss—you’re not helping.”

They both suddenly burst out laughing. “Should we let him off the hook and tell him?” asked Paige.

“I think we’d better before he faints dead away,” Mark said. “Look,” he continued, “What’s your name?”

“Jim.”

“Look, Jim—nice schlong, by the way. Almost as impressive as mine. You do know how to pick em, baby.”

Paige giggled.

“As I was saying. We do have a bit of a video problem. It’s just not in the way you think.”

“So I was beginning to gather,” I said.

“You see, I’m going to be over here in Switzerland for a year. Paige unfortunately couldn’t take time off to join me. She and I have a very...active...shall we say, time in the bedroom, which presents us with a bit of an issue. I can’t fuck her from almost 6000 miles away. And Paige needs to be fucked on a regular basis, don’t you baby?”

Paige nodded her head and giggled again. “A very regular basis.”

“And I need to see her get what she needs. That’s just my job as a husband.”

He went on, “We thought Paige would be able to to survive with just her toys.” His image disappeared and was replaced by a video of Paige on the very bed I was standing next to, using one hand to play with her nipples while the other was occupied with vigorously ramming a huge dildo in and out of her cleanly-shaved and very wet pussy. Her head was thrown back and she was moaning in obvious ecstasy. My cock, still enjoying its freedom from its previous confines, twitched in Paige’s hand.

“Ooh. He likes what he sees,” she cooed.

Mark was back. “Yeah. We thought that would be sufficient—Paige doing herself with her toys, while I watched from Switzerland. But we soon realized we both wanted more. Like this.”

He vanished from the screen again, replaced by what was obviously an amateur porn video, albeit with decent production values, starring none other than the Professors Hotchkiss. Paige was naked, facing the camera on her knees, and using a vibrator to stimulate herself. Then there was a close-up of just the vibe on Paige’s nether region, juice flowing freely out of her pussy. The scene changed again to a full shot of her body while Mark entered the frame, then bent her over, and entered Paige from behind. He was right. He did have an impressive dick. Paige kept the vibrator on her clit while Mark pounded her, both hands gripping her waist, causing her breasts to bounce wildly in another close-up. No wonder their bedroom needed so many cameras. They were shooting their sexual activities from all angles.

The video cut off abruptly and Mark reappeared. “You see, Paige just needs to be fucked by a real man to be satisfied...and I need to watch to get my full jollies. Are you willing to be that man?”

“His prick says he is,” said Paige. She had stroked me while the video played, and now had a tight grip around the base of my cock. I was fully, and quite painfully, engorged.

“There’s really no downside for you,” Mark went on. “You get to have sex with my wife as much as you want—well, as much as she wants, but believe me, she’s basically insatiable—until I get home next August. You two just text me and let me know you’re going to go at it. If I’m somewhere I can watch, I will. If not, you just record it so I can watch it later. Deal?”

My head was spinning, and not just because most of my blood was occupying my dick. What kind of man not just tolerated his wife cheating on him, but actively encouraged it, and wanted to watch? More important, at least to me, was how I had gotten in the middle of this kink-fest.

“Deal?” Mark repeated.

“Why me?” I asked.

“We really do need a nerd present in case the equipment goes down or we lose the connection,“ Mark explained. “We just had to find one that Paige didn’t mind screwing, which is easier said than done. She’d been trawling the CS Department for days when she finally spotted you. She did a little asking around, found out you were a supervisor over at the Help Desk, and the rest, as they say, is history.”

“Ugh,” said Paige. “Historians make such supremely boring lays.”

“I know, baby. I know. Hey, why don’t you show Jim here a good time, and if he likes it, he can come back for more. If he doesn’t, well, it’s his loss. Sound like a plan, Jim?”

Paige let go of me just long enough to shimmy out of her barely-existent underwear. She pushed my jeans and boxer briefs down, then bent her head and wrapped her mouth around my cock, delivering the sweet promise of relief for my aching member as she swirled her tongue around.

I moaned. Then I said, “Fine, but I have just one request.”

As Paige’s mouth was otherwise occupied, Mark answered. “Yes?”

“You disappear.”

“No. That’s non-negotiable. I get to watch.”

“Yeah, yeah. You get to watch. I just don’t have to watch you watching me.”

“Fine,” he sighed. The flatscreen went black.

I knew he was still there, watching on his laptop or tablet or whatever setup he had rigged in Switzerland, but not having his face looming over me like something out of 1984 made it easier to perform. “Paige.” I clasped her under the chin and lifted her face with my hand. “That’s really terrific, but if you want me to fuck you, you need to quit now, or I’m not going to be able to stop myself from cumming in your mouth.” I pulled her up and kissed her.

She responded by thrusting her tongue between my lips and pushing my unbuttoned shirt off of my shoulders and onto the floor. I stepped out of my jeans and underwear, then eased her gently back on the bed. I felt between her legs, fingering her clit before sliding a couple of fingers inside her. She tightened around my hand and whispered, “Oh, Jim. How did you know I like to be finger-fucked?”

“Just a hunch.” I figured there wasn’t much she didn’t like given the circumstance I found myself in. As I continued ministering to her with my fingers, I bent down and took a nipple in my mouth, sucking and biting, causing her to arch her back and press up into me. Nineteen year old me couldn’t believe his luck:  I was about to sleep with “Professor Hot-tits.” Twenty-five-year-old me wondered if I would someday come to regret this.

Paige was gasping and moaning like she was going to climax at any moment, so I got out of my own head, and gave her a little, sucking on her clit until I felt my fingers being flooded with warm juice from her sweet little pussy. I licked her clean, then gave her a little taste of herself, kissing her deeply before I finally plunged my swollen cock into her. She made a sharp intake of breath as I entered her—finding her surprisingly tight for someone who obviously screwed as much and as fervently as she did—then she began to moan, “Fuck me, Jim. Fuck me, Jim,” over and over.

And I did fuck her. I fucked her like I had never fucked anyone else, driving into her as deeply and forcefully as I could until she was digging her nails into my back and practically screaming. She came in a paroxysm of clenching and shuddering around my prick, which I took as a sign to let loose my own climax, cumming with shot after shot deep inside her.

I stayed in her as we both came back down. “Jesus,” she said, “that was good, Jim.” She looked up at me plaintively. “Please tell me you’ll be back. I don’t think I can make it through the year without you.”

How was I going to say no to that, and the chance to have more of the most incredible sex known to man? Once Paige and I got into it, I had completely forgotten that Mark even existed, much less that he was somewhere in Switzerland watching. “Of course I’ll be back.”

She sighed. “Thank you. I know Mark and I are a little...unconventional.”

“That’s one word for it,” I thought, but I kept that notion to myself and chose to just kiss her instead.

“I need to go to the bathroom again,” she said. “Then I can drive you back to campus.”

“Sounds good.”

I lay there on the bed for a bit, nearly drifting off, when the flatscreen suddenly snapped back on. “Very impressive work, Jim.”

“Christ!” I nearly jumped out of my skin. Scrambling, I reached for a pillow to cover myself.

“Almost as good as me. What would you say if I told you I wanted you to...” Mark launched into a string of sex acts—degrading and vile, some bordering on torture—each more depraved and perverted than the next.

I finally had to cut him off. The thought of doing any of those things to Paige or any other woman turned my stomach and made my skin crawl.

“I’d have to say, ‘You’ve got the wrong guy.’ I might also have to call the police. This little arrangement is as far as I’m willing to go. No one gets hurt or abused.”

“Good answer,” Mark said. If you’re willing to do this, I had to make sure you wouldn’t do anything else to her. She sometimes wants it a little rough, and I can’t have you getting carried away. Despite what you might think, I really do love her.”

At that moment, Paige came back from the bathroom, fully clothed again. The screen snapped off.

“You’re not ready!” she exclaimed, seeing me in all my naked glory.

“Yeah, sorry.” I started to look around for my clothes.

She crossed the room to the nightstand and powered off the notebook computer resting on it. “Unless you don’t want to go,” she said, pushing me down on the bed, and sliding her hand up my leg until she had my balls cupped beneath her fingers.

“I don’t think I’m up to another performance tonight, Paige.” I wanted her again, but not if Mark was watching. I would need to psych myself up again for that.

“Mark can’t see anything if the laptop is off, you know. He has a program on there that runs the cameras and monitors. We can’t see him,” she leaned in closer and whispered, “and more important, he can’t see us when it’s not running. It’ll be our little secret.”  

She kissed me, and I kissed her back, my body enthusiastically responding to hers. But in the back of my mind I couldn’t help thinking, “What have I gotten myself into?”

 








 

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