Professor Johnson

By Max H.

Chapter 1


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. 

Johnson isn't really my name.  That's just what some of my students started calling me when I came to class every Wednesday with a hardon.  But I'm getting ahead of myself.

I'm Corey James, and this all began in my second year of teaching.  I'd gotten my PhD and taken a job at a large state university somewhere in the Southeast.  I'm from California and wanted to go "East" to teach, but since I can't stand cold weather, I opted against the northeastern part of the country.  

It started in the fall of my second year at the University.  Teaching at a university provides the pleasure and the distraction of beautiful young men, thousands of them.  An especially appealing example sat on the front row of one of my freshman sections that year.  To my far left.  On the class roster he was Denton Clark.  He'd asked to be called Denny.

About my height, 5'9", he had black curly hair and brown eyes.  And dimples.  His forearms had black hair on them, as did his lower legs.  In September it was warm and he, like many others, wore those long, baggy shorts to class, along with flip-flops.

Denny was different from the others, however.  He never took notes, though there was an open notebook on the desk in front of him.  He seldom stared out the window, as others often did.  Instead, he watched me.  I would have been impressed by his attentiveness if it weren't that when he wasn't looking me in the eye, he seemed to be looking me in the crotch. Often, when I'd glance in his direction, he'd grin and lick his lips.  Or adjust his package.  Or both.  He seemed frequently to be boned up, and that elicited a similar reaction from me.  How could it not?  And then I had to sit behind the desk instead of pacing, as was my custom.  The cute bastard wanted to get me hard and knew just how to do it.

But it won't do for the professor (okay, assistant professor in my case) to conduct class with his pants well tented.  (Forgive the immodesty.)  Professors are, in the minds of administrators and students alike, sexless beings.  That one of us would be aroused is unthinkable.  So, there I was, in a dilemma.  Denny knew how to push my buttons, no question.  When I looked his way, he'd stare at my genitals or rub his own or lick his lips or wink or wiggle in his seat.  He knew he was getting to me, and he delighted in doing it.  

I, of course, wanted to shove my hard tool down his throat or up his tight little ass  Or even, I found myself thinking one day in the midst of a class discussion, have him fuck me.  From the size of his bulge, it would have been . . .    But must needs teach, whatever that meant on any particular day.

I even took to wearing briefs to soak up the pre.

Finally, a couple of weeks into the fall term I'd had enough.  I decided to summon him to my office to tell him to cut the shit, but as the class was leaving, Marissa Prokop stopped by the desk with some stupid question or other.  From the direction of her gaze, I suspect she wanted a closer look at the protrusion in my trousers.  I dealt with her gently and sent her on her way.

When I looked up, there stood Clark.

"Denton . . ."

"Dr. James . . ."

We'd both spoken at once.

He may have been cocky, but he was also well brought up.  He waited for me to continue.

"I think we need to talk.  Can you come up to my office now?"

He grinned, those dark eyes enough to make any gay man's cock twitch.  "Funny.  I was about to ask if I could talk with you."

So we set off down the hall.  My office was on the next floor up.  I never waited for the elevator, preferring the stairs.

I didn't say anything as we walked and climbed, going over in my mind what I was going to say to Denny.  He, too, was quiet.

I unlocked the door of my office, put my folder of notes on my desk, and turned toward him.  I was about to invite him to sit when he stepped close and kissed me.

It wasn't a bad kiss.  In fact it was a very good kiss.  But I was so surprised I wasn't thinking clearly.  

Yes, Denny was a student and I was his professor.  But he was a very sexy young male and I'm human.  I was still partly hard from his teasing in class.    Instinctively, I put my arms around him.  Immediately he dropped his hands to his side. And it was exactly then that someone stepped into the doorway of the office (I hadn't gotten around to closing the door) and took a picture with his cell phone.

"That's enough, Clark.  You guys can stop playing tonsil hockey now."

My first thought was `Oh fuck!'  Letting go of Denny, I stepped back and turned to see the intruder.  It was Fred Potts, a surly individual who'd taken one of my courses the previous year.  He spent more time working on his body than on his studies, which is why he hadn't done well in the class.

Hastily taking my arms from around Denny, I stepped back.  

"What's going on here?" I asked.  I know, pretty lame, but the best I could come up with at the moment.  My attempt at regaining my dignity wasn't helped by the tent in my khakis which was, if anything, more pronounced because of the kiss.

Gesturing toward my chair, Potts said, "Sit down, professor, and we'll explain."

I wasn't too happy with his acting as if it were his office, but I was both curious and upset.  So I sat, leaned back in my chair, and raised an eyebrow.  Potts and Clark took the chairs facing the desk.

"Here's the deal," Potts said.  "You've just kissed one of your students.  An under age student, at that."  He looked at Denny.  "Show him your driver's license."

Denny nodded, pulled his wallet from a hip pocket, extracted his license, and handed it to me.  His eighteenth birthday wasn't for another month.  He was still jailbait!  As I sat there thinking of the significance of what had just happened, Denny reached across my desk and took back the license.

"So, professor, you're in deep shit."

"But you guys set me up!  I didn't do anything."

Fred looked at Denny.  "Tell us what the professor did."

Denny closed his eyes and said, as if he were reciting something he'd memorized, "He told me if I wanted to pass his course, I was going to have to give him blow jobs or do anything else he asked.  That's when he grabbed me and kissed me."

I snorted.  "That's not what happened and you know it!"

"So you say," Fred retorted.  "But who's the dean gonna believe?  Who are the cops gonna believe?"

He was probably right.  I asked, "But why would you do this?  Denny won't have any trouble passing my course.  He could make good grades if he'd quit putting on a show for me and concentrate on the subject matter."

"We're going now."  They both stood up.  Then Fred continued, "I hope you didn't have any plans for this evening.  Check your email when you get home, so you can see how well the picture came out.  And expect us to arrive at 7:00.  Don't have anyone else there.  And get some beer if you don't have any."

"But . . . but . . ." I sputtered.

"Later, professor"

I heard Fred say as they went down the hall, "I told you it would work."

I didn't quite catch Denny's response.

I stayed in my office for the remainder of my posted office hours, though no one came in.  When I got to my apartment I fired up the PC and checked my email.  Sure enough, there was the picture.  Fred had snapped it at the perfect moment.  Denny is standing rigid, arms at his sides, while I have my arms around him.  Our open mouths are pressed together and one could assume that I was tongue raping him.  If those guys were serious about what they said in my office, I was fucked and I knew it.  

Like many who've endured some sort of misfortune they thought they didn't deserve, I asked `Why me?'  I didn't flaunt being gay.  I hadn't had so much as a date with another guy in the just over a year that I'd been on the campus.  I enjoyed teaching.  My student evaluations had been good enough to make the assistant chairman of the department happy.  But it was all about to go down the tubes because the sexy little shit and the oaf who was apparently controlling him wanted to have some fun with me?  That sucked.

I told myself not to panic until I heard exactly what they wanted of me.  But I couldn't think of a scenario that wasn't pretty grim.  They hadn't actually said what they expected of me except that I was to be home alone at 7:00 and to have beer available.  None of that was any problem.  I spent most of my evenings home alone, and there was always plenty of beer in the fridge.  

What did they want from me?  That was the question.  A question.  Another was whether I'd be willing to do it.  The alternative seemed to be their implied threat to go to the dean or even the cops.  

Jesus, the cops!  It would be bad enough to lose my job and probably my career.  But jail?  I've mentioned my height.  And I have light blond hair and pale blue eyes.  I work out on my Soloflex to stay in shape, but I don't have a large frame or lots of muscles.  What little body hair I have is so light it hardly shows.  And my facial features are what my mother always called "delicate."  In short, I have a face that's more pretty than handsome.  Oh, yeah, I knew what would happen to me in prison!  I'd spend the next ten to twenty taking it up the ass from all and sundry.  Whatever Denny and that lunk Fred had in mind couldn't be that bad.  

I decided I'd show them I wasn't rattled.  I'd change clothes.  I took off my shirt, tie, khakis, shoes and socks, exchanging them for a light blue tee and some khaki shorts.  We were still having warm weather, so I did as I usually do at home, i.e. remained barefoot.  

Though not a bit hungry, I'd just decided I should eat something when the doorbell rang.  It was 7:00!  I must have spent more time than I realized worrying about what lay ahead of me that evening.

Denny and Fred were dressed pretty much as I was.  When I opened the door, Fred walked in, almost knocking into me. Denny gave me an apologetic look and followed him.

There was an awkward pause.  I didn't exactly want to welcome them to my home and couldn't think of anything else to say.  Fred solved the problem by walking to my recliner and sitting in it.

"Where's the beer?"

"You're assuming a lot, Potts."

Denny sat on the end of the sofa.  Gone was the smiling, sexy kid who sat in my class day after day playing with himself, getting me hot and hard.  In his place was a nervous teen.

Potts stood up.  "Come on, baby.  It looks like we're going to have to go to the cops and tell `em how this pervert blackmailed and molested you."

Yep. I was fucked!  "Wait a minute.  Sit down.  I'll get you guys a beer."  I looked at Denny.  "Do you want one?"


So I was going to give him a beer he wasn't old enough to have legally, but given what they were about to accuse me of doing, that was of minor importance.  (Sorry about the pun.)

I brought them each back a can of Bud Lite.  Potts looked at it with disdain, but he popped the top and took a swig.

I sat.  "Would you like to explain just what it is you want of me?"

Potts grinned.  He was a plain-looking guy, about six feet tall, with hazel eyes and medium brown hair.  His ears were too big and he had a sort of a blunt nose.  On the other hand, he had broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and a nice ass.  

"Denny, babes, tell the prof here what you are."

"I'm your bitch."

I like to think I'm fairly sophisticated, but I was shocked.  I'd had gay friends since high school, but I'd never known any of them to admit to being someone's bitch.  "Bitch" was a word we called one another occasionally as a joke or when we were mildly pissed with them.

Potts seemed satisfied.  He grinned at Denny.  "Right."  Then he turned to me.  "My bitch thinks you're hot, so you're going to be his bitch."

I started to protest, but he held up his hand.  "Unless, of course, you'd rather go to jail and be everybody's bitch."

My hands were sweating and I'd definitely lost any cool I might have had.  In fact, I wanted to run from the room and puke.  "And, um, uh, what does being Denny's bitch mean, actually?"

"It means that you'll do anything he tells you.  And, since you'll be my bitch's bitch, you'll do anything I tell you, too."

"Anything?"  I felt dizzy, as if I might slide out of my chair onto the floor.

"Yep.  Anything."

I bit my lip to help me concentrate.  "But you wouldn't ask me to do anything illegal?"  Then I thought of something else.  "Or jeopardize my job?"

Denny looked at Fred who apparently hadn't thought of those considerations.

"Okay, nothing illegal.  And maybe not your job.  But you'll just have to wait and see what we come up with about that one."

"But . . ."

Fred turned to Denny and grinned.  Denny was still looking nervous.

"Can't you just see Corey here taking it up the ass from some big hairy guy called Bubba?"

Denny licked his lips and nodded.

"You'd be better off just taking it up the ass from Denny and me.  Professor."

Well, I'd taken it up the ass.  That didn't sound so bad.  I was furious at being put into this position by a pair of cocky undergraduates, but given the realities of the situation, I didn't have much choice.  And with Denny, at least, it might be, well, not bad.

"I've got to tell you that this is repre--, oh shit.  This sucks!  I don't know what I've done to you that would make you do this to me."

Fred grinned again.  "Well, for starters, last year you gave me a C minus in your course.  I think I should have got a better grade than that.  Besides, my boy here thinks you're hot.  So I get some revenge and he gets a toy."

What could I say to that?  What I said started with "But" and didn't get any further.

"So, no time like the present to get started.  Get on your knees and come over here."  

When I was slow to respond, he stood up and snapped his fingers, pointing at the floor in front of him.

I knee-walked over to him.

When I got close enough, he pulled my head against his crotch.

"Get me hard, boy."

Doing in part what was required of me and in part what came naturally, I nuzzled his crotch.  To steady myself I put a hand on his thigh.  Then I stuck it between his legs and began to finger his crack through the material of his shorts.  He became hard almost at once.  I could feel his cock hardening, lengthening, thickening through his pants.  I began to chew on it, still stroking his crack.

"Oh, shit, Denny babe, you're gonna love this."

I would have loved a glance at Denny right then but didn't think Fred would take kindly to my neglecting my duties.

"Okay, take it out."

I reached to unbutton the waist button on his shorts, but he swatted my head.

"No, I said take it out."

I unzipped his fly and reached inside for his hard cock.  The front of his shorts was wet with my slobber.  He wasn't wearing any underwear.

And there it was.  There I was.  On my knees, staring at his cock.  I'd seen better looking cocks, but then I wasn't in this position by choice.  And since I wasn't, I waited for further instructions.

"Okay, you know what to do next."

I'd sucked some cocks, and I'd enjoyed it most of the time.  But this was the first time I'd ever been forced to do it.  Well, blackmail is a kind of force, isn't it?  

So I took a deep breath, covered my teeth with my lips, grabbed the crank in front of me, and began to lick.  Fred seemed to like that, but he let me know after a minute or so that he wanted more.

"Put it in your mouth, prof.  You know what to do."

So I began to perform the best blowjob I could, given that my heart wasn't really in it.  I wondered what Denny was doing, but I couldn't see him from my position.  Soon, though, Fred had both hands on my head and was face fucking me.  I had my hands on his thighs, holding on.  It was just that my mouth provided a convenient orifice, Fred was intentionally being rough, showing me my place.  He didn't last long, fortunately, withdrawing, giving his cock a couple of pumps, and shooting his spunk all over my face.  I could feel his legs shaking.    You'd think he hadn't come for days, though with Denny available I doubted that.

I waited, feeling the cum running slowly down my face.

"Okay, Den boy, it's your turn."  He swatted me lightly on the side of the head.  "Go over there and do him."

I wasn't enjoying the humiliation, but I was about to get a look and, better, a taste of a cock I'd been fantasizing about since the term began.

As I knee walked over to where Denny was waiting I was aware that my cock, which had been limp during Fred's blow job, was chubbing up.

Denny had his shorts unzipped with his stuff hanging out.  I was disappointed he hadn't dropped the shorts because I really wanted a better look at him.  But, I realized, I'd no doubt see all of him soon enough.  

When I got into position I looked up at him for instructions.  He grinned, reached down, and used his thumb to wipe some fluid off my left eyelid.  "That stuff burns when it gets in your eye," he said.  

"Now, I've always wanted to have somebody lick my balls, so why don't you start there?"  He paused and looked at Fred, who grinned and nodded.

"Enjoy your bitch, baby."

I got an idea. "It would be easier to do a good job if you'd let your shorts down."

"No prob."  

First of all, he wasn't wearing any underwear.  Second, though his forearms and calves were covered with dark hair (one of the reasons I'd never thought about him being under age) from his waist to below his crotch he was bare.  No treasure trail, no pubes, no hair on his cock.  And a nice cock it was.  Pink, smooth, and, I noted with some satisfaction, bigger than Fred's.

As tense as the situation was, I didn't fail to notice how sweet Denny's precum was.  Even if he was involved in this sucky scheme with Potts, the boy was adorable.  Not to mention delicious.  After I'd lavished my best attention on his hairless balls for five minutes or so while he cooed his appreciation, he indicated it was time to get down to the main business at hand.  Or at mouth.  

He wasn't expecting the digital prostate massage I threw in for free, obviously a new experience for him.  I concluded Fred wasn't much into foreplay as he face-fucked "his bitch."  Whatever.  Denny was most appreciative, giving me all sorts of vocal and sometimes verbal encouragement and accolades.  At some point I realized my finger had slipped in so easily that he must have been lubed up.  Maybe Fred had him stay that way, ready whenever he was wanted.

Fred, meanwhile, was taking pictures.  So now it wasn't just a case of Denny claiming I'd had sex with him, they had photographic proof.  And I'm sure I didn't look as if I was being coerced.

"Don't forget to pull out before you come.  Add your load to what's already on his face."

No long afterward, Denny came, giving my face a second coat.

While Denny recovered and got his shorts pulled back up, Fred took several shots of my cum-covered face.  By that time, some of it had dripped onto my tee.

"You have a bathtub?"

"Well, yeah."

"Okay.  Go get in it.  Oh," he added as an afterthought, "you can get up and walk."

`Big of you,' I thought.

They had me lie down in the tub, face up.

Fred said to Denny, "Bitch, we need to clean off his face."

"You want me to lick it off?"

"Nah, we'll just hose it off."  He pulled out his cock and began to piss on my face.  Denny follow suit as soon as he'd fished out his no doubt still-sensitive cock.

I'd never been into water sports and definitely wasn't happy about having them piss all over my face and then soak my clothes.  They must have drunk more of my beer than I'd thought, for there wasn't a dry spot on my front side when they finished, and the back was quickly soaking it up, too.

When they were stowed away and zipped up, Fred put his arm around Denny's shoulder.

"Now, listen up, bitch."  He was talking to me this time.  "Here are some rules.  From now on, you can throw out all your underwear.  You don't wear it.  Ever.  And my boy here or I will be checking on you when you aren't expecting it.  Got that?"

"Uh huh."

"Okay, second.  I know you have an hour between classes at noon.  Don't make any appointments.  And don't count on being able to eat lunch.  Take along a power bar or something.  That hour belongs to us.  We'll be dropping by to see you most days.  Maybe we can think of something cool to do.  And you know not to say anything to anybody about this, right?"

As if I would!  I nodded.



"Okay, then.  We'll see you at noon tomorrow."

"Can't wait!"

"Watch your mouth, bitch.  You really don't want to piss us off, do you?"

As they left the bathroom, I think I saw Denny turn and give me that look again, as if he was sorry or felt sorry for me.

I stood up and turned on the shower.  I still had my pissy clothes on, but I figured it would be a good way to rinse them out.  After I let the water run for a while, I took them off and left them in the bottom of the tub while I washed myself.

When I was finished I turned off the water and stepped out of the tub.  I left the clothes there to drain overnight, figuring I could get them to the washer with less mess the next morning.

I pulled on some clean boxers and then threw away the empty beer cans.  Even though it was early, I went to bed.  I'd been hard while I was sucking Denny's cock, but the pissing episode had driven thoughts of sex out of my mind.  I can't understand why some guys get turned on by that.  Anyway, I didn't even jack off.  Maybe it was the tension, but I was exhausted, soon falling asleep.



There will be four parts to this story, three of which are written.  If you enjoyed this, I'd like to hear from you. Email me at  Please put "PJ" or "Johnson" or something like that in the subject line so I'll know it isn't spam.  Thanks.  -- Max