A Master's Ring
by ElSol

Chapter 1


	The University required students to work with a faculty advisor after declaring a major. Most professors rubberstamped the forms; boredom might occasion conversation, but rarely did either side want to hear what the other had to say. Having enjoyed his class, I asked Professor Jeremy Ryan if he would perform the honors.

	He did not treat a student's work as if it were beneath him, nor did he prescribe to the position that being a writer in college was license for freakhood. Writing classes easily devolved into feel good sessions; Professor Ryan's criticisms were always constructive and spared no one's feelings.

	He taught a short fiction seminar which was my first choice to satisfy the senior requirement. Students needed a signed permission form from him before they could register for the class though. There were no problems getting into other writing seminars, but I did not care to waste a semester listening to kids kiss each other's asses because their last breakup was inspiring such great work. Everyone knew better than to hand-in ego-masturbation pieces in Professor Ryan's class. As my advisor, I thought he might feel somewhat obligated to assign me a coveted permission slip.

	Professor Ryan set a five p.m. appointment to discuss an internship with his literary agent. We had talked about my interests in our initial meeting; I thought employment at a publishing house or with an agent was a good idea while I worked towards my doctorate. I did not have writing skill beyond a niche market, like male-adventure, but I had an eye for talent. I was also a fine editor, especially with someone else's work.

	The English faculty's offices were located in the department's basement. The place was a catacomb, every tunnel ended in two or three offices. With a few turns to get to, Professor Ryan's was probably the most out-of-the-way office. A well-published, tenured professor should have had his pick.

	I walked to the door and knocked. When no one answered, I knocked harder.

	I was deciding between going for a cup of coffee or settling in when I heard something from inside. I knocked but still got no response. Hearing the noise again made me try the doorknob, turning it easily. Figuring someone had to be inside but why take the chance of getting caught in a professor's office without his company, I opened the door slowly.

	Professor Ryan's desk faced the wall opposite the entrance. He usually sat with his back to the door, but this time he sat parallel to the desk. It was a considerate position since the woman kneeling between his legs would have been uncomfortable under the desk.

	Even in her position, or maybe because of her position: on her knees, red hair washing onto his lap, back slightly curved, hands gripping his thighs... it was obvious she had a fantastic body. She wore a powder-blue skirt, short enough to put the definition of her thighs on display. A sweatshirt valiantly tried to hide the rest of her assets but only tantalized.

	She stopped caressing his thigh long enough to push her hair behind an ear. A ring on her finger caught the light. The band covered the entire space between her knuckles and opened into a square face with a flat white stone setting.

	Pushing the hair out of the way revealed her identity.

	Doris Alexandra Smith!

	Doris Alex was a campus Goddess. At least a thousand male students would have vigorously defended her status. There was only one woman on campus whom I would have been more surprised to find on her knees, the 'Bryar' Patch, Melisa.

	Seeing Doris Alex kicked off internal alarms. After a few conversations with her, I learned the only way for anyone to avoid sounding stupid around her was to keep their mouth shut when she spoke. Professor Ryan did not teach anything Doris should have been wasting her time on. It was not an opinion expressed by her, but my belief that Doris Alex could offer the world better things than a poem or a book.

	My thought process halted as her actions registered on a physical level. Doris Alex had Professor Ryan's dick sheathed between her lips.

	She was taking exquisite care in performing the act. Her hand caressed his thighs, abdomen, his sack, and the base of his penis. Her fingertips settled on different spots long enough to set off nerves and moved to stimulate elsewhere. Occasionally, she took him out of her mouth and stroked his length with her tongue.

	Doris Alex focused absolutely on her task.

	She caressed his thigh with her right hand while her left hand gripped his base. She took him from her lips and worked her hand up his dick in a practiced masturbation stroke any teenage boy would envy. She put the tip of her tongue on his ball sack and licked upwards following her hand. She stroked her hand off his dick and let it fall to his stomach. She ran her tongue upwards in light caresses, forcing him to push on the back of the chair until he was almost parallel to the floor. While her left hand caressed his stomach and chest, her right hand stood his dick up so she could run her tongue on the underside of his crown where I was most sensitive. She welcomed him back in her mouth; I wondered how warm being surrounded by Doris Alex felt.

	The next time the tongue-sequence began; she licked his ball sack but continued to wash his testicles while using her hands as random stimulation wherever she could reach.

	She sucked him back into her mouth and stroked faster and faster, building to the crescendo of his orgasm. Her hair washed down to cover her face. Professor Ryan brushed it behind her ear with his left hand.

	The ring he wore ended my existence and began my life. It was a male version of the one Doris Alex wore, but with an onyx setting. The face had an intricately designed crest on it; I was too far away to make out any detail though.

	I watched his thumb caress Doris Alex's face. She tilted her head back to look at him. She managed a smile by gripping the head of his dick between perfect white teeth.

	She laid her ring hand flat on his thigh. She might have done the same with her left; I could not see. She speared his dick into her mouth, again and again. After every few strokes, she stopped at the bottom, made a swallowing motion, and bobbed her head. She used the wave to take a more of him into her each time. She was trying to deep-throat him. She could have done it from the beginning, but her way looked more pleasurable.

	I do not know how long I stood there; in that time, one thing became perfectly clear, his pleasure was paramount in every one of Doris Alex's actions.

	A couple more strokes, she stopped, waved from her throat, taking him deeper. More strokes, up and down. She released him, reached down to lick him from sack to the tip of his dick.

	Her tongue washed him.

	She moved low to lick him from sack to the tip of his dick again before impaling her mouth on his dick. Doris Alex returned to her earlier rhythm, but there were fewer strokes before she did the wave motion to take him further inside of her being. Finally, she touched bottom and rested.

	With Professor Ryan seated completely in her mouth, her pleasure bloomed. Doris Alex's body tightened, the muscles in her thighs contracted, her back arched, her ass clenched, and her hands gripped his thighs tightly and then released.

	I had never witnessed that before.

	Doris Alex moaned as she drifted the spiral of her orgasm.

	With a corkscrew motion, she unwound her mouth from him, only to take him fully again. Over and over, she unscrewed him from her in a clockwise motion, drover her face onto him, unscrewed her mouth, and buried his dick. Her cheek muscles were twitching throughout; she must have been working her tongue furiously on him.

	Professor Ryan's hand gently fondled her cheek, but she remained uninterrupted in her purpose. I looked up at him; he was staring at me with a smile even a cat dipped in nip would have been hard fought to reproduce. I stared into blue eyes, and he won something.

	The admission: I wanted to be the one Doris Alex took bliss in being the pleasure of.

	I looked at her and back to him. His smile had changed, 'Your time comes, my brother,' it said to me. I nodded, closed the door, and rested my forehead against it. I could still hear them, but my body eventually relaxed.

	I turned and walked out of the catacombs. Professor Ryan had not made the appointment to talk about an internship. Our conversation was not over, yet he had firmly established he came to the table with something I desired.


