It’s a good thing that I took care of “my problem” before third period.

(Having a private faculty bathroom is a good thing!)

Kindy was doing her best to punch every one of my buttons, today. Low cut blouse, long sleeved, and it was loose. The sleeves were rolled up due to the heat. She leaned over her desk, often, and displayed a lot of pert young cleavage. I’m sure that if I had been in the state that I was last week, I would, eventually, have seen nipple. Short skirt, and she hadn’t bothered wearing panties, today. I don’t know, and I really don’t want to know, whether her bush has not grown in fully, or if she shaves ..., but I found out that, today, the lips were bare.

Luckily, between what I had worked out of my system in the faculty bathroom, and the tornado Debby had started in my mind, when Kindy flashed me, I only paused for a split second in what I was saying, and went on.

Our eyes never met.

She had a “pouty” attitude, as she flounced out of the room, at the end of the period.

I, on the other hand, was ready to jump up on my desk, and shout to the heavens, “I AM SPARTACUS!!!”

I settled for warming up my orchestra, and had some real fun conducting Haydn’s Surprise Symphony.

Part II

I was home, during lunch, when the cell phone went off.

“Hello.”

“Dr. Freeman?”

“Well, that is a bit early for me. I’m tied up until 4.”

“5:30 is fine.”

“No, I don’t mind that all of your staff will be gone, by then.”

“Fine. See you then.”

“Bye.”

I was about to pull out the KY, and hit my favorite sites, when the phone rang again.

“Hello?!”

“Have you called yet?”

It was Deb.

“Yes, dear.”

“Don’t ‘yes, dear’, me, I was just checking!”

“I just got off of the phone with Dr. Freeman, and I have an appointment at 5:30.”

“5:30?”

“I told Bear that I would go smoke the team for him, after school.”

“Oh, okay ..”

There was a pause on the other end of the line.

“Are you going to work them hard?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Good ... they could use it.”

“Uh-huh, the boys looked like crap, last week. ... Bear thought it would be funny if the two of us “old farts” went out and smoked them.”

Almost under her breath:

“Boys will be boys.”

“What?”

“You and Bear ... You both ... never mind.”

I looked at my watch.

“I have to pack some workout clothes, and get out of here.”

“Bye.”

“42”

“42”

Part III

I heard groans from all over the locker room, as I pulled my pants back on.

“Nice job, Maestro.”

Bear grinned, as he walked to the locker he kept his clothes in. Allen’s beer gut had noticeably receded in the last 2 years, but was still present. He was one of the few in “the Crew” that could keep up with me when I was in the mood for some dedicated drinking.

He turned back to me and grinned again, as the groans got even louder as the team left the showers, and tried to bend to get dressed.

“It’s like music to my ears.”

I grinned back.

“Hey, age and treachery will beat youth and ability any day.”

We did a double high five, and shouted in unison:

“The old dogs still have it!”

I looked at my watch.

“Gotta split.”

“What’s up? ...Deb got you on a short leash, now?”

I stared for a second. Not sure what to say.

“uh ... something like that.”

Part IV

I walked into the den. Deb was at the computer, staring something intently. I dropped my gym bag, and set the bag in my other hand on the desk.

She looked up.

“What’s this?”

“Stuff Dr. Freeman sent me home with.”

She picked up the bag ... the wrong way. Plastic cups and lids went everywhere.

“What are these?”

“Specimen cups.”

“He wants urine samples?!?”

“No, semen.”

“Oh.”

“How many?”

“35”

“That’s not many for two and a half months.”

“That’s what he wants for this week.”

As she sat with a stunned look on her face, I rummaged in my jacket pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. I handed it to her.

“These are the conditions he wants them taken under.”

She read up and down the list. And then, looked up at me, with a smile.

“We’d best get started, then, shouldn’t we?”

She reached for the fly of my pants.

This is when things began to get weird.

Part V

I just re-read that last sentence, and realized how ludicrous it sounded. All of this has been weird.

This is the point that things became surreal.

Except for work, life became a series of tests, medical and psychological, and specimen collections.

Everyday after work, either at Woof's or Dr. Freeman's office, I was tested. Blood tests, IQ tests, reflex tests, personality inventories, you name it. Over and over again.

The first set was done when I was not aroused, but my balls ached for relief.

The second set was done when ... How did Ron White put it? I think it was: "My dick was so hard you could hunt with it."

The next set came after Deb had put me through a marathon night. (I can't remember if it was 4 or 5 samples she collected before we went to sleep. ... I know it was 2 more before she let me leave the house, that morning.) If I had tried to ejaculate at that point, I think my dick would have spurted dust.

That's another thing.

Deb had gotten real creative on "assisting" in "specimen collection".

Hand jobs with massage oil, tit fucks, foot jobs, "dry humping" ... you know ... running one side of your dick back and forth between your lady's nether lips, or between the ass cheeks.

That's not all.

Dr. Freeman had said that it wouldn't matter if some of her ... "bodily fluids" were in the samples. Which opened us up to settings that involved saliva, or ... well, you get the idea.

I brought up the idea of condoms, and emptying them into a specimen cup. But, Deb hates condoms with a passion, and Dr, Freeman had given us an out. Besides, I've always been kind of a "reverse premature ejaculator". Meaning, that Deb's big complaint is not that I cum too fast, but by the time I am just "getting close", she is, not only ready for everything to be over, she's beginning to get sore.

So, it was oral, with Deb spitting in a cup, it was regular sex, and anal, with me pulling out, and shooting in a cup, while she finished me by hand.

Debby was having a ball.

One night, about 3 in the morning, she woke me from a sound sleep. She was naked sitting on top of me. At some point she had removed my underwear (that's all I sleep in). Of course, "Henry" was ready to go. She was rubbing her pussy (I use that term for you all. Debby, actually, hates the term "pussy", and prefers "cunt". Don't ask me why!) up and down "Henry's” length. She had this, almost, maniacal look in her eye.

"I just thought of something we could try!"

And we did, I think.

I was never completely conscious for it.

The next morning, as I was getting ready in the bathroom, I noticed two things: one, a specimen cup with a specimen, that had not been there when we went to sleep; and secondly ...

"Debby! How did I bruise my arm pit?!?"

I never got a good answer for that question, but we both agreed that, whatever it was we had done the night before, we would NEVER try it again.

---

So, life settled into a routine: work, sex, and testing ... with occasional, hurried, breaks for the "non-essentials", you know: eating, sleeping, going to the bathroom, and personal hygiene.

Okay, maybe personal hygiene didn't count as a break, anymore. Deb had taken to getting in the shower with me every morning to collect a specimen.

It made showering more pleasant, but lengthened my "morning routine" a bit. It took me a few days to gauge it correctly so I wasn't late for work!

Part VI

So, life went on.

Allen's football team won District, but didn't make it past Area. His big stars all got looks from college scouts. Most were offered some type of scholoarship from various in state schools. It was an average year for him. Meaning, he was probably going to be offered tenure. I expect some of the big 5A schools are going to come sniffing around for around the end of the year. But, I'm pretty sure he will turn them down. He likes it here. The town loves him. The local radio station is talking about offering a weekend sports talk show. He "holds court" at his barbershop. Every two weeks, Morgan's is packed while "Bear" gets his cut, and local high school sports fan and alumni listen to him wax eloquent about the state of high school sports.

My marching band made it State competition, but place 9th at State. Hey! I am rebuilding a program. This was the first time they had advanced past District since the 1970's! We brought home a trophy larger than the one Allen and his team brought home. I was a lock to be offered a contract for next year. Which was nice, I was sweating it the last two years.

My orchestra was going to blow the crowd away at the Christmas Concert. We were going to do all of the "old warhorses", you know: "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring", "Sleigh Ride", etc. But they were on it. This group was beginning to sound as good as some of the top tier college orchestras in the state.

My big band was going to impress, as well. But not quite as much as the orchestra. Which was okay, this group had a long-cherished reputation for sucking. I had arranged "We Three Kings" for the group. It was based on the version Miles Davis played in the movie "Scrooged". It's not that I am that good of an arranger, I just knew how to highlight the group's strengths, and cover up their weaknesses.

Converting the marching band into a concert band, was turning into a challenge, as always. After spending 4 months blowing their brains out every time they picked up their horns, convincing the kids to play with some finesse, subtlety and taste was rough. As one of my college professors said: "Marching band can be a great artistic experience, but not always a musical one."

My wunderkind in General music were pushing me for more challenging material to prep them for their pursuit of a music degree, and my slackers were ... slacking. Which, in some ways, made that class my most challenging to teach.

Kindy was still ... Kindy. However, she seemed to have given up on me. She still turned on the "Lolita" routine, regularly, but it seemed more out of habit than any real desire to tempt me. Frankly, I was too drained to give "positive feedback" on her efforts. I hear she is turning on strong in her history class. The teacher there is a first-year single guy. He gave up a career in business to teach. Having kind of a rough time, but I think he will make it. If he doesn't give into Kindy.

Which, I guess brings us to my personal life.

Not that I really had much of one at this point. Deb had made it her mission in life to insure that all the specimens were collected and delivered to Dr. Freeman on schedule.

Part VII

It just struck me that I have never described Debby. First, let me say, that I am one hell of a lucky guy.

She's 5'6". Dark brown, slightly longer than shoulder length hair, blue eyes. Her voice is low pitched for a woman. Not quite Kathleen Turner husky, but definitely not high pitched. I like to think of it as "smokey".

Her weight fluctuates between 125 and 140. Even at 140, she is not "thick". Have you ever seen any of the old Bettie Page pinups? Okay, Deb is kind of like that. However! 36DD breasts that are just amazing. No augmentation. It's all Deb. Just the right amount of sag to let you know that the twins are real. And nipples! Oh my God! Perfect circle areaola about the size of an old half dollar when not erect. Whe she gets aroused, or cold, they "crinkle". I don't know how else to describe it, and they shrink up to the size of a quater, and then, ... you remember those old, fat pencils you used to use in first grade? The ones that are about twice the thickness of a regular #2 pencil? Now, imagine the eraser on one of those. That's Deb's nipples when erect.

I guess the only "downside" is that her waist is not quite to "Bettie Page" proportions, and her butt is ... how can I say this accurately? It looks right on her. It's in proportion, and it is firm. However, it is a bit on the large side. With those breasts, it has to, to be in proportion!

There was a movie in the mid 90's called "Beautiful Girls". Kind of a chick flick, and kind of a "buddy" film. Anyway, Rosie O'Donnel was in it, and her character said: "Let me explain something to you, ok? Girls with big tits have big asses. Girls with little tits have little asses. That's the way it goes. God doesn't fuck around; he's a fair guy. He gave the fatties big, beautiful tits and the skinnies little tiny niddlers. It's not my rule. If you don't like it, call him."

Anyway, I think Deb is hot enough that God and I have not had a discussion on the matter.

So, now you know why I am beginning to feel like a whiner!

I have this gorgeous woman at home. Apparently, she has made it her mission in life to drain everything from my balls morning, noon, and night, in the most creative ways possible.

Isn't that every guy's fantasy? To have a wife that is a perfect lady, except when she's not, and then she's a nymphomaniac! I had praying for this for years, and now I had it. God has a sense of humor. Because, now, I'm just tired. Not only that, but we have had to take special measures to insure that my dick isn't chafing!

Part VIII

To give you an idea of all of this works together, let me tell you about this last Saturday.

I'm lounging around the house. First free Saturday I have had since the beginning of school. Enjoying channel surfing, and helping the dogs hold the couch down. You know, just in case gravity quit working. Deb is puttering around the house. Doing some housework, and stuff.

The phone rings, and Deb answers. After a quick few words, she takes the phone to the next room. I don't think much of it. Probably CJ, or one of the other ladies from the "Crew."

After about half an hour, she comes back, and puts the phone in the charger.

"Woof will be here in about 15 minutes. He's going to do another one of those IQ tests."

"What? Nothing was scheduled!"

"He says that is part of the point. I'll clean off the dining room table. You clean yourself up a bit."

"Okay. Why didn't he ..."

She took off.

"... talk to me?"

I shrug and go shower.

When I come out of the master bedroom, and into the dining room, Woof is there setting stuff up.

"Woof!"

"Hey Dave! What's up with this? We didn't have anything sceduled for today."

"Dr. Freeman and I were discussing the raw data we had, so far. We both felt there was something missing. So, that is what we are going to do today."

"Okay."

I sat down at the table. My back was to the wall, and I had a view of the rest of the dining room, and the living room. All Dave could see was the wall behind me.

The WAIS-III (Wechsler Adult Intelligence Scale) is a collection of 14 tests. The first 7 sections are "verbal" tests. Dealing with language. Some of it is written. Some of it is the testor asking you questions. The last 7 section are "hands on". You make patterns with colored blocks. You play "One of these things is not like the other" with pictures. You get the idea.

So, just as Dave is starting the verbal section, he says, over his shoulder:

"Hey Debby!"

She walks into the room, behind Dave.

I do a double take.

When I went into the shower, she was wearing sweats and a T-shirt. Her hair was up in a pony tail, and she hadn't put on any makeup today. I didn't mind any of that. You read my description of Deb. She'd look hot in burlap sack. As for the makeup, except for the slightest of lines around her eyes, you would never guess she was just past 35. If anything, her face is prettier now, than when we married (she was 19). She's lost that "girlishness", and she has the face of a real woman, now.

Now, however, her hair was done. I mean done. "As in take me now, fast and hard!" done. Her makeup said the exact same thing, just a little louder.

She was wearing a semi-transparent white blouse, that gave just a hint of some dark colored lingerie underneath. A straight black skirt that came just above her knees, black hose, and black pumps.

"Yeah Dave?"

Now Dave's back is turned, and he can't see her. He just talks over his shoulder.

"Can you put some tunes on? Something to drown out the traffic, and the dogs. I want Jim focused on what's going on."

"Sure Dave."

And she leaves the room, and I hear her putting a CD in the sound system.

Dave starts the test. The verbal portion is first. So, he starts asking me questions, and the music filters into the room.

Deb has put on one of the jazz CD's that I have been listening to a lot lately. It's by a guitarist, John Scofield. It's called "That's What I Say". It's a tribute album to Ray Charles. The first tune is called "Busted".

So, as it gets past the intro to the tune, and into the first verse, Deb walks back into the room. At this point, I am well into the first section of the test. Deb stands behind Dave, again. As I look at Dave, answering questions, she is right over his left shoulder, in my line of sight. She is standing just far enough back that I can see her from head to toe. ... and she starts to dance. I'm not talking "Dancing with Stars" here. Hell, I'm not even talking "Dirty Dancing". I mean dancing, as in, where is the pole on this goddamed stage?

As far as the testing goes, I am thrown off my game a bit. I try to concentrate on what Dave is doing, but it's a challenge. Needless to say, I never make eye contact with Dave. I'm too busy looking over his shoulder.

Not only did I not know that she knew how to move like that, I didn't know that she could move like that! Deb's family has a history of back problems.

Damn!

Just as the chorus starts ... the part where the backup singers, in the original Ray Charles tune, start singing, over and over again, "What kind of man are you?", Deb start unbuttoning her blouse.

Damn!

As the verbal portion of the test proceeds, she does a slow strip tease. I try to pay attention to the questions, but it's hard. I mean that in every way!

Just as we begin the last of the 7 verbal sections, Deb has stripped down to pumps, thigh-high hold up stockings, the panties are ... it's kind of a wide black thong with some kind of black, web-like set of strings holding it on, and ... on a less endowed woman, it would be a full lacy bra, but on her, the bra just acts as a shelf to serve up those luscious breasts.

As the final part of the verbal section ends, she is down to that outfit, and just dances like the best stripper I have ever seen, just in my line of sight, over Dave's left shoulder.

During all of this, Dave is oblivious to everything.

As Dave preps the "hands-on" section of the test, the CD starts over. Deb continues to dance. Her hair now a wild mane of black around her head.

Dave starts the "hands on" portion just about the time we are back to the part where the back up singers would have been singing "What kind of man are you?".

Right at this moment, Deb locks her eyes on mine, and slowly, sensuously, keeping my eyes locked on hers, sinks to her knees, and, then, her hands and knees. She breaks the eye contact, and begins to, slowly, in time to the music, crawl across the floor.

This little break allows me to catch up with Dave, kind of.

Because, as I am doing ... whatever part of the test, Deb is slowly crawling under the table to Dave's left.

He had to have noticed!

I start to breathe a sigh of relief, then I feel hands on the buttons of my jeans. These hands are insistent.

"You okay Jim? You don't look right. Should I stop the test?"

"no ... uh ... I'm fine ... no really!"

I shift to allow Deb to yank my pants and underwear to my ankles. (By the way, I am SO glad we got rid of the glass dining room table a few years back!)

"You sure, bud? You look uncomfortable. Do we need to stop?"

At this point, Deb takes my dick in her mouth.

"NO! ... Don't stop! ... I mean I am fine. Let's proceed."

Frankly, I have no idea what or how I did on the rest of the test. I did my best to not give any indication what was goin on, but, for Dave not to have known what was going on, he would have had to be deaf, blind, and an utter moron. Dave is none of those things.

Lately, Deb's blowjobs have been urgent, needy things. Trying to draw the cum out of me as fast as possible.

This was a slow, langorous loving of my cock. She would nibble her way up the underside. Then, spit, audibly, on it, and give loving handwork to the portion outside of her mouth as she sucked, and licked on the head. Occaionally, taking my full length in her mouth.

It was a blow job designed to build arousal, without frantically pushing me to the edge.

She gradually spiraled things up. Getting more and more urgent as the test grew to a close, and my frustration built.

Just as I finished the last "puzzle" of the test, Deb took me full in her mouth, and:

"UUUUNNNNnnnggghhh! ... Ah, God! ... I'm done!"

I have no idea how Dave couldn't hear her swallowing. It seemed to drown out everything in my hearing, except for my panting breath.

"There we go, Jim. All done."

"Uh-huh."

"That was interesting. Give me a second to pack up my stuff. You can just sit there for a moment. I know how draining these types of tests can be."

"Uh-huh."

Dave finished packing up his stuff. Got up, and headed to the door.

"Lunch at Apache Avenue tomorrow after church, Jim?"

"Uh-huh."

He put on his cap and walked toward the door.

"Later, Jim!"

"Uh-huh."

"Later, Debby!"

From under the table: "See you, CJ and kids at church tomorrow!"

"Sure thing, Debby!"

---

WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?!