Dr. T and Corrin | Beep Stories


Corrin was filled with anticipation as she sat waiting for Dr. T. to arrive at the restaurant. She’d been corresponding with him by email since graduation two years earlier, and this was her first visit back to the small college town of Royale, Wisconsin. She remembered being so excited on graduation day — the only exception being that she wouldn’t get to see him on an everyday basis anymore. She’d taken every single class he taught since she started in the art program five years earlier. Five years was a long time to want something you could never have. She sat there, remembering, waiting for his arrival.

When I first met Dr. T. (Theodore LaRue), I was a confident but scared freshman, far away from my small-town home and fresh out of high school the semester before. I can remember thinking how sweet he looked in his little bow-tie and blue button-down shirt — a father-figure was how I first pictured him. It wasn’t until I started seeing him everyday and not wanting to leave after class that I started to realize I was in love with him. It wasn’t as if I could talk to anyone about it. He was my only adult confidant at the university, and of course I couldn’t tell him. I mean, I would die of embarrassment. Not to mention that he was married to another professor at the university. I tried talking to my girlfriends about it, but they just laughed or crinkled up their noses. “Gross!” Sara said, “He’s almost old enough to be your grandfather.” Of course, in my own defense, she was full of crap: he was about 52 years old to my 18 years old, but that’s more like daddy age, not grandfather age! “Yeah,” I said. “I’m sure it’s just some latent father figure thing; psychology, here I come!” And we would laugh about it. But it didn’t get any better. The longer I was in the department, the more classes I took … it just got worse. I would have dreams about him telling me his wife was cheating on him and that he was so lonely during one of our two-hour-long “advising” meetings in his office. He never got that personal in real life, but in my dreams, that soft couch in his office ended up as a bed while I comforted this sweet, grieving man with my luscious size 18 body and DD breasts. It never happened, of course, but I wasn’t going to break up a happy marriage, and besides, who’s to say that he would want me like I wanted him anyway?! So there I was, two years after graduation, and we were going to meet at a local pub and have a few drinks like civilized, adult friends. It’s ok, I thought … I’ll just be an adult and we’ll both go our separate ways. Friendship is better than nothing, right? And it wasn’t as if I was just pining away for him or anything. I’d dated several guys while I was at school and had just broken up with a really sweet guy who wanted way too much commitment considering that I wasn’t in love with him. I kept wondering if the “right” guy would ever come along. Of course, as this thought ran through my mind, I looked up and there he was — button-down shirt, undone bow-tie and all. He was such a cutie! His gray hair was always kind of wild, but he kept it short. It was almost as if he styled it to look like he had been running his hands through it all day, because even when I met with him first thing in the morning, it always looked like that.

I got up in my pink sweater, which was stretched tight over my abundant breasts, and my lighter-pink, long skirt and gave him a big hug, squeezing those arms that always seemed too muscular for a man of his age. “Hey sweetie!” he said. “Have you been here long?”

“Nah, I just got here and ordered a coffee. Come sit with me!” I said.

“Yeah, just let me grab a beer, and I’ll be right there,” he said.

I watched him walk to the bar and chat with the barkeep. This was Dr. T’s favorite pub, so I’m sure he and the guy were big buddies. I saw the barkeep glance at me and raise his eyebrows at Dr. T. They laughed about something and he headed back toward our table. As he walked toward me, I thought I saw his eyes linger at my pink-covered tits, but, then, it could have just been wishful thinking. It wasn’t until he got to the table and sat down with two large mugs of beer that I knew for sure. He was definitely staring down my sweater! I mean, it’s not as if you can miss them since they’re so huge, but he hadn’t ever looked at me like that before.

“So, Corrin, what have you been up to? I mean, I know we communicate by email and all that, but that’s just superficial. What’s going on in your life? Any marriage prospects yet?” he said.

I blushed as I responded, “Dr. T., you know me. I just can’t commit to any guys my age. They just all seem so immature. I thought that would change after a while, but it doesn’t seem to. They all just want someone to take care of them, and that’s not what I want to do with my life.”

“As well you shouldn’t,” he said. “You deserve so much more than that. Corrin …” He paused after he said my name, as if he was savoring the sound of it, and took a long draft off of his frothy mug. “Drink up,” he said. “We’re in for the long haul since I don’t have anywhere to be. And drop that Dr. T stuff. We’re adults. Call me Teddy.”

“Oh? Ok. Well, so, is Mrs. T. out of town?” I asked. As I said it, I watched his mouth tighten up, and some frown lines I had never noticed before appeared. I suppose I had never noticed because he had never really frowned at me before. But I found out it wasn’t me he was frowning at this time either.

“Mrs. T. is no longer Mrs. T,” he said. “We separated and divorced earlier this year. I didn’t mention it in my emails because you always sound so bubbly and positive, and I didn’t want to bring you down with any bad news.”

“Dr. T. … uh … Teddy, I’m so sorry!” I said.

“Nah, it’s been a long time coming, and we’re both happier now. But enough about me,” he said, “what’s been going on with you … no marriage, but you’re career is going great, huh? I feel like such a success as a professor when I see my students succeed like you have. You’ve got a great job — doing PR for a New York art studio is amazing!”

I blushed again. “It’s not a big deal, really, but it’s exciting work, and I love being around all of the art. I learn knew things every day.”

He smiled. “That’s great, sweetie.”

The conversation went on, and the beer kept flowing. I knew my cheeks were red, and I was warm in my sweater. I had on a white, spaghetti-strap tank underneath, so I shrugged out of the sweater and watched Dr. T’s (I couldn’t get used to Teddy) eyebrows raise as he was faced with my ample cleavage. “Whew,” I said, “it’s hot in here!”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he said. “Let’s get out of here. I’ll drive you to your hotel. Just let me pay the bill.”

After he paid, we walked out to his car. His large hand was warm on my lower back as he guided me to the passenger side and opened the door. As I waited for him to get in his side, I turned and watched as he rounded the rear of the car. I was amazed to see him adjust his belt and shift uncomfortably. He was hot for me! I couldn’t believe it. When he got in and smiled at me, I made a split-second decision … “Why don’t we go to your house,” I said. “I’ve never seen it before, and I’m not really ready to go back to my hotel yet. It’s not exactly the Hilton, ya know.”

I smiled at him as he responded, “That sounds like a great idea!” As he started the car, I made another decision and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. I wasn’t ready for his reaction, and my stomach flip-flopped as he groaned and grabbed my arms and turned his face to mind. “I might be reading this wrong,” he said as his sweet, alcohol-tinged breath caressed my face, “but I want you so bad it’s killing me.” Then his lips were on mine, hard and hot, as he kissed me like I was the breath of life. His tongue teased my heart-shaped lips as I put my knees in the seat and leaned in closer to him. He smelled so good – a mixture of dark German beer, clean soap, and that musky, all-male scent that was just him. His tongue was in my mouth, caressing the roof of my gums as I licked into his.

I groaned as he released my upper arms and ran his hands all the way down to my fingers. He brought my hands up and placed them on his chest, all the while still nibbling at my lips and sucking my tongue into his own mouth. I was so wet, and my hips had started their own little grinding motion, as if he was fucking me already, and he had barely touched me. I had wanted this for so long.

I placed my hands where the top two buttons of that blue button-down shirt were open. I had noticed that his bow-tie was undone when he came into the restaurant, and now I wondered if he had done it for me, if he had known how long I had wanted to untie it myself and put my hands inside on his hard chest, to feel his crisp chest hair against my soft palms. I did it now, as I looked into his eyes, and saw how much he wanted me.

“You’re killing me, Corr,” he said. “Stop looking and start touching, sweetie.”

His normally calm, culture voice was raspy, and his eyes were half closed as he looked at me. The man was sex incarnate, as far as I was concerned, and I did exactly what he wanted. I began to undo one button at a time, until his shirt was undone halfway down his chest. I sighed as I ran my pink-tipped fingernails through the crisp, fine hair I found there. He laughed low in his throat like he knew how much I had wanted this. As I got up the courage to look in his face again, I saw how much he wanted me too.

I hadn’t been paying attention to his hands, but I sucked in my breath as I saw an evil little grin at the same time that I felt his hand close over my aching right breast. My pebbled nipple stabbed his palm, and my breath hitched as I froze, afraid he would stop this wonderful assault on my senses.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he said. “I have to see these beautiful tits. I love it that your big nipples are so hard; almost as hard as I am for you, sweetie … feel how hard I am for you.”

It was his turn to draw a deep breath as I trailed my hand down and caressed his hard length through his Dockers. He felt huge! Not that I would have cared one way or the other at this point. I was salivating for him. I wanted him fucking me so bad that my panties were soaked through. I could smell my own, sexy scent, and I knew he could smell it, too.

He continued caressing my right tit while his tongue went back to work. I gasped as I suddenly felt the cold air on my other breast. He had pulled both my bra and my tank down under my tits, and his eyes rounded as he leaned back from our kiss to stare at my creamy white skin and dark, rosy nipples. “Beautiful,” he breathed, like a man entranced, and he leaned in to take my nipple in his mouth. This was no slow assault. He started suckling like a newborn immediately, and I felt the pull of that hot mouth everywhere at the same time. My pussy clasped together, and my ministrations to release his dick became more insistent. “I want you inside me … fucking me … please,” I gasped out.

“Mmmm,” he said as he leaned up from my swollen tit, “such dirty language from such a beautiful little mouth. Tell me again, baby, what do you want?”

I was embarrassed now, not sure if my language was a turnoff to him or not, but I reiterated my want in a strangled voice as he immediately pinched my nipple and pulled it toward him and roughly said, “Tell me…now.”

“I want you to fuck me … please.”

“No, Corr, not here. You’re too good for that,” he said, “but, just so you don’t think me rude, I’m going to give you a little taste of what’s in store for you later.”

“Wh-What do you mean,” I breathed, as his now-tender ministrations at my breasts were making it difficult to concentrate.

I was surprised and a little upset when he stopped and had me sit back in my seat as if we had just gotten into the car. My brain started functioning a little better the further I got away from him, and I started to think about what was happening here. I had always pictured being the leading party in anything that happened between us. I had always pictured him as someone who needed me to comfort him, but I never realized that what I really wanted was for him to want me, not need me. My whole life, people had needed me … family, friends, boyfriends … they were all so needy, and I was always there, giving them what they needed. But here was someone who was giving me what I needed, and as I thought this, I wondered how long he had known that I needed someone to take care of me, when I myself didn’t know it.

While I had been thinking, he had straightened his clothes, started the car, and backed out of the parking spot. As I started to reach up and fix my tank, he stopped me by putting his hard hand on my thigh and saying simply, “Stop.” As I glanced at him questioningly, his fingers started to slowly pull my flowy, pink, ankle-length skirt up my legs. “Leave it, please,” he said. “In fact, I would love it if you would just take it off. I want to see those pretty pink nipples of yours harden while I touch … here,” he said as his hand covered my pink-satin-clad, sopping wet pussy through my panties.”

This man was more of a man than I had ever given him credit for, but even so, I wasn’t going to be riding down the interstate, bare tits hanging out, for anybody. Or so I thought. As I started to protest, he squeezed my pussy lips together and said, once again, in a deeper voice, “I want to see those nipples.” Except, this time, he punctuated each word with a tight squeeze. “While you’re at it, take these off too,” he said, referring to my panties. I shook a little as I followed his instructions, but my body was only too willing; my nipples were rock hard, just as he wanted, my pussy was gushing, and my breath was coming in tiny little gasps.

He had his hand back on my pussy as soon as I was re-settled, and oh, did those fingers feel good in my tawny curls. He played for a minute, and I scooted further down in the seat, wanting, trying to get those thick, hard fingers buried in my wet cunt. “Please …” I said. “Ugh, God!” came out next as he squeezed my hard clit between two fingers, then went lower, putting those same fingers inside me. It was no match for what I truly wanted, but my hips came up off the seat just the same. While my right hand wrapped around the seat under me, my left hand came up to hold my tit, the same way it always did automatically when my own fingers were inside me.

“God, you’re wet,” Dr. T said. “Feel me … get used to having some part of me inside of you.”

I was climbing that invisible wall, straining toward release, my hand on my soft breast, squeezing, my breath coming in gasps. I no longer cared that headlights were shining inside the car and anyone who was beside us would know for sure what we were doing. It never entered my mind; my whole being was concentrated on rolling my hips to get as much of Dr. T’s hand inside me as possible.

My orgasm was coming on fast, but his fingers seemed to be slowing down. I started to put my free hand down there to help him, but he seemed to read my mind. “Stop” was all he said, once again, but I knew what he was saying. I wasn’t allowed to help. He was doing this for me. So I just continued to grind against his hand, pulling my nipple, licking my lips, and then he said it … three little words that sealed the deal. “Cum for me.” And I did – a heart-pounding, pussy-gushing, hip-grinding orgasm. And that was just with his fingers inside me. I couldn’t wait to make it to his house.