A Master's Ring It was the most stressful part of the academic year; final exams were approaching and semester projects were due. The timing helped me accept all of it with some equanimity. ----- The University required students to have a faculty advisor after choosing a major. Having enjoyed his class, I asked Professor Jeremy Ryan to be my mentor. He was one of the few creative writing professors that did not act like being a writer licensed one for freakhood. He also did not treat a student's work as if it were beneath him. Creative writing classes sometimes devolved into feel good sessions for bad writing but his criticisms were constructive and fair. To be honest, he taught a short fiction seminar that was my first choice to satisfy the requirement but registering for it required his permission. There was no problem getting into other writing seminars, but I was not keen on wasting a semester listening to people kiss each other's asses because their last breakup was inspiring such 'great' work. No one dared hand-in that type of crap in Professor Ryan's classes. I thought as my advisor he would feel obligated to assign me a coveted permission slip. We had a five p.m. meeting to discuss an internship with a literary agent friend of his. We discussed my interests in previous meetings where I talked about being a literary agent while working towards a doctorate. I did not have a writing talent beyond niche markets like sci-fi, fantasy, or male adventure but I knew when a piece of work or a writer showed talent. Better yet, I was a fine editor especially of other people's work. The English faculty's offices were located in the basement of the department building. The basement was modeled on catacombs with every branch ending in two or three offices. Professor Ryan's office was one of the better hidden with three turns to get to. I wondered why he chose one so out of the way. A tenured professor with that much published work should have better. I walked to the door and knocked. No one answered so I knocked again. I tried to decide between going for a cup of coffee or settling in to wait when I heard something from inside. I knocked again but still no response. I heard the noise from the other side of the door again and got annoyed. I tried the doorknob turning it easily. I opened the door slowly figuring someone was inside, but why take the chance of being caught in a professor's office without his company. His desk was opposite the entrance and faced the wall so he usually sat with his back to the door. This time he was sitting parallel to the desk. I figured it was because the woman kneeling between his legs would not have been as comfortable under the desk. I stood frozen in envy. Even in that position or maybe because of her position; on her knees, red hair washing into his lap, her back slightly curved, her hands gripping his thighs; it was obvious she had a fantastic body. She wore a powder-blue skirt, slightly longer than a cheerleader's. It was short enough for me to see the thickness and definition of her thighs. Her burnished red hair hid her face as she carried out her task. Her thick sweatshirt valiantly tried to hide the rest of her attributes but only tantalized. She stopped caressing his thigh with her right hand and pushed her hair behind her ear. A ring on her finger caught the light and my attention. It was a very simple design; the band, too thick for a woman's ring covered the entire space between knuckles. The ring opened into a flat square face with a shiny white stone set in it. I had seen rings like it before on men with an onyx face stone. Moving the hair revealed her identity. Doris Alex. Doris Alexandra Smith! Doris Alex was a campus Goddess, and there were at least a thousand men who would have vigorously defended her status as such. Of every woman on campus, there was only one that would have surprised me more to see in that position; the "Bryar" patch, Melisa. Doris Alex's presence set off my internal alarms. After a few conversations with Doris Alex, I learned the only way to not seem an idiot was to keep my mouth shut around her. Professor Ryan did not teach anything that Doris should be wasting her time on. That was not an opinion expressed by her, but my own deeply held 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. The moment of stillness ended and my heart beat painfully hard. The exquisite care she took in performing the act dropped my guard. Her hands moved gently caressing his thighs, exposed abdomen, his sack and the base of his penis. She tried to keep his skin guessing where the pleasure would come from next. Her fingertips settled on different spots only long enough to set off nerves and moved to stimulate elsewhere. All her motions orbited the action of her lips moving up and down his penis. Occasionally when her hands touched his dick, she removed him completely from her mouth, and stroked some nearby part of him with her tongue. She focused absolutely on her task. She caressed his thigh with her right hand while her left hand gripped his base. She gently 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 was playing on his abdomen with carefully placed touch after touch, her right hand stood his dick up so that she could run her tongue on the underside of his crown where I was most sensitive; first clockwise then counter-clockwise. She took him back into her mouth; I wondered how warm being surrounded by her felt. The next time the tongue-sequence began; she licked his ball sack but continued to wash his testicles while using her hands in more random touches. She sucked him back into her mouth. She stroked him with her mouth faster and faster, building to the obvious crescendo of male orgasm. Her hair fell to cover her face again. Professor Ryan brushed it behind her ear with his left hand. He was wearing the ring that ended my existence and began my life. It was a male version of the ring Doris Alex wore, although his had the expected onyx stone setting. I was too far away to see any detail but there was an intricately designed crest on the stone. I watched him caress Doris Alex's face with a thumb. She tilted her head back to look at him. She managed a smile by gently gripping the head of his dick with her perfect white teeth. She laid her ring hand flat on his thigh. She might have done the same with her left hand but I could not see. She speared his penis into her mouth; again and again. After every five strokes, she stopped at the bottom and made a swallowing motion that bobbed her head. She used the wave motion to take a little more of him into her each time. She was trying to deep-throat him. She could have done it from the very beginning but her way looked far more pleasurable. I do not know how long I stood there but in that time, one thing was obvious; his pleasure was paramount in all of Doris Alex's actions. Five more strokes, she stopped, waved from her throat, taking in a little more. Five more strokes again, up and down. She released him from her mouth, reached down to lick him from ball sack to the tip of his dick. Her tongue struck out of her mouth in a sudden motion trying to insert itself into the small hole at the tip of his dick. One tongue thrust. Two. After the third, she licked him from ball sack to the tip of his dick again. She impaled her mouth on him. She returned to her earlier rhythm, but there were only three strokes before she did the wave motion driving him deeper. Finally, as I thought my head would explode, she touched bottom. She rested there; I do not know how she could breathe. Resting with him seated completely in her mouth, her pleasure bloomed. Her entire body tightened. The muscles in her thighs contracted, her back arched, I could see through the skirt that her ass clenched, and her hands gripped his thighs tightly and then released. It was something I never witnessed before. She moaned as she rode her orgasm down its pleasant spiral. She moved her head around while he was fully seated in her throat. With a corkscrew motion, she unwound her mouth from him, only to take him fully into her again. Again and again, unscrewing him from her in a clockwise motion, driving her face onto him, unscrewing her mouth, and burying his dick in her. I noticed that in the unscrewing motion, her cheek muscles were twitching. She must have been working her tongue furiously on him as she slowly pulled her face away, and absorbed him inside again. 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 be hard fought to reproduce. I stared into blue eyes and he won something from me. The admission. I wanted what he had. I wanted to be the one in the chair with Doris Alex between my legs taking bliss from being my pleasure. I wanted to feel her tongue on me. I wanted to cum seated as deep inside her as she could take. I looked down at her, and back at him. His smile changed to one that a brother might give his little sib saying, "Someday, kid, someday." I nodded and closed the door. I rested my forehead against it. Every now and then, I could hear them but my body relaxed. It did not want to, but the last smile from Professor Ryan helped. I turned my back to the door, and walked out of the catacombs. I did not know why, but I was sure he said what he wanted to. The conversation was not over but he firmly established that he came to the table with fortune I could only imagine. Outside, it was brighter.