Lysistrata

Penelope Masterton did not have to “ask around” about Lydia’s Professor. On her very first web inquiry, not only did she find his photograph on the University’s website, but there was something else. Under “upcoming events”. The school’s Drama Club would be staging Aristophanes’s “Lysistrata” in two days. Quickly, she booked a ticket online. What ancient history professor could pass that up?

====================

Two nights later, Penny, dressed to the nines in a clinging, low-cut red evening gown, entered the performance hall. She stood in one of the doorways to the auditorium, with her opera-glasses up to her eyes and scanned the room. Eureka. There he was. Sitting in the second row, wearing a grey suit. She strode down the aisle, found her row, and sat down. And plotted how she would approach the man during the intermission.

Intermission

Penny waited until most of the audience had filed out before leaving her own seat. In the lobby, she spied Professor Van Zaadvocht standing off to one side, nursing his drink. Strolling by him, she sang in a soft voice…
"Wenn die Nacht sich niedersenkt
auf Flur und Halde,
Manch ein Liebespärchen lenkt
den Schritt zum Walde."
(You Tube link to the song)

Professor Van Zaadvocht's eyes went wide and he slowly turned to face the passing woman. He asked her, "Glühwürmchen?... And in German?"

Penny stopped dead in her tracks, pretending to be surprised. "Why... yes. Do you... do you speak German?"

“I haven’t in a long time,” he answered while trying to keep his eyes focused on the eyes of the woman in front of him and not on her cleavage. Which was awesome. Deep did not begin to describe the cleft between those two full, heavy knockers. Put on prominent display by the low neckline of her long-sleeve, body-hugging scarlet full-length dress. It was as if Van Zaadvocht was peering into a Grand Canyon of tit-flesh.

The rest of her was equally appealing. Although only five-feet five-inches tall (5’ 3” without heels), she was a curvaceous woman. Broad hips, narrow waist, and despite her voluptuousness, her breasts were upright. Resilient. Undulating ever so slightly when she walked. It was obvious that she did not wear a bra. Dark brown, almost black, straight hair hung down past her shoulders. She had a wide mouth with pink lip gloss and alert blue eyes, made more alluring by skillfully applied makeup. The only jewelry she wore was a gold metallic choker around her neck.

“Then you can join me in the chorus,” she gushed. Van Zaadvocht started to demure, but the woman launched into song. “Glühwürmchen, Glühwürmchen flimmre, flimmre…”

As she sang, she made a beckoning gesture with her hand, encouraging him to join in. Taking a deep breath to steel himself, Van Zaadvocht sang along with her.
“Glühwürmchen, Glühwürmchen, schimmre, schimmre,
Führe uns auf rechten Wegen,
führe uns dem Glück entgegen.
Gib uns schützend dein Geleit
zur Liebesseligkeit.”
(You Tube link to the song)

“Marvelous!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together in front of her in a patty-cake fashion.

“I’m afraid my German is better than my singing,” he suggested. Although somewhat embarrassed, he had enjoyed singing with her, so he asked, “Would you care for something to drink?”

“Your singing was fine,” she insisted and patted him approvingly on his chest. “Yes. A glass of wine would be nice.”

They introduced themselves and discussed Lincke’s operetta compared to Aristophanes’s original play. The play currently being performed. Their chatter was light, their voices bubbly, but all too soon the bell rang, announcing the performance was about to resume. As they made their way back into the auditorium and to their assigned seats, Van Zaadvocht said to her, “We should continue our conversation afterwards.”

Penny glanced back over her shoulder and nodded. “Yes. I would like that. I would like that very much.”

After the final scene and the numerous curtain calls, Penny and Van Zaadvocht went to a nearby coffee shop. There he discovered she was not interested in ancient history so much but rather Lincke’s burlesque of Aristophanes’s play had brought her to the play. To assess it to the original.

When she learned (or pretended to learn) that he was a Professor of Ancient History, she commented, “Then you must have been involved in tonight’s performance. A marvelous job.”

“No, no,” he replied over his cup of coffee. “The head of the drama department had asked me to participate, but I said something along the line of ‘too many cooks spoil the stew’. His field is theater. He doesn’t need the input of some dusty book-worm.”

“You hardly appear dusty, Abe,” she said, patting the top of his free hand.

The pair had a second cup of coffee and, somehow or other, they wound up at Penny’s place.

As soon as they stepped into the entranceway of the house, she ‘attacked’ him. Cupping his face between her hands, covering his mouth with a fevered kiss, pressing her buxom body against his. He joined her in the attack. Slipping his tongue between her parted lips, reaching down behind her to grab a handful of soft, rounded ass-cheek, grinding his crotch into hers.

The pair continued their music-less dance. Swaying and kissing. Groping and exploring. Until Penny broke the kiss and dropped to her knees. Deftly, she unbuckled his belt and tugged down his fly. Sliding the clasp at his waistband open, she yanked down his pants and briefs in one quick motion. She spent only a brief moment in studying the erection that spang in to view at her eye-level, before licking up the underside of the shaft and engulfing it between her full supple lips.

Professor Van Zaadvocht stood in the middle of the living room of this vivacious woman he had met only a couple of hours ago as she hungrily sucked him off. He watched the way her head bobbed back and forth with her tightly stretched lips sliding along the length of his rigid cock. Like any skilled fellatrix, Penny had her lips curled over the edges of her teeth to avoid scraping his skin. Skin that was as taut as a snare-drum. His throbbing organ engorged from arousal. Hard and tumescent. Excited by those blue eyes of hers that kept staring up at him. Feminine eyes filled with lust and need. Seeming to beg him to cum in her mouth. Urging him to find his relief through her oral ministrations.

Her soft, slender fingers stroked on his shaft. Caressing and fondling. Abetting her sucking action with her squeezing fist. Massaging his manhood in an effort to make it shoot. Pumping away on that piece of cock-meat in her mouth.

Van Zaadvocht moaned constantly as Penny blew him. His eyes would close in pleasure only to be **** open again by an act of will. He wanted to watch that lovely upturned face as its mouth worked to get him off. From time to time, he would reach out with one or both hands to touch the sides of her head. To brush her long, dark hair in gratitude for slobbing on his knob. For gobbling his cock.

As the hummer continued, Van Zaadvocht got closer and closer to an orgasm. He could feel his ball-sack drawing up closer to his body. His breathing was ragged and his heart was racing. “Oh... Oh, Penny,” he moaned, giving his kneeling blowjobber a courtesy warning. A chance to pull off and finish him by hand if she didn’t want him to cum in her mouth. "I'm... I'm about ready to..."

Penny, her eyes locked on his, merely nodded and increased her movements. Going faster and harder. Trying to push him over the edge. She heard him gasp and then felt his hands clamp on each side of her head. No longer petting and cuddling, but seizing control. Taking charge of the situation.

She let her hand fall away, surrendering herself… her mouth… to him. His hips bucked wildly as he slammed in and out of her oral cavity. Thrusting with abandoment. He could hear her occassional gags and feel her hands sometimes moving up to his waist to try to prevent him from **** her.

But he was too far gone for that. With a loud, animalistic groan, almost a howl, he started ejaculating. Spewing out thick, gooey wads of his seed in rapid sucession. Penny struggled valiantly to keep up with the flow. Sallowing rapidly as more and more of the hot, precious sperm flooded her mouth.

Even when he was done, he did not withdraw, but remained bent over. His torso touched the top of her head as his hands kept their clutching grip on her cranium. Penny could hear him gasping for air while he slowly rotated his hips, swizzling his deflating cock all round inside her warm, wet mouth.

At last he staggered away and heaved a long sigh. “Wow. That was something else, Penny.”

He extended his right hand to help her to her feet, but she declined the offer. “Walking” on her knees, she closed the gap between them and gingerly took his limp and drained organ between the tips of her thumb and first two fingers. As she lifted it, she leaned in to bestow a final, parting kiss before rising.

“Listen,” she said as she stood up. “I have a little informal get-together over here tomorrow night. Would you like to come?”

“I would be honored,” he answered as he re-arranged his clothes. He figured he was imagining things, but it seemed like she had paused between the words “to” and “come.” Shrugging it off, he asked, “Should I bring a date?”

“You could,” she drew out the words and smiled. “But you will probably have more fun if you come alone. Say… seven o’clock?”

They exchanged cellphone numbers and on the drive home, he could not get the tune “Glow Worm” out of his head.