Balloon Poodles

Balloon Poodles


CJ walked down the corridor to her psychology class dreading the lecture she would be expected to endure for having missed the last three tutorials and two exams. And yet she also anticipated a certain pleasure would come from being reprimanded by her professor, Doctor Jacob Elliot Ph.D.
Jacob Elliot was a stoic, salt and peppered hair man with piercing blue eyes and a wife who dominated his conversation, several sentences at a time, though she was never actually in the room or ever seen in his presence on or off campus. This elusive person named Camille was such a part of his life that many students, including CJ, believed in some strange way that he could not function or teach without her in his thoughts. All of his lectures were, for the most part, based on his marriage to her. And what seemed to be a kind of academic love between them from which he could not escape.
No one in the classroom doubted that Dr. Elliot was still in love with his wife of thirty-one years and had abandoned all further independent and intelligent study the day he graduated. What he personally failed to understand about the study of human behavior his life with her provided him with enough insight to tap into the deepest recesses of the human mind and its strange, if not misplaced, attachment to the physical body and one's instinctual - as he always put it- need for sexual stimulation and satisfaction.
Instinctual! C. J. worked out this word in her head using the least amount of brain power that she could to define its relevance. It was, afterall, more instinctual for her to want what she could never have from Jacob Elliot than it was for her to want a true understanding of her own animal instincts and her own instinctual approach to life. It was true she wanted to sleep with Jacob Elliot. But it was also true She didn't have to know why. Instinct defined itself as it unfolded in life. Not in a text book.
C.J. stopped in the student lounge to grab a water on her way to class. She often thought Dr. Elliot might have the same feelings for her but even if he didn't she had a theory that suppressed behavior was the most annoying and perhaps even deadliest behavior of all. And she imagined the two of them without it. If what Jacob Elliot professed to be the truth in his teachings were true there wasn't any real complicated thought process that could possibly interfere with being shafted in an empty classroom with the bustling of students and other teachers; walking the hallways to and from rooms which reeked of similiar instinctual thoughts and actions and somehow she instinctively knew this. Although in her mind it was just a matter of knowing intuitively for a fact that most men knew little about themselves and even less about women.
And instinctual behavior was the cause of it.
She regretted declining Jacob Elliot's invitation to discuss her thesis over coffee after Monday night's class. But her time of the month was rearing its ugly head and while she still wanted more than just coffee, which was often the nature of her period, she did not want to risk not being known for a bloody good time.
Chances were highly probable that he wasn't an easy fuck and even if he was, she feared that his clinical instinctual mind would work its way down right between her legs and then superstition and taboo or personal dislike would prevail and the many limbs of knowledge and clarity of thought would branch out to become the blood filled veins in his hard and thinking cock causing him to have a two hour brain hard on instead. Yes, this highly degreed mental erection would result in a very limp and useless, non-combustive tube of molecular brain drip if he didn't like parting the red sea and in the end, all animal instinct and behavior aside, a cup of coffee would manifest itself into one long intellectual, non orgasmic event. He would fuck her. By not fucking her.

CJ walked into the classroom to find it less than half-filled with students, few of whom she actually knew by name. Like her, they traveled outside of the class rooms in kindred circles. One student, a handsome Australian everyone called Foster because in college "It's all about beer" and sometimes television beer commercials, motioned for her to sit next to him. The Aussie's real name was Jack and they had crossed paths last night at O'Tooles Pub, promising eachother, in passing, to share University dirt. This dirt would not be the sugar-coated petty copy the student newspaper approved of for publication. But rather the hardcore Phi Beta Kappa dirt healthy psychology majors such as she and Jack engaged in. " Mace has a tape of Johnny dicking the Dean's daughter. Now he's got Big Daddy sitting in his pocket."
"No way."
"Yes way. And listen, it was a serious dicking too. Johnny's sporting more than the 10 on his football jersey"
It was no secret that Jack loved both men and women or that CJ was able to have a decent conversation with him when it came to discussing who was worth the trojan and who wasn't. Many times the quiet, unassuming students, listened to their conversations which were often intentionally loud enough for them to hear. CJ put her thesis on the desk, flung back her hair and sat down. Today she sat within whispering distance. "You were quite on last night Jack," she said smiling.
"Ah, just 3 parts pissed and trying to score with the King and Queen of Pomp and Ass. Damn Homecoming Day whores."
"You know they have been schooling together since 7th grade."
"And screwing eachother since 5th," Jack interjected sarcastically. "Harry is a fag. Certifiable. I ran into him in the John. He wasn't pissing out of his own dick."
"Not Harry?"
"Yes Harry. I thought he was just a snatch top. Seems he is a bit of a bitch as well."
"Does Claire know?"
"Who knows? But who cares? In the end they will come to me as one hell of a good time."

"And if Claire doesn't like it?"
"I'll have Harry to myself and won't have to worry about her coming back for a dinner mint. You know I am still dating Liz CJ. She adores Harry. Hates Claire."
"Everyone hates Claire," CJ said.
"Not everyone. Not Professor Elliot. He seems to have taken to her. Have you noticed?"
"I have noticed only that they have the same eyes. She aces the class. But all the dysfunctional kids do," CJ said smiling. She had never told Jack about her feelings for Elliot. But she sensed, at times, that he somehow knew about them.
"Its all the fucking thinking they do," Jack said quietly as if in deep thought. "It's not natural"
"No it isn't. It's like everyone who is acing this class is thinking a whole lot about nothing and this nothingness manifests itself into a collective invisible manual that is somehow supposed to define all of our sex lives and what they should or should not be. Elliot taught us that all humans were born with identifiable instincts. He never said anything about adhering to an identifiable set of rules and regulations. Yet, when you look around this room you see nothing but oppressed behavior everywhere and its robotic. If we think an independent thought or act instinctively we are thought of as being wired wrong, especially when it comes to sex. I say to hell with the rules"
"Well now you have stumbled upon the issue of morality and it does exist CJ, try as you might to insist that it doesn't. Not all good and bad behavior is learned. Some people do come into this world with personality traits that can't be changed.
"I'm not sure I believe that," CJ sighed. "As for morality, yes it does exist. But paradoxically, only if you really think about it." She paused for a moment and then continued. "I would prefer to live in a world where people didn't fear themselves sexually. It would be a less complicated world if we could all just be who we are. If we could be ourselves our full time relationships would cease to be as limited and burdensome as they are. But of course we have to contend with a behavior disorder called love and the demanding expectations it has on us.
"True, but we can be thankful that we are wonderfully flawed and most of the time our loves are unlasting."
CJ wasn't listening. She had drifted into her own world of thought and was thinking about Nick, her main squeeze. She loved his lean and mean, yet muscular body, the way he smiled, the intensity of his dark brown eyes, the way the water cascaded down his sculptured body in the shower they shared several times a week.
She had never known a more appetizing cock than Nick's. And yet she couldn't help thinking that, inspite of her love for him, the one thing more exciting than Nick's live- in, faithful and committed cock was wild and strange, brand new, first time cock. Was it really wrong for a woman to have a cock she didn't have to cook and clean for? A cock she didn't have to plan a future with? A cock she could suck without having to worry about whether or not she ruined the game plan by swallowing their future son or daughter? CJ saw the big picture and laughed, inspite of herself. She picked up her pen and started to write.
"CJ. CJ!"
Jack nudged her and the reality of being in class came back to her. She looked up to find Professor Elliot standing over her, amused by what he and the others had witnessed as a day dream. "Sorry, Sir," she said smiling. "I was in deep thought"
"Indeed. It would appear that you were. Perhaps you would allow us the honor of dwelling in that secretive mind of yours. Can you tell us CJ what it was that you were thinking? Was it what I said about Phallic cults and Phallicism?, he asked before removing the piece of paper from her desk, the paper on which she had scribbled her notes. " If you didn't understand I can explain it differently."
"No I'm okay with what you said," CJ lied.
"And?"
"Well phallicism, in and of itself, seems to be the underlying creating force for many man made things, both great and small. Much like the ego, phallicism just keeps on growing and growing and growing." CJ waited for the laughter to subside and continued. "Metaphorically speaking, the sears tower in chicago is one big tantillizng dick..I mean Penis. And the Statue of Liberty with the torch...well, its kind of phallic. It's just a big dick, I mean penis. The Statue of Liberty is a penis that embraces all of mankind. Its a one for all and all for one kind of penis, but it lies and it decieves and it spews forth children by the boatload and yet its penetrated itself into our society as a measurement of integral social behavior. Our sexual instinct is so great, we can't create or think without it lurking in the background. Our sexual instincts actually aid in our ability to see the phallicism in trees and buildings and ice cream cones, and italian sausages and bananas and pickles and balloon poodles. Even the film makers are in a frenzy 24/7 trying to find the bigger and better explosion -understanding of course, most powerful weapons are projectiles and therefore Phallic. A nuclear explosion has the circumsized head of a penis. I mean, isn't that why they call it a mushroom cloud?
The concept of Phallicism may or may not be an interesting one. But I fail to see it as a disturbing one. The most disturbing thing about Phallicism is that no-one ever mentions the fact that dome houses look like breasts."
"Balloon Poodles?" Jack inquired to break the silence.
"Okay so maybe balloon poodles aren't phallic," CJ said. " But if you take the damn things apart you have 3 or 4 rubber phalluses and therein lies the phallicism which the clown you hired for your three-year old daughter's birthday party uses to create a piece of intertwined phallic art. Just because the three year old doesn't see it because she hasn't had sex yet doesn't mean its not phallic. I personally can see where some of us might think of a balloon poodle as being an orgiastic creation."
"Ha...maybe if you are gay," someone piped in.
"Even so," CJ said smiling, "everyone knows that homosexuality is the sexuality of the gods and the gods are all all about bliss. Also we mustn't forget about the ithyphalli, the cross dressers of the day."
Professor Jacob Elliot looked at his watch, stroked his face thoughtfully and sighed. What would it take for him to tame CJ and keep her focused? Of all of his students, she fascinated him the most and yet at the same time she frustrated him with her ability to take a subject and bury it with her perspective and humor. It did not matter if there was a certain amount of truth involved. Truth still had to be cultivated if her life was going to be a stable one. It was part of his job to send her out into the world, equipped with the facts and understanding -not so much with the capablity of thinking her own thoughts. She was already an expert at that. But the knowledge and the wisdom to to live a rich and rewarding life within the right barriers. Rampant behavior is what separated the pond scum from the pond. After a moment of further thought, he spoke to the class.
"I do not fully understand the relevancy of all of CJ's thoughts concerning the history of the Dionysiac worship of which I spoke However I do believe her perception of Phallicism is a genuine and parallel, even refreshing one, complicated perhaps only by her language and the confines of the modern society in which she lives. How about you? Have you any thoughts of your own that you would like to share?"
"Yes" Jack piped up. "About CJ's balloon poodles. I think if you look at the balloons individually they are in fact quite phallic. And also quite fragile. We are all like these balloons when we are alone. But when we seek out friendships and create binding relationships in groups we become these balloon poodles. We become less fragile in numbers, so to speak. It is our sexual and social behavior which brings us together and ironically it is our sexual and social behavior which seperates us."
"Well I don't believe any of this," said Leigh, a strangely attractive and highly polished young woman who spent more time flaunting her position in the Upper Crust more than she did anything else."Behavior is not about being a balloon poodle and to see a ballon as a phallic object is just as juvenile as a man referring to breasts as...melons...., you know fruit. We are not balloon poodles and our breasts are not made of melon."
"You're right," CJ said. "Most breasts today are made of silicone and in jr. high school these same breats were made of tissue paper."
"My point is," Leigh continued unaffected by the laughter, "that anyone who sees a balloon poodle as anything but a balloon poodle is demented and sick and has a mental disorder. There is such a thing as a dirty mind you know. And people with dirty minds have a tendency to live dirty lives. Its that simple. You are, you do and you become what you think."
"I think, therefore I am. Is that what you are saying Leigh?" Jack asked. "Because if you are it contradicts most everything we have learned about behavior and how it is learned, unhinged and suppressed over a lifetime."
"I am saying you can learn and cultivate knowledge and thought without distorting it into something its not."
"I think the only reason why you know the sky is blue is because someone else told you that it is. You don't really know that it is blue but you describe it as such because you believe that what you have been told about it is true. For all you really know, Leigh, someone has lied to you and the sky is not blue at all. And the reality is the sky isn't always blue is it?"
"I bet its the crayon people," Jack said jokingly."
"No, too Phallic," CJ said laughing. "Think about it. There are 64 different colored little phallus like items in a box of crayons. The crayon people wouldn't risk being caught in a lie. Besides someone who hated balloon poodles might lobby congress to pass crayon control. All those dangerous little pricks living together in one little box! Oh, the horrors!"
"Great, So now you are saying that crayons are Phallic?" Leigh asked in rigid disbelief.
"No Leigh. All I am saying is that crayons start out one size and end up another," CJ answered sarcastically. "Like the phallus, the crayon represents creation. Metaphorically speaking, they are one size during the creation process and another size afterwards. Face it, a crayon might as well be a penis."
"You know CJ, most of us are here to take this class seriously. But you do everything in your power to corrupt it. And I for one am leaving," Leigh said angrily. "I have had enough!"
CJ looked over at Jack and rolled her eyes. Jack winked. And then she looked at Professor Elliot and smiled. He had been staring at her for the longest time, listening intently to the conversation as it strayed from the real topic to escalate into a dialogue between a select few of his most interactive students. Class was ending now and he would soon be pre-occupied with the paper work that awaited him.
CJ kissed Jack on the cheek before he left and waited for the other students to leave. The Professor had already seated himself down at his desk and was looking through a folder when CJ approached him to confess that she hadn't actually heard a word of his lecture. "I never heard what you said about the origin of Phallicism and Dionysiac Worship," she blurted out somewhat defiantly
Professor Elliot stared at her passively, like an amused father, and went back to perusing the papers in his folder. The paper on which she had written 'Women suck cock to get married and then the men they marry have to go outside of the marriage to get head -what does this mean? - that good wives don't give head, but good girlfriends do?' laid on top of a pile of books in plain view.
"I missed what you said today, but I can review the book you recommended last week when you first briefed us. I did read most of it and thought it was fascinating. But it fails to be just a history lesson with me. Not much has changed since the Greeks and Romans have ruled the world. Life is supposed to be fun and while thoughts have a tendency to be as fleeting as the times in which they are thought, mankind, as a rule, does not change and neither does his behavior. Really, without documented history, much of what we think is irrelevant. It is only when we act on our thoughts that we truly live. It seems to me, all of the thoughts available to us have been in existence from the very beginning. Perhaps its just a matter of having the courage to try a few of them on for size."
Professor Elliot closed his folder and leaned back in his chair. CJ planted herself on the edge of his desk. "I know that I think things that just aren't true or things that can never be," CJ said. And sometimes, believe it or not, thoughts just..just seem to think me. I.."
"You don't have to explain CJ," Professor Elliot interrupted softly. "Of all of my students you are the most complicated and at the same time you are the most sincere and perhaps even the most sane. But you are also a great source of challenge for me and I find myself wondering if I am even able to teach you. I fear that you do not always process the information here and when you do you dispose of it and go about your way. You have to pass this class CJ if you want your degree in Psychology. I know that you mentioned being a Sex Therapist but I believe that is a lesser calling for you. Of course I had hoped to discuss all of this over coffee, but you declined my offer. The last paper you wrote was brilliant. But it was also unacceptable."
"I was on my period," CJ sighed.
"When you wrote the paper?"
"No when I declined your invitation."
"And this would prevent you from having coffee and or a conversation? My wife seems to enjoy conversation during her time of the month. The attention I suppose is a distraction."
CJ felt herself drifting. Try as she might to rise above her thoughts she would always be in the gutter. Did he have sex with his wife when she was on her period. Was it vaginal? Anal? Both? Or did he believe one's time of the month was strictly invented for childbirth and blow jobs? Did he talk dirty to her during sex? Did she talk dirty to him?
She smiled at the thought of taking him up her own tight ass and within seconds she found herself suspended in a moment of time. He was quite the gentle warrior, wise and strong. She knew that the way he was moving inside her that his rythm was the culmination of years of experience. He caressed her nipples in the most perfect sensual way and held her close, slightly tilted with just right amount of distance which allowed her the additional pleaure of playing with her clitoris, already swelled with excitement from the anal penetration, the sexuality of the gods. And goddesses. She would reach an orgasm before him, the first of several, and push herself further and harder against him so that he was inside of her as far and as deep as he could be. His hands would leave her erect nipples to hold her body and move it in motion with his. As he neared orgasm, he would speak softly into her ear that he was going to fuck her harder and harder until finally with a passionate thrust, she would feel the hot juices of his loins travel through his body and into hers.
"CJ". The voice was ever so quite and she felt herself being gently pulled off the desk and on to the lap of Professor Elliot, the man she had just been day dreaming about. He arranged her so that she was straddling him, her skirt up and showing her white lace panties and the glistening wetness of them. With her full, undivided attention her lesson in behavior had begun. He gently kissed the nape of her neck, stopping only to smell her perfumed hair and to find the lips which language had blessed. His kisses were long and deep and seemed to move every cell in her body. His hands found her breasts, cupping them to massage the nipples and then traveled down to the back of her panties. She felt the electricity down her spine as he gently spread the crack of her ass with his fingers, stimulating her to spread wider so that he could play with her clitoris and penetrate her beautifully behaved, wet and wanting to be fucked pussy with his fingers. She was free now to unzip his pants and did so when it seemed they would rip from the force of his fast and hard rising cock. Once exposed she lifted herself up onto the man she had wanted for so long. She teased him for a moment by manipulating the head with her fur and her wetness and then lowered herself slowly onto his hot, and throbbing cock. They were both still, locked in a passionate kiss and on the verge of intense orgasm. He was brand new cock. She was brand new pussy. It didn't have to last long. How could it possibly?
CJ liked this particular class very much and told him so. Jacob Elliot was born to teach it and promised other classes. As many as she desired. She was beautiful to him in a most pleasing way and he needed her as much as she needed him. He did not want her to ever change. She promised that she would not and then she moaned with long awaited passion.
Her pussy was wetter and hotter and more pulsating than it had ever been and her instinct was to ride this new found cock of hers until she passed out from the ecstasy of multiple orgasms. In a matter of minutes she was fucking him harder and harder. Her body started to tremble. He started to thrust deeper inside of her. He could feel her juices flowing down his cock from inside her. He realized that he had never known anything more right in his life than this very moment and pulling her orgasmic body closer to his , he felt his own juices shooting up the shaft of his cock and into her and for a moment he was fixed in a moment of time, where thought, wives, and behavior didn't really exist. It was, he knew, bliss to be inside of her.