After the second phone call it was difficult to concentrate on anything else. I'd begin to prepare my lecture, and my mind would wander to thoughts of coeds with curls in their hair kneeling under my desk and eagerly sucking my cock. I must have picked up my phone a hundred times with the intention of sending a text to the unknown number, but inevitably I'd talk myself down. These are dangerous games, after all, and I have a lot to lose by being stupid. If she wants to call me, fine, she can call me. But once I start sending texts or making calls, I'm ruined.
Still, I must have masturbated more than I had since high school. I even found myself daydreaming in my campus office as I tried hard to reads my books and research a new paper. I found myself idly rubbing my cock through my pants when I heard a knock on my door.
"Shit," I thought, "What the fuck am I doing?" I quickly removed my hand and tried to collect myself as I called out for whomever to come in.
In walked the department's administrative assistant, Heather Findley, saying she needed me to sign some papers for a recent reimbursement request for conference travel. When she had first started working there, before my marriage, we had dated briefly, but I had eventually ended it after discovering that she had cheated on me.
At the time I had been more relieved than hurt. Ending office romances can be messy, and despite being a great fuck, Heather was quite boorish, and I had wanted out. Her affair gave me the perfect reason to call things off without her thinking I had just used her for sex.
Now, since I was acting chair of the department, she was my secretary, I suppose. Our past had never interfered with our working relationship, but we did occasionally still flirt though it was all innocent enough. I guess she had never found the right guy, because now, at 32, she was still single, and I must admit, still very much my type, with her glasses, fit but full build, and dark hair bobbed at her chin.
She sashayed toward me, her skirt stopping at her knees. If I knew Heather, she'd be wearing thigh high stockings instead of hose. I immediately needed to know. Obviously my thoughts had gotten the better of me. I must have had a dazed look in my eyes as she stood next to me, placed some papers in front of me on my desk and leaned forward, pointing with her perfectly done red nails and saying almost mechanically, "Sign here, Jim."
I felt her hip brush against my left shoulder as I took a pen out of my shirt pocket. I went to sign the paper but hesitated and looked up at her. The corner of her mouth, lips glistening red, turned up into an expression of amused curiosity. "What?" she asked.
Without thinking too much about it and with my erection straining against my pants, I couldn't stop my left hand from reaching behind her and touching her stocking clad leg behind her knee, right below the hem of her skirt.
She flinched at my touch, and her expression changed as she said almost coyly, "What do you think you're doing?"
I ignored her question and caressed her leg as my hand slowly ascended up under her skirt, my fingertips tracing the inside of her thigh. I found the top of her stockings and smiled up at her. The expression on her face was confusion. After all this time, why was I doing this today? Did I really want to be doing this? She seemed to ask with her eyes, her mouth slightly parted, the smirk gone, replaced with something more...
She stood almost perfectly still as my fingers lightly traced the top of her stocking. I felt her legs slightly part, urging my hand to continue its journey. I obliged. The feel of nylon gave way to the soft flesh of inner thigh and finally the feel of damp cotton panties.
"Oh Jim," she gasped as my hand reached its destination. Her eyes closed and she bit the corner of her bottom lip. Her breathing became heavy as I began to rub my palm into her panty covered cunt. I felt her hips begin to rock slightly, and then more pronounced until she was grinding herself down against my hand.
She leaned forward slightly and placed her hands on the edge of the desk. She let out a low moan and I felt her once fluid movements become jerky and erratic. She stifled a squeal, and her thighs shuddered and squeezed together to hold my hand in place. She managed to keep herself quiet as her orgasm ran through the curves of her body like a wave, but she couldn't help the movement of her hips or the quivering of her legs as I felt my hand grow slicker even though her panties still separated my palm from the source of the moisture.
I stood up, removing my hand from under her skirt and walked toward my office door which had stupidly been left slightly open. Through half lidded eyes over the top of her glasses she watched me close and lock the door as she struggled to hold herself up. She began to push herself into a standing position and started, "Jim, I don't think..."
But I stopped her short ordering, "Stay where you are. We're not done." She obeyed, dropping her eyes to the desk and letting out a soft whimper. Heather always had a bit of a submissive streak, and I planned to make full use of it today.
