Yet another academic year. Yet another dean's speech. The main hall was crowded with all the staff stuffed in there to hear the good word. To be honest, everyone was there for the subsequent traditional free drink. So everyone was polite enough to pretend to listen to the speech, glancing left and right, waving hellos to colleagues but giving little attention to the sacred word.
And I was stuck in there. It was about the tenth time I was hearing that speech and I was bored like hell. I hate those moments when I have to mingle with the crowd of colleagues in the heat of autumn, everyone squeezed against each other, thirsting for a glass of cheap champagne. What I liked about my academic life was quite the opposite of this torture: having my own office at the end of a corridor, giving a few lectures and doing my research work quite freely, and since I'm quite successful in my area, no one gets in my way nor bothers me.
And the speech went on and on as it went every beginning of academic year. I was repressing a yawn, hiding it behind my hand, when I felt someone's back pressing accidentally against my crotch. I looked at whom it was and a young woman turned round and apologised
"Sorry... oh, sorry, prof Thom!" and she smiled widely at me.
It took me little time to remember where I'd seen that pretty face before. Mary. She'd been one of my students a couple of years ago. The kind of student you always appreciate. Particularly clever, witty, respectful, she was always smiling, apparently happy to attend my classes, and what made it even more pleasant, she was quite pretty: not very tall, with blond hair often knotted in a pony tail, deep dark eyes, full lips, perfect skin complexion, a lovely breast that was always discreetly enhanced by classy clothes and a nicely round bum that I always took a glance at when she left my class.
I had been told that after a brilliant graduation she had managed to become the dean's assistant. Her being in the audience of the dean's speech proved at least that she'd become of member of staff. I took a good look at her -- she was as pretty as ever, she'd even matured in a very nice way. I smiled at her and finally replied
"That's ok Mary, no worries. But now that you're a member of staff, don't call me prof! Simply Thom will do."
She grinned, apparently slightly uncomfortable then replied "ok, Simply Thom", then turned back to hear the rest of the speech.
However, she did not step away from me but stood where she was, her back pressed against me. Being slightly taller than she was, I was towering over her shoulder, which gave me a very pleasant plunging view on her white blouse. The sight was clearly giving a new interest to the dean's yearly speech. Her blond ponytail was wiggling against my chest and, although I could not definitely be sure if she was doing it on purpose, she was not so innocently rubbing her magnificent bum against my crotch. For a few seconds, I thought about stepping backwards, but sincerely, this was too enjoyable and even if my head wanted me to step back, my body did not react to any of its orders.
It was so enjoyable that I started to feel the first physical symptoms caused by Mary's behaviour. And the longer the dean's speech went, the deeper she seemed to push back on me, the harder I was getting in my pants. By the time the lengthy speech reached conclusions, there was no doubt Mary had noticed the effect she had on me. And when the crowd moved at last in the direction of the free drinks, she turned and threw me a lovely smile and said
"I shall definitely see you around, Thom!"
And to make sure I had the message, without her eyes leaving mine, she gave a discreet but firm and gentle squeeze on my crotch.
She left me there, speechless, hard like rock in my pants and dumbfounded. There was no way I could handle a conversation with anyone, so I gave up on the free drinks and went straight back to my office to try and get my ideas straight.
My office is what I imagine every academic office is or should be: walls covered with shelves of books, a large desk submerged with piles of papers and reports of all sorts, even the low table by the sofa was piled up with documents. As soon as I entered, I felt a bit more comfortable. I opened the filing cabinet and poured myself a glass of decent 15-year-old whisky, then threw myself in the sofa, grabbing the report I had to evaluate for the day after.
The liquor relaxed me a bit, burning down my throat as I sipped it slowly. But what was burning within me was the vivid memory of these few minutes of promiscuity with a young, gorgeous and brilliant ex-student of mine, now grown to a full woman, with the most exquisite womanly shape. "Oh, stop thinking about her!" I kept telling myself. But I did not manage. Had I been at home, I would have stripped naked, rushed into the shower and masturbated frantically until my load splashed all over the bathroom wall. And I would definitely release myself that way as soon as I'd get home.
I soon got disrupted in my daydreams by nails rattling on my half open office door. Before I had time to lift my chin and see who that was, Mary was already tiptoeing in my office and closing the door behind her back.
"Am I waking you out of your dreams, Thom?"
I think I blushed and I barely managed to stutter some kind of apology. Mary giggled softly. She was there, standing a few feet away from me, in a classy black jacket and skirt with white blouse, hands fiddling in front of her, thus pushing together her magnificent breast. She was definitely eyeing me from head to toes. But her glance stopped at my crotch.
