RE: Chair of the Science & Technology Department
Effectively immediately, I’m appointing Alison to be the next Chair, even though some faculty members are strongly against it.
There are three reasons Ms. Alison Bailey is a controversial pick. 1) She’s only 29 years old, which would make her the youngest Chair in the history of this prestigious institution. 2) She comes from a wealthy family with ties to this university, so it looks like a nepotism hire. 3) People think she’s odd.
Here’s my rebuttal; Ms. Bailey is a literal genius. Full stop. She is a genius. The woman is a prodigy and her record reflects that.
Perhaps more importantly, we’ve accepted the all-female Afghanistan science team to join our student body. It’s a last minute decision, based on political circumstances, and we think the national coverage is a great PR move to boost enrollment.
With the promotion of Ms. Bailey as the new Chair, she will A) serve as a spokeswoman to the media when necessary and B) use her personal relationship with the Afghan students to help them adjust.
Ms. Bailey, as a professor, had previously worked with the all-girls Afghan college students on a national science competition last year.
Let me know what you think. I may need your support if faculty members voice opposition to my choice of appointing a 29 year old to the job. I’ll admit it’s a crazy decision, but I have positive feelings about this.
Be well,
Tom
The breakfast is prepared in a meticulous manner. It’s placed on the dining table; granola cereal, milk, with chocolate chips on top. Beside it is a cup of water along with natural supplements. She likes everything arranged in geometric patterns. It looks prettier and piques her intellect.
I go upstairs where Alison left her bedroom door open. It’s always a treat to summon her for breakfast. Her bedroom is like a rustic library. There are a variety of colors, mostly dark, somewhat gothic, and the wall is lined with crime novels and literature.
On the table there’s a small, toy-sized robot that she’s working on. Every time I come to her room, there are new additions to this robot. She makes these as a hobby; sometimes she gives them away, sometimes she shows them to her students.
Alison knows I’m here but she’s watching tv while sitting on her bed. She’s a thin girl with snow white skin. Her face is innocent. Her long black hair is wavy and the only makeup she ever wears is mascara. She’s fresh from a shower and is wearing a thin gown.
“Your food is ready, Ms. Bailey.”
She keeps watching the market news. Aside from her teaching job, she trades stocks and gives her father advice on when to buy/sell. It’s a side gig that nets them a lot of money, more than they already have.
“This sucks,” she says of the news reports.
Alison stands while watching the markets. With little effort, she pulls the gown overhead. When her arms lift, I can see her ribs and pale skin. Her small breasts look flat when her arms go up. Her nipples are so pink they almost glow. Her pubic hairs, for whatever reason, are trimmed at the exact same length, all year round. Half an inch.
I open a drawer (yes, a drawer) for the stacks of dresses that I wash, iron, and fold for her. The thing about Alison is that she always wears a dress, usually a sundress. It’s her favorite. She’s more than capable of dressing herself, but she loves being spoiled. Sweet, spoiled girl.
Today she’s going to campus for meetings, so I select a white dress with black flower patterns on it. A matching white bra and panties underneath. If she’s at home, she’ll be without the undergarments.
She watches tv and lifts one foot at a time while I put her panties on. I clasp her bra. Then I put the sundress on her body.
Alison looks at herself in the mirror. Every angle of her dress must be right. Every strand of her wavy black hair must be symmetrical to the other side. She does a twirl and smiles at her reflection, then smiles at me to show approval.
While she eats in the dining area watching a different tv, I arrange her supplies for the short work-day, including her laptop and purse. She’ll be meeting with faculty and the Afghan women’s science team that was recently granted admissions.
Alison loves these girls. She first met them a year ago when they traveled to America for a global science competition. They connected instantly and remained email buddies ever since. In the last month, Alison donated $50,000 of her own money to help them adjust to life in this country. That number is expected to grow.
When she’s ready, I give her the car keys and she takes her things. She puts on black sunglasses and drives to work in a sports car.
***
Alison is reading a book by the balcony of her bedroom. She’s reading Sara Gran’s Claire Dewitt series. She’s on a lounge chair and her feet and calves are under the sun, while her face is under the shade. She believes this will help avoid future wrinkles.
If she wants, she can finish this novel within a day. Tomorrow I can test her on the contents of the book and she’ll know all the answers. When she was younger, that was a game we used to play. I stopped playing because defeating her is futile.
She reads with a quiet intensity as I clean her bedroom.
“Do you know how to cook lamb?” she randomly asks.
I give her my full attention. “Sure, what are you in the mood for? Whole roast or lamb chops?”
“Well, it’s for the Afghan students. They mentioned they like eating lamb. But I was thinking they might want to try some American food, like burgers or pizza. It could be a cultural exchange.”
“Are you inviting them for lunch? Or are you bringing food to campus?”
“I might invite them here,” she says. “None of them have ever gone swimming before. It makes sense, but that’s shocking to me.”
“Are they going to swim here?”
“Possibly, if they want. I’m interested in seeing their reactions to being in a pool for the first time. That would be a great experience and a lot of fun.”
“I can express order a variety of hijab swimwear.”
“Cool, cool,” she says. “Something modest, of course. And in different sizes. That should be fun.”
“Are you finally going to wear a bikini again?”
She gives a sly smile. “I guess I’ll have to, for the sake of being a good host.”
I finish cleaning her room, then afterward I order the hijab swimwear. When it comes to gifts, Alison insists on the best of everything, so I order the expensive items and it costs almost a thousand dollars.
Later I help Alison get dressed before she heads to campus. Alison and the Dean are giving press interviews regarding the Afghan students. For this task, she wears a blue sundress. Always a sundress.
Before she leaves, Alison walks by the pool and looks at the water. Maybe she’s visualizing how the party will happen. She dips a toe into the water and twirls her foot. Then she gets into her sports car and leaves.
***
Alison has a complicated history with the pool and sunbathing. When she officially became a professor four years ago, she — in her words — didn’t want to ‘look like a vampire’ so she felt the need to work on her tan.
She laid by the pool for exactly 20 minutes on each side, for a week. Sometimes with a book, sometimes closing her eyes to meditate, sometimes with music.
During that period she stayed home all the time. The only time she saw friends and family was when they came over to visit. She’d wear thin gowns around the house. That’s her style.
When it was time for the new semester to begin, she was horrified when she wore her trademark sundress. None of her dresses could hide the bikini tan lines around her neck area.
I told her it looked pretty, but she thought it looked tacky. To someone like Alison, everything has to be perfect and geometric. You should see her bedroom. Every book is lined. The placement of lamps, photographs, electrics, her laptop, are always in parallel or 90 degree angles. That’s why her clothes are folded and placed in a drawer, as opposed to hanging in a closet. The sight of hanging clothes bothers her.
To remedy the situation, she pulled her long black hair over her shoulders to cover the tan lines. She was fuming because her hair looked messed up.
“Damn it,” she hissed, as if placing a curse on everybody. “I’m so clumsy. Oh well.”
Alison is cute when she’s mad. Her nose crinkles. I sat her down in front of the dresser and brushed her hair, while she had pouty lips. I told her the tan lines were beautiful. She replied that the angles didn’t match any of her dresses.
Since then, she only went swimming on cloudy days.
***
We host a small party in our backyard. Every member of the Afghan group is present. Their ages range from 19 to 24. I’ve heard about them and seen their pictures, but it’s my first time meeting them. They are beyond lovely.
Some members of the faculty show up, from the Science & Technology Department, and from other departments as well. They want to meet with these girls. A few students also join.
I know that Alison’s relationship with some faculty is fraught. But they put that aside to support a greater cause. I think Alison is earning their respect. As emotionally distant as she can be, she has a big heart and she knows how to make right decisions. She has wisdom to accompany her book smarts.
The Afghan students laugh and howl when Alison brings out the hijab swimwear. Their eyes show interest but they’re understandably too modest. Maybe next time, Alison says in a discreet voice, when there are fewer people around. I realize it’s a mistake to invite this many people, because now the girls don’t want to swim.
Instead they compromise. Alison leads the girls to take off their shoes so they can walk barefoot in the shallow end of the pool. They go knee-deep. The girls howl. A few faculty and students also join. Afterward they sit on the edge of the pool to chat.
While everyone mingles, I grill cheeseburgers made with fresh halal meat. It’s my first time purchasing halal and I’ve already prepared a variety of condiments.
I overhear the Afghan girls talk about last year’s science competition and the robotics they built and what they could have done differently. Alison reveals her intellect and gives pointers on engineering. The girls listen and learn, as Alison explains details with just her memory.
The hours pass and people are worn out. It’s always a joy to watch Alison mingle with a small crowd because she’s like a machine. She goes to each person and has different conversations with ease. She remembers them, what their interests are, and delves into that. She’s a human algorithm. A walking youtube.
Older faculty members leave first. The ones skeptical of Alison being the Chair have been won over. Other students and acquaintances leave after.
The girls accept my offer to stay for dinner; roasted lamb and vegetables. In the late afternoon hour, they need a nap, and I show them guest rooms upstairs where they can share beds to nap.
Meanwhile, the oldest of the pack, an adventurous girl named Ferhana decided to try the swimwear since no one else is around. I wonder if Alison is attracted to Ferhana’s mocha skin or green eyes that shine like emeralds.
I help the other Afghan girls get comfortable while Alison and Ferhana are in a changing room together outside by the pool. It’s wholesome watching these exhausted girls drift into a nap upon contact with the bed, but my mind wanders to the changing room.
When my work is done, I go to the hallway window. I see Alison and Ferhana together. Alison is wearing a standard white bikini. Ferhana is wearing hijab swimwear that covers her figure. Both of them are having so much fun. But it’s the look in Ferhana’s eyes that gets me. There’s so much light and life.
They dip their toes in the pool and step in. By this hour, the water is cooler, so it’s more of a struggle. Alison’s specialty is teaching advanced mathematics, but as it turns out, she’s also a great swim teacher as well.
It appears flirtatious to me, with Alison being her calm and cool self, while Ferhana’s energy remains constant. They splash water at each other. They laugh and giggle. Ferhana takes her first full-body dip in the pool, and when she comes up, it’s like a revelation. She enjoys it.
They hold hands and go deeper into the water. Ferhana tries to tread and laughs as she struggles. Alison does her best to help. This lasts for about five minutes when Ferhana gives up and decides to lean against the pool with a smile on her face.
Alison knows how to flirt and I see that happening. Ferhana is flirtatious in return, which surprises me. Both of them are in their 20’s and there’s a small age gap between them. Despite their different lifestyles and upbringing, hormones are hormones. Women are women.
Both of their faces turn serious. The conversation has shifted.
Then I see Alison pull the left side of her bikini, exposing a pink nipple. This surprises me, but Ferhana is more surprised. Had they been discussing this? It would explain why their faces are straight.
Alison holds her bikini open so Ferhana can gaze in admiration at the pink button nipple. I’m certain it’s the first time Ferhana has seen a pink nipple on a white woman in person. Ferhana speaks and I wish I could hear what they’re saying.
When the nipple is tucked away, I notice a quiver on Ferhana’s lower lip. Alison smiles, as if proud of this interaction, as if giving someone a priceless gift. They talk more.
Then they kiss on the lips. A gentle peck at first. Then an actual kiss, the kind you’d see in a movie when the main character gets the love interest. The kiss ends and they keep talking.
Maybe I’ll ask Alison later what they’ve talked about. Maybe not. Some conversations are better left private. But then again, some secrets are meant to be shared.
***
Before my bedtime, I receive a text message from Alison, summoning me. The text is a kiss emoji with the word ‘now’ after it. She enjoys being cryptic and having me solve puzzles. She plays brain-games with the people closest to her. Her way of showing affection.
When I enter Alison’s bedroom, only the lamp light beside her bed is on, the rest of the room is dark. She wears a thin gown. Her blanket is pushed to the side. Alison sleeps on a king-sized bed and there’s enough space that she spreads her arms and legs. She looks like a snow angel.
She’s staring at the ceiling in a way that suggests deep thought. Alison is often in deep thought at this hour.
“Tonight I’m in a good mood,” she says upon reflection. “My muscles are tired from swimming and I’ll be sore tomorrow. I did a lot of talking, lots of conversations. Overall, it was an incredible day. Lots of connections were made, and others were strengthened. Yes, a great day, indeed.”
I stand beside her feet. “Now you want the final touch.”
Alison lifts the hem of her gown while laying there, still staring at the ceiling. Her pubic hairs are showing and her legs are spread. The lamp only gives light to her upper body, but down below, I can’t see the pinkness of her vagina. I can smell it though. Her aroma is distinct.
I rub her feet and toes. Then I get on the bed, between her legs. The aroma between her legs is more prominent as I get closer. From the smell of things, I know she won’t last long. The heat is strong tonight.
My lips kiss her warm thighs. Both sides, up and down. I kiss her crotch and mound. Her pubic hairs tickle my nose, but I don’t flinch. Sometimes I wonder if she keeps her pubic hairs just to tease me.
When I kiss her labia she moans.
“I noticed you watching today,” she says.
Right away, I know what she is referring to.
I kiss her labia again. “You and Ferhana seem close. Was there any past history? Or was it a spur of the moment occurrence?”
Alison knows what she wants and is never shy about getting it. She wants to talk, but she also wants my mouth on her vagina, so she reaches down and nudges my mouth towards her. She does this by putting her index finger on my chin. It’s one of her common ways of asking.
I use my mouth on her vagina.
“Oh, it was mutual,” Alison says in a state of reflection. “When we first met last year, she was very nice to me. Of course, I thought those green eyes were marvelous. I wish you could see them up close. They’re precious.”
My tongue goes up and down.
She continues, “Our relationship was formal because I’m a professor. I was a technical advisor to their group project. I also showed them around in America and taught them about local customs. I noticed that Ferhana liked being around me. She always sat next to me at restaurants. She took a keen interest in whatever I had to say.”
My tongue circles the clitoris and Alison moans.
She continues, “In all honesty, the feeling was mutual. I enjoyed listening to stories about her life and family. She has a beautiful speaking voice and her accent is enchanted. Listening to her talk, that voice, looking into her eyes — it was harmony. Out of everyone in the group, I found myself talking to Ferhana the most.”
My tongue goes inside, making Alison’s legs squirm.
“When she went back to Afghanistan, we agreed to remain in touch. I didn’t think we would, but it happened. She sent me pictures of her family and home, I did the same. She sent me pictures of her classes in Kabul, and I sent pictures of my lecture hall. When I sent her selfies in my bedroom, she did the same.”
My tongue swirls inside. Alison pauses and moans.
“Can I tell you a secret?” she asks.
“Mmm Hmmm.”
“I cannot begin to imagine what it’s like being a young Muslim woman in that part of the world. I did my best to respect her boundaries, even though I knew what was happening between us. One night, I was laying in bed, using my phone, and I got a picture from her. Ferhana was naked in front of a mirror, wearing nothing but the hijab on her head. I couldn’t believe it.”
She continues, “I wanted her so bad. I must have spent a few minutes just staring at the picture. I even zoomed in on her brown nipples, her curves, her pubic hairs. I studied her image and it’s in my memory forever. I took off my clothes and stood in front of the mirror. Right then and there, I was going to take my first naked selfie and send it to her. I even thought about dirtier pics, like inside my pussy, or even masturbating. Anything to get her off.
“Before I could snap a picture, I got a message from her. Ferhana was apologetic. She was mortified. She begged me to forgive her. She said she felt so much shame and that she didn’t know why she did it. I sat naked on my bed and we messaged back-and-forth and I tried telling her that she did nothing wrong. I wanted to cry because I felt so bad for her. That’s human sexuality for you. Sex and religion are a complicated sibling duo.”
I pull my tongue out. “That explains why you showed Ferhana your nipple.”
My tongue goes back to work and she enjoys it.
“Yes. Make me cum, please. I’m begging you.”
As she requests, I work her clitoris, labia, and g-spot with my fingers. Making her cum is easy. Her pleasure spots are easy to find and she gives me a flood.
She falls asleep after an orgasm. Just like always. I look at Alison in her dazed state of being, eyes closed, breathing light. I use a tissue on the bedside table to dry the wetness between her legs. I pull her gown to cover her vagina. Then I tuck her into the blanket.
“Good night, Ms. Bailey.”
When I turn off the lamp light, I leave the room and close the door. All I can think about is her story. Before I sleep, I wonder what the future holds.
Ferhana’s eyes glow green for me. We’re alone in my pool and I’ve never seen her so happy. This private meeting is her idea, presumably because she wants to see a nipple again — at the very least.
I flatter her with compliments and she knows I’m telling the truth. She has more confidence this time and we almost go to the deep end of the pool, but she decides that standing chest-deep in water is enough.
“Are you ready for class next week?” I ask, then splash water at her.
She lets the water splash on her face. “Ready, excited, nervous, and scared. I’m feeling all of those emotions. Plus my English isn’t the best.”
“Remember, a lot of people want to be your friend. Just smile, relax, and be yourself. And your accent is cute. More than cute, it’s sexy.”
“Thank you,” she says while blushing. “Your friendship is everything to me.”
“Can I ask you a personal question?”
“Anything, because I know it’s safe.”
“I thought about your picture recently. You know, that whole incident we had last year. Do you still think about it? Does it bother you? Regrets?”
The joy leaves her face. She’s serious now and I notice her breathing harder. She does that thing girls do when aroused, which is to curl her lower lip. The question is manifesting a physical result, as expected.
“I will answer that,” she says. “But I really, really need to go pee. I’ll be right back.”
“You can pee here, I do it all the time. The pool has chlorine. It’s safe.”
She’s surprised, as if I’m making a joke. But deep down, looking into my eyes, she knows I’m serious. Her breathing intensifies.
Ferhana asks, “Did you want to watch?”
Her lips curl from her own dirty question. I understand her shame, but I also understand her desire to express herself sexually. I resist the urge to explain my sexual preferences, instead I remain composed.
My smile disarms her. “Of course I want to watch. I’m obsessed with the human body. We’re engineers, we’re supposed to think in terms of mechanics.”
“Would it give you satisfaction to watch?”
“Yes, very much so.”
Ferhana knows I’m telling the truth and this gives her a secret delight. Her green eyes almost water, like she wants to cry, and she’s glad there’s someone in this world who admires her as a sexual being.
“How should we do this?” she asks with a sense of adventure.
“Sit on the edge of the pool and do it.”
There’s a devilish grin on my face and she returns the same expression. We both want and need this. Exploring sexual sensations is healthy for the human soul. It’s a grand part of life, really.
Ferhana steps out of the pool and sits on the edge. Her thighs are pressed on the concrete. She spreads her legs. She’s nervous, but accepts that this is going to happen.
The moment she parts the bottom of her swimsuit, I see her pink pussy for the first time. Her pubic hairs are longer than mine and her labia is a dark shade of brown. Her insides are a dark shade of pink, almost red.
She clenches and pushes. Nerves can make this process difficult, but after a few moments, it happens. A liquid stream from her pussy graces my swimming pool and makes a splashing noise in the water. It’s a clear liquid and I’m glad she’s fully hydrated. That’s always healthy.
The look on Ferhana’s face is exhilaration.
As the pee starts to trickle and lose power, I lunge forward in the water and let the last remnants splash on my face and mouth. The taste is salty and I have to wipe it from my eyes. I can feel it dripping off my nose and chin.
When I wipe my eyes, I see Ferhana with the most shocked expression I’ve ever seen on a woman. She’s mortified, with wide-eyes that show her green emeralds, and a mouth that’s now O-shaped with her full lips.
I laugh at her expression.
“Oh my God,” she forces out of her mouth.
I lick my lips. “Delicious.”
“Professor Bailey, that was not supposed to happen!”
I giggle and dip myself underwater to clean my face and then pull my hair back.
“Are you thirsty?” I ask. “We have freshly blended fruit juice.”
She leaves her vagina exposed. “That sounds really nice.”
While still in the pool, I raise my hand and snap my fingers. I told Ms. Conway earlier to watch for my signal. I have a surprise, one Ferhana isn’t expecting.
The footsteps approach and Ferhana covers her pussy. She looks mortified knowing Ms. Conway watched our interaction. I know for a fact that Ms. Conway saw everything by the window.
Ms. Conway is naked from head to toe, with a statuesque body that’s built for service. She’s carrying a tray with two cups of juice. The way she walks is full confidence and shows no hesitation for this state of undress.
I’m amused by Ferhana’s reaction, which is exactly what I expected it to be. I’m certain it’s her first time seeing a naked white woman in the flesh.
“She’s…” Ferhana doesn’t finish her sentence.
“I know.”
Getting out of the pool, I sit beside Ferhana on the concrete. We’re served the drinks, and as that happens, we’re treated to the sight of Ms. Conway’s breasts swaying from being bent over. It’s one of my favorite images in the world.
The drinks are delicious. Ms. Conway stands beside us, ready to provide more service, and I can tell that Ferhana is perplexed. Every so often, she glances at the figure of the tall, naked lady.
“It’s okay,” I say, holding her hand. “Ms. Conway is trustworthy.”
She holds my hand in return. “You two seem close.”
“More than you could ever know.”
She glances at Ms. Conway’s breasts. “She’s beautiful. Like you.”
I nod and smile at Ferhana. “The university has strict rules. Being the Chair comes with many responsibilities.”
“Does this bother you?”
“No. It doesn’t. This is nobody’s business except ours.”
“My family would disown me,” she says. “But they will never know.”
“Our secret. The three of us.”
Ferhana glances at Ms. Conway standing there naked, then she looks at me again and gives me that pretty smile. I swear her green eyes sparkle.
“A question,” Ferhana says in a cute voice. “I’m so shocked by your lifestyle. Your… Ms. Conway… is standing there without clothes. When we first met, I thought you were this amazing, cool professor. I desperately wanted to make friends with you. I’m pleased we maintained contact.”
“What’s the question?”
“My question is; are you going to be my professor when classes begin? And that’s the end of it?”
I give her the truth. “We can be whatever you want.”
“I appreciate that,” she says.
“Can I ask you a question in return?”
“Yes, please, anything, Professor Bailey.”
“Has anyone ever given you an orgasm? Has anyone ever used their lips, fingers, or a cock, to make you cum?”
My rough language makes her cringe. But the question still stands. She looks at me like it’s all so obvious. She is a virgin. Yes, of course, I’m dealing with a virgin here. Never been touched.
She shakes her head. “No, never. Just me, myself, and I.”
“Well then, Ferhana, consider this an extra orientation before university starts.”
I tell Ms. Conway to take the drinks away. Then I remove my swimwear and Ferhana is entranced. She always is. I’m something new for a girl like her.
With my encouragement, Ferhana does the same. She removes her swimsuit in a way that’s casual, but unintentionally erotic. It’s like she’s undressing in a doctor’s office. Nonchalant yet ready for an examination. An inspection of her sex gears.
Ferhana sits next to me and we’re both naked. Her brown body next to my white one. Her feet are in the water and I admire her tits. Her dark nipples are erect. I enjoy looking at her curves. Her pussy hairs are longer than mine, which is a rare feat. No one is supposed to have longer hairs than me down there. I feel compelled to shave her, but that’s for another time.
Giving me a great honor — in my humble opinion — she removes her hijab. It’s my first time seeing her long hair hang free. It’s thick and lush. I can tell she takes care of it with shampoo and conditioner. Her hair is her secret pride. It arouses me. I tell her that I’m humbled. She says it’s for me.
“Lay back,” I say. “Enjoy the sunshine. And enjoy the…”
I freeze, which sucks, because I never fucking freeze.
“And what?” she asks.
“I was about to say; ‘And enjoy the rainbow.’ But that joke sounds stupid.”
She laughs at my stupid joke and lays down. She knows what’s coming because she spread her knees. This girl must be watching online porn.
I dip in the water at the shallow end of the pool. The water is at my hips and I stand between her legs, examining again, preparing to give her the moment of a lifetime, which I feel she deserves.
My hands are on her hips. Her knees are resting on my shoulders. I give her mound sweet kisses and deep licks. Her body responds.
It’s my first time eating out a student. Technically she’s not my student yet, because class hasn’t started, but the point remains. She is my student. She is under my tutelage. I am her teacher. I am her professor. I am the Chair of the Department which she majors.
The rules are discarded when I push my tongue deep. She cries loud, for God, for her mother. If I ever did that, I would be so embarrassed, but I understand her mindset. This is frightening territory. In fact I think it’s sexy as hell that I’m giving her a special gift. The gift of an orgasm.
As expected, making her cum is easy because it’s her first time. And frankly, because it’s me doing it. My tongue strokes make quick work out of the student. Ferhana moans, screams and cries. Her legs tighten around me and I expect Ms. Conway to save my life if Ferhana’s legs strangle me.
The cum tastes good. I’ll never tell Ms. Conway this, but Ferhana’s nectar tastes better than the freshly prepared juice. Maybe it’s a mental thing, because I like where the source comes from.
I know that during the upcoming semester, everytime I look at Ferhana in class, I’ll get thirsty. I would need a drink of whatever she has to offer between her legs. She gushes in my mouth and I devour her nectar. Delicious.
When she’s done, she lays still. Her legs relax and rest on my shoulders. I’m skinny, so her legs feel heavy on me. I look at her and she’s breathing hard, staring up at the sky in disbelief. A new boundary crossed in her life. Her breasts rise and fall with her breathing. Her nipples erect.
It’s not over yet. I tell her that it’s not over.
When I snap my fingers, Ms. Conway gets in the pool to take my place. This time it’s Ms. Conway’s turn to share the gift of tongue and orgasm. Ms. Conway was literally built for this purpose.
I get out of the pool so I can stand over Ferhana’s naked body to watch her cry. She looks weak and vulnerable with tears streaming down her face, which I love. It arouses me to see Ferhana in such ecstasy from getting her pussy eaten. I want her to feel what all women should feel.
Getting on my knees, I suck on each nipple in tandem. One, followed by the other, then back again. Feeling her nipples stiffen in my mouth is a blessing. It creates a strong physical response from her, as I can feel her breasts stiffen.
Ferhana cries even louder now that she has two mouths on her sexual parts. She’s never felt anything like this before in her young adult life. As her professor, I know I’m crossing the line. But I’m also teaching her an important lesson in life. You deserve nice things. Everyone does.
“May Allah forgive me,” she says after her second cum.
Yes, He will, I think to myself.
***
I’m standing in my home-laboratory where I built Ms. Conway from scratch. The first day of classes went well and it’s exciting to meet new students.
Robotic parts are everywhere and I’m in my lab because of new inspiration. Earlier, at approximately 2:41 pm when the campus had less students, I was able to have privacy with Ferhana in my office. It was a brief moment, which is all the time I need with her.
I showed Ferhana that there was nothing beneath the lower half of my dress. This both shocked and aroused her. Ferhana’s reactions are always priceless. Then I asked if she knew what a rimjob was. She said yes, that she read about it online in American lifestyle/fashion outlets.
When I expressed my desire to give an office rimming, her reaction was; “Professor Bailey, you cannot be serious!”
But I’m always serious in matters of the heart, mind, and orgasm. I turned her around and violated her in the best possible way, while she was bent over my desk and parts of her clothes were removed. She muffled her cries as my two fingers went in her pussy, and my tongue went inside her butt.
It was my first sexual experience on campus and I’m glad it was with her. Office sex — checked off my bucket list. My tongue swirled circles in her bottom and her hips wiggled with the same motion. A light brown ring with a dark hole center. The muscles in her butt clenched tight.
She muttered the same words as before: “Allah forgive me… may my family never know… Forgive me….”
Afterward I kissed her butt cheeks several times and I licked her drippings, too. She tasted good. Then I fixed her clothes. Pressing my palms across her new clothes, she became a presentable student once again.
We kissed and I told her that she can be a good Muslim woman, but a bad girl at the same time. It’s a paradox of a statement, but she understood what I meant by that. Human sexuality is a complicated beast. She said she wanted to be a bad girl student for me, and only for me… and Ms. Conway, too.
In my lab I think of new ways to add rimjobs to Ms. Conway’s impressive arsenal. There will be plenty more of those in our foreseeable future. Science, mechanics, and engineering are my life. It’s my goal as a professor, and as someone who leads the Science & Technology Department, to find new ways to increase human pleasure. To know the depths of the human mind and soul.
My research and creations will never be made public. It’s a secret for you to read. A secret between me and Ferhana to explore. I care for her deeply. I plan on bringing her to this lab and explaining my research, asking if she’d be interested in being an active participant.
Of course she will, I think. I want to eat her pussy. To devour her.
The End
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