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Research Assistant

Research Assistant

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A visiting professor can’t help sampling the local student body.

Last year I worked as a visiting professor at a foreign university. As part of my position, I was assigned my own student research assistant. It should go without saying that having sex with one’s assistant was a definite no-no.

But Katrina was my Kryptonite. She had sharp, perfectly sculpted cheekbones, sparkling blue eyes, and bubble-gum pink lips that curved into a perfect Cupid’s bow that begged to be kissed. She was gorgeous — lithe and delicate with curves in all the right places.

As hard as I tried to keep my thoughts about Katrina innocent and pure, sex seemed inevitable. Every conversation featured a subtle undercurrent of flirtation. It was a dangerous tightrope we both seemed determined to walk.

Our first hookup was in my office. We were going over a survey that had to be conducted for a quarterly report about my research project’s progress. Really tedious stuff that kept us holed up in the room for hours.

When I finally glanced at the clock, I was shocked to see that five hours had passed since we’d first sat down. We were both in desperate need of a break. My shoulders were stiff with tension. I stood and rolled my head from side to side to ease the ache.

Katrina tutted behind me. “Moving your head will not soothe sore muscles,” she scolded. She gestured to my chair. “Sit.”

I settled in the seat again, and her cool, deft fingertips immediately settled on either side of my neck. She circled over the knots in my muscles, applying the perfect amount of pressure. I groaned when she hit a particularly sore spot, grateful for her efforts.

As the tension left my neck, Katrina’s hands began to wander south. She skimmed along my torso, pausing to fan her fingers over my pecs before continuing her descent to my crotch. The moment her fingers landed on the zipper of my pants, we were at the point of no return. She didn’t fumble one bit. Nope, those agile fingertips easily slid down my zipper and popped the button at my waistband.

Katrina slipped her hands beneath my pants, and I lifted my hips slightly to aid her efforts as she pushed my slacks and boxers down to my knees. She knelt at my feet, angling that sweet face of hers so she could look up into my eyes.

“I’ve wanted this for a long time,” she whispered.

As she yanked my pants and underwear down farther, I toed off my loafers and then kicked away my clothing.

Sitting there in a rumpled, button-down shirt, I was speechless as one of Katrina’s hands slipped between my legs to cup my balls while the other embraced my erection. Her reverent touch promised endless pleasure, and I was eager to forget about rules and propriety in favor of just feeling.

“I gripped her head as she parted her full lips and enveloped my dick.”

As her silken tongue slid along the underside of my dick, I released a strangled breath from between my clenched teeth. The sensation was the sweetest torture, like a sizzling shock to the groin — jarring and approaching painful, yet my body responded with a yearning hunger for more.

Pre-come glistened at the tip of my cock, and Katrina flicked her tongue across the head to collect that bead of moisture. She purred her approval, and then swiped her tongue over my dick again. Every lick sent a jolt of pleasure  to my balls.

I groaned and gripped the sides of her head as she parted her full lips and enveloped my dick. Logic and lust were at war in my brain. I wanted to hold her head and just pump my cock into her, taking that pretty little mouth for all it was worth. At the same time her angelic face appeared so fragile, so delicate; I hesitated to unleash the full force of my desire.

I should have known she was anything but fragile. As Katrina continued to suck my dick, her little mews of amusement vibrated against my flesh, ratcheting up my arousal to previously unrealized heights. Every ounce of blood in my body rushed straight to my erection. Her mouth was working magic on me as my needs grew more acute.

Suddenly, Katrina changed her rhythm. After a few strokes, I realized she was sucking in time to the pulse of my dick. The thought that she could feel the strength of my desire right against her tongue nearly sent me over the edge right there. Only the selfish need to remain in her mouth for as long as possible held me back.

Then her fingertips tickled beneath my balls, and all illusions of self-control went out the window. The sensations were not unlike having a live wire plugged into my body. Every nerve seemed to sizzle as electric shocks of excruciating pleasure rocked me.

Even as my hips bucked wildly, Katrina continued to lick and suck, and when hot come surged from my dick, her lips clamped around me tighter. She continued to bob her head rhythmically as she swallowed my cream.

Afterward, she delicately dabbed her fingertips against her lips to remove any excess droplets of come. As if for extra insurance, she slid her tongue along them, too, emitting soft sounds of satisfaction before rising to her feet and walking behind me.

Katrina’s hands smoothed over my shoulders, pausing to rub out another knot. “There, nice and relaxed,” she purred. “Now we can get back to work.”

For someone who had just sucked me off like a porn star, Katrina was amazingly calm and collected. I turned to stare at her for a moment, dumbfounded as I desperately tried to find something smart and sophisticated to say. But my mind was blank — so much for being a loquacious scholar.

Though words failed me, I was overwhelmed by the desire to taste her pussy. Still, something inside me encouraged me to hold back. I regained my control, and we got back to work. Still, in the back of my mind, I began to contemplate what my next move would be in this dangerous game we were playing.

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