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Message-ID: <33221asstr$1004757002@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: alexssexton@aol.com (AlexSSexton)
Subject: {ASSM} NEW: Visiting Professor 2 (MF)
Date: Fri,  2 Nov 2001 22:10:02 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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VISITING PROFESSOR 2

INTRODUCTION
 
This is subject to all the usual provisos: 
Graphic sex follows.
I'm not responsible for you reading this if you are underage.
The contents are purely fiction and all characters are figments of my
imagination.
This story is copyrighted and any reproduction requires the explicit consent of
the author; i.e. me.
AIDS/HIV and other STD do not exist in my fiction but do in reality-if you
attempt to live the lifestyle depicted please take precautions.

I haven't posted a story on the ASS or ASSM sites for six or seven years, and
back in the past only one long story and a couple of episodes.  Marriage can do
that, but since that now is my past I thought I would toss something out. 
Originally this was just a tangent of a larger project, but I think it can
stand-alone.  It starts a little slow but it lays a foundation for future
development.  If you want the sex scene in this post it starts about two-thirds
of the way through.  

The next part of the story will be posted whenever I feel it's ready.  There
are also a couple of trails that I plan to develop, but if any reader would
like to suggest where I could take this it will be considered.


THREE

Dinner at the Duberry's turned out to be more than a reunion with Carlotta.  In
addition to her husband, Dick Duberry, Nancy Stedman and two other couples, the
Majowskis who both taught at MWC (Max taught art, Debra economics), and Frank
Totti who had a construction company and his wife Felicia who was taught
English composition on a part-time basis.  David didn't know if this was an
event long in planning or if Carlotta had the ability to call from the Montrose
community's elite on short notice.  Clearly the dinner was oriented around his,
David's, arrival.

The attendees waltz around over cocktails before being seated for dinner. 
David found himself seated next to Nancy Stedman, the Dean and his "natural"
date amidst the married couples, and Dick Duberry who headed one end of the
table.  David tried to make the usual small talk with Nancy, and while friendly
seemed nervous.  Dick, on the other hand, was gregarious and prone to telling
off-colored jokes.  There were two things David wanted to get a feel for:
first, just what differences should he be expected of and expect to do teaching
at a women's college?  Was there a feminist sub-text he should be aware of,
charges that 19th Century diplomacy was male dominated, or some other
expectations?  Second, exactly who had Gunter Duer been and what gave him the
power over someone like Rachel with merely a note?  He tingled at the memory
from earlier . . .

Neither of his dinner neighbors could help him.  Nancy Stedman had never
actually taught at MWC and was recalcitrant to talk about Duer.  Dick Duberry
knew even less about Duer and never having taught elsewhere had little to
contribute to the differences of teaching at a same-sex college.  Felicia Totti
obviously overhead David's attempts to direct the conversation to the two
topics, and after coffee grabbed him by the elbow and steered him toward the
back door.

"For a cigarette," she confided and then winked.  Felicia was in her late
forties or early fifties, had jet-black hair, perhaps a little too much makeup,
but well and expensively dressed.  She led David onto the back porch into a
sheltered corner and lit a cigarette.  It was mid-winter in upstate New York
and bitterly cold.

"I heard you talking to the Dean.  You won't get much about Duer from her.  I
didn't know myself, but there are some rumors about them."  She paused to
exhale.  "Let's just say their relationship was a little more than
professional, but that's really all I know.  But Duer became a little bit of a
sore spot for her, though she is hiding her reactions much better these days." 
Felicia took another drag.  "Duer was a strange sort.  German or perhaps
Austrian.  Carried himself arrogantly.  I had a student last spring, Yvonne
Edelmann or Edelstein or something, who also took one of the 'herr professor's'
classes.  She withdrew after spring break . . . a nervous breakdown they said,
but it had something to do with Duer.  She tried to talk to me about it but we
never got to it."  She exhaled, took another puff and stubbed out the
cigarette.

"You must think somewhat of a gossip, my new friend," she guiding her back
indoors, "but I do like to keep an ear to the ground.  Let's have some coffee
and warm you up after keeping me in such delightful company outside.  And we
can talk about what it is like to teach young women, and just young women," and
she winked at him again.

Inside the party was winding down, and David drank his coffee while some of the
other guests started putting on their coats and leaving.  The Weather Channel
predicted a storm front to move through the area that night, and it seemed best
to get home early.  David was among the last leave, walking out with Dean
Stedman.  Carlotta gave him a friendly peck at the front door, and David walked
the Dean to her car.  Once she was safely settled he climbed into his own car,
and found himself following her back to Montrose.  At the campus' main gate
David turned in and found his temporary home while she drove on.  Once home
David turned up the head, turned on the TV, poured himself a healthy scotch and
dozed in front of the electronic fireplace.

David spent the weekend working off his laptop putting together the course
syllabi.  Carlotta called Saturday evening and invited him Sunday brunch but it
was implied this would be after church and David politely declined.  He
wandered around the campus to stretch his legs, but found the library closed
for the weekend.  On Sunday students began to appear on campus, their cars
parked on the lawns in front of the dorms as they unloaded the necessities of
student life and no doubt the proceeds from a successful Christmas.  David
noted the higher degree of affluence among the students from most of the cars,
newer models in a pricey range than he could afford but apart from that and the
dearth of men there wasn't anything profoundly different from a similar day at
his home campus.

On Monday, the day before the first day of classes, David perused the library
holdings and then went to the History department.  The copier was broken but
the secretary assured him it would be fixed soon and she would have his syllabi
delivered to his office as soon as they were ready.  David sat behind Duer's
desk, made himself comfortable by putting his feet on the top and started
reading one the texts he was unfamiliar with but had be chosen by his
predecessor.  He was interrupted by a phone call from Dean Stedman inviting him
to a lunch with three or other faculty who had joined the faculty at the
beginning of the fall semester; it would be informal and designed to make
newcomers comfortable, and while David would not be at MWC permanently it would
give him an opportunity to become part of the community.  David accepted, but
mused that he was a little confused by the Dean-while lunch reflected an
inviting side, she had also been guarded at Carlotta's dinner party and even
more protective of Duer's file cabinets and the contents of his desk.

David withdrew back into the reading, wishing he brought the remains of his
bottle of scotch.  It was only early afternoon but already the winter dusk was
settling in.  Through the window behind his desk he looked over one the "old"
campus' two quads; while the front of the building opened onto a quadrangle of
academic and administrative buildings, the view from the back of the building
where David's office had a vista over the most prestigious dorms, modeled he
thought, on Jefferson's Lawn in Charlottesville.  A knock on the door disturbed
him from the contemplation.  He could only discern the blob of a figure behind
the opaque glass panel.

"Come in," he said in a loud voice and swung his feet off the tabletop.   As
David spun the chair around the door opened and the redhead, Rebecca who had
made him come so explosively just last Friday, stepped into the room.  Against
her chest she held a stack of papers, the copies of David's syllabi.  No black
garb today, he noted, just the standard blue jeans and a red-white-navy ski
sweater.  He felt awkward looking at her but at the same time a want in his
loins.

"Mrs. Nelson asked me to bring these," she explained referring to the
department secretary.

"Just put them down there," he waved to the desk in front of him. 
Self-consciously Rebecca leaned over and placed the stack on the desk. 
Carefully she found the colored paper separators and split the syllabi into
three separate piles.

David felt tongue-tied . . . what could he say?  And just that phrase made him
recall her tongue running the length of erection just a couple of days ago.

"Thanks very much."

"You're welcome."  She turned and walked to the door.  David's eyes were drawn
to the tight fabric of her jeans drawn across her backside, and found himself
almost drooling.  Rebecca opened the office door and then closed it, and leant
against it facing him.

"This is really embarrassing for me," she confessed.  David noticed there was
no pretense of fake accent and her real voice had Boston origins.  "I didn't
know professor Duer was gone . . .and I don't believe you knew what was
happening. . ."  

She looked plaintively at him.

"I'm embarrassed too," David said, "I really didn't know what was happening,
why it was happening or who you were."  He looked at his feet because he
couldn't look into her green eyes.  Still staring downward he asked, "I don't
know why you did what you did . . ." he blinked thinking about the episode and
also what he should say next.

There was a click as the door lock shut and when he looked up Rebecca was gone,
and David had a hard-on.

[end three]

FOUR
David Grimes met his classes over the next couple of days.  The faculty:
student ratio at Montrose was lower than he was used to-his intro class only
had 17 students, and the two upper-levels just 6 and 9.  The lovely Rebecca was
not among them, which on the one hand was a relief, but on the other a
disappointment.  David kept kicking himself because he felt tinges of a teenage
obsession every time he thought of Rebecca's cascading red hair flowing over
his hips and what she had done to his cock just a few days ago.  Moreover, he
wanted to divine the explanation of why she had performed such an act on him,
an unknown stranger, simply because of instructions from the late, and no doubt
great, Dr. Duer.

At the end of the week David went to the new faculty lunch hosted by Dean
Stedman.  It took place in one of the private dining rooms in the student
union, and David found himself at a table with five other people: Nancy
Stedman, a rather dour professor of Business Administration who said very
little but then he was an academic gypsy, a mousy woman historian who David had
seen in Foix, a fairly attractive Hispanic woman who taught English and was
clearly out of her depth, and a Physical Education instructor, who also coached
lacrosse, with a beautiful Grecian face and rippling muscular physique (so much
so that David felt if he was going to cross that line . . .)

Deliberately David sat next to the Dean.  She was the most interesting member
of the lunch group.  However, the conversation really had little do with him
and revolved around the concerns-both educational and social-of new faculty. 
How did MWC students meet their expectations, what problems were they finding
in terms of academics?  Where there problems in socially adjusting that the
college could help them?

As they left after lunch Dean Stedman pulled David aside.  First she wanted to
know if David had found anything "strange" in Duer's office, but he had not. 
Nancy, and David ignored the custom of the freshman faculty to refer to her as
Dean given he was quite in the same cowering position, also let David know that
there would be a small memorial service Sunday for Duer-not a campus event but
for his colleagues and the History majors, but he was welcome (or in the
subtext, expected) to be there. 

Returning to his office there were a couple of messages on his machine: a
student who would miss tomorrow afternoon's class because of family emergency,
and Felicia Totti, whom he'd met at the dinner party the previous weekend who
asked him to call back.  Felicia invited him to lunch tomorrow at Montrose's
only decent bistro so she could get the gen on his first week, exchange some
gossip, and so he could be introduced to someone he absolute should meet.  It
was only the prospect of a chaperone that persuaded David to accept the lunch
date; Felicia Totti had seemed a little too flirtatious last weekend for
David's comfort given she was not only married but probably at least ten years
older than he was.

Felicia's friend was Sarah Diehl, who was Assistant Registrar at Montrose. 
Sarah had cropped blonde hair with an orangey tint of coloring, a round
attractive face with lively brown eyes, and multiple earrings on each year.  It
was clear that Sarah and Felicia got on like houses on fire in spite of the two
decades differences in their ages.  David was nestled between them in a booth
at the restaurant and enjoyed their somewhat biting commentary on the
characters of the campus, from whose butt had gotten the widest over the
holidays among the fat-ass business faculty to the student most likely to have
gotten hepatitis from a Christmas tattoo.  The two of them were quite cutting,
if not outright bitchy, but with a lack of real spite and so quite amusing. 
The food was fantastic and Felicia ordered a second bottle of wine.  Both women
knocked his elbows and even jabbed his ribs as the three of them rollicked,
even though their commentary was usually about people David didn't know at all,
and if he did, only superficially.

After lunch they stumbled a little in the icy parking lot, embraced warmly and
headed into the chilly interiors of their respective cars and the journey home.
 David definitely felt it was time for a nap and lay out on the hard couch. 
After a few minutes the phone rang; it was Sarah-would Dave be interested in
going to Syracuse ("not exactly the center of the known universe, but nor its
asshole") that evening for a movie and a bite to eat?  Normally David would
have declined the invitation because there was work to do for next week plus
the Duer memorial service in the morning, but the wine swimming through his
head made him less reserved.  Sarah also needed a doze, and would pick him up
at half-five.

The ride to Syracuse took about 40 minutes in Sarah's Civic.  On the way they
recounted their upbringings.  David's history of growing up in northern
Virginia, his father a high school teacher and his mother a mid-level federal
bureaucrat, being a suburban mall-rat adolescent, and his progression from
foundering college freshman to his current position.  Sarah's story was of
growing up in Atlanta till her parents divorce in her early teens, her mother
taking a job as librarian at Montrose, the adolescent angst of adjusting to
rural New York, four years with the rich bitches that attended the Women's
College, earning her M.A. in New York City, bouncing around Boston between jobs
in marketing and advertising, and coming back to Montrose when her mother got
sick and staying on to keep an eye on Mom in the 'legacy' job with the
Registrar.  "I'll be here till Mom dies or goes to Florida when she retires,"
concluded Sarah rhyming without any bitterness.

They got a bite to eat and drank a couple of beers, then watched a French movie
without Gerard Depardieu before heading back to Montrose.  On the way back
Sarah recounted life in the town of Montrose and on the campus of the Women's
College.  There was the obvious tension and mutual exploitation between the
rural folk of Montrose and elite student body ("maybe two or three rungs below
the Seven Sisters, just as rich but a little blonder"), the gender inequity in
the Montrose community ("there are maybe two thousand people living in and
around Montrose, and then you throw into a thousand young horny women into the
mix") ("maybe ten percent of the students are just naturally lesbian, but
another twenty percent at any time are because of experimentation or sheer
desperation," with a roll of the eyes), and just the general difficulty of a
social life ("most of the men are married, there's always a trip to Syracuse
and compete with the youngsters for a 'college lay'").  As they entered into
the outskirts of Montrose Sarah invited David to her place for coffee.  She
lived in an apartment over furniture on Main St.  She parked the Civic in an
alley behind a dumpster.

Instead of coffee Sarah opened a bottle of sweet white wine.  They sat on the
futon couch facing each other leaning against the armrests.  Sarah's legs
filled the space between their torso, while David's stretched over the
bedding's ledge onto the floor.  While he felt himself getting more heady with
each glass of wine, David smiled as he listened to Sarah's ramblings of
humorous frustrations of life in Montrose and working at the college.  How hard
it was to get a good fuck.  The student teasings of the town's two cops, the
brothers Wilbur and Orville.  Other stuff.   They had about finished the bottle
when the chimes from the mantle clock struck mid-night.

"Time for bed and I'm too drunk to run you home, and even if I thought I wasn't
Office Wilbur would and stop me," Sarah said referring to one Montrose's two
policemen.  "Dave, I can toss you a worn blanket and let you pass out on the
couch."  She eyed him steadily.  "Or if you promise to be a good boy you can
get under the duvet with me . . . but no funny business, OK?"

Sarah led him to the bedroom, found him a sweatshirt and left him to undress
and warm the sheets while she changed in the bathroom.  David stripped to his
boxers, was gratified to pull the borrowed sweater over his shoulders, and
crawled under the duvet.  Sarah emerged from the bathroom in a tee shirt short
enough to reveal a navel ring and white nylon panties.  She turned off the
light on the nightstand and snuggled her backside into his stomach.  David felt
his head spinning from the wine and nuzzled against her.  Sarah pulled the
covers tighter around her and over her head and said, "I'd really like to Dave,
and that's what body's telling me, but I'm too stoned to make a decision so be
good."  Dave didn't move save to place his hand on her thigh.  "You promised,"
Sarah said grasping his hand and pushing it against her thigh; soon he heard
her lightly snoring, and fell asleep.

[end 4]

FIVE

David woke with a full bladder and a hard-on.  The curtains were drawn and
there was only a hazy indication in the room that it was morning.  His hard-on
was pressing against Sarah's back.  While he enjoyed the explosive combination
of hardness and bladder pressure, he thought either he was rubbing the object
of his pleasure against her back, or she was rocking her torso against his
erection.  It was neither, he realized as grew awake, with one hand behind her
back she held his penis and was gently sheathing it up and down.  David's head
rested on Sarah's neck.  Her other hand-the one not manipulating his
erection-had drawn one his over her stomach so that he could feel the stone of
her navel ring press into the flesh of his palm.

Sarah twisted her head so their lips brushed; David's reach to embrace hers but
their bodies were positioned just too far apart.  Without releasing hold of his
erection Sarah rolled over to face him so they could kiss proper and he found
her placing his hand move from her stomach to the small of her back so his
fingers could knead the topmost flesh of her buttocks.  As they kissed, each
one deeper, Sarah let go of his penis and tugged at David's boxers.  He wiggled
so they could be drawn over his hips, down to his knees where he kicked them
off with a vigorous shin shaking.  Following her cue, his hand delved under the
waistline of Sarah's panties and cupped the cleavage between her buttocks and
gently peeled down the underwear.  Cooperatively Sarah lifted her hip off the
mattress so the sheer nylon garment could be kicked off under the bedding.  The
tip of David's penis pushed against Sarah's navel ring.

"I think my head's clear enough to want to fuck," Sarah observed between
kisses, "how about yours?"

David really had no idea what his head wanted, and as he tried to grasp the
implications of what a fuck would mean found his erection taking control of his
brain.  So he kissed Sarah again, his tongue flicking against the enamel of her
teeth, caressing her gums and stroking against her tongue.  He felt Sarah's
hands caressing his hard-on and balls.  Her left hand grasped the hard stem,
her right his close on his left one and guide it to her hip, and then she
rolled over.  She kneaded his penis between the cheeks of her ass while his
right hand felt the cutting stone of her navel ring and pushed up under her tee
shirt to feel her small breasts.

Gently she pushed herself up the bed while still holding his cock.  As she
elevated her position his hardness slipped from between her buttocks and over
the opening of her cleft.  Sarah rubbed the head of his cock against her wet
labia, and then pushed her body downward onto his erection.  Her body rippled
and slowly impaled David's erection inch by inch.  Instinctively, David's hips
thrust upward driving his hard penis deeper into her.  The way their bodies lay
only about half the length of his erection penetrated with each thrust, but
David could feel it draw tight and inward the lips of Sarah's cunt against his
hard cylinder.  With each thrust Sarah wiggled her hips for the friction
against David's erection.

Like his bladder David's head was swelling.  They found a rhythm of short,
sharp thrusts that had Sarah shaking her head and David exploring the grooves
of her vagina.  Sarah began to push backward against him, forcing him to roll
over.  David found himself on his back thrusting his hips upwards into her,
while Sarah lay face upward on his stomach.     His hands pulled up the skimpy
tee shirt.  The palms of David's hands fit over her small breasts: his palms
rested on her ribs and his fingers clenched her collarbone.  Sarah's breast's
fit fully into the curvature of his palms and her hard nipples pressed against
the lifeline grooves on his hands.  Sarah was gasping, accepting the small
thrusts from David's hips while tracing her fingers around the lips he was
pushing between while her thumbs stroked her clitoris.  Her breath became
shorter and shorter till she was almost gasping for air.  Suddenly she
quivered, her hips shaking from side-to-side, and emitting a small moan before
becoming inert.  

David's face was against the back of Sarah's skull and his nostrils were
embedded in her hair and well aware of her bodily exertion.  Sarah lay on his
torso, back-to-stomach, and two or three inches of David's prick were still
inside of her.  And his prick felt electric even though it was still while
Sarah gasped for breath, and about to explode.

After a minute or so Sarah pinched that part of his erection that was not
inside her with her fingers.  Carefully she held it the head of cock inside of
her while leaning forward until she rested on her knees.  David cocked his head
forward and saw the cropped hair of the back of her head, her broad shoulders,
bare back, and kneeling thighs of Sarah astride over him.  Between the thighs
was a space punctuated by his erection, held strongly by Sarah's right hand,
with its tip embedded into her.  

Sarah slowly lowered herself onto David.  The space between Sarah's thighs
disappeared has her buttocks and pelvis rested on his stomach.  Sarah rotated
her hips slightly as the rested on his haunches, as she found the right groove.
 Slowly she lifted herself from her knees until David could see the underside
of the dome of his cock emerge from cunt, and then see it disappear in an
instant as Sarah's hips drove downward into his like a pile-driver.  Sarah
repeated this movement again and again-the slow elevation of her body and then
the implosion on his cock.   David felt his nails drive into the flesh of
Sarah's ankles and only then became aware he had been clenching them in an
attempt to aim her pelvis onto his cock smoothly.  He could feel the tip of it
curving into the back of her vagina and feel the raspiness of her interior. 
David released her ankles and instead grasped Sarah's hips so as to position
her down thrusts onto his hard-on.

Sarah leant forward, pulling David's hard prick towards his ankles and against
its natural inclination toward his belly button.  As she did so Sarah's hips
gyrated more while the magnitude of the thrusts lessened.  Each was only an
inch, maybe two inches, and her buttocks and hips grinded against David's
pelvis.  After every four or five thrusts Sarah adjusted her stance until, on
the sixth or seventh try, she found the right position for his erection to
slide against her clitoris and the head of his erection pull against the most
sensitive part of her vaginal cavity.  Sarah began to pant and groan.  David
wasn't sure if her cunt wasn't going to emasculate him as Sarah leaned her chin
on his ankles, if his bladder was going to explode, or he would come.  Sarah
reached between their legs and grabbed his balls, and while squeezing them
came.

David felt her climax.  He found himself looking into the twin white orbs of
Sarah's buttocks.  She held her penis so that the tip remained inside her body.
 With her free hand she grasped his wrist and pulled him upward.  David
struggled to his knees as the fulcrum for his adjustment was his prick in
Sarah's cunt-she would not let that union be broken.  Finally he found himself
positioned behind her buttocks, Sarah's head resting on the mattress, and his
hard-on sweetly entering her back-and-forth doggy style.  His hands grasped her
hips and pulled them towards him.  His cock slid easily through her cunt.  He
reached to her shoulders and pulled them into him.  Sarah reached between her
legs and grabbed his balls.  David started to come, Sarah squeezed all of it
out.

The two of them collapsed on the bed.  Their heads rested against the foot of
the bed, their feet on the pillows their heads had slept on last night.  David
held her back against his chest and pulled the covers over their sweaty bodies,
aware of the foot smell their faces lay against.  He felt his arms reach out
and stretch over Sarah's chest; his prick remained hard inside her desiring a
toilet his bladder could unleash into.  They dozed for few minutes.  Then Sarah
extracted his erection from her body, and it made a quiet 'pop' as David's
penis was withdrawn from her cavity.

"I'll give you a good and real excuse to leave.  I'm taking my Mom to brunch,"
Sarah said as they stared at the wall, "I know leaving one-night-stands can be
awkward."

"What time is it?"

Sarah leaned over the side of the bed and picked up her alarm clock.  She
lifted the face so David could see.  10:15.

"I really have to get going too.  There's a memorial for Duer at eleven and I'm
expected to be there."

Sarah and David quickly dressed and got into her car.  Two minutes later they
were outside David's housing on the MWC campus.  Sarah revved the engine of the
car, still protesting from its cold start and the short run before this
enforced idle.  As David opened the door Sarah tugged his shoulder.

"I'm not looking for a relationship, whether with expectation of life-time
bliss or attempting to get there," Sarah said.  "I just want to have a good
fuck every now-and-then, maybe every weekend.  No strings attached, no
expectations, no promises expected.  What we just finished," she looked to the
clock on car stereo, "twenty minutes ago still has me going ga-ga and wet
between the legs.  If last night is all you want that's ok too, but I'd like
you to call me.  You've got my number."

David leaned over and kissed her on the lips, restraining the urge to have his
tongue to pierce between them.  "I'm not sure what I'm looking for, but it
isn't one-nighters.  I'm no Mr. Goodbar."

"I'll call you," he said leaving the car.  Sarah drove off, dropping the clutch
so ice flew into the air.  David ran into the house and urinated.  Not having
time to shower he changed into his clothes and walked to the Chapel for the
Duer memorial unwashed.  As he sat down in the Chapel he realized that he
didn't have Sarah's phone number.

[end 5]


[end Visiting Professor 2]

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