Meeting Her Pt. 02: Starting Affairs

Nancy knew she was pushing the limits, but she had to be sure. I was already sure enough about her.

Pheromones never sleep, when Nancy woke up Friday morning she was extremely horny. She asked herself, "why use my own fingers when there was something nicer right there?" I was asleep but charm never sleeps, I was charming as always. With the light touch of her fingers, I seemed to have something stiff that fit so nicely in the tight, damp, empty need she had. She made up her mind that today could be the day. Why wait? She mounted up before I woke up. It was a nice way to wake up.

I woke to find Nancy cheerfully impaled on my cock for the first time. When she saw my eyes she said, "I didn't think you would mind... I really wanted it."

Ever charming, I replied, "I can't imagine any view that could look better... plus it feels delightful. But those yummy nipples look like they need attention."

It was the right thing to say. Nancy is not confident of her looks, she is sure her small B-cups and her face are turn-offs. Nobody had ever said she was attractive first thing in the morning, and for the fraction of her bed partners who did indulge her nipples, they never asked first, they took and did a bad job of it. She was convinced that guys only cared about penetration.

I was consistently different. The half-dozen times we have fallen asleep after a BJ, I have always complimented her "fresh morning beauty" when we woke up so she could leave "before the neighbors were up." I was sincere, with sleepy eyes and wild hair she has something I find very attractive. Still, I never pushed her sexually or tried to force anything. I was just friendly and complimentary, willing to let her set the limits.

(Trustworthy, charming, and complimentary - if her townie boyfriends knew what I was doing they would call it a dirty rotten trick.)

Finally she figured out what to do with my compliments about her nipples, she leaned forward to hang her delicate yummy nips in my face for me to pleasure properly. I treated them like delights. She felt appreciated. As her nips stiffened up she felt much, much better. She also got wetter down below. So she moved. Pretty quick she was stifling a yell about how good she felt with the "moving up and down" thing. Besides the nipples, she had this strange, never felt before, sense of satisfaction and personal worth.

I let her use me "like a sex toy." I used those very words to empower her moves. This was her party. She had a great time with her sex toy. Soon enough, after asking nicely and saying she was irresistible, her sex toy gave her the pussy full of cum that she expected. Some things I can't control. However, instead of jumping up like most guys, after I was done I opened my arms to her. Despite the way she was dripping on me we cuddled some more. My arms around her told her she was special. My kisses on her cheeks said she was wonderful. Her soul enjoyed it all like her body enjoyed my climax.

"That was the only cock to part my nether in over two years, and the best I have had since... I can't remember when. It was wonderful."

She started to get strange feelings that were a little like that crazy thing called love. She almost shied away from the feeling, it confused her because it felt good. She wasn't worthy of it. Finally she decided to ride through it and see where it went. She was sure that I was not looking for love, so she was safe.

That morning was the first time that Nancy, as a teacher, had vaginal sex with another teacher. Given the intersection of her private life and her public life she was confused about what her response should be. Her short term solution was that, as long as she didn't leave, she didn't have to face a new world. So she acted like she wanted to stay. To her, that meant doing domestic things with a sexy twist, like making breakfast before either of us got dressed. Also, she seemed to have to stay in contact at all times.

I tried for a middle ground, cooking bacon and eggs at the stove is dangerous without some protection from grease spatters, plus I am a little proprietary about my kitchen. As a compromise we both wore front-only aprons and fondled the buns. She let me do the cooking, but as long as she held on to me she was helping. Having her press her slim body against my back, while her hands were around my body and her fingers caressed my package under my apron was very good for both of us.

"I know what I want for dessert," she said while twisting one of her nipples. We did not tarry at table. Back in the bed she held her sweet nipples for me to lick and kiss and suck and generally make her feel adored. She liked that.

After that was done we took a shower, where she coaxed things "up" again, then she dragged me back to the bed where we took turns putting our mouths to each other's good parts. Nancy has always been a fan of 69, but today she was content to lie back and let me eat her to a climax or two, until she felt it was her turn to treat my cock and balls to her sucking and licking and kissing. That pretty much set the tone for the weekend.

We shared that entire weekend doing everything Nancy and I could think of to put a smile on Nancy's face. Most of it was oral, with her getting about four big smiles to each one I had. But that is pretty much a measure of our relative recovery time.

It wasn't confined to the bedroom. During the afternoon I set her on the kitchen counter where I ate her, then after getting her off, I slipped my cock into her for some mutual happiness. She complained that I should not fuck her in the kitchen.

My reply was that she should not interrupt me while I "was cooking."

She mentioned, with some surprise, that it was the first time she got off in the kitchen of someplace that actually had a separate kitchen. (Her loser boyfriends had cheap efficiency apartments.)

For fucking, beside a "no mouth-to-mouth" kissing rule, she insisted that she liked fucking face-to-face, either basic missionary or cowgirl, once or twice a day, with full good feelings for her. My Mr. Happy didn't complain.

We also had a lot of good conversation, she had some decisions to make about her future and she really needed to talk them out with somebody who understood. I always kept to the subject at hand even when she was unconsciously posing in a sexy, explicit manner. She was clever and noticed that I kept talking to her even when she was posing. I wasn't like other guys.

One of our rules was that outside of the business building we could not talk details about anything teaching-related. Research was okay, because that is inspiration which can strike anytime. We had some joint research. Also we could talk about her future, because she really had some decisions to make about the direction of her life. That we agreed on.

That set up a regular Thursday overnight for mutual smiles plus intelligent conversation for the rest of the football season. She knows it is temporary, we both know things will change at the end of the semester, but she is not going to pass up her weekly smiles or a chance to actually talk before or after.

We also expanded our rules. The prohibition against kissing on the lips is because she does not want any "accidental intimacy" if we forget ourselves in the workplace. Also, there are no facials or snowballs or creampies or anal sex. I understood the anal thing and how it combined with the face-to-face requirement; her first try at doggie-style led to an "unpleasant surprise... hurt for a week." The guy blamed poor aim in the dark.

Snowballs could be messy, but I was surprised about her creampie aversion. She liked oral sex and I imagined a cream pie felt pretty good for the female involved. When I asked why she covered her face with her hands out of pure embarrassment. She said she could not face me at the office if I saw, "her uglies, up close and messy." That went double because I was an exalted faculty member while she was the lowest staff. Cunnilingus was okay because I took turns with her, and it was too good to pass up. (It was another one of the things she loved about me.) She claimed that my junk looked better than her's, but she knew I would reciprocate so she put up with me "licking her ugly" while making her feel good. In making a creampie I was already doing her a favor, so I "should not have to look at it messy, or eat my own stuff." I could not convince her otherwise, there was no arguing with her.

I concluded Nancy was kind of stuck in high school about sex. With a local guy Nancy just expects one shot at a time, with his cock in her mouth after a "date" at a hamburger place. I know that girl-girl sex makes her happy, she has a regular special date and some old friends, but she won't share the specifics. I tell her that knowing about those urges does not bother me, I am not competing with anybody. Most guys she dated would reject her if they thought she was intimate with a female, because "it was unfair competition."

For now she was still attached to Getty, her lump from outside of academia who watched football. For her own self-image she had to be attached to somebody specific and since she was not worthy of me that meant she had to be with him. Getty has not gotten his cock into her pussy or her mouth yet, the best he gets is a quick hand job, and that is because he is so pitiful. He never gets her overnight, he is a slob so Nancy simply refuses to consider it.

After that first weekend of trusting me so she could sleep naked in my bed unmolested, then giving me her pussy and getting unfamiliar good feelings from it, she started to have some doubts about the townies she always dated. I am helping her make up her mind, showing her the fucking truth one spectacular orgasm at a time.

Like I said, my job is expanding human knowledge by pushing back ignorance one theory... or one smile at a time.

-

Chapter 3. Contact

Late September

On the last Monday of the month I got a phone call in my office. I have caller ID so I answered, "Doctor Isabel Victor-Brumhuld, how nice to hear from you..." I almost said "again" but that was pure mischief so I stopped myself.

She was confused. "Uh... how did you know it was me? You promised... I thought... OH! I see you are in Carson Hall, where you have those fancy phones with caller ID."

"Why yes... I was not here at the time but I understand Mr. Carson was involved... he sells a lot of phones, or so I am told. Wait... did you think it was something else I recognized?"

"I thought it might... never mind... somebody said you were a gentleman." She sounded delighted.

"Well then, you must thank them for me. Unless I get a chance to thank them myself. Do you think that might happen?"

"I'd say the chances are good. I am calling today wearing my university social director hat, to ask if we might see you at the mixer next Wednesday evening. The President will be there and I know some folks are anxious to meet our new people. I have to say, your name... well, actually your salary has caught some attention and several folks said they wanted to meet you."

Yes, I was sure my reasonable salary had many folks on campus looking to talk at me, so they could complain about how I could not possibly be worth so much when they worked so hard at something which was difficult but unfairly undervalued in the market. It is amazing how many academics don't believe in the reality of the market forces that kick them in the teeth on a daily basis.

I got the message, that working hard for a living didn't matter, when I was 11. I read the Wall Street Journal editorial page and saw the light. After my MBA I worked in arbitrage, where it gets very real when one is responsible for hundreds of millions of dollars that are seeking a new market level - it changes constantly - based on everything that moves the market.

I bet there is a correlation between salary level and belief in the market... I would hypothesize... Well, I digress.

Last Spring, before I signed my contracts, Dryden had warned me of these tragic ambushes disguised as social events with treats and wine, where new business folks are outnumbered by the perpetually offended. I made a plan.

To Isabel I replied, "Well, I would appreciate it if you inform the President and any others who are interested that I would like to attend, but I regret that I cannot. If you examine the schedule you will see I have a Wednesday night class. Those young folks pay the bills, so it would not be right for me to miss class, there is just not enough time as it is. I have an exam the following week, so students will have questions. I am sure you understand."

She had an answer ready for me. "Quite right, I am sure. Still, there are a few people who would enjoy meeting you. Perhaps a lunch some time? I did look at your schedule and noticed a lunchtime gap in your office hours from Noon to two on Tuesdays."

I made hesitant noises, I was not looking for a private ambush. She understood. "Maybe just the two of us could meet? Tuesday October 5?"

Ah, obviously she knew who she was talking to, but she was not sure if I knew it was her that I sodomized her bum so delightfully during the black-out. Lunch would give us both a chance to play. "Lunch sounds delightful. Hmm... how about I meet you at Mayz around 12:15? I will reserve a booth. Chocolate or non-chocolate section?"

She was surprised at the suggestion. "Do they have a non-chocolate section?"

"Not really, I like to offer since I know they can fake it for those poor souls allergic to chocolate. They do cinnamon carmel. I can place a special order."

"I had no idea... that is extremely considerate. My, you make connections quickly. I grew up here and I did not know that... but I have a weakness for the extreme chocolate. Lunch sounds wonderful. See you then."

Mayz was an upscale place 5 minutes away. It was too pricy, and the food is too delicious for most academics, so they avoid it under the guise of being politically correct and aware for the planet. If you ask the wait staff about calories for any dish you clearly do not belong there and are escorted out, with "this is not California, hippie!" for a sendoff.

At dinner the deserts were sold using the Marvin scale, which looks at chocolate grams per cubic centimeter. But lunch was more relaxed, and in some ways, more excessive. The booths were all designed for two people, not three. Reservations are a requirement, so nobody else would just show up. Given our little secret I was seriously curious about what she had to say. I admit that I also carried hope for a rematch; it seemed that I could not see Nancy smile during anal, because she did not do that... yet. I like variety.

-

As I prepared for the meeting I wondered how I would raise the secret of our mutual carnal knowledge in a subtle manner that opened the door but did not give it away. In other words, how to make a second impression without acknowledging the first impression. My main thoughts centered on humming either Paula Abdul's "Straight Up" (the chorus is "hit and run") or Eric Burden + War doing "Spill The Wine."

-

Chapter 4. Mayz

Tuesday, October 5, 2020

We got to Mayz at the same time and parked nose-to nose in the lot. She was driving a blue Tesla X SUV while I had my shiny black H-1 Hummer.

When I was close enough Isabel started humming Paula Abdul's "Opposites Attract," which I thought was charming. Music from the '80s always works. I said she was very quick and whistled a few notes of the song. Her smile said we were on the same wavelength and this would be fun.

For any academic, my beast of a Hummer requires a confession. I told people that I never "bought" the beast, I won it as a performance bonus in my first career, before I went for my PhD. I didn't want to burn out in that career. Once I reached my economic goal the arbitrage lifestyle did not suit me.

(That story is close to the truth. My bonus was a trip to Vegas. The hotel took the Hummer as settlement of a bet. I won it in their daily lottery. Pure chance.)

Once we were seated at a secluded booth we did not need a menu to order. At lunch food was served almost immediately.

I said that Isabel was more attractive than her picture. She had a wholesome cuteness, with a touch of Hispanic features that appealed to me. Her body looked very athletic, heavy with muscle but very little fat, I knew she had done some sports in college and she looked like she kept it up at an intense level. Plus there was an undefinable "kitten" sexiness she turned on and off at will. (More Paula Abdul?) I can honestly say that I wanted her. I almost said something embarrassing ("muy caliente") out loud. (My excuse is the three year sentence I served in a San Jose high school.) It was not a common sensation for me, and something I had never known with anyone married.

I was 29. I knew she was 33 and married about 5 years ago. She was around my height (5 foot 10) with prominent breasts. Her skin tone was darker than her father (who I met several times) and also darker than her Mexican mother (who I met once). When meeting somebody I focus on earlobes, they did not matched her father. That suggested a family mystery or a secret.

Her most striking feature was her red hair flowing down to the base of her spine. The chestnut red hair was dark and rich with body in abundance, it seemed almost alive. She used pins and clips to hold it, but even confined it was magnificent. That explained the shower cap in the shower.

I expected us to spend some time feeling each other out, but curiosity was plainly killing her so she took the direct route as soon as we were seated.

"I did not believe I would ever be able to face you after what I... we did."

That was interesting and direct. How could I say anything without revealing I knew what happened? So I acknowledged and moved on to absolution. "You didn't do anything you should be ashamed of. Quite the contrary, believe me. It was an unusual situation. Pure chance. Nobody was hurt. I had a great time and I hope you still think so too."

I saw her relief, she had dreaded not knowing what I knew. She also smiled at the way I avoided any specific reference. I saw that her body shivered as she briefly remembering her orgasms. She wanted details. "When did you discover who I was? And how?"

As long as we were playing a truth game I countered. "Ladies first. Since you had an easy way to check, tell me, did you wait until the morning after, or did you check that night?"

She blushed and turned away for a second before she answered. "I waited until the next morning... but it was hard, I was dripping with your... which I wanted. That is a connection. A woman has to know, we just do, and I could find out easily. I was confused, it was shock to enjoy that act so much... I thought I could handle it, but you took me so far beyond simple handling... I abused a toy to death that night. When did you find out?"

"It was over a month later," I said. "Pure accident, more or less. I stumbled onto the building security program, which just gave me names. Then it took a week or two to narrow things down, like whether Pat Fisher was male or female." She laughed at that, the guy was 67, bald with a pony tail, still teaching revised history. I guess teaching and playing the state's scratch-off lottery was a poor substitute for a regular savings program.

She went on. "I intended to keep our deal, but the information was right there and I was curious... and still dripping. Plus I must say you were special. Unforgettable. You were so good I had to look." She blushed.

"Well, I did not expect to find campus royalty," I said.

"Royalty is not all it appears. I am more Daddy's 'go to' trusted drudge with a dozen hats because I make a convenient hatrack and don't say no. Well, now we each know the other so I guess the question is where do we go next?"