Professor Winderly's Assignment Ch. 01

She loved to masturbate. And the few times she had sex with a man, she always found it to be less exciting or fulfilling than what she did easily to herself. She had read plenty of research about female sexual rituals in matrilineal societies. She wondered if she were brave enough to have sex with a woman. A woman would know how to treat her sensitive pussy, she believed. She thought she could actually convince herself it was just more practical research.

Dee knew just what to do to get aroused and finish quickly or to ease off and let the sensations build. Especially during her periods, she found that frigging made her cramps less bothersome. She convinced herself that a cramp was proof she needed to take intimate care of herself. Women had ancient ways of knowing these things.

She was drifting into that place where her focus was on pure pleasure. Two fingers of her right hand were pulling the hood of her clitoris gently, allowing her middle finger to give the clit a firmer rubbing. With her left hand she rutched up her blouse and slid it under her bra. Dee's nipples were firm and on fire. They wanted to be suckled. If she had milk to give she would have poured herself into the task. Her breasts were a handful: a C cup, for her small frame, she thought they were just perfect.

She liked how her tits sagged ever so slightly; a reward of living with gravity. When she was younger, she worried about how her nipples pointed outward to her sides. She thought nipples should point straight ahead. But during a sophomore research project, she came across photos of aboriginal women who had never worn halters or bras. Their tits were pendulous, hanging low, their nipples elongated from nursing children. And they always pointed to the sides. Breasts that hung that way helped the women nurse their children. After that she was proud of her breasts and loved it when her nipples got hard. She knew it would be dangerous to let her colleagues or her students see the, but nipples were supposed to get erect. It was what made her a woman. So, she was careful to dress in ways that were both convenient in the field and not arousing in the classroom.

She grabbed at her right breast and squeezed hard. That produced a dramatic ache in her belly. She grabbed her left breast. Again the ache built, not unlike the first wave of a menstrual cramp. As her clitoris was sending signals to her brain that an orgasm was imminent, she pinched her nipples, first one then the other, very hard. She rolled them in her fingers and pulled them taut. When she masturbated in the nude, Dee would pull her tits away from her body and let them fall back to her chest. She wanted so much to take her nipples in her mouth and bite them, but she could not contort herself enough.

Soon, the wave began to break. Her orgasm had built to a peak and she was breathing in gasps. She fought hard to stay quiet, but she wanted to scream at the intensity. Her eyes closed tight helping to see what her mind imagined: a man stroking his cock. It was Dummy. Dee could not shake him from her thoughts and as she built up to a rocking orgasm she imagined him watching her rub herself to orgasm.

She was sweating. "Oh, god, Dummy, cum with me! Shoot your seed on me. I am cumming for you Dummy. I want to feel you and taste your hot load of cum. Shoot it on me. Give it to me Dummy. Give it to me Dummy!" She was seething through clenched teeth still trying not to scream.

When her brain produced an image of her student's load erupting from the end of his cock, Dee exploded herself. Four waves of intense electricity ran from her feet to her scalp. Her pussy was the center of the storm and her clit the lightning rod. She rode the intense waves of orgasm rocking her hips upward as if she were riding a cock. She spasmed as the last tremors of her orgasm spread across her. She was exhausted and drenched. Her cramps were rounded and dull. Her pussy was sore and her hand was wet. She brought it to her face and smelled her fingers, then she tasted them. It was her woman scent. Sucking her fingers and licking what juices she could find, she subsided and melted into her chair.

Had the cleaning crew opened the door at that time, they would have seen Professor Dee Winderly with one hand in her mouth, another in her panties, her jeans around her knees and her blouse rumpled and pulled up exposing her breasts half out of her bra. She was so weak that she could only chuckle at the thought. But the thought of being found out made her try to pull out of the reverie and to arrange herself.

"Whew. That was one great orgasm, girl! I wish I could tell someone how great that was. And Dummy! He can cum with me anytime he wants. Oh, no. Not Dummy. God, not Dummy! Yes...maybe Dummy."

Tomorrow's office hours might be the start of a nice exciting research project.