Research Assistant to Office Wife

Research Assistant to Office Wife Abby fills the void left by the Professor's wife.

All characters in this story are 18 or older..

I started working as a research assistant for Assistant Professor Johnson the summer between my junior and senior year. It was a great opportunity to build up my resume, plus he was working on interesting projects in the field I was majoring in. Of course, it didn't hurt that he was smart, handsome, a great teacher and a rising star in his field. I had taken two of his courses and was a total fan girl for him, so when I got the internship I was over the moon.

Ted was up for tenure in the fall so the workload was intense. He was trying to get three papers accepted in prestigious journals, so as soon as the spring semester ended he was grinding away from morning until night.

Even though he was only an Assistant I sometimes called him "Professor" anyway. I could tell he liked the sound of it.

Most of my job was data-crunching. I pretty much spent my five days a week in front of a computer, working on spreadsheets. I didn't mind, though, because the Professor let me take a long lunch every day. I'd have a quick bite at my desk then go to the campus Athletic Center and work out.

Also, my "boyfriend" was working from home all summer so I had to get out of the house. When the dorms closed at the end of the school year I accepted his invitation to move into his off-campus apartment, even if we weren't that into each other at that point. He didn't charge me any rent as long as I let him fuck me every weekend, so as far as I was concerned everything was just fine.

In truth, though, I did miss having a real boyfriend. I'm a pretty horny girl and the once-a-week uninspired fucking from my roommate wasn't really doing the job. Most nights, back in my room, I'd use my vibrator or finger myself to orgasm but I was never really satisfied. I missed having a steady guy who could work magic in the bedroom.

Anyway, the one drawback of the job was that my office didn't have air conditioning and it got really hot in the afternoon. There was a big window fan but it didn't do much. After the first week working in the heat I decided just to embrace it - I dressed to keep cool, and the less I wore the cooler I was.

Fortunately, there weren't many people in the building over the summer so it didn't matter that I did my work half-naked. I wore short shorts or skirts paired with skimpy halter tops or loose, torn t-shirts. Other times I'd wear a wispy, sleeveless sundress. Always flip-flops. I had a button-down shirt draped over the back of my chair that I could throw over my tiny top if I had to go down the hall to the bathroom or if I had to talk to the Professor.

It was inevitable, of course, that he would catch a glimpse of me now and then without my overshirt. I kind of hoped he did, actually. Like I said, I work out every day, and I'm pretty proud of my looks. I'm 5'5" with smooth legs, a flat belly, and firm, shapely boobs between a B- and C-cup. My hair is a silky reddish-brown that come to my shoulders. I have a nice face, I'm told, with a bright smile, full lips and high cheekbones. At first the Professor seemed not to notice my skimpy attire, but soon after I started he would stop by my office to ask a question about some random thing.

"Ummm, Abby?" he would ask to get my attention, standing in my doorway. When I sat at my computer my back faced the door, so he couldn't see my chest in my tight, sweaty top. He would lean against the doorframe and question me about my work, not in a nagging way but just checking in. "Did you analyze the data from the southwest quadrant yet?" he would ask, or something like that, looking at the back of my head.

The first few times he stopped in I just turned my head over my shoulder to respond, keeping my body hidden. Or I would subtly pull the overshirt from the back of my chair, draping it over my shoulders before I turned to face him.

But one day, toward the end of my second week, he stopped by to talk about one of our statistical calculations. I was wearing a tiny, light-green halter top with spaghetti straps. It contrasted nicely with the auburn glow of my hair and my soft nipples were clearly visible, tiny mounds poking out against the thin fabric. For some reason - maybe I was feeling frisky, maybe I was just bored - I spun around in my chair first, giving him a clear view of my scantily clad front before I casually covered up with the overshirt.

I saw his eyes drop for an instant, stealing a glance before returning to my face. I sensed the excitement charging through him. It was just a fleeting moment and we were immediately back to discussing statistics. But we both knew it.

After that we had almost daily incidents. Sometimes I wouldn't put on the overshirt at all when he came by. We would have a professional conversation - just a minute or two - with my sexy top on full display. I started wearing crop-tops that revealed my taut belly. The Professor would keep his eyes on my face until I purposely looked away at my computer or papers on my desk to give him an opportunity to sneak a peek.

By the third week he became bolder. Instead of stopping in the doorframe he'd march right up to my desk, standing over me. He would have a great view of my tits and the smooth skin of my thighs. Maybe the third or fourth time he stood over me I was wearing a loose sundress. We were discussing the data on the computer screen, me in my chair and him standing over me, his crotch right at eye level. I gave a sidelong glance and noticed what seemed to be an impressive package in his faded jeans, making me tingle.

I looked up into the Professor's eyes and saw hunger and frustration as he looked down at me. I pretended not to notice. I turned my attention back to the screen of my laptop, clicking from tab to tab to show him my progress, and as I clicked I slowly leaned forward, letting the loose dress drop down and giving a full, unimpeded view down the front. I wasn't wearing a bra. He could easily see my naked tits. I gave him a brief show then leaned back in my chair, pulling the dress tight against my chest. He was still leaning forward, so his crotch was now right next to my face, just inches from my cheek. A quick look made it evident he enjoyed the show, a major bulge rising from the front of his Levis. I had an incredible urge to lean over and give it a gentle bite, to chew on it through the faded denim. When the Professor realized the position he was in he got flustered and bolted from my office, telling me we could finish the discussion later.

After that day Ted mostly stayed in his office, and if he did stop by he stayed in the doorframe. I felt bad for him. He was overworked, trying to get published, and also having problems with his marriage. I could hear him on the phone with his wife every day. It was always, "I know, I know," and "yes, but..." and "OK, OK" and "I'm sorry" and "why not?" Never anything happy, no laughing. One day I heard him say "bitch" under his breath after he hung up the phone.

Poor guy - he had tenure looming over his head, a nasty wife, and a sexy, tempting office assistant frustrating him daily. The Professor was hugely stressed out. I was afraid it was too much for him.

Everything came to a head on a warm evening in August, about two weeks before Teddy's tenure application was due. The pressure had been building all summer and he hadn't been sleeping enough. Two of his papers had been "conditionally" accepted, which sounds good but actually means you have to do a lot more work before it actually gets published. He had just hung up after a particularly ugly call with his wife and I could hear him muttering to himself and banging on his keyboard.

I got up from my desk and peeked into his office. He was resting his head in his hands and shaking it from side to side, as if he was finally acknowledging defeat. I didn't know what to do, but I had to do something.

He looked so sad, so vulnerable. I was genuinely worried about his well-being. I thought for a second about going back to my office to get my cover-up because I was wearing an obscenely skimpy, wife-beater style white t-shirt and tiny denim shorts, but I didn't. I quietly walked behind him and put my hands on top of his shoulders. He tensed up immediately and froze. I wasn't sure what to do, but slowly I began to knead my fingers into his taught flesh.

"Teddy," I said softly, "you've got to relax."

"Ummm, Abby?" he croaked, "Thanks but you don't have to do this, you know. I'll be OK. Really."

I didn't reply right away, just kept working his muscles. I could feel him start to wilt under my touch even as he tried to focus on his computer screen. "Don't worry, Professor," I finally said. "I know you're a perfect gentleman. I just want to help you relax. Then you can get your work done, OK?"

Teddy exhaled. He was conflicted, but I persisted. My hands wandered from his shoulders to his neck, rubbing and squeezing. He was trying to pay attention to his work but his will was dissolving. "OK," he replied with a sigh, "but I just want to be clear that you don't have to do this. It's definitely not part of the job description."

I paused, resting my hands on his biceps and leaned down to his ear. "Does that mean you want me to stop?" I asked innocently.

He sighed again, torn by indecision. "Ummm... I... ummmm... it's just, you know -- you don't have to. And you probably shouldn't."

I chuckled and started massaging his shoulders again. "Let's just say I'm doing this on my own initiative, OK Professor? And besides," I added, "you need it. You're so tense you're about to burst."

I pushed my fingertips into his flesh through the old t-shirt he wore, alternating between squeezing and kneading and gentle rubbing. I worked from his biceps across to his neck, feeling the heat of his skin against my hand.

Soon he wasn't looking at his computer any more. His head was down and I could hear him quietly moaning, finally giving in to my efforts.

I brought my lips to within an inch of his ear. "Are you sure you don't want me to stop?" I teased.

"Noooooo," he groaned, "It's just... you know..." His words trailed off.

"I know," I said reassuringly, "don't worry. Just relax."

I continued rubbing for a while, both of us quiet until I whispered to him again, "I'm glad you didn't make me stop, Teddy. I like rubbing your shoulders, you know, and you really do need to relax."

He exhaled in agreement as I gently wrapped my hands around his neck, rubbing lightly before I let my magic fingers wander back across his shoulders to his arms. He definitely wasn't looking at his computer screen anymore.

"Your wife doesn't rub your shoulders, does she?" I asked, but as soon as the words left my mouth I felt terrible, afraid that I'd destroyed the mood.

Teddy was silent for a while. I kept rubbing, gingerly, waiting for him to snap at me. "No," he finally replied, sadly. "She doesn't."

A wave of relief washed over me. "That's too bad," I said in a comforting way as I rubbed down his arms, noting his firm biceps. I hadn't realized it before but Teddy was in really good shape. "Everyone should get their back rubbed once in a while," I added.

"Yeah," he grunted, "tell her that."

"Maybe I will," I said teasingly, "or maybe I'll just do it myself from now on."

Teddy was quiet again, mulling my words. I sensed he was starting to wonder where this was going.

"Oh, yeah?" he finally responded. "Do you want to add 'masseuse' to your job description? I don't think the Dean would go for that."

"Don't worry, Teddy," I laughed, "the Dean's not here."

"No, he's not," Teddy agreed as I continued to rub. I could tell he was thinking.

I leaned down to his ear again and whispered, "no one else is here, Teddy. It's just you and me."

He was quiet again, wondering if I was just teasing or if this was actually going somewhere. "You're going to get us in trouble, you know," he said. "What would your boyfriend think of you rubbing your boss's shoulders?" I sensed he was testing the waters, trying to feel me out.

"He's not here either, Teddy," I said matter-of-factly. "He can't think about what he doesn't know, right?" I didn't bother to explain that he wasn't really my boyfriend.

"Well, if he finds out I don't think he would like it," Teddy warned.

"Don't worry," I laughed, playing along. "I know how to take care of him..." I let the words linger in the air, letting Teddy use his imagination.

"Oh yeah?" Teddy asked. "What keeps him happy? Do you give him nice backrubs, too?"

"Well, that and other things," I said suggestively.

"Let me guess," said Teddy, "foot massages?"

"You're getting warmer," I replied, still massaging his shoulders. I ran my hands down his arms, kneading his muscles as we flirted.

"Full body massages?"

"Sometimes... " I said, letting my voice trail off. I was lightly rubbing the flesh on his neck. We could both feel the heat between us.

"Hmmm," said Teddy. "Now I'm getting curious. Do you rub him in... say... special places?" he asked, getting bolder by the second.

"Now you're really getting warmer," I purred. I reached over his shoulders and slowly pushed down the fraying collar of his old t-shirt and rubbed the top of his chest.

"I think maybe I know. Does it involve kissing him all over his body, perhaps?"

"Ooooh, Teddy, you've almost figured out my secret," I giggled.

"OK. Now I definitely know," he said. Teddy shifted uncomfortably in his chair, trying to hide the bulge in his jeans. I was still behind him, reaching around and rubbing his pecs with the palms of my hands.

I leaned forward, my cheek against his, and whispered in his ear. "If you think you know then you have to guess."

"Well, OK," he said hesitantly, leaning back and looking at me. It was the first time he had turned around since I came into his office, and I don't think he realized I was wearing such a tiny little top. His eyes dropped from my face to my chest, taking in my perky tits in the thin shirt. My nipples were hard as little pebbles, poking out obscenely. I noticed him smile before his eyes rose to meet mine. "Blow job?" he asked softly.

"Bingo!" I said with a laugh. "Teddy, you've figured out my secret of how to make a man happy!"

Teddy chuckled nervously, "So, your boyfriend loves blowjobs, does he?"

I lowered my voice a little more, putting my lips right against his ear. "Actually, he's more of an anal guy, but I really love giving blowjobs!"

I peeked down over his shoulder and could see that his pants were about to burst.

"Really?" he practically squeaked, his eyes going wide at my boldness, "are you serious?"

"Mmmm-hmmm, am I ever!" I giggled, biting my lip with a guilty look. "Blowjobs are one of my favorite things to do."

"Wow! You're not kidding, are you?" he asked, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Not kidding at all, Teddy," I purred, shaking my head right back at him. "I guess I'm just a blowjob type of gal," I said, giving a little shrug as if it was no big deal.

"Wow," he gasped, fixing his gaze on me. He paused for a moment, as if wondering what to say next. "You really love to give head?" he asked softly.

Teddy was still leaning back in his chair, looking up at me. He wasn't even paying attention to my tits at that point - his eyes were totally locked on my face. His gaze was penetrating and I could tell he was testing me, gauging my reaction to his talking about "giving head." I've found that some guys seem to get more excited about talking about blowjobs than getting them, and I sensed that Teddy was no exception. I decided to play along as I continued rubbing his shoulders.

"Oh, Teddy," I said in my most sensuous voice, running my tongue over my glistening red lips and looking him right in the eye, "the truth is, I just love to suck cock."

Teddy quivered and let out a deep breath at my words, so I kept going. "There's just nothing I like more than being on my knees with a hard cock in my mouth. Just thinking about it gets me all excited." I let my hands drape down over his chest, sliding down to his stomach and resting them just above his belt. "God!" I continued, "I just love being on my knees with a guy standing over me... his pants down, his cock in my hand... licking it... kissing it... sucking it... it's so hot, Teddy! Like I said, it's one of my favorite things to do."

Teddy shifted around on his a chair to hide his hardon, but it didn't work very well, so I kept going, whispering to him, my mouth right next to his ear, "Ooooh, Teddy, I just love making a guy shoot off with my mouth. It's so sexy!"

Teddy looked at me in awe.

"And in case you're wondering, Teddy," I added with a smile, "yes -- I swallow."

"Wow, you're really something, Abby," he wheezed.

I stood up and resumed rubbing his shoulders. "Poor Teddy," I cooed, shaking my head. "Your wife doesn't rub your shoulders or suck your cock, does she?"

"God, not in years," he lamented. "And even when she did she wasn't really into it."

"Yeah, some girls don't like it for some reason. But I do," I said enthusiastically.

"Well, your boyfriend's a lucky guy," Teddy said. "I hope he appreciates it."

"Well, I'm not sure he does, Teddy," I responded, rubbing my hands down his chest then back to his shoulders. "The other day he told me he was too busy to let me blow him. He was doing fantasy football or some stupid shit like that. I was so pissed! And horny too!"

"Wow," Teddy gasped. "If I was him I'd never be too busy for you."

"Yeah," I replied, "and if I was your wife you'd be getting your cock sucked all the time. You wouldn't be so stressed, believe me!"

Neither of us spoke as I continued rubbing him, the words sinking in. My hands roamed all over his neck, shoulders and arms, then down his chest to his belly again. Finally, I couldn't hold back anymore.

I slid my right hand further down his belly and into his lap. I felt the hardness of his cock under his jeans and I squeezed it. It could tell it was long and thick, just the way I like them. "Oooh, Teddy," I cooed into his ear, "you've got a nice, hard cock... and it's big, too. God! I love that."

My face was over his shoulder, next to his, as I gently rubbed the length of him through his pants. "I could do amazing things to this cock, Teddy," I cooed, "I would just love to feel it in my mouth... licking it... kissing it... that would be so hot."

Teddy groaned. He knew it was wrong on so many levels but he just couldn't resist.

"Would that be OK, Teddy?" I asked. "Can I suck your cock? It's soooo hard. You need it, boss. You need to get your cock sucked right."

A soft, pained, moan emanated from throat as I continued stroking him, letting the words sink in, letting him wrestle with his demons.

"How 'bout it?" I pressed. "Can I suck it for you, Teddy? Can I suck your cock? Please?"

"Oh, God. Yes!" he said in a desperate tone, almost imperceptible.

I pushed on his chair, slowly spinning it around until he was facing me. I leaned over him, one hand on the back of the chair, the other still massaging his cock, my face just inches from his. His eyes were closed, and his mouth slightly agape.

"I've wanted to suck your cock since the first day of the first class I took with you, you know," I teased as I rubbed him. "Remember? Did you notice the pretty brunette in the front row, looking up at you with doe eyes? Did you?"

"Uh-huh," he gasped, nodding as I squeezed his shaft through his pants.

"Really?" I squealed, giving his shaft a squeeze. "Are you serious? You noticed?"

"I tried not to," he groaned, "I couldn't help it."

"Ohh, fuck!" I hissed. "That's so hot. Did you know I wanted to blow you right then and there, Professor?"