Literotic asexstories – Teachers Behaving Badly by TheRedChamber,TheRedChamber
Colm stretched back on his chair around table H. The heat of summer combined with a room filled with a hundred-and-twenty sweaty bodies was making an already painful experience far worse. Wednesday afternoons had no regular lessons scheduled in any of the departments which meant it could be filled with all kinds of pointless mandatory personal development sessions.
“Well, we thought that, you know, diversity is like, where you are from and your gender and your sexuality…,” started a biochemist on table A. Colm quickly tuned her out. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about the difference between diversity and inclusivity — it was a good point. It was just something that the lecturer could have said clearly and uncontroversially in about thirty seconds. But no, the university was committed to avoiding anyone from passively learning anything from people who knew their stuff in favour of actively learning from those who didn’t. By Colm’s watch, they’d been discussing this single rather asinine question for thirty-five minutes already.
Someone nudged Colm on the shoulder. He turned around and saw it was Brenda from the Electrical Engineering department who was sitting directly behind him on table F. She was an older married woman who was always good for a laugh. Once she had his attention, her hand dropped down and pressed something into his hand.
“Well, we kind of disagreed about this. I mean you can be still be inclusive even if your student body is not particularly diverse…” The group conversation had now moved onto table B.
A few people on his table were looking in the direction of the speaker. More were sneakily playing with their phones. One was apparently hypnotized by a bird that was hopping around outside the window. He put his hands under the table and carefully opened the note.
My friend fancies you, it said on university headed notepaper.
He looked over to Brenda. She half nodded to her left. Next to her was sitting an Indian woman Colm had been introduced to at the start of term a couple of weeks ago – a visiting professor in EE from Dehli — mid-thirties but slim and beautiful enough that she still appeared in her twenties. Her name was Dayita. He’d looked for more opportunities to get to know her, as had most of the male faculty in any department semi-adjacent to hers.
He gave her a half-smile. She gave him a little wave that wasn’t so much shy as it was surreptitious.
Colm wondered if he should return the message somehow. On the other hand, they had to have a break soon, right? He could wait until then. He turned his attention back to the conversation.
“So, I think what we are saying is that diversity is a property inherent to a student body, whereas inclusivity is a mindset that we bring with us into the classroom…,” Now a historian from table C was reliving her glory days as teacher’s pet. Please God, thought Colm in the direction of the seminar leader, just accept this as the one true answer and move the fuck on.
There was something so incredibly tedious about this whole process. If the Staff Development Division decided to give a lecture about the differences between fellatio and cunnilingus, Colm would probably leave the room annoyed with the very concept of oral sex.
He was tapped on the shoulder again. This time, without even him needing to look around, a note was slipped into his hands again. Again, he unfolded it carefully.
She has the key to Component Room #3.
He felt her move past him towards the exit. She was carrying a paper cup and stopped at the water and coffee bottles set up by the exit. For a moment she was the most interesting thing in the room, but by the time she’d filled the cup most eyes were back on the lecturer. She took a couple of steps to the left and then she was free.
Colm waited.
“I mean, inclusivity can’t just come from the teacher. We have to lead by example, but its something that comes from the other students as well. Just because we don’t consciously exclude someone doesn’t necessarily mean that they themselves feel included…”
When he judged the time was right, he pulled out his mobile phone. Looking at the screen, he stood up and rushed out of the room, as he passed the lecturer he bowed slightly and pointed to the phone. “Sorry,” he mouthed.Clearly an emergency, he-he.
He made a show for a couple of minutes of pacing up and down on the phone outside the big glass windows and eventually, once his pacing path took him outside the field of vision of the class, he made a break for it.
Not all components rooms were build equally. Component Room #1 was where all the common stuff lived — resistors of every level of resistance, capacitors of standard capacity. breadboards, wires and solenoids. Component Room #2 was slightly more esoteric. It contained the sorts of bits that only needed to be brought out once or twice a term, for specific classes. Component Room #3 contained all the crap that no-one ever used. It was a waiting room for the scrap heap. Components that were no longer featured on the syllabus, cathode ray tubes and bits of old cassette tape winding mechanisms. Later in the term, students might come in here on the off-chance they could scrounge bits and pieces for their final year project, and inevitably leave disappointed, but that task sheet hadn’t even been handed out yet. It was as private a place as you could get in the university without going down to the boiler rooms.
The door was slightly agar when he got there. He slid inside and closed it gently. Dusty racks of equipment stood undisturbed. There was no-one immediately visible. She hadn’t turned the light on, so neither did he. He met her next to a box of old one-button joysticks, CD-laser heads, and wires with a hundred different connector heads, none of them USB.
“What kept you?” she asked, grabbing him by the tie.
“Err, well…” he started. She pulled him in for a kiss.
Colm wasn’t ready for it, but he caught on quick, and a moment later he pushed his head forward and down to assert at least some dominance. Now it felt like he was kissing her.
The moment they separated she was already pulling off her top. “What time does the seminar finish?” she asked. She was still newish here, he remembered. Her English was excellent, but she spoke with the clipped sing-song accent common of a lot of educated Indians.
“Usually it runs a little over five o’clock.” said Colm trying not to stare at her bra.
“Then we should aim to get back by four-fifty, yah?” said Dayita. “That gives us twenty minutes. That okay with you?”
Colm wavered. As a man, he didn’t like to set a time on love-making. It only made you look a fool when you finished five minute short of the her minimum quicky time. He considered cracking a joke about three minutes and then thought better of it.
“Great,” he said. “Err. So are we…”
“So, here’s how it works. We fuck now, so that there’s less tension when you ask me out later.”
“Okay,” said Colm doubtfully. He wasn’t going to argue but that logic seemed backwards.
“Look, I absolutely hate the first date. So awkward, no? We’re trying to get to know each other and all each other can think is ‘are we going to sleep together at the end of this’. Get that out of the way now and we can just enjoy ourselves properly when you invite me out this Friday and find out if we actually have anything in common.”
“Is that how they are doing things in India these days?” asked Colm, finally finding a voice.
“It’s how I’m doing things,” she said. “I’m an engineer and part of that is knowing how to streamline a process. My way is much more efficient.”
Her bra was now off and she gingerly hung it by a strap on a hook designed for a soldering iron.
“I’ll take your word for that,” said Colm. He’d stopped trying not to stare and now was looking directly at her beautiful firm tits. After all, they were clearly out for his benefit.
“Besides, there is something about sitting in that room for any length of time that just makes me want to remind myself what life actually feels like. And by life, I mean a cock.”
“So, Friday night,” said Colm. “You like Italian?”
Dayita ignored him, pulled his belt buckle apart and dropped his trousers to the floor. Her hand reached out and caressed his already hard dick through his boxers.
Colm did the sensible thing and kissed her again. He pulled her in close and felt the soft flesh of her breasts against his chest, her hard nipples pushing against the fabric of his shirt. Her hands didn’t stop moving. Suddenly they were round behind his arse, and he felt a cold breeze against his behind as she suddenly pulled his boxers down to his knees.
Now her hands were against his shoulders and they worked their way down as she squatted down. She didn’t even pause, but immediately his cock was in her mouth. There was no teasing, she was straight into giving honest head.
Colm leaned back against the shelf of components and muttered “Oh, God!”
Dayita was at work for less than thirty seconds when he heard the door softly open and then equally gently be left slightly ajar. Colm froze instantly. Dayita was apparently too focused on what she was doing to notice and she continued.
It took Colm a moment to work out the quietest, most polite way of informing her. He settled for tapping her gently on the shoulder, putting his finger to his lips and then pointing to the front of the room. Dayita let his cock spring out of her mount and twisted her waist round slightly to look. She stayed down though she put a hand out to steady herself against an empty PC tower.
Between the boxes of junk he could see a figure walk in and to the window. Luckily she didn’t turn. He wasn’t sure how visible he’d be given the angles and the light. It was a short, darker skinned girl wearing a headscarf.
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