The applause was thunderous. Daphne couldn’t believe so many people had come to listen to her leadership professor, Dr. Tyler, discuss his research. The convention center ballroom must have held about a thousand academics hanging on his every word. Seated on the stage behind Dr. Tyler, Daphne looked out at their faces, all raptly attentive in ways that none of her classmates ever seemed to be.
Back home, Dr. Tyler was just a professor, kind of boring and out of touch, but generally good-natured and kind. Daphne thought he wasn’t bad looking for an older guy either. His hair was grey, but his skin was still smooth, and she’d seen him several times working out at the campus gym in the mornings. In short, he took care of himself.
Dr. Tyler had also recognized something in Daphne. She was a bright and active student in class, but she had also caught him checking her out more than once. Having been naturally gifted with a large bosom, she was used to the attention. If guys wanted to have a look, she couldn’t blame them. It was usually harmless. Dr. Tyler never went any further than the occasional admiring glance when he thought she wasn’t watching.
When he offered her the research assistantship, Daphne accepted mostly for the tuition waiver, and the chance to add a couple of attractive lines to her resume. Daphne had initially been assigned to transcribe interviews, and gradually became involved in other parts of the research right up to proofreading the final copy of Dr. Tyler’s book, which had been published just a month earlier. Until now, Daphne couldn’t imagine more than a few people actually wanting to read it.
Dr. Tyler retreated from the podium, and the conference organizer stepped up to replace him. “Thanks everyone for coming. And thank you to Ben for that brilliant and engaging presentation. I know a lot of you will be excited to visit with him between two and three at the book table, but first…” The organizer went on to make several announcements about changes to the conference program struggling to be heard above the growing clamour of people seeking exits.
Two hours later, Dr. Tyler was seated at a plastic table draped with a dark cloth. Copies of his book were displayed next to his elbow. Daphne had tucked another three boxes of books beneath the table. When Dr. Tyler had told her to have them shipped to the conference the week before, she thought it was a ludicrously ambitious goal. Now, with a line of attendees stretching down the hallway, Daphne began to wonder if three boxes was enough to satisfy demand.
Daphne was seated next to Dr. Tyler at the table, passing him books and keeping track of his pens when he misplaced them, which he was doing constantly. Person after person approached the table, clutching their copy of his book in their hands. The younger ones – students mostly – were either shy or nervously trying to impress him by talking too much about their Marxist-Foucauldian insights into the struggles of the working class. Dr. Tyler was gracious, but kept the line moving by inviting them to continue the conversation later at the reception.
Daphne was annoyed by the blowhards, but they were a mild irritation compared to the over-flirtatious women. For the most part it was subtle things that she doubted even registered on Dr. Tyler’s conscious awareness; a flick of the hair, a certain tone of voice, a little excessive cleavage, chest pushed out, a gentle lingering touch, a coy smile, a certain look… Even if the professor didn’t seem to take notice, Daphne thought their little seductions were shamelessly obvious. She felt herself becoming possessively jealous. After all, she’d been the one working with him closely for more than a year. He had chosen her. She was the one who knew him – not all these other sluts.
“How many books are left?” Dr. Tyler asked.
“Just a few,” Daphne answered, pulling them out of the box.
“You’d better get the next box ready,” Dr. Tyler said, a red-head in her forties bent over the table, practically shoving her tits right in his face as she asked for his autograph.
Daphne growled quietly, and ducked beneath the table, supposedly to retrieve the box of books. Instead her hands went to the inseams of Dr. Tyler’s trousers, and travelled up to the sizable bulge where they met. He first tensed at her touch, then relaxed as she persisted. Her hands rubbed across the front of his pants, feeling the fabric tighten around the growing stiffness within. He shifted in his seat, giving her more access. Daphne took advantage, working at the zipper.
Naughty professor! No underwear, she thought to herself, as she removed his cock. Daphne hadn’t known what to expect, but she hadn’t suspected Dr. Tyler would be packing anything so large. She wrapped one hand around it, then the other, and still, his bulging purple head popped out the top. She licked it like an ice cream cone and felt him throb in response.
From above the table, his voice jerked and hesitated as he tried to maintain his composure for his fans. Daphne continued to tug and suck at him until he filled her mouth full of his hot sticky semen. She obligingly swallowed every drop of his load. After his erection had faded on her tongue, she reached over, grabbed the box of books, and stood up.
“Here’s the box you asked for Dr. Tyler,” she said.
“Thanks, Daphne,” he responded, with a confused but satisfied grin on his face.
“Who’s this?” Asked the lady standing on the other side of the table, twirling a strand of hair around her finger.
“This is Daphne,” Dr. Tyler said. “She’s my research assistant.”
“Wow! You’re very lucky to get to work with Ben Tyler. I hope you take good care of him.”
“I do my best,” Daphne said.
