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Meeting the Professor after Class studying ancient phalluses

“Eight-inch Etruscan phallus,” read out Professor Blake. Sophie rummaged in the crate. “Bingo.” She held up a lifelike soapstone penis, then laid it down carefully on the table. Professor Brian Blake nodded and went onto the next item on the inventory, squinting at the typewritten words on the stapled sheets of paper, brittle with age. The crate of fertility items had been bequeathed to the university by a millionaire benefactor, who had bought the whole lot from a collector in the 1960s, then forgotten about it. It had stood unopened in his vaults until now. They were the first people to see inside it for over 40 years.

a schoolgirl waiting for her professor

It ought to have been a high point in his career, but Professor Blake felt oddly underwhelmed. Having toiled long and hard to become Professor of Anthropology at such an early age, just short of his thirty-second birthday, he had lately become haunted by a feeling that he might have missed out on other things in life. Outside, the sun was shining down on the campus, couples were walking together, flirting. Couldn't he be one of them? His hair was prematurely grey and he wore glasses, but he was tall, fit, ruggedly handsome. The girls he had met on blind dates and casual encounters round town had told him so. But sex with them had been a bit of a non-starter. He just couldn't seem to get it on with anyone who didn't share his passion for obscure tribal carvings.Did Sophie have casual encounters? The thought caused a spike of jealousy. His loyal research assistant was leaning into the crate, her short fair hair tipping forward, her sundress riding up as she groped around in the straw. She was using both hands, heaving something free that was lodged deep in the crate, totally absorbed in her work, unaware that he was eyeing her slim brown legs, the roundness of her backside through the thin printed cotton … “What do you reckon this is, professor?” Sophie suddenly righted herself, taking him by surprise. She was holding a large, shapeless cloth package.“Seems to be some kind of ceremonial gear. Bead work and feathers,” she continued, laying the parcel on the table and methodically unwrapping it. He struggled to concentrate. “Amazonian medicine woman's chest piece and loin covering?” he suggested after quickly checking the inventory. “Must be it. Come and look, professor. It's beautiful.”

Some Rude Research

The pieces were in excellent condition, hardly faded at all. Yet somehow all he could think about was Sophie, the shine of her pixie-cut hair, the scented warmth of her body as he stood next to her. “Check this out, professor.” Sophie had found an envelope among the outer wrappings. Inside were some more closely typewritten sheets. “Fascinating, it's an eye witness account of a fertility ceremony.” She passed the sheets to him, then picked up the chest piece, holding it up to her own pert bosom. “Looks like the medicine woman was an extra small just like me,” she joked. “Try it on,” he blurted. “Seriously?” Her eyes expressed amazement but also pleasure. She went to lift the skimpy, brightly coloured garment over her head, then hesitated. “No, no, it wouldn't be right.” He felt a crushing disappointment. “What I mean to say is...” Sophie chewed her lip. “Professor, wouldn't it be interesting, mightn't it help with our research, if I dressed up properly in the beads and feathers, then...” “Then tried to re-enact the fertility ceremony described here?” he said, holding up the sheets. “Exactly!” “Genius!”“Good.” She turned around. “Unzip me.”

Naked in Beads

“I'll have to take off my clothes if it's going to be authentic,” she explained. “Er... Good point.” His hands trembled as he helped her with her zip, then he turned away and walked to the window as she slipped off her dress. After a few moments, she said, “Professor.” What he saw made him lose the power of speech. There Sophie stood in his office, a scattering of beads and feathers barely covering her small, pointed breasts. Another narrow strip of bead work hung down in front of her privates, held in place by a thin hemp chord around her waist. Otherwise she didn't have a stitch on. Her dress, bra and panties were folded neatly on the sofa where his students sat during tutorials. The words “totally inappropriate” were on the tip of his tongue. But perhaps the medicine woman were already working her magic on him, because the only sound he made was a small gulping noise. Sophie consulted the sheets. “Says here the medicine woman prayed on her knees to the sky spirits. Ah, there's a drawing, that's helpful. And a phonetic rendering of her prayer call. Right then ...” Before Professor Blake could gather his thoughts, Sophie dropped gracefully to her knees, then threw back her body, extending her arms wide. He found himself drinking in the taut, tan flesh of her pelvis and inner thighs. She uttered strange syllables at the ceiling. To Professor Blake they seemed to say:“Come and fuck me!”

Amazonian Style

All those casual encounters, those women he'd disappointed. Could he satisfy Sophie? Yes! Too right he could! Moving like a dreamer, he knelt down next to her. His hand brushed aside a section of the chest-piece, exposing a rosy pink nipple. His whole body shivered with delight as he ran his tongue over it. A final pang of hesitation struck him.“What are you waiting for?” She lifted her head to gaze into his eyes, then threw it back again as his fingers flipped back the loincloth, revealing the neat, moist cleft of her pussy. He fumbled for his cock. Entered her. Arms wrapped themselves around his neck, legs tightened around his back. The priceless Amazonian relic crunched forgotten between them. They were on the floor. Then they were leaning against the wall. Then they were crashing against the table of fertility pieces. Ecstasy.Except – except he couldn't quite … Shit, all those years of repression were still holding him back! Christ, he couldn't bear it if this turned out to be another of those casual encounters that came to nothing. “Don't stop, professor,” Sophie breathed in his ear. “Got an idea. Move to the left a bit.” Her hand scrabbled around, grabbed something. Then: “How does that feel?”“Sophie, are you crazy?” he screamed, so loudly they probably heard it right across campus. “No, wait, it's working! Oh, my God, I'm … I'm...”Later, when she applied for her first faculty post, he wrote her a glowing reference: “Sophie goes way beyond the call of duty in her work. On a personal note, I can vouch that she certainly taught me a thing or two about Etruscan phalluses.”

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