F6: Of Love and Laundry

She arched her back up, thrusting her bazooka boobs at him. He twisted one nipple. She gave a scream of excitement.

It might be now or never. Jim hurriedly pulled his pajama trousers down to free his dick. His cock sprang out, swollen hard with pent-up lust, precum already dripping from the end. Jim sidled up Chloe's body, pressed her two tits together and pushed the wet tip of his cock at them.

"Fuck, fuck! Yes, Jim, yes!" Chloe was laughing and crying and grunting with pleasure. She reached up to put her own hands round her tits and squeeze them together for him. He thrust at the narrow crack of a valley between the two mounds of flesh. Lubricated by his precum, his cock slid in to the makeshift crack between her boobs.

Chloe gasped and moaned as he thrust his cock between her tits, fucking them, fucking them. Her dark nipples were pointing up like licorice snaps at him. His face above her was snarling with concentrated lust. He grunted as he thrust at her, then suddenly shouted: "I'm coming!"

"Come on me!" she squealed.

An eruption of white sperm burst from his cock into the crack of her tits, around and over them, one rope even splashed up to her face. He slid his softening cock in and out of the sticky gooey mess on her breasts a couple of times. Chloe was laughing and crying, licking at the cum on her chin, rubbing the cum on her breasts into them as if it could spring life in her boobs as it had twice sprung life in her womb.

Jim pulled back. He lay heavily down on her, rubbing his chest into her cum-covered chest. He hugged her, holding her close, so close. His pocket rocket with the deep dark licorice voice and tits.

****

It all turned out as you might expect of course. Jim was useless at cooking but Les and Rita brought some of their pre-cooked frozen meals over and Jim got take-out for a couple of nights. Peter demanded if Jim wanted to get him beaten up -- he and Becky point blank refused to wear the white sports shirts Jim managed to dye pink, although everyone said the color suited Jim. They didn't get the funding for the extra PhD students but the Research Council gave them some pointers and encouraged them to re-apply in six months' time. Dawkins came round to the lab specially to commiserate with them.

And it turned out to be just a fatty lump in Chloe's breast. The family celebrated by booking into Aspen for a January skiing break with the Mendozas. Everyone said how great Chloe was looking. (In exchange for helping her choose work suits, Helen had taken Chloe to get better fitted bras and the effect on her figure was quite something.) The ski instructors annoyed Jim by saying his two daughters were both naturals.

****

Helen fidgeted in her chair next to Jim. God, this was such a waste of time. She could've been out bar-hopping in a figure-hugging outfit instead of sitting in a charcoal gray trouser suit with her shirt buttoned demurely high. However Jim and Chloe both said inter-disciplinarity was the way to go and that Literature, for fuck's sake, was where the hot shots were pushing the boundaries.

Marcus Black was standing up to the table to give his paper on gendered positions in the scientific metaphors of seventeenth century poetry. Helen had heard all about him! They called him the Lech-erer. He was tall with tousled dark hair and an ugly slouch in his shoulder, legacy of a climbing accident. He wore an artfully scruffy navy blue sweater over Armani jeans. Literature was full of women students, of course, and rumor said he had his pick of them.

"My God, what was that all about," Jim grumbled surreptitiously as the talk ended. "I didn't get a word of it!"

"Oh ... well, I thought that bit about the lacuna at the center of the binary gender polarity was quite cool," Helen objected.

"Lacoo- how much?" Jim laughed. "Rather you than me."

They joined the general movement to a nearby bar. It was somewhere students frequented but as it was a micro-brewery, the beer was good enough to make up for that.

Jim and Helen stood at the bar discussing some points of their application for funding for four new PhD students and an additional junior lecturer. Helen was conscious of Marcus Black glancing occasionally at them from the center of an adoring set of pretty literati. Jim had made a move to sit with them when they first came in. Helen held him back, saying with a naughty grin: "Let him come to us. We're STEM. We've got the power."

Marcus was coming over now.

"Hey, Black, congratulations on the promotion to Associate Professor," Jim said heartily, slapping Marcus's shoulder in that way that meant: 'Because of the way you dress, I think you are a gay guy, but I'm not going to hold that against you. Hell, I don't want to hold anything against you!'

"Oh yeah, thanks," Marcus said casually, in that way that meant: 'What, that old thing?' Helen figured out from this that he was secretly very ambitious. "So, we should get together and talk about this collaboration, I suppose."

"Right," Jim said. "My colleague Dr. Buchan is going to lead on that one. We should set up a team meeting, Helen. Maybe ... Thursday."

"Thursday is a heavy day for lectures in our Department," Marcus drawled, checking Helen out from under his bushy black brows.

"You guys can sort out the detail," Jim had spotted Dawkins of all people at a corner table with some suits. "Excuse me."

"So-o-o," Marcus said, rocking on the heels of his cowboy boots. "Dr. Buchan, huh."

"Oh you can call me Helen, sugar," Helen leant back on the bar and looked up through her lashes at him. He was tall so she didn't even have to dip her head to do this. When they had come into the bar, she had surreptitiously undone a couple of buttons at her cleavage and she thrust her tits out so as to show this off. "Does Friday suit you better for a day to meet?"

"I don't know," Marcus temporized. "I'm not so sure we're on board with this project. Maybe you and I could find things to do instead which would be ... more fun." His eyes laughed at her from under his bushy brows.

"Oh yeah?" she said, taking a careless sip of her beer. Her heart had dropped. She had a momentary impulse to sob into her glass. Jim and Chloe both told her this was her opportunity to build up an application for tenure but more than that, as she listened to Black's talk, she had heard some points she was genuinely interested in working with.

"Well, Dr. Buchan," Marcus's voice dropped to sound her name out in low sensuous tones. "I heard all about you."

"Oh yeah?" she said, still in that careless tone.

"They call you the Lecheress," Marcus laughed. He sure was joshing her hard in order to try to pick her up. "Is it true that you took on the college football team, sitting on a washing machine?"

Helen burst out laughing and didn't deny it verbally, just looked in that way that meant: 'We are hot stuff in STEM, sugar.'

"I wouldn't mind taking you for a spin cycle," Marcus laughed, jiggling his hand in his pocket. He came in too close to her. She could smell his cologne, wafting over the light hoppy notes of her beer. "I think you are a naughty girl," Marcus breathed softly at her, "a naughty girl who needs a spanking."

Helen's breath started to come faster and her eyes gleamed. Her buttocks tingled at the thought of his hand smacking them. She couldn't help but glance at his hand: firm, big fingers. Her cunt was going wet and squishy for it already.

"Unfortunately I don't live in the dorm any more," she said, in that careless tone of voice, taking another sip of her beer. "Too bad you're not up ... for the project. Maybe we can figure something out with the guys in French Studies."

Marcus quivered. Literature and French Studies were arch-rivals -- too similar to get along.

"Yeah," Marcus said. "Maybe .... Well, I guess a preliminary meeting wouldn't do any harm."

"Friday?" Helen inquired.

"Sure," he laughed, looking down at her with unwilling admiration in his gaze. "We can do Friday."

"That's good," Helen said. She allowed her tone to become smug, knowing this would make him itch to spank her.

"Maybe we can go for drinks afterwards," Marcus suggested casually.

"Mmmm," Helen said carelessly and noncommittally.

Marcus laughed. "Or maybe I can take you to dinner some time, Dr. Buchan," he said in amusement. He glanced behind him at the pretty literati. Hell, though, it was time he settled down to some serious ... work. She was obviously a little firecracker. She sure lit his fuse.

"That sounds nice, sugar," Helen said smugly.

"What's the pendant you're wearing?" Marcus asked.

"Oh!" Her face lit up and became suddenly serious and very beautiful. "It's a gold electrode. When I ran the first set of experiments for my PhD in the lab, I was so damn proud," she laughed, shyly, looking charmingly up at him through her lashes. "The technicians took this electrode off and gave it to me to keep, so I could always remember how well the results tracked my predictions and be proud of my work."