Ottawa

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A brief encounter with an old student.
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I was invited by one of my former graduate students to Ottawa to give the annual headline lecture for the center she now runs. Amy had been a brilliant if difficult student, very independent, somewhat stubborn, resistant to advice - but tremendously smart. We became close over the years, first at adviser-advisee, later as coauthors, eventually as friends - though the two decade difference in ages and our shared history never quite left us as equals. Nonetheless, she was one of my favorite people, and we always made an effort to get together for a meal or drink when our paths crossed at professional meeting. She had now done me the honor of asking me to speak at the biggest event of the year for her center.

If truth be told, I always had a bit of a crush on Amy. She is of Chinese ancestry, dark skinned, with once upon a time multiple piercings and spiky purple hair, although the number of studs protruding from her ears and eyebrows has diminished over time and her hair has lost its unusual color. She is very fit, tall for an Asian woman, and blessed with a great pair of full breasts. I will confess that as much as I try to look into her eyes as we talk, I can't resist glancing at her chest. Despite my occasional fantasy about her, we have always had a close personal but nonetheless professional relationship.

I arrived in Ottawa the evening before the big lecture. We met for a late dinner at the hotel. We did the usual catching up: how are the wife and kids, how is her new husband, what are you working on, what interesting papers have you read recently...the usual academic small talk, if you will, between close colleagues and friends. We were relaxing into the end of a nice bottle of wine when our hands touched, snapping an arc of electricity between us. Both of us immediately looked at each other with a shock of surprise. We tried to return to our conversation, but something had changed. What once flowed now felt stilted, awkward. Her leg brushed up against mine under the table. Rather than pulling it back, Amy left it there, letting me feel its warmth. I shifted uncomfortably as an erection grew in my pants. I reached across the table, resting my hand on top of hers. She did not pull away.

Looking directly into my eyes, she said in a small voice, "I told my husband I might be home late." Pausing not for effect, I think, but to gather courage, she glanced down and then up again. "Would you like to go upstairs" she asked? The waiter could not bring the bill fast enough.

The silence in the elevator was deafening as we rose to the 29th floor. We stood closer than normal, but respectably apart. As we reached my room, I fumbled for the key card, my hand shaking as I tried to insert the plastic rectangle into the slot. Not a good sign, I thought.

As soon as the door closed behind us, we leapt into each other's arms. She backed me up against the wall in the foyer. Her aggressiveness surprised but pleased me, indicating that she wanted this as much as it appeared. As we kissed deeply, she started to unbutton my shirt, slipping her hand inside to rub my chest. Taking the hint, I started to do the same, only to encounter a tight blouse that encased a low cut bra. Unable to work my hand around the back, I was limited to rubbing her tits through the satin lace of her bra - exquisite thought that was, this was still less than satisfying. I pushed us back from the wall, and - arms and lips still entangled - walked us over toward the bed. By the time we reached the edge, I'd managed to get her blouse unbuttoned and pulled from her pants. Slipping the garment from her shoulders, I then turned my attention to her tight jeans, undoing the button fly and working my hands onto her rear with the intent of pulling her pants off completely. In return, she started working on my belt, dropping my trousers more easily than I could hers. Suitably disrobed, we fell onto the bed, removing our last items of clothing as we rolled around on the king mattress.

She was beautiful, breath-taking in fact. Her breasts were everything I'd ever imagined-and more. They were perfectly shaped, firm, and sporting a pair of large, rubbery nipples that demanded to be kissed, sucked, and bitten. My hand soon found her vagina, seeping copious juices, which I proceeded to rub around her engorged lips and protruding clitoris. She moaned appreciatively and kissed me ever harder than before. Turning her sideways on the bed, I started kissing her from the forehead down, lingering on her lips, and moving my way progressively down her throat, breastbone, breasts, belly-button, and finally to the top of her mound. As I worked my way down her body, my now very erect penis dangled in front of her face and was sucked into her warm mouth. I pressed further, licking across her slit and up (or down, as the case may be) to her little nub. Locked into a very pleasing 69, we enjoyed mutually pleasuring each other.

As she rose toward orgasm, I pulled myself away, shifted position, and entered her with one full stroke. Her vagina subtly convulsed around me. I thrust hard, slamming myself against her clit with each stroke. Fearing that I would not last long, I rolled us over, ending up with her on top. Surprised at the sudden turnabout, she quickly took command, riding me to a what appeared to be a mind-blowing orgasm—or at least what felt like one as she clamped down on me. After she stopped shaking, and fell into my chest, she started to work me again. Well lubricated, she stroked me gently, pulling me almost all the way out and then back again, pausing to play with the tip of my cock with her lips. Caressing the head of my engorged head, the feelings were almost indescribable. When I could not take it any longer, I rolled us over again, this time pinning her to the bed and ramming her with all I had left. Her mews turned to moans, her moans to squeals, and then we both roared our approval as orgasms tore through us at nearly the same moment. We collapsed next to each other, and started to giggle.

"What's so funny," I asked, even though I could not suppress my own smile.

"We should have done that years ago," she replied. We soon drifted off to sleep, wrapped in each other's embrace. Sometime in the night she stirred, and said "I really have to get home." I shifted into the warm spot she left open, inhaled her scent, but it soon felt lonely and empty.

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