Simone’s surprise oral (report)

Jon sat again in the padded faculty lounge chair, legs casually spread, arms resting wide. Across from him, Professor Simone Maddox reclined gracefully, still reviewing the printout in her hand. The shapely silhouette of her body was framed by the lines of her tailored blazer and pencil skirt, the deep V of her blouse rising and falling with every breath.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and looked up. “I’ll admit, I didn’t expect to see you today. Most people ease their way back after leave.”

Jon smirked faintly. “I’ve never been great with pacing myself.”

She chuckled softly. “That’s fair. We don’t always get the luxury of easing in, do we?”

Jon casually slid a hand to the RAC in his coat pocket and began tapping out another alteration:

[TARGET: Prof. Simone Maddox]
→ [Sexual inhibition: disabled; awareness: suppressed; behavior: conversational context only]

A barely perceptible shimmer passed through the room.

Simone blinked, paused mid-sentence, then shifted forward in her seat, kneeling gently, almost absentmindedly. The hem of her skirt rode high on her thighs as she made her way over to Jon and slowly lowered herself onto his lap, over his legs, her fingers gracefully sliding up his inner thighs with a practiced ease that clashed with her completely composed tone.

“I’ve been thinking,” she said, her voice still measured, “we should revisit the interdisciplinary proposal we shelved last spring.”

Her fingers nimbly undid his fly, freeing his growing erection with a casual efficiency. She tilted her head slightly, eyes still scanning the printout she placed on the ground next to the chair as she brought her lips to the head of his cock and began to gently suck - slowly, steadily.

Jon exhaled, one hand tightening on the armrest. “Interdisciplinary,” he echoed.

Simone nodded, her mouth sliding further down his length, lips wrapping snugly around his shaft. She hummed in approval - causing a delicious vibration that made Jon grunt - then pulled back just enough to speak clearly, as though she were merely pausing between sips of tea.

“Yes. I think the university would support it, especially with your recent breakthroughs,” she said, wiping her mouth absently with the back of her hand before returning to his cock without missing a beat.

Her eyes never looked up. Not once did her face register anything beyond polite academic interest, even as her tongue swirled over the tip, mouth sealing back around him with unhurried rhythm.

Jon glanced down in disbelief at the image before him: the busty, elegant woman who had been lecturing him moments ago, now dutifully sucking his cock as if it were part of a departmental report.

She withdrew again briefly, licking her lips delicately. “You know, I always thought your simulations lacked the proper contextual framing. The math’s there, but you present it too modestly.”

Her voice didn’t hitch. Her eyes didn’t flicker. She just leaned forward again and took him deeper.

Jon bit back a groan, fingers flexing as her plush lips moved with slow, sensual professionalism, totally at odds with her detached tone. She was diligent, methodical, yet skilled. Her pace was slow and steady, each bob of her head punctuated with more commentary.

“I’ll help you rewrite it,” she murmured during one brief break for air, “I already have some notes that might improve your language around the baseline research requirements.”

She began again, sinking him back into her warm mouth, taking more of him each time. Her full breasts brushed against his legs as she worked, her tongue tracing circles near the base, and yet her expression remained serene, almost thoughtful.

Jon’s voice was strained now. “You’ve always had… very high standards.”

Simone smiled, still with him deep in her mouth, then pulled off gently with a soft pop. She reached into her blazer pocket, felt up her breast with a heavy squeeze, withdrew a pen, and jotted a note onto the margin of her printout. “Well, I believe in precision,” she said, as if that explained everything.

And with that, she returned to him again—more focused, more determined.

With the steady stopping and starting of Simone on his shaft, Jon moaned low, breath catching in his throat. The contrast was dizzying: a quick, thoughtful comment followed by the sensual pull of her mouth, the way her heavy breasts pressed against him, the soft moans she didn’t seem to notice making, all wrapped around a perfectly mundane academic critique.

He rasped out her new name. “Simone…”

She paused, glancing up briefly, as if annoyed by being interrupted mid-thought.

“Yes?”

“…Nothing. You’re doing great.”

She gave a faint smile and returned to work.

Behind them, the door to the lounge clicked softly shut. Someone must have left earlier. No one remained. Just Jon, leaning back in the chair, and Simone, moving rhythmically in and out of his crotch, her attention entirely divided between oral devotion and line edits.

And, through it all, reality held.