It ran down the inside of his left leg, thick and long like a dub. It wanted very much to flip up, to thump upon his massive chest, but the fabric of his shorts restrained it. He had to stay bent over or risk breaking himself off at the root. She giggled at him. Hunched over like that, he looked more than ever like a bear. A funny, horny bear.

"Something wrong, professor?" she asked, cheerfully. He didn't answer, but pushed the papers off the chair seat, then plopped himself down, trying to keep the tension on his groin to a minimum.

"Comfortable?" she asked.

Bertrand winced.

Joselyn giggled at him and slipped down in her chair, down until her buttocks hung just over the edge of the seat. Then she lifted her feet from the floor and bent her knees, pulling her heels back until they almost touched the backs of her thighs, pointing her toes downward. She peered straight down at her own fork, at the white, fluffy fringe of unraveled denim that framed either side of it. If there was a lewder position to face the man in, she could not conceive of it. With her legs raised, her knees practically touching her shoulders, her pelvis tipped up, what she was offering him, if only mockingly, was the full length of her vagina. The good professor was, of course, about ten feet too far away to do anything about it.

He just sat there spellbound, his cock visibly flexing in his shorts as she brushed the white fluff with her fingertips. She carefully pushed it to one side, pushing it away from the edge of the right leg of her shorts. There, in the hollow of her thigh, the white, satiny skin above her tan line was startlingly apparent. But many times more riveting than that was the soft, blonde fuzz that sprouted there, a downy fluff that curled about the material…

Joselyn carefully watched his face as she slipped her index and middle fingers up under the crotch band, as she began to openly play with herself, stroking up and down, up and down over her fat pubic mound.