Twisting, curling hair long enough that some reached over the hem of his pant leg, twisted over the top of his white sweat sock. Those inches of hairy skin had been the focus of my attention through nearly the entire chemistry lecture... and the source of the pulsing hardon in my own slacks. It was also the root of the churning, horny folding and flutter from my rectum, up past my taint, swallowing my balls and coursing around my tumescence and fanning across my abdomen and into my chest. If I had been remotely conscious, I'd have worried that I was literally drooling and making audible grunting sounds to accompany the fantasy running full throttle ahead. I had been suffering unholy lust for this stud for weeks now, knowing to sit just behind him and to his left side in the lecture hall, giving me my finest voyeuristic opportunities. Like today, it was sometimes just a few inches of hirsuite shin. Other days, as he leaned forward in his desk, the t-shirt he always wore pulled. Karin stood there meekly waiting until Sally noticed her.When the middle-aged secretary glanced up and noticed Karin standing there, she paled. The phone call ended with an abrupt; "I don't care how you do it, just get it done!" Shooing her hands at the small crowd of on-lookers, she put her arm around Karin and ushered her into her dead husband's old office. Sally sat her down on the expensive leather couch and got her a cup of tea.They sat staring at each other for a long moment. Karin was never sure who made the first move, but suddenly she found herself in a sobbing embrace with the matronly older woman. Neither woman may have admired Bill, but his absence had left huge holes in each of their respective lives. They silently commiserated with and comforted one another until they had cried themselves out. They weren't mourning the man. They were identifying with the pain each had suffered from him. It was a new beginning.Drying her eyes with the tissue provided by the motherly.
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