Welcoming the President

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This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to events or people, living, dead, or fictional is entirely unintended. Sexual activity should occur only between consenting adults in the absence of coercion. What is sexy in fantasy may be appalling in reality; do not confuse the one for the other.

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My shoes thumped softly on the stone as I walked up the path to Kelcy House. A moderately large, two story building of red brick and marble, Kelcy House was the primary office space, and residence, of our university president. I'd been here several times before, both on my own for one meeting or another or accompanying Mike, and usually enjoyed my visits. But today was going to be different.

I shifted my tote to my other hand so that I could grasp the front door handle and mentally reviewed my plan. Our last President had served in the role for more than a decade and had been a genial older man with a respectable academic background. He had retired and, after an intense and contentious year of job interviews, the Trustees had seen fit to appoint Douglas Sims as our new President. The announcement had provoked a reaction from the faculty, and not at all a positive one.

The problem is that before his appointment, President Sims had been Mr. Sims, which is to say, he had not been Dr. Sims or Professor Sims. Our new President had no PhD and in fact had no experience working at a university at all. Instead, he was a wealthy businessman who had made his fortune with a franchise tanning salon business and a series of books on how to make it in big business. Could he run a business? Obviously. Could he run a large business? Maybe. It was hard to tell since, despite the number of tanning locations he was connected to, the franchise arrangement meant that the actual business he himself ran was quite small. Could he run an academic enterprise? The faculty had its doubts.

In principle, it might not be a problem since a core aspect of the President's job was fundraising for the university. Find people with money, listen to what they care about, and then convince them that writing a check to your institution is the best way to address those concerns. It was a simple formula, but one that was often hard to execute, and you might reasonably argue that President Sims' background made him better qualified for the role than, say, a prominent former English professor. But that's not the entirety of the President's job. They also set university priorities, make final decisions on tenure cases, and shape a whole array of other key policies that mean everything for whether the university was an effective generator of research and educated students (not to mention revenue for the state), or a backwater with a dwindling stock of qualified faculty and sub-par students. Unlike his potential to secure funding, President Sims had nothing in his background to suggest he had any idea what he was doing with the rest of his job. There was no reason to think he'd be better at running the university than I'd be at running a tanning salon. But, he was a friend of the Governor and the Trustees had spoken, so it was up to us to make it work.

For the last few years I'd been one of my unit's Faculty Senators, meaning I helped represent our interests and concerns to one of the key governing bodies of the university. In particular, I was one of the only pure teaching faculty to hold the role, and so I'd found myself more and more involved in administration of one sort or another. To my surprise, the Chair of the Senate had asked me to join a small group welcoming President Sims and, hopefully, putting a polite bug in his ear about issues that were really important. The last two weeks had been intensely busy, as I held down my teaching, tried to advance my research and made time to prepare for my big chance to set the new president on a good path. I was ready. Or, at least, that's what I told myself as I turned right in the foyer and headed towards the first floor conference room.

I had to make sure I was taken seriously, but that might not be so hard in this case. Sims wasn't an academic, so he might lack the automatic belief that tenure track faculty were better than teaching faculty. Nonetheless, I'd dressed carefully for the meeting. Black shoes with low, wide heels; sensible heels, if you will. Grey slacks that fit me well without being revealing and a navy blue shirt with silver buttons and a silver necklace Mike had given me with three sapphires in it.

It was late in the day and nobody seemed to be around, but this wasn't unusual. High level administrators are never really off of the clock and if they want to meet after five, when the staff have gone, that's when you meet. It was quiet as I walked down the hall, my footsteps swallowed by thick carpet. The door to the conference room was closed so, after checking my watch to make sure I wasn't early, I knocked firmly on the door.

"Come in," a deep voice replied from inside, and I opened the wooden door and stepped through.

Inside the window blinds were drawn against the late afternoon sun and a tall, narrow man with sharp features was looking up from his laptop.

"Dr. Drake?" he asked, rising to his feet.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, President Sims," I answered, crossing the room to take his hand.

His grip was firm, if a bit bony, and I took a moment to study him. Thinning brown hair cut short, pale blue eyes deeply set in his face under thin eyebrows. His face was long and every bone well-defined; not gaunt by any means, but trim. His arms and legs were long and his stomach flat. If he were any thinner I suspected he'd have difficulty avoiding scarecrow nicknames.

"Thank you for coming so late!" he said, releasing my hand, and gesturing me to a seat on the far side of the table, near to where he was sitting. I hesitated for a moment, and then slipped past him to reach it, catching a whiff of his cologne as I did. I placed my tote on the table and settled into the offered seat. The room was otherwise empty.

"I'm the first to arrive?"

He nodded as he sat back down, "I'm afraid so. It's a small group, though, so don't worry. I... uh, I don't want to get ahead of myself, but I have a suspicion that you'd like to address some topics other than just a pleasant welcome?"

I leaned back in my seat and gave him a frank look, "I do, as it happens. How did you know?"

He grinned, "Well, I might have read a thing or two about how the faculty reacted to my appointment. Gave me a hint, you know?"

I nodded, raising my opinion of the man a notch. It was a good sign that he was paying attention to faculty opinion; a lot of people used to giving orders struggle in academic poisitions, since universities are not businesses. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad?

"So, since we're waiting for the rest of the party, why don't you get started? If nothing else, it'll help us wrap up and go home that much quicker."

"Of course, President Sims," I answered, reaching into my tote for my notepad. It felt a bit weird to be the only one here, but there was no sense missing the opportunity.

"I had planned to simply welcome you to begin with but, taking things a bit out of order, one issue that I have to raise is demands for larger numbers of seats in introductory courses without additional faculty positions or improvements to facilities," I began, continuing into well-rehearsed remarks that boiled down to saying we had too many bodies and not enough resources to deal with them all.

He looked up from the notes he was taking at one point and interjected, "That sounds like a college-level issue, not a university issue."

If you don't understand what he means, think of colleges as like states and the university as the federal government and you won't be too far wrong.The President and Provost were at the "Federal" level, and ultimately in charge of a lot of big stuff, but the colleges at the "State" level had their own powers, problems, and leadership. It's confusing, but it's been a workable system for the last five hundred years or so.

"It might look that way," I answered with a nod, "but you argued in your interview that you wanted to shift resources towards online certificate programs, which means the colleges will have even less to work with but even more butts in seats."

Before I could continue my explanation there was a quick knock at the door. It swung open and in walked Dean Louis Franks.

"Louis! Welcome! Grab yourself a seat," President Sims exclaimed, waving amiably at a chair across from mine.

Dean Franks said something back, but I couldn't hear him over the sudden ringing in my ears. Once upon a time I had fucked Louis Franks and three other faculty to secure my current job, and since then.... well. As he put it, I did what he told me, whenever he told me, with whoever he told me. Potential donors, friends of his, an IT specialist- he gave me the orders and I sucked and fucked as long as I was told to. And, of course, once a week I had a standing appointment to sexually service him in his office. In return I kept my job and my husband, Mike, didn't find out his wife was a slut. Louis Franks was a short, balding, obese man who forced me to fuck whoever he said, and he was sitting across the table from me.

"What did I miss?" Franks asked.

"Well, Dr. Drake here was telling me all the things that I've been doing, or am about to be doing, wrong," Sims answered, throwing a smile my direction to take the sting out.

Franks laughed, "See? I told you so."

I felt a cold sweat prickle at the base of my neck. Sims chuckled and nodded, "So you did, Louis. So you did."

He turned in his seat to face me again, "Dr. Drake, why don't you continue your presentation?"

I looked at my notes while I tried to collect my wits, "Of course! As I was saying-"

"Oh, I'm sorry!" President Sims interrupted, "Why don't you continue your presentation, Lana, and while you're doing that, how about you take off your blouse and pants?"

My eyes jerked up, locking with his. This time there was no smile, just a man who was used to having his way. I turned to look at Dean Franks, who was leaning back in his chair with a faint smile on his plump lips. He lifted one hand, palm up.

"Oh, I told him all about you," he remarked, "And this is supposed to be a welcome meeting, isn't it? I think maybe it's time to be... welcoming."

The evening meeting and the closed blinds made sense in a new way. Nobody around to hear, or see, whatever happened here.

"I'm it, aren't I?" I said quietly, "Nobody else is coming."

"Well, not yet," Franks said before laughing at his own joke.

My hands were gripping the arms of the chair so hard I was surprised the wood wasn't splintering. I took a deep breath, then another, and looked back at Sims. He had settled back in his seat and was watching me curiously. Slowly, keeping my face neutral, I pushed my seat back and stood up.

"To continue, what makes the student overload worse is-"

As I resumed my planned comments, I began unbuttoning my shirt. My fingers were surprisingly steady and before long I had it open and shrugged it off of my shoulders. I had worn a black bra today, since my shirt was ever so slightly translucent, and I saw Sims glance over my chest. I kept up my comments as I kicked off my heels and unhooked and opened my pants. I pushed them down my legs with both hands, shimmying slightly side to side to get them off, and tossed them onto my seat. I was wearing a matching black thong; I'd wanted to make sure I didn't have anything unprofessional, like a panty-line. The worry was laughable now. I carefully kept my back away from them both so they wouldn't see my thong; the less they were thinking about my ass, the better.

"So, as you can see, if we're going to support our teaching needs, we can't accept such a large diversion of funds," I continued. I might be standing in my underwear, but I wasn't going to give up that easily.

"Well, I hear what you're saying," Sims responded, "But I don't think I've seen enough yet. If you would?"

"And how much do you need to see?" I asked, though it was obvious where this was going.

"Why, all of it, Lana," he answered, smiling. "I need to see all of it."

Like I said, obvious.

In place of an answer, I reached behind my back and unhooked my bra. I slipped the straps off of my shoulders and let it slide down my arms, freeing my breasts. Sims looked at my chest again, and this time his gaze lingered appreciatively.

"Ah, I begin to see the assets of your case, Lana."

Franks chuckled in answer, but I just dropped my bra on the chair. I hooked my thumbs in the sides of my thong and pushed it down my legs, stepping out once it was below my knees. I stood up, dropping my panties on my chair, and clasped my hands behind my back. My breasts were thrust out and my neatly trimmed bush and pussy were on display. My nipples were hard and erect, no doubt from the coolness of the room, but my voice was steady.

"I'm pleased that I was able to make my case so compelling," I commented.

President Sims snorted and stood up, "Yes, it was a revealing presentation."

He stepped around the table and stood in front of me. His hands came up and closed on my breasts, squeezing them firmly before pinching my nipples between his fingers. I gasped quietly, but kept my composure as he groped my tits.

"Nice and firm, aren't they?" Franks asked.

"They are," Sims answered, and then, "Spread your legs a bit, Lana."

I shifted my feet to open my thighs and his right hand dropped to slip between, a finger sliding into my pussy. At first he rubbed me up and down, flicking my clit whenever he came near. But then he leaned toward me and buried his finger inside my cunt almost to his third knuckle. His finger swirled around inside me while his thumb rubbed at my clit. His other hand was clenched on my tit, more to hold me steady than anything. He met my eyes and grinned as he slipped a second finger inside and began fingering me firmly. I didn't say anything; I just spread my legs wider so that he could violate me properly. After a couple of minutes he slid his hand all the way out, let go of my breast, and fished a handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe off his fingers. When he finished, he dropped it on the table before reaching down and unzipping his trousers.

"All right, Lana, why don't we move on to the oral portion of your presentation?"

Again, I didn't answer. I just sank to my knees, resting my ass on my heels while he fished his cock out of his underwear. It was only semi-erect, but it was already obvious that it was longer and thicker than Dean Franks', with a ruddy mushroom cap on the end. I looked up and met his eyes.

"Let's see how welcoming you can be."

This time I gave him a small, "Of course, President Sims."

I looked back to his penis. I licked my lips and then leaned forward to slurp it delicately into my mouth. I sucked it all the way in, swirling my tongue around his length and was rewarded with a sigh of pleasure. I clasped my hands in my lap and began smoothly sliding my mouth back and forth, covering his cock before letting it emerge from my lips, never quite letting it go completely. As I took him fully into my mouth again, I looked up and met his eyes. He was smiling slightly, lips just parted as he focused on me. I held him all the way inside and started to hum gently before drawing back, leaving a glistening sheen of saliva on his cock. President Sims reached out and stroked my hair gently as I sucked. His eyes were wet with desire, but held no trace of empathy for the naked woman at his feet with her mouth on his cock. I looked back down and focused on my work.

His penis grew, reaching full size after a few minutes. It was long enough that I used my hands to grip him around the base. As my head began to bob up and down on his penis, I stroked with my hand what I couldn't reach with my mouth. I gradually increased speed, setting a smooth, fast pace. I could feel my breasts begin to swing gently back and forth in pace with my sucking and I kept my left arm at my side; lots of men liked the look of quivering tits on the woman blowing them. His penis had a slightly stale taste, like old spice and sweat.

"You know, Louis, most of my friends told me not to take this job," President Sims said in a somewhat tight voice.

Dean Franks coughed and responded, "Is that right? Why?"

I began rolling my head left and right, giving my tongue access to more of his cock.

"Oh, you know. I'm no ivory tower academic; they thought it'd be too much trouble to deal with all of the different... views."

He said that last word almost like it was a curse. As I sucked him in he started to thrust his hips forward just slightly, edging just a bit more of his cock into my mouth.

He sighed, "So, it's just nice to see that at least some of the female faculty still know that their place is naked, on their knees with a dick in their mouths."

Dean Franks chuckled dutifully at the President's remark. My stomach churned with rage and humiliation, but I didn't stop. I didn't do anything. I just knelt in a conference room with my tits out, and blew a man who said this was where I belonged. Shame flamed on my cheeks as I just kept sucking.

Sims' hands stopped stroking my hair and closed around my head, palms just behind my temples and fingers wrapping around my skull. With gentle pressure he brought me to a halt, but didn't take his penis out of my mouth. For a few moments he just held me there, just the head within my lips. I looked up at him while I kept swirling my tongue around his cock and sucking gently, suckling at his cock.

He smiled at me, "This has been a nice welcome so far, but let's see if we can make it even better."

He held my face still and pushed his hips slowly forward, sliding more and more of his cock between my lips. The head reached the opening to my throat and I tipped my head slightly back, concentrating on relaxing. His cock slipped into my throat and kept going until he had the entire length buried in my mouth and throat, my nose pressed firmly into his stomach. I could hardly breathe but I didn't try to pull back. He held himself there for long moments while I held my hands in my lap, clasped together white-knuckled. Finally he slowly withdrew, giving me room to breathe.

"Very impressive, Louis. I think you've trained her well."

Without waiting for a response he pushed his hips forward again, thrusting his cock back into my throat. And then again. And again. He increased speed until he was rapidly pistoning his cock in and out of my lips. It wasn't enough to force me to blow him, or deep throat him; President Sims decided he was going to face fuck me while I knelt on the floor of his conference room. I gripped my hands together in my lap as I fought to keep up with the relentless pounding. I swirled my tongue on his cock, hollowed my cheeks as I sucked, and forced my gag reflex down. I knew small tears of effort were leaking from my eyes and I could feel my tits bouncing as he slammed his cock into my mouth and down my throat over and over and over.

After an endless few minutes he grunted once and said, "All right, Lana. I hope you're ready to swallow some feedback!"

In case you didn't already know, when a man has his cock inside a woman he isn't nearly as witty as he thinks he is.

He pounded my mouth three more times and then gave a long, deep grunt. The first pulse of cum erupted at the entrance to my throat and I quickly grabbed the base of his cock and started pumping furiously. He shot another jet of cum into my mouth, and another, still trying to thrust himself in more deeply. Finally, after a smaller, fifth dollop of cum he sighed and pulled my face off of him and let go of my head. I dropped his cock and wiped my lips with the back of my hand. I knew what he was expecting and swallowed my mouthful of spunk down into my belly.