Chapter 1 — Professor's Secretary (Romance Erotic Tale)

Last night, I dreamed about my advisor’s secretary. This is based on that dream.

In America, being a secretary isn’t some temporary job people do in their twenties—it’s a career. Most secretaries work well into their fifties or sixties, retiring only when age forces them out. And those who rely on them? Professors, executives—they don’t like replacing someone they’re used to with a stranger. Once you’ve found someone competent, you hold on tight.

That culture extends to universities too. Most professorial secretaries are middle-aged women—some even old enough to be my mother, or at least have sons my age.

But there’s an exception—my advisor’s new secretary.

The previous one left due to personal reasons, so they hired someone new. She looks mid-twenties. Slightly over five-foot-three—not tall for an American girl. Her short, cropped blonde hair makes me want to reach out and run my fingers through it.

Her body is slender, almost delicate—but her chest and hips? Fully developed. When she wears jeans, “plump” doesn’t even begin to describe it. It’s more like… bursting.

And when she smiles—bright, carefree—that innocent charm hits hard. Makes me think, Yeah, America really does have beautiful women.

That day, I went to see my professor like always. But his door was locked. Instead, she came out from the adjacent office, greeting me in his place.

“Is the professor here? Do you need to see him urgently?”

She’d been typing furiously at her computer, then spun around in her swivel chair to face me.

“Uh… not exactly. I just wanted to hand this in.”

“Oh? Then let me take it—I’ll pass it on later.”

She stood up and walked toward me, closing the distance.

“What is it?” she asked, stepping closer as she reached for the paper in my hand.

“This… I was wondering if I should do it this way…”

As I started explaining, we naturally ended up standing side by side. She leaned in close, attentive, listening carefully.

Too close.

My arm brushed against her breast.

Thump… thump…

Electricity shot through my entire body. My mind blanked. I forgot what I was saying—forgot everything except the soft, warm pressure against my arm.

Not that it mattered. My English was shaky at best. If I stammered more than usual, she wouldn’t think much of it.

I kept talking—nonsense, probably—but every ounce of focus had shifted to that one arm, still tingling from the contact.

To stretch the moment, I subtly shifted my stance, brushing against her again—just slightly.

Thump…

Did she notice? Was she pretending not to? Or was she actually absorbed in my explanation, completely unaware?

Part of me wished I could stand there forever, babbling nonsense just to feel that warmth beside me. But reality cut it short—within a minute, the exchange was over.

“I’ll make sure he gets it,” she said.

That night, I couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I felt it again—the jolt, the softness, the heat. Thump… thump…

American women are sexually open, right? Maybe I could try something?

No. This is America—land of sexual harassment laws. One wrong move and I’d be humiliated, possibly expelled. Not worth risking my future over a fantasy.

I tossed and turned, arguing with myself until exhaustion pulled me under.

The next day, I didn’t have any reason to visit the professor. Yet somehow, I found myself walking past his office—no, not his, but hers. The secretary’s room.

She was hunched over the printer, frowning, clearly struggling with something.

“Hi…” I said softly, announcing my presence.

“Oh… hey. Do you know how to fix printers? Mine’s acting weird.”

“Sure, let me take a look.”

Whatever was wrong, she seemed determined to learn—standing right beside me, watching every move.

The printer sat on the desk, so we both stood, leaning in.

She was pressed against my side. To grab the toner cartridge across from her, I’d have to reach either in front of or behind her.

I glanced at her outfit—jeans again. Instantly, the image of her in jeans flashed in my mind—tight, round, full.

I reached back slowly, pretending to search for the toner. My hand grazed her ass.

She flinched—just slightly—and looked at me.

Caught?

No. She turned her gaze to the other side, scanning the printer.

I grabbed the toner, then on the way back, brushed her ass again—deliberately this time.

She turned to me once more.

This time, she smirked.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

“What? No, I—”

She laughed quietly, then took my hand and guided it back to her ass.

“You touched me like this just now, remember?”

Then she moved my hand, rubbing it against her curves.

My cock was already hard—fully erect, straining against my pants.

From the first moment I saw her in jeans, this thing had been clueless, oblivious. But after those two brushes? Now it stood at full attention, ready to go.

“I didn’t mean to… I wasn’t trying to—”

I fumbled through a pathetic excuse as she quietly walked over and locked the door.

I knew the walls were thick—unless you shouted, no one in the next room could hear. I’d noticed that before, whenever the professor called for her and had to raise his voice.

Her smile hadn’t faded.

“Why did you do that?” she asked, stepping close—so close our bodies touched.

I was the one who’d come in with dirty thoughts, yet now I felt like a mouse frozen in front of a cat, stuttering, helpless.

“I just… um… I mean…”

She giggled, then suddenly grabbed both my hands and turned them behind her.

Before I realized it, my palms were cupping her ass—those very cheeks I’d longed to touch—now fully in my grasp.

“You wanted to touch me, didn’t you?”

I couldn’t answer. I just stood there, hands frozen on her backside, as if they were decorative fixtures sewn onto her jeans.

“So sneaky… but you’re blushing like a kid. Kind of cute, actually.”

She laughed, playful, like a child teasing with a new toy.

“If you want to touch, just do it. Go ahead.”

She placed her hands gently over mine.

“You can’t feel anything unless you move, silly.”

Slowly, she guided my hands, making small circles. My palms followed, pressing, feeling the firm yet yielding flesh beneath.

The sensation reignited something deep inside me. I squeezed—gently at first, then harder.

Her ass filled my hands perfectly.

“That’s it… that’s what you wanted, right?”

I couldn’t look at her. I just focused on the pleasure flooding through my fingertips—the unreal softness, the heat, the shape.

“Since we’ve started, let’s do it properly.”

She was eager—like she’d been waiting for this. She wrapped her arms around my neck, pulled me close, and kissed me.

The moment her tongue slipped into my mouth, my cock pulsed—already hard, now swelling even more.

All I could think was: I want to be inside her.

My hands slid from her ass to her chest. Thump… thump… The same sensation I’d felt through my arm—now filling both palms.

She broke the kiss, breathless.

“Yes… just like that!”

For a moment, she closed her eyes tightly, savoring the touch. Her chest rose and fell. I wanted skin—flesh against flesh.

I yanked her T-shirt up, nearly tearing it, then pushed her bra aside.

Splash—

Her breasts spilled out—larger than expected, disproportionate to her petite frame. In Korea, few women have such fullness.

I gripped them both, hard.

Thump… Just like in my dreams.

“Mmm… uuhh…”

She was getting turned on. Her closed eyes twitched slightly.

Between her breasts, her nipples—about the size of a thumbnail—stood erect.

Like a newborn suckling milk, I lowered my head and sucked one into my mouth.

“Ah—! Uhh… mmh…”

Her breathing grew ragged. My hands moved down, unbuttoning her jeans.

There was no belt—just a button and a zipper. The moment I pulled it down, I nearly came right there.

I dropped to my knees, pulling her jeans and panties down together. I brought my face to her—hidden beneath golden curls.

Same color as her hair.

She shifted her posture, leaning back against the printer table, arching her back, head tilted far back, eyes shut—waiting, enjoying.

I’d never seen a blonde pussy before. It was waiting for me.

I parted the curls with my fingers and ran my tongue along her slit.

“Ahh…”

She moaned softly, then roughly kicked off the tangled jeans and panties still clinging to her ankles.

I reached up with my left hand, kneading her right breast.

Still firm, with that hard nub on top.

I flicked it with my thumb while my right hand stroked her golden bush.

My tongue traced her clit.

My left hand felt her breast.

My right hand felt the soft, coarse curls.

Every sensation drove me closer to the edge.

Still licking her, I used both hands to pull down my own pants. Took less than half a second.

Now naked—just like her.

She opened her eyes slightly, dazed, then looked at my bare body. Her lips parted, hazy with lust.

“From behind… I like it from behind.”

She turned around, hugging the broken printer like a lover, presenting her tight, round ass to my face.

Just a glimpse of her anus—and suddenly, I wanted to lick it.

I spread her cheeks with both hands and pressed my tongue against the wrinkled rim.

She shivered violently.

“Now… hurry… please…”

She was desperate—urging me on.

I stood up. My cock—hard, dripping—aimed at her wet entrance, ready to plunge in.

Her opening, already slick from arousal, accepted me effortlessly.

Slurp— Full. Tight. Warm.

My cock sank all the way in.

“Hah—!”

I gasped. She moaned in response.

“Uuuhh…”

I placed my hands on her breasts, gently rocking my hips. The softness under my palms, the suction-like grip around my cock—like being swallowed by a black hole.

“Hah… hah…”

“Haaah… haaah…”

“Aaah… mmh…”

With each thrust, she responded—her body trembling, matching my rhythm.

Someone once said riding a white horse feels incredible.

Yes. This is exactly what they meant.

Blurred vision. Blonde hair. Pale skin beneath it.

This is it.

“Haaah… haaah…”

“Aaaaaah—! Ahhh…!”

I kept thrusting, wishing time would stop—wishing I could stay buried inside her forever.

“Hah… haa… ngh…”

“A… a… a…”

We came together.

My cock erupted—jet after jet—deep inside her.

She clenched around me, shuddering, lost in ecstasy.

Was this real? Or just a dream?

Doesn’t matter. Even if it’s a dream—don’t wake me up.

When I finally pulled out, softening, she spoke.

“You came inside? Good thing I’m on birth control.”

Still basking in the afterglow of my first-ever ride on a white horse, I kept my eyes closed.

Then she whispered:

“If you need to see the professor… come back later.”