Nisan 15, 2021

Lab Accident

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To be fair I would have to admit that the accident at the lab was probably my fault. I tried to explain to the professor that it was just one of those things that sometimes happen, but he wouldn’t have a bar of it. He was pissed off no end. Let me explain what happened.

My name is Susan and I’m doing a chemistry major at Uni. I’m a brunette, nearly twenty, quite fit, intelligent and reasonably popular with both sexes. To earn extra credits I was acting as an assistant to Professor Duncan. He was doing some research into cloth and the effect that acid has upon different types, including man made materials.

Now one of the rules around the lab is that we should always wear these heavy leather aprons when we’re handling the acids. The idea is that if we spill the stuff we can just take off the apron and run the tap over it to dilute and wash off the acid. The aprons also save us from burns if we have a little splash. You can see tiny pit marks all over the aprons.

As the professor explained, a little splash that will burn a little scar onto a leather apron will probably burn right through our normal clothes and probably out skin, as well. So – using acid equates to wearing an apron.

But I wasn’t using the acids on this occasion. I was just running tests on various types of material, assessing their strength. Accordingly, I skipped using the apron and was wearing a light sundress. After all, it was summer and a hot day and who wanted to swelter in a heavy apron when it’s not needed?

Mike, the other lab assistant, was playing with the acids and he was sweltering like crazy. His hard luck, not mine. He pointed out that, according to the rules, I should have on an apron as the acids were out and in use. I in turn pointed out that he could go and screw himself.

We’d both nearly finished our experiments when Mike received a phone call. His sister had been involved in a car accident and could he please come and give her a hand. Well, obviously he was going to. He asked me if I’d pack up for him and I said, “Sure, now shoo.” He took off and I finished up my experiments and packed up my stuff.

It was at this point that I should really have put on that damned apron. The acids that Mike had been playing with were still all out, half the containers without their lids BUT – I was just going to cap them and store them, not use them, so screw the apron.

I was busy slapping the lids on when I heard Professor Duncan coming. I got a move on, hoping to have the acids all sealed before he got here and save myself a rocket. The professor can get a bit snarky about safety.

I guess I must have rushed a bit too much. I was just slapping the last lid on a container and I must have slapped it on at an angle. The fucking container shot out from under my hand, didn’t it, falling over and sending an absolute flood of acid spilling onto me.

I screamed. Who wouldn’t? The next thing I know a hand has me by the back of the neck and leaning well forward while something cold and metallic seemed to run down my spine. My sundress just dropped away from me, and so did my bra. My panties stayed on, but even they were cut through on one side.

I was jerked away from there as my clothes fell to the floor and just lay there in a seething smouldering heap. Professor Duncan spun me around and turned a blasted hose on me, saturating me. And I was standing there effectively naked. Half a pair of panties don’t cover anything, I assure you.

Eventually I worked out the sequence of events. The professor has walked in just as the acid spilled towards me. He saw I had no apron, grabbed a pair of heavy cloth shears, bent me forward so that the acid contaminated clothing wouldn’t touch me and run the sheers down my back, cutting everything in two. Then he’d turned me so he could use the hose to wash off any spots that may have landed on me.

I was doubly lucky. None of the acid had landed on me directly and the professor bahis firmaları moved so fast that it didn’t have time to burn through my dress. (Of which there was now nothing left apart from a few black rags.) I could have been really badly burned and instead had escaped with just a cold shower, and who cared about that?

What I didn’t escape was the tongue lashing the professor proceeded to give me. Did I realise how badly I could have been hurt? Yes. Did I know how much paper work this sort of accident could create? No, but I wasn’t particularly concerned with paperwork at that moment.

Did I realise that someone was going to have to write an official report for the Health and Safety Committee? I could have guessed that. Did I know who was going to be writing it? Unfortunately, I could guess that, too.

I finally got the nerve to break in.

“Ah, professor, it probably wouldn’t look too good if someone came in and found me standing here naked. Is there something I could wear?”

He stopped his snarling and looked at me. I mean he really looked at me, eyes going from top to bottom and back again, pausing at all the interesting things he spotted along the way.

“Yeees,” he said slowly. “You are rather undressed, aren’t you? I suppose we should find you something to wear.”

He didn’t have to sound so reluctant about it. He walked over to some storage cupboards and pulled out a lab-coat. It was just a short coat that buttoned up the front and reached down to my thighs. Just. OK while I was standing still but as soon as I started walking someone was going to get a pleasant surprise.

“How did you get here today, Susan?”

“Took the bus,” I admitted.

“Hmm. Well, it might not be quite appropriate to go home by bus dressed like that. I’d better run you home.”

I wasn’t going to say no. Imagine stepping up into a bus in an outfit so short that anyone behind you will see your wahoo. And with no panties at that.

I followed the professor out to the car park and had a fit of consternation when I saw his car. Until then I’d never known that the professor owned an MG. Rather an elderly one, but an MG in a shiny condition, having much love lavished on it. I’m sure it’s a very lovable car, but rather small, and low.

Being a true gentleman, the professor opened the passenger’s door and waited until I got in. Not get in a bus because I might show my wahoo? Try getting in a sports car. I couldn’t quite decide if the professor was a gentleman or a pervert, and I’m sure he got a real eyeful when I got in.

My face was hot and I kept my legs tightly together and my hands clasped in my lap all the way home.

When we reached my place the rotten swine got out of the car and opened the door for me. I hope he enjoyed the show, even if his face was parked in neutral. Then he insisted on escorting me in, because of the shock I’d had, he said.

Once we were inside he wanted to know if there was anyone who could come and check up on me. My parents will be home in a couple of hours, I told him. I’d be fine. He nodded, and reminded me to make sure I returned the lab-coat.

I don’t know what came over me. It was probably caused by a number of little things, like the fact that I’d had a scare, I’d been doused in cold water while naked, Professor Duncan had run his eyes over me while I was standing their naked, without batting those eyes. Add on that I’m damned sure that he got an eyeful when I got in and out of his damn midget car and hadn’t shown the slightest sign of noticing my lack of attire. He was reasonably good looking and not all that old. Around forty, I’d say. His bland suggestion that I should remember to return the lab-coat just got to me.

I just unbuttoned it on the spot and handed it to him.

“You might as well take it with you,” I said, smirking. “I won’t need it now that I’m home.”

Professor Duncan just spread his hands, looked at the ceiling, kaçak iddaa and said, “Don’t blame me. I tried.” Then he reached over to take the lab-coat from me.

My mistake. Instead of taking the lab coat he took hold of my wrist and jerked me over against him.

“What are you doing?” I squealed, finding myself plastered against him.

My eyes nearly popped, they opened so wide. His free hand had just reached down and closed over my pussy, rubbing back and forth along it.

“I’m going to give you what you need,” I was told. “A good, hearty, fuck that will help you celebrate being alive and well.”

The professor’s hand closed over my breast, squeezing it softly and rubbing the nipple.

“Are you mad?” I demanded. “I want no such thing.”

“Of cause you do. Would you like me to prove it?”

Prove it? How could he prove I wanted to be fucked when I wanted no such thing?

“This I’ve got to see. Lay out your proof.”

“You’re standing here in front of me, stark naked, while my hands are stroking your mound and playing with your breasts.”

That was it? That was his proof?


“If you didn’t want it, you’d have moved away. No-one is holding you.”

That arrogant bastard! What was worse, he was right. I was just standing there, letting him feel me up with only the mildest verbal protest. I’d slapped men for behaviour not a fraction as forward as this. My mind was buzzing, trying to come up with an argument to refute what he’d just said, but I just couldn’t think. Every time I tried he’d tweak a nipple or his hand would do something shocking down below. I was just standing there, breathing hard, knowing that there was something I was supposed to be doing.

In hindsight, what I should have been doing was backing away and bolting to the safety of my bedroom. I don’t think he’d have followed me in. Instead, I just stood like a gawk while his hands continued to make free of my body.

While I was dithering, he was getting on with the job. His hand slid from my breast, down my arm and took my hand. Then my hand found itself closing around a hot hard cock, and I’m damned if I know when he found time to let that thing loose.

So did I snatch my hand away in maidenly modesty? Ha! My hand closed over him and I started checking out my prize. I was very much afraid that the good professor was right and I wanted to have a good fuck.

I was breathing hard, feeling hot and bothered. When I was turned and steered towards the couch I just went. Then I was leaning over the end of it, my hands pressing into the arm of the couch, supporting me. My legs felt wobbly and I was literally quivering.

I could feel my lips being moved apart, stretched, and then I could feel the professor’s cock pressing against me.

“Hard and fast or slow and gentle?” came a laughing whisper in my ear.

I didn’t have any hesitation. “Hard,” I managed to gasp out, and then I squealed. Squeal, hell! I let out a proper scream as the professor charged into me, hard and fast, as specified.

I knew how big he was. I’d held him in my hand and I damn well knew to a fraction of an inch how big that cock was. What I didn’t know was how it had managed to double in size in the moments between me letting it go and it attacking me.

My scream changed to squeaks and squeals as I was taken hard and fast. The professor wasn’t wasting any time gently bringing me along. He was no sooner in me than he was out and coming back. I had to do some fast catch up work before I could meet his vigorous workout with any sort of equanimity.

I’ll tell you right now, the next time someone wants to know if I want it hard and fast I’m going to demand a written definition of what they consider hard and fast. If asked I wouldn’t have believed that the professor could pummel my pussy like this. (Actually, I’d probably have laughed myself sick at the very thought of it.)

Once I did get up to speed kaçak bahis things were a lot better. I was hot and wet and excited, relishing what we were doing, full of joie de vivre, and bouncing along in fine style as the professor took me.

It took me a while to work out that hard and fast didn’t mean the whole thing would be over fast, which I was subconsciously expecting. Not even subconsciously, come to think of it. I just didn’t think the professor could keep up action that strongly for very long.

When time passed and I was still being fucked just as enthusiastically as at the start I had to change my mind. Hard and fast, it may be, but I found I had better be prepared to settle down for the long haul.

In and out, banging away at me, raising my excitement. I was burning with need and the professor was stoking the fires, fanning them into a furnace. As far as I was concerned it was a case of the hell with him. I was going to climax, and climax very soon. He could worry about his own climax. Mine was coming.

When he pulled out before I’d reached that point I was mortified, appalled, horrified, desperate and highly indignant. He couldn’t do this to me. I was stuttering, trying to ask, “What the hell?” but all I could do was splutter.

He spun me around so I was facing him, pushed me back against the couch and, while I watched, his cock came charging in again. He didn’t fool me this time. I was bucking under him and meeting his thrusts right from the start. Infuriatingly, the pause while he stopped and turned me around was just long enough to drop me off the boil. Now I was working hard to make up for lost time, the only difference being that I was now watching him plunge into me.

It’s odd but, at times, seeing a man drive into you is incredibly erotic. That’s how it was now, and I was all lust and passion as he banged me. With my bottom firmly wedged against the arm of the couch my legs were free to lift and wrap around him. I found myself clinging to him, fingernails clawing at his shoulders, legs trying to crush him as he just kept right on ravishing me.

I finally caught up with all that lost excitement, happily anticipating what must surely happen. And what was sure to happen turned out to be the professor wanting to try a different position.

I was spitting chips when he pulled out. If I hadn’t needed what he was going to give me I’d have killed him. Instead I let myself be pushed to the floor, and he grabbed my ankles and lifted them high and wide. I could see his cock driving down into me and I’ll swear that he was secretly laughing at me.

I was bent almost double, my feet must have been resting either side of my head, and I didn’t give a damn. The professor was back in action and he seemed to be going even deeper than before. Now he was really hammering me, with hard and fast hurrying to catch up.

I was squealing non-stop, writhing under him as he took me and, consensual though it may have been, I was being ravished. It was wonderful.

This time there was no stopping me. Lust had me firmly in its grip, excitement was tearing me apart, (so was his cock, come to think of it) and my climax wasn’t waiting around for an invitation to join the party. It just gate-crashed, kicking the door in and raging through me, sweeping me away.

I’m not completely selfish. I noticed that the professor was climaxing as well and I was happy for him. I was a damned sight happier for me though. I felt I’d really earned that climax, and I deserved it.

Afterwards I just lay on the floor, looking up at Professor Duncan as he tidied himself and picked up the lab-coat.

“When you turn up at the lab on Monday I expect to see a full report on the accident and what you could have done to prevent it,” the professor told me. Then he left. (Not before giving my nudity a thorough going over and smiling in satisfaction.)

Fill out a report. What, I wondered, would he say if I included everything that had happened because of the accident?

The other thing on my mind was – I knew what hard and fast was like. What, I wondered, would slow and gentle be like and how did I go about finding out?

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