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Chloe Burrell, Ph.D., was acutely aware of the irony of her situation. At 34, single (divorced after two years of marriage to the guy she'd lived with for three years before that), and attractive enough to be dating frequently, she was without a boyfriend, dateless for six weeks running, AND she was a *quot;sex researcher*quot; at a large Midwestern university.

How unfair was that? Five-seven, sandy brown shoulder-length hair, pretty face with expressive brown eyes, good figure?and Chloe hadn't had sex in months. Making the situation even more ridiculous was the fact that the only make-time-for-myself activity she prioritized into her crammed-full professor/researcher life was her workouts. Taking to heart the findings about the benefits of exercise applying to the brain as well as the body, Chloe did not skip her regular workouts, and her trim figure in a bikini would turn any man's head if only she had time to go to the beach.

Or to a party. Or on a weekend out of town to relax.

Circumstances had conspired against her, she thought as she walked to her car after another day of doing several hours of research and working on a journal article she was co-authoring with a professor at a university in the next state. Getting ahead in the cutthroat world of academic ladder-climbing and peer-reviewed publishing meant long hours and a nose-to-the-grindstone approach to life. As a woman, she was suspect in the eyes of the reigning cadre of academe's gray-haired old boys' club who wondered when she would *quot;take time off*quot; to have a baby or three. Chloe faced the female equivalent of the *quot;black tax*quot; that her African-American colleagues faced: Work twice as hard to be considered just as good.

Tossing her satchel onto the passenger's seat and climbing behind the wheel, she turned down the volume on the radio before starting her car. The drive to the townhome she shared with her cat among the accumulated detritus of an academic career and a dissolved marriage was one more in the string of daily duties that sucked away opportunities to meet interesting men.

Time for dating? Yeah, right. Meeting eligible men in her field of research at conferences, professional organizations, and the like? Fat chance (with *quot;fat*quot; being the operative word, Chloe once thought, given the physical condition of many of the men who showed up at such gatherings). Dalliances with grad students? The double standard meant the male profs could probably ride out any repercussions, but that wouldn't be the case for the lone woman professor among the graduate neuroscience faculty at her university.

Exiting the faculty parking lot, Chloe drove around the edge of campus toward the interstate loop. Trees were shedding their red- and yellow-hued foliage under a coffin-lid sky as a cold breeze blew swirls of fallen leaves across the road in front of her. A couple of guys were stubbornly clinging to the last hint of the season before unremitting cold set in and were jogging in shorts and hooded pullovers on the sidewalk next to the road. She looked at the gray cotton fabric stretched snugly across their butts as they ran beside her car. The view made the slow crawl bearable as the traffic moved at a pace matching that of the joggers.

Both the guys had nice, firm glutes. The sight was hypnotic as Chloe daydreamed about how the curves of their strong asscheeks might feel against her cupped palms if she were standing behind them as they paused to catch their breath.

It had been way too long since she had curled up to doze or to talk, happy and content, with a pair of masculine arms wrapped around her. It had also been far too long since she had gripped a man's naked butt, pulling him deeper inside her pussy as he pumped his hard cock inside her.

She missed both things desperately.

An impatient honk behind her snapped her back to reality, and she noted that the two college men had rounded the corner and disappeared. She accelerated to rejoin the normal flow of traffic.

At least her job meant Chloe had learned about a couple of excellent female masturbation techniques and gadgets in the last few years. They had come in handy on multiple occasions (and for multiple orgasms) since she learned about them either because she had been charged with finding appropriate *quot;exogenous female sexual arousal intensifiers*quot; for the lab's major grant project two years ago, or because the research subjects whom she interviewed described their techniques, accouterments, and fantasies to her as part of the data gathering she had to do for some of the research studies.

And, as usual, that line of thought (and maybe the two muscular male backsides she had watched running on the sidewalk now two blocks behind her) prompted contemplation of a category of fantasy to which Chloe had recently been introduced in the course of her research: Fucking a man in the ass with a strap-on dildo.

Driving to her townhome through the cold sprinkle which had just started and which presaged the coming winter, Chloe bahis siteleri thought yet again about Georgia, the subject who had come in for her screening interview on Monday a week ago as the first step in the two days' worth of time she would be paid by the lab for the research study. Georgia was a tall brunette who had been recruited to the study from an ad run in the university's student newspaper: *quot;College-aged women wanted for sexuality research. Two days required. No major illnesses within the last six months. Sexually active. Pay for participants.*quot;

Chloe was the researcher who interviewed the women about their sex habits.

*quot;Yeah, I masturbate pretty frequently,*quot; Georgia had told her that Monday as Chloe collected baseline data. *quot;I seem to need it pretty regularly, you know?*quot;

Chloe hadn't looked up from her clipboard but murmured a noncommital, *quot;Uh-huh.*quot; Georgia could have said, *quot;Frig my clit,*quot; or *quot;Play with my pussy,*quot; or any other description that meant *quot;masturbate,*quot; and Chloe's reaction would not have changed. Part of her job meant listening to research subjects talk in the most natural way when they answered the researcher's questions. In fact, the subjects were encouraged to do this because it lessened the chances of any reticence in sharing information.

This research subject didn't seem to have any trouble communicating in the vernacular about her activities and fantasies.

*quot;Don't get me wrong,*quot; Georgia continued, *quot;I love a good, hard dick on a buffed guy, and I like the emotional connection even more?when you can actually find a guy who will connect with you between your ears and not just between the sheets. But you've got a better chance of finding a five-carat diamond in a bag of M