I laughed. She flushed a deep red, but–to her credit–didn’t topple over backwards in a rush to hide what she’d been doing; she just awkwardly unknotted herself from her position and then moved to kneel in front of me, gnawing her lip, looking caught between the haze of unfulfilled arousal and anxiety. Maybe she worried that she’d be punished. She shouldn’t have.
I made the decision on the fly to leave her mittens on that day. I took the dildo out for her–she had to get on her hands and knees to give me access, and her response was amazing, her back bowing as the length slid out of her, her breath stuttering on little moans as each ridge emerged, and a little line of slick drooled from her cunt to the floor.
And then I began our day as usual.
She tried, at first, to behave normally; she was a bit clumsier with the gloves on, of course, a little less graceful in her kneeling, and I think the fact that she was so wet between the thighs must have hardly helped as well, but she did her best. But there were some necessary changes, which I had anticipated when I made the decision but which I only saw hit her around mid-morning, when she first asked to use the restroom, and then hesitated, staring at me with wide eyes when I stood to go with her.
She looked at the mittens, then looked back at me, and then took a breath and went to the bathroom, letting me follow.
I sat on the edge of the bathtub while she did her business; she wasn’t as shy about that as I’d have expected, but I think she must have been too wrapped up in thinking about the next part to worry about it.
The next part, of course, was where I folded up a square of toilet paper and–lightly and carefully–wiped her. Again to her credit, she controlled herself enough not to do anything so silly as try to hump into my hand as I cleaned her, but I could tell it was a struggle for her; her stomach jumped with tension and her breathing shook, her mittens knocking clumsily against the vanity and the wall as she attempted to brace herself to remain in position, squatted over the toilet to give me access.
I dropped the toilet paper into the toilet and then replaced it with my finger, running the pad of my fingertip between the swollen lips of her cunt. She made a quiet, sweet sound sound of surprise and I felt her flesh pulse against me, as if she were trying to draw my finger into herself.
I pulled my finger away and smiled up at her. She stared back, her gaze dazed and heated and not at all shy.
I stood up and washed my hands, and then led her back to my home office. She knelt even less gracefully this time, and shifted every few minutes, rubbing her thighs together as if she still had to pee.
I knew very well that it was another need entirely that was bothering her.
I made lunch for us that day–she couldn’t, of course, with her hands in mittens–and fed hers to her by hand. Again, she was less shy than I had expected, and became promisingly bold as I fed her the last few bites of sandwich, catching the tips of my fingers between her lips with playful little kisses.
As the afternoon wore on, I expected some of her fire to die down, but her squirming continued, and I occasionally caught sight of her dragging one of the mittens across her thigh or stomach, like she was thinking again about trying to hump it. I wondered how close she’d come that way, if she’d been on the edge of coming.
When I closed out of my work programs and loaded up the first porn clip–a pet bouncing in her master’s lap, moaning and gasping–she let out a quiet groan. I unbuttoned my pants, and she shifted half out of her kneeling position, hesitated, and then moved closer, until she could rest her chin on my thigh.
I paused, cock in hand, and looked down at her. “Do you want something?”
Her face cut briefly into a sharp, ironic look, because she knew that I knew exactly what she wanted, and I laughed. She narrowed her eyes at me, and then widened them and bit her lip in an obvious attempt to be enticing, before pressing her mouth to my jeans in an open, damp kiss.
“Do you think you’re ready for this?” I asked, running a thumb up my cock. It was already harder just from having her so near and from the gratification I’d gotten from teasing her all day; I wondered if she noticed. Her eyes tracked my thumb and then caught on the head, eyeing the damp, glistening slit where my precome was starting to gather, and then she nodded and mouthed my hip again with just a bit of teeth. Emphasizing her desire without being demanding.
I hummed my approval and pushed back from my desk, giving her room to crawl under. It was clumsy, especially with her mittens on, and I had to move the trash bin out of her way before it tipped over, but then she was there: settled in the space under my desk, head between my knees, eyes fixed on my cock like it was all she’d been thinking about for hours.
It probably was.
“Go on,” I encouraged. I still had it in my hand, since she didn’t have her own to use, and I wasn’t mean enough to make her try and figure things out with her mouth alone–at least not this first time. She hesitated for a second, just a flash of those nerves, and then she took a deep breath and leaned in and let me feed the head of it into her mouth.
It was a rookie blowjob, I’ll admit it. That was to be expected; it was her first one, and we had to coordinate between my hand and her mouth, and she was clearly terrified of accidentally touching me with her teeth, resorting to mostly kittenish licks. But it wasn’t a timid one: she dove for my cock like she wanted it, and when I got deep enough in her mouth to bump the back of her throat, she moaned and closed her eyes and shifted her hips like she was imagining me bottoming out somewhere else entirely. And that, that was more important than the prowess.
She could learn everything else, but the eagerness–I wanted that to be trained into her, bone-deep.
She didn’t flinch from the taste of it, either, chasing my fluids and swiping her tongue across the slit over and over until I stopped her and redirected her to somewhere less sensitive. Even then, I came fast and hard: I grabbed her head when I did and shoved in again, ramming the back of her throat, and she gasped and choked and then, when I let her go, pulled back and coughed up semen, smeared it across her face as she tried to wipe it away with the mittens, but she wasn’t mad. Her eyes were fever-bright and fixed on me, her face flushed with a frantic desire, her toes curled tight into her feet against the floor.
Once she stopped coughing and got control of her windpipes back, she leaned back against the walls of the desk that caged her in and let out a low, hoarse moan, her hips rolling like she was instinctively mimicking the movements of fucking, or maybe trying to copy what she’d seen in the videos I’d been exposing her to. She was so wet that there was a damp patch on the hardwood floor beneath her.
I almost regretted coming in her mouth, because I wanted to fuck her right then. But I’m not that old yet; I just needed a bit of time to recover.
“That was a good first attempt,” I informed her, and she bit her lip and flushed deeper, rubbing at the inside of one of her thighs with one of the mittens. “But you do need to practice. Come on.”
I pushed my chair out of the way and stood up, then held out a hand. She disentangled herself carefully from the desk and gave me her arm, and I helped her the rest of the way up. She was unsteady on her feet, probably from the hard floor under her knees as well as arousal, and I made a mental note to measure the space under my desk and to get a pad that would fit there, something to cushion her knees in the future.
Not that she was complaining. She was leaning towards me, like she wanted to lean into me but wasn’t sure if that would be permitted. I brushed a proprietary hand over her hip and she gasped and nearly stumbled, would have fallen if I weren’t holding her up. I laughed again and she whined and finally pressed in close to me, crowding me, which made it harder to walk but which very much satisfied the hunger I was feeling for her.
I brought her to my bedroom and retrieved the silicone dildo from its home in her bed, where it lived during the day after being retrieved from her ass and thoroughly washed. She looked at it, then looked at me–not confused, not nervous, just waiting.
“You’re going to practice on this,” I informed her. She looked at it again, then nodded.
That took some finagling, because I hadn’t planned in advance; but my bed was low enough to the floor, and I was able to use the harness to strap it to a pillow. She knelt at the edge of the bed and draped her arms over the pillow to keep it in place, and then sucked it down like she had missed having something in her mouth, her eyes sliding shut as the silicone took my place. I stood next to her and watched, one hand running up and down her spine, and offered instruction.
“Use your lips to protect it from your teeth and to create a tighter seal,” I said. It took a few seconds for my words to get through, but then she did it, humming quietly to herself as she found the right arrangement. “Press close with your tongue and suck. Feel your tongue moving against it.” I watched her throat move as she swallowed. “Now take it as deep as you can.”
As she did, I let my hand wander down further, brushing her ass, and then the plump lips of her cunt. She inhaled sharply through her nose and then had to pull off to cough.
I moved my hand back up to her back and rubbed until she was breathing well again. Then she looked up at me, her eyes big and dark, and shifted her hips. I smiled. “You want me to touch you again.” It wasn’t a question, but she nodded. “Then you’d better get back to practicing.”
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