tagFetish30 Days or Bust: Day 06

30 Days or Bust: Day 06

byl8bloom©

All characters in this story are age 18 or older.

*

It amazes me that not quite a week has gone by and Mark is – I don't know how to describe him – still an enigma, yet somehow like an old friend.

A very sexy friend.

The hurt and shock I felt when I saw him with his niece. This really is the part where I need to sober up. Even if it hadn't been his niece, so what? This is what he does for a living. He escorts women. He gets paid to kiss them, caress them, fuck them, and make sure they have a good time.

He is getting paid, even now, to suck my tits and make sure I have a good time.

It is agony.

Heaven knows I would give myself over, body and soul. I am ready. The things that cross my mind these days – foolish. There is no way this can work out, and the smart thing to do would be to stop, forget the contract, just stop everything, and go back to my normal life.

Except my normal life would be so boring now, so stale and empty. I almost feel like a different person. Last week I was a respected scientist, a dignified person, & now I think, kind of tight-assed really. This week I'm just hot & bothered all the time, distracted & sloppy. Christ! There's no comparison. Who wants to go through life never having any fun??

I might as well relive my latest adventure with my stud ... Last night he came over, as promised, and proceeded to send me to my room.

(This right here, to anyone who knows me, would be laughably unbelievable. I do not, especially not for some male, do as I'm told.)

A few minutes later I heard water running in the tub. It was no surprise when my sex therapist knocked on the bedroom door and let me know I should undress.

He didn't have to tell me twice. Eagerly I stripped, not bothering to hang up my clothes, and tugged on a silk kimono.

It seemed like it took too long as I sat on the bed, waiting. I tried not to be too impatient. Finally he knocked and opened the door.

"Ready?"

I smiled and nearly whispered, "Yes." My heart was in my throat as he led me down the hall.

In the bathroom he took my robe and hung it on the back of the door. For the first time I stood completely naked before him. His professional mask slipped for a moment as he looked me up and down.

I stood still, neither embarrassed nor proud, as he took his visual inventory. At last he took my hand and helped me into the tub.

"This might be warm," he warned.

Cautiously I dipped in one foot, and instantly pulled it back. "Ah!"

"Take your time."

He made me think of a riding instructor I'd had as a girl: disciplined, but kind. Gritting my teeth, I put one foot in the water. Mark kept hold of my hand as he knelt.

As I stood with one foot in the tub and one out, he talked me through it.

"Let's get you used to the water. I'm going to help you." He dipped a sponge and lifted it, squeezing it near my knee. The water didn't seem as hot. He looked up at me and smiled.

"How does that feel?"

"Okay."

He doused my leg a few more times, gradually moving higher. It didn't seem to bother him that his face was a few inches from my crotch. Yet I could feel the wind of his breath, breezing softly against my pubic hair. As he spoke, as he breathed, he teased me into ardor.

Partly to move closer, I lifted my other foot into the water. It was hot.

"Good job," he approved. He lifted and squeezed the sponge again, wetting my legs. Again he stopped at mid-thigh. He wasn't holding my hand now, just touching my legs as he worked.

"Ready for the next step?"

I nodded.

He stood and put his hands at my waist. "Kneel down. Don't worry, I've got you."

Carefully I lowered myself, first to one knee, then the other. He sat on the edge of the tub and began fondling my breasts. His boldness took my breath.

"I think your nipples are swollen," he observed softly.

"Yes," I choked. He lifted the weight of my bosom in his hands. Almost clinically he inspected each nipple and stroked it with his fingers. Then he took one aureole in his mouth.

I let out a little gasp and he withdrew. "Did that hurt?"

"No." I shook my head.

He tended my anxious glands with his hands and his tongue, gently squeezing my mounds and sucking my nipples, not too hard.

With one hand I held the back of his head and with the other I clung to his shoulder. Mark seemed in no hurry. On and on he tended me as I moaned, arching my back to thrust my tits more deeply into his mouth. He gnawed a little, nipped a little.

I could feel my girl-juice running down my inner thigh.

At last it was too uncomfortable to kneel on the marble. I shifted my position. He pulled away with a sucking noise and again laid his hands to my waist.

"Time to sit down."

It wasn't physically difficult to maneuver, but the hot water seared into the crevice between my legs. The hot wet pain made its own pleasure.

"Open your legs. All the way now, come on."

When I obeyed, Mark took my hand. He laid his middle finger on top of mine and guided it to my pussy. Then he curled his finger, so I probed at my entrance.

When he was sure of my masturbation, he leaned me back against the tub pillow and started soaping my breasts. It was shamelessly hedonistic, and I reveled in it.

He looked pleased with himself as he worked up a lather and played with me. I wiggled and moaned, enjoying the attention.

It was impossible not to notice the iron bar in his sweatpants. He saw me looking and gave a little smile.

"Hands to yourself, Dr. Arthur."

"That's what I'm doing, Mr. Goodbody," I sulked, and penetrated myself as deeply as I could. I thrust my hips.

It was my turn to smirk with satisfaction. He was gazing down through the water, watching as I finger-fucked myself. My curls moved like seaweed. I used both hands to pry apart my labia, then pushed back my hair.

I have never so wantonly exposed myself to a man. I discovered I liked it. The color in his face, his lips slightly parted, the sound of his breathing rewarded me. His hands were spread wide over my breasts; I could feel my points pressing into his palms.

Our eyes met for one hot moment. He licked his lips and said, "Come for me, Lisa."

His hunger was my command. He pushed a few bubbles out of the way to get a clear view. I circled my clitoris faster and faster. My mind whirled too, a maple seed in the wind, as he squeezed my breasts almost too hard.

I cried out, twisting in orgasm. My body let fly a small milky cloud. Instantly Mark scooped it up, or tried to. He let my cum wash through his fingers, and slowly rinsed me off.

As he helped me from the tub and wrapped me in a giant towel, he was again the perfect gentleman. We didn't hug, or kiss, though god knows how much I wanted to. It would have been nice if he had so much as dried me off.

But it isn't his job to do that. His only mission where I'm concerned is to train my breasts to give up their milk.

I pull myself back to the lessons of gratitude – to be grateful for what I have, rather than focus on what I don't. I'm cuddled now in a soft terry robe. I think I'll sleep well tonight.

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