30 Days or Bust: Day 10byl8bloom©
All characters in this story are age 18 or older.
If it hadn't been for Malavika, my trusty graduate assistant, I might not have noticed the package at all -- or not for several days, maybe. We were cleaning up in the lab, prepping for the next day's classes, when she spoke.
"Dr. Art'eur? C'est une package, est-il le vôtre?"
I looked up in momentary confusion. Mali was holding a plain brown bag by its rope handles. A faint memory rang -- Mark, coming in the door -- holding just such a bag -- I hadn't given him a chance --
"Oh yes. Just leave it, Mali, I'll get it." I smiled at the young Indian woman. Her work ethic was impeccable, so much better than that of most American students. She did not share their sense of entitlement!
Malavika dipped her head in a light bow and put the bundle on the bench. Hopefully she would not notice the faint blush in my cheeks. If she did, protocol would prohibit her from ever saying anything, to me or anyone else.
She finished her chores and looked around. "If t'ere is not'ing else, ma'am?"
"All done, Mali. See you tomorrow."
Again the mild bow, and my GA left.
I was burning to open the package, but my discipline held. The delayed reward was far greater.
After locking the door, I took off my shirt as I had every day for two weeks, and dragged the digital scale to the edge of the counter. One at a time I weighed my breasts and made notes accordingly in the password-protected file.
There was some gain. I had to consider it might be a consequence of my cycle. It might or might not be the result of my consort's attentions.
Measuring was next. I bent at the waist and laid my ear against the counter, so my breasts hung straight down. Carefully, as objectively as possible, I ran the tape from armpit to breastbone, checking the respective horizons. Again I noted a slight increase.
Sighing, I put the tools away and fastened the clasp. Then I reached inside the cups to adjust my nipples. They were sensitive, tender to the touch, and the thought of Mark crossed my mind. He never really left my thoughts these days.
I cringed at the thought of him in someone else's arms, yet I knew this was his job. It blew my mind. Of course prostitutes exist, but I'd never actually met one, much less hired one. How could I reconcile images from the movies with the man I knew?
And, I had to admit, was falling in love with. Impossible -- impossible. Yet here he was, a perfect vision, smart and sexy and somehow -- ethical. I could not yet add up all the pieces.
Musing about this mysterious man, I palmed my breasts and closed my eyes. I replayed those moments in my office. If it weren't for the contract, things might have played out differently. I imagined him very gently inserting one finger between my sore labia, brushing a knuckle against my clit. My breath would rise in a tortured intake as he tempered my entrance. Could I take him in now? Maybe. He seemed to know an awful lot about women.
My breath caught, remembering that brief bite at my nipple. Wetness blossomed between my legs. I squeezed my breasts a little harder and moaned his name.
My eyes drifted open and the plain brown package came into view. Even walking toward it was an experience in fascination. What could it be? Something jangled along my spine. I tucked the gift carefully into my backpack and made a quickstep to my car.
This was no time to be reckless, but I could not help speeding a little on the way home. A close call at an intersection sobered me up. Careful, be careful, I warned myself.
But I didn't want to be careful any more. I had been careful and disciplined all my life, inside the classroom and out. This was my adventure, all mine, and I meant to enjoy it while it lasted.
I zipped home and whipped out the package. Inside the bag was a box wrapped in brightly colored paper. The design was like an abstract silk necktie. I fondled it and feathered the bow beneath my hand. One word was on the tag: "Lisa."
At the last minute, I couldn't untie it carefully. I ripped open the beautiful box with a flourish.
What was inside made my jaw drop. It was a penis! Or, at least, a reasonable facsimile of one. Involuntarily I let out a gurgle of surprise. I simply couldn't believe it. There was a little box of condoms, too.
Thankfully the clamshell wasn't the bulletproof kind. As my fingers came into contact with the skin-like appendage, a strange feeling swept over me. It was weird, but I almost felt as if I were touching Mark himself.
I bowed my head and nuzzled the phallus against my cheek, then brushed my lips over the ridge and the tip. Somehow I knew that he had given me a gift resembling himself. I shook my head. There was no evidence to back this up. I felt certain anyway.
"Hello," I murmured.
It seemed the most natural thing in the world to go to bed early. I laid the thing on the bedspread and took off my clothes, fantasizing that Mark was watching me undress. Maybe his ghost was in the room; maybe he was thinking of me right about then.
Time lost its relevance. I slid between the sheets and pulled the toy into my arms. My kisses were slow at first. I explored every inch of Mark's cock, taking my time and nosing my way slowly down to the orbs at the base.
I gravitated to a face-down position and started licking the mushroom's edge. All I could think of was Mark, the way he looked, the way he smelled. His aura made me think of a grove of pines: clean, masculine, authentic. I liked the way he always seemed like a horseman, relaxed in the saddle. Instinctively I knew that this was the way he would mount me: in control and yet working with me, drawing me out completely.
My mouth was now full of cock. I hummed against it, lifting and plunging my lips up and down. How deep was my desire to give him pleasure! Yet I wanted more; I needed to feel him inside me.
By the second day of my cycle, the pain was typically fading into the twilight. This time I barely felt it; desire was my master. I lay on my back, naked as the day I was born, my knees high and wide.
Slowly I nudged the phallus into my wet, sticky crevice. My body was salivating for this first touch. Spontaneously I clenched and moaned at the probe. It was exquisite. With one hand I gripped my lover's cock and guided it slowly in.
With other lovers, at this moment, I had thought of biology. Abstract questions about why the universe was set up the way it was would wander across my mind. Why were there so many nerve endings down there, driving humans into madness? I used to be in awe of the magnificent design, its relentless determination that life would continue.
Such coherent thoughts were ragged and rapidly falling apart now. I could only think of Mark, confident that somewhere in this town, sometime today, he was masturbating and thinking of me. He was thinking about my hands stroking him, my mouth praising his sex. It was all feeling. I became the awe; I became the wonder.
I pushed the head and watched as my body swallowed it. That flared edge felt so delightful as it moved in. I pulled it out and pushed a little further, causing another flush of magic goosebumps. Out and in. In and out.
"Oh, Mark, fuck me," I breathed. "Mark..."
I opened my eyes in shock. He stood there, framed in the bedroom doorway. His eyes swept over me, taking in the details: my flushed cheeks, my legs wide open. I had one hand on my breast. The other was clenched around the base of the toy where I worked it on my sex.
Caught, I froze for a moment. Then I looked him in the eye, parted my lips, and continued to fuck myself as he watched. I made sure he could see everything. The only sounds were our breathing, the wet sticky sounds of my pleasure, and a bird singing outside my window.
Mark nodded his approval and came to sit on the bed beside me. I paused my actions.
"Don't stop. There's no need to stop," he said. He put his hands on my shoulders and dipped his head to my breast. "Don't stop," he murmured once more, and the now-familiar tongue traced the edge of my aureoles. He whipped my nipples with the tip of his tongue. I groaned and squirmed.
"Please suck me," I begged.
His answer was oral, but not verbal. I was delirious with desire. The moment stretched out and collapsed at the same time. I masturbated furiously, shamelessly calling the name of the man who was right next to me, so close and yet so far away.
The frustration was agonizing. I wanted to feel his hands all over my body, not just my breasts. I wanted his tongue in my mouth, in my honeyjar, everywhere. Goddammit I wanted to make love to him.
The next time he came up for air, I put a hand on his collarbone.
"There's another way you could help my breasts."
He looked faintly amused. "Oh yeah, what's that?"
"You could donate some homemade lotion." I quirked my brows.
He gave a thoughtful nod. "Of course. If you're swollen, your skin needs extra care."
"Very special care."
I could hardly believe it when he stood up and started peeling. Technically it wasn't necessary for the shirt to go, too, but I made no complaints.
We had rounded another curve -- this one potentially dangerous. Mark was as naked as I was now, and damn, he was fine. Occupational hazard, I suppose. I'd seen the pictures in his file, but nothing matched living color.
"How about some inspiration?" he wisecracked. Then his grin faded slightly. "Touch yourself, Lisa. Show me."
He didn't have to tell me twice. I slid the head of the phallus between my labia and tickled the tip against my clit. Instinctively I bucked my pelvic bone, wanting penetration. I gave it to myself.
All the while, Mark handled himself. His eyes smoldered with lust.
"Try it this way." He gripped my hand and tilted the base of the toy, so the head stroked my inner walls. A sharp spike of pleasure pulsed in my sex. Orgasm played its centrifugal force through my limbs. I jumped, bumping into his hand where it lay between my thighs.
He pumped his handle faster. "Yes, Lisa, yes!"
At the last moment I pulled out the dripping cock and placed it in my mouth. I looked in his eyes while I sucked on it. He groaned.
"God that's hot ... ohhhh..."
His cream spurted. Hastily I held up my bosom to catch it. He looked into my face as he came all over my breasts.
When he was done, he fell silent, and simply rubbed his sperm into my skin. I lay back on my elbows, enjoying the rare massage. You can't get this at a fancy spa, I thought.
Suddenly I was tired. It was a good tired, the kind that follows satisfaction. Mark kissed the tips of my nipples to cap off the generous rub-down.
"You sleepy?" he asked.
"Kinda." I was a little embarrassed. I let my head drop back against the pillow, wanting him to curl up with me, knowing that wasn't going to happen.
Gently he touched my face. "Go ahead and take a nap. I'll lock up."
I trusted he would. Suddenly I let go of my yearning. A clarity came over me: our relationship was what it was. It was obvious we wanted each other. I felt like everything would work itself out.
When I woke up, he was gone.