Hardwood

"Then it's set. Three sharp tomorrow. Wood Tech 101. Hopefully I'll be closing in on the final touches."

That thought saddened me a bit. But nothing was going to take away from the excitement of knowing he'd be teaching me something up close and personal. I had every intention of taking full advantage.

I sauntered off to my room and thanked Michael for the conversation. I could feel his eyes following me as I left the room -- his eyes watching my ass sway in my tight jeans. I turned quickly to smile and wave as I headed to my bedroom. Indeed, he was watching intently. The constant smile was replaced, just for those few seconds, with a look of wanton lust. I knew in my heart that the next day we would be lovers.

Thursday

I dressed that morning with a totally different purpose in mind. I wouldn't normally wear a dress to campus on a Thursday. But I knew what the afternoon might have in store and I wore what I knew would be right for this particular occasion. It was still pleasantly warm for late September, so I pulled out a summer dress that I knew would showcase my body without being too flagrant or forward.

It was a simple thin cotton shift, with a loose flowing skirt and a bodice that cut low to cup my breasts nicely. I could wear this dress without a bra, but did decide to wear a shawl to campus. Underneath I slipped on my sexiest black thong and topped it all off with a pair of high heeled, open-toed sandals. I turned a few heads on campus that afternoon, but I wasn't interested in the slightest in the gawking boys. My eyes were focused on my last class of the day and I couldn't wait to learn under Michael's mature tutelage.

I sashayed into the house right at 3 o'clock as Michael was tidying up the kitchen. He wasn't quite done, but he was close. And he had obviously set the stage for our afternoon. The island, which didn't yet have a countertop, was covered with a big sheet of plywood. On top Michael had laid one of those thick quilted construction blankets. Arrayed neatly on the blanket were rows of wood samples and cut boards of different sizes and species.

I threw my shawl onto the chair as I strode over to stand facing the counter, admiring the carefully arrayed display. I could feel his eyes wash over my body as I walked and the thrill of anticipation sent a wave of warmth that cascaded down into my lower body and made my pussy throb.

"Oh, Michael," I cooed. "This is wonderful. Tell me."

As he began his presentation he was standing across the counter from me. I listened with rapt attention to his mellifluous voice as he began to talk about trees and wood and the different species. This man could read from the phone book and I'd be on the edge of my seat. What came through for me, more than his technical expertise, was his love of the material. It was clearly a topic he was passionate about.

As he began to talk about the way wood is cut and sawn he moved around to stand next to me so he could point to samples; using them to show the difference between cuts: plain-sawn, rift-sawn and quarter-sawn. He was a man clearly in command of his subject. As he began to talk about joinery he picked up more samples to explain what a mortise and tenon joint was, and how a dovetail joint worked. He sidled a bit closer as he began to explain planks of wood.

"Now often wood planks are connected by routing a tongue, or ridge, on one side of the board and a groove on the other," he explained. He picked up two boards and slid them together to demonstrate. "And, so, you have a tongue and groove connection."

"Did you say tongue in groove?" I asked with a sly smile. His eyes wrinkled in a smile as well.

"No, Molly. I didn't. But I can hear the misunderstanding." He paused. "I think you have a naughty mind, young lady," he suggested

"Who would have thought wood could be so sexy?" I proferred.

"Well I'm glad you think so. I've often thought fine woodworking is a very sensual process," he continued, his eyes boring a hole in me as he spoke.

It certainly was sensuous when Michael was talking about it, at least in my mind. As I stood with my flat belly pressed against the temporary counter, Michael moved even closer and began to explain the different samples. This way he could pick one up, talk about it and hand it to me. There were small finished pieces of wood, each about 3 inches by 5 inches, of a wide range species: cherry, oak, maple, elm, hickory, ash, birch.

As he spoke I picked up the samples and felt them, touched them, stroked them. There was, in fact, something very sensual about touching the woods, feeling their grain, running the tips of my fingers over their texture. I could see Michael watching me touch the wood and I suddenly realized how closely he was standing to me. He was slightly behind and to the side of me, standing so close I could feel his breath on my skin. The soft exhale of his breath on my bare shoulder, the deep melody of his voice only inches from my ear, had the effect of making me dizzy. I could feel my heart racing as I tried to concentrate on his words, but couldn't. The proximity of his body to mine seemed to drown out any rational thought patterns. I absentmindedly picked up one sample after another; my hands beginning to fondle them as I tried to make sense of the waves of desire that were flowing through my body.

As Michael leaned forward to show me something, his hand touched mine and I felt a jolt of excitement course through my veins. I felt his chest press gently against my shoulder as his big hands grazed over my small pale fingers. I suddenly became aware of how fucking wet I was. My thong was soaked and the light aroma of my sex wafted up to my nostrils. Michael continued to talk as his body moved even closer; until I could feel his bulk hovering behind me, enveloping me. I was turning the wood samples in a numb state of awareness now. And I felt Michael's hand slide along my fingers and rest on the back of my hand. We both froze.

"You're so beautiful, Molly," he whispered, only inches from my right ear. "So delicate. So lovely," he continued. "And you smell divine," he said as I felt his head lean down to kiss that magic spot where my shoulder meets my neck.

His kiss was light and unthreatening, but sent a wave of desire coursing through me like I had never known before. I caught my breath, and surely he heard. He knew. He knew I was his.

I felt his large hands on my bare shoulders, squeezing and rubbing them so gently. He placed his hands on my upper arms and leaned down once again to kiss my neck, just below my ear. I felt so vulnerable on the one hand; being enveloped and surrounded by this big powerful man. Yet I felt so safe and warm on the other; a feeling of trust and security permeated every cell of my being.

"Oh, Molly," he whispered.

I wasn't sure what to do. I closed my eyes, leaned my head back and to the right, and opened my mouth, hoping he would find me. He did. I felt his lips lightly brush mine and could feel and hear both of us breathing with barely controlled restraint. Our mouths opened and our tongues explored. I heard a deep throaty moan and realized it was me. As his kiss deepened I could feel him press his body against my back and my ass, and I felt his heat and incredible hardness that must be so constrained in his tight jeans. I wrapped my right hand up and behind his neck to hold him close. I didn't want him going anywhere.

The sound of our rapid breathing and sloppy wet kisses was an extreme aphrodisiac, at least for me. And despite the depth and mounting passion of our kiss, I felt Michael's hands begin to move across from my arms to my upper chest, then begin a slow gentle descent over the slopes of my breasts, exposed by my low-cut dress. My nipples were rock hard and straining, braless, against the soft fabric of my bodice. The palms of Michael's huge hands enveloped them entirely and I felt him use the tips of his calloused fingers to draw tight little circles around the distended nubbins of my swollen nipples. I caught my breath as another wave of desire swept over and through me.

I couldn't believe how softly he could touch me with such rough hands. His thumbs hooked under the straps of my dress and pulled them down over my shoulders; lowering them down my arms. The bodice of my dress began to slide down too, and suddenly as he pulled further, my nipples popped out from under the fabric, first one, then the other, looking so pert and happy to see the light of day. I looked down and gasped at their physical presence; so pale and pink and hard.

"Oh my God, Molly. You're so unbelievably beautiful. So sooo beautiful," Michael moaned as he looked over my shoulder at the protruding display of my sexual excitement; his smooth voice caressing my ears.

His hands followed to explore and my body responded almost involuntarily as his fingertips grazed the tips and circled the small areolas. I could hear Michael breathing hard, keeping tempo with my own, as he pressed his hardness against me, nestling what felt like a huge erection into the cleft of my ass.

"Oh, Michael. Please. I want you to touch me. Everywhere," I managed to pant.

He didn't answer; no verbal response was necessary. He just began to mold and massage the soft flesh of my breasts with his raw hands. He left my mouth and kissed his way down my neck as he fondled me. My head was swept back, my eyes were closed and I felt myself slowly yielding to his magical touch. As he kissed along the back of my neck and began to work the other side, I felt his hands wander down my arms, then over my hips, continuing down the outside of my thighs. As he reached the short hem of my dress he grabbed the lacy edge and began to lift, exposing my smooth thighs, inch by inch.

It was all like a dream; all happening so fast. I was lost in a rising tide of arousal and felt my pulse racing and my pussy oozing with anticipation. The sweet smell of my sex permeated the air and surely Michael had to know how turned on I was; how completely his I was. He continued to lift the dress, clearing my ass and hips, then gathered it together in a clump and whispered in my ear.

"Hold this, Molly," he said, handing me the tight wad of cloth.

I clutched my dress with one hand as my other reached back and behind to feel the heft and girth of the denim-clad bulge that I'd felt pressing against my backside. My slender hand felt so tiny and weak against the hard steely strength that lay inside his jeans.

And then, just as I was feeling I couldn't be any more turned on, his right hand reached around and he placed it on the gentle rise of my belly. I gasped audibly as his warm fingers began to slide lower and lower on my tummy; reaching down with purpose as his soft palm cupped the mound of my sex. I spread my legs slightly to allow his large fingers to slip into the tight vee of my crotch. With a subtle come hither motion, he kneaded the moist warm flesh of my labia and brought a soft groan to my lips.

"Oh my God, Michael," was all I could muster, as I pushed my hips forward to let him know I wanted and needed his touch.

He pressed the thin silky fabric of my thong into the well lubricated recesses of my labia, the pad of his middle finger drawing quick circles around the tiny thumb of my center. With little effort, he slid the same finger under my thong, and dipped flesh against flesh. I felt his first digit dip deep and probe the hot slick folds. My hips moved and ground to meet his exploration. Then, as he pulled away for a second and leaned forward to look me in the eyes, he pulled his finger out of my pussy and reached up to put it in his mouth. I watched in awe as he took the same finger that had just been inside me and tasted the juices that he'd collected. He closed his eyes and sucked his middle finger; a sexy smile spreading across his face as he tasted my essence. He slowly withdrew his finger between his puckered lips.

"Oh, Molly. You taste so good, girl. I'm going to have to go to the source for that," he said with wrinkled smile.

"You can taste me all you want, Michael. In fact, you can do anything you want to me," I replied, giving up any semblance of modesty or decorum.

He giggled in that low sexy way he had, making me want to snuggle my ear against his mouth. He reached to my hips and turned me around to face him; me still clutching my dress in a death grip.

"Let's get rid of that. Shall we?" he said emphatically.

It was posed as a question, but it was a clear command. He lifted the crumpled circle of my dress up and over my head and I now stood leaning against the counter edge, naked except for a tiny drenched thong pushed askew. Michael swept the errant strands of hair aside, put his hand behind my neck and pulled me to him for a kiss. We were beyond the soft kissing stage; I was all but naked in front of him now. He opened his mouth wide, as did I, and our tongues swirled and danced and probed. As hard and passionate as his kiss was, there was still a softness to his lips and tongue that belied the innate intensity of our deep open-mouthed kiss. His hands circled down to cup the tight cheeks of my ass and I felt him pull me to him, pulling my mound against the thick presence still hidden in his jeans.

Our kiss broke as he passionately kissed my neck and whispered in my ear, telling me how beautiful I was. My hands wove into the thick hair on the back of his head and pulled his mouth against me. He began to slide down my shoulders, onto my upper chest and eased up with his kisses as he nibbled along the upper slope of my left breast. As he arrived at my nipple, his mouth opened in a wide circle, descending over the entire tip of my breast. I felt the suction as he drew his breath against my flesh, then felt the flat of his tongue as he lashed my rock hard nipple and moaned his approval. He suckled one nipple, then the other, and squeezed the supple cheeks of my ass with his big hands as he did so.

"Oh, yes, Michael. Suck my nipple. Oh fuck! It feels so good, " I moaned.

Suddenly, and unexpectedly, I felt him cup my buttocks hard and lift. I suddenly found myself sitting on the soft blanket as he continued to lick and suck my nipples like he couldn't get enough. He let go long enough to lean behind me and with two quick thrusts of his strong arm, he swept the wood samples onto the floor. They landed with a loud clatter and his sudden intensity scared me a little, but also excited me. He returned to my breasts with a determined look in his gentle eyes. Between his hot panting breath on my soft pink tips and his deep moans of satisfaction, my nipples felt like they were ready to erupt. He cupped my breasts with a hard grip, feeding on me; alternating between violent swirls of his tongue and deep sucks of my entire areolas.

Then he stopped and stood tall, looming over me, standing like a giant between by spread thighs. His eyes never left mine as he hooked his fingers in the slender straps of my thong and pulled down. I moved my legs one at a time to let him have his way. He flung the thong who knows where, looking at me with such deep lust in his eyes. He pushed me back into the middle of the huge counter and lifted and spread my legs. While I felt a little self-conscious being so totally exposed, I was also turned on watching him look at me and smile wantonly at the gaping pink display of my open sex.

"Oh my God, Molly. Your pussy is perfection. Absolute perfection," he crooned in a creamy smooth voice, as he looked at my pussy with a wild aroused look in his eyes.

I couldn't control my hips as they undulated and squirmed; eager for his touch, for his mouth. He leaned down as he gazed happily at my open sluice and patiently began to kiss his way softly up my thighs. I looked down at his dark skin and gray-streaked hair, so sharply contrasting with the milky white cream of my inner thighs. My mind briefly flashed on all the awkward boys who I'd allowed to explore my body, fumbling, lurching, usually drunk, always more interested in themselves than in me. Michael's patience and focus were both refreshing and a gigantic turn-on.

"Kiss me, Michael," I pleaded. "Kiss my pussy. Kiss it. Hurry."

But nothing I said was going to make him hurry. I leaned back on both elbows to watch his advance. He was on a blissful pace that continued to ratchet up my state of arousal. My lower body was constantly in motion, doing its best to lure him into me, to draw him into my center. I felt his warm breath on my distended lips as his mouth passed inches from the gaping flower of my cunt. I reached down with one hand to open myself to him; to lure him in; to let him know what he could have. I pulled the hood back and showed him my tight glistening cunt. I finally lay back, comfortable in the knowledge that he was close, so close, to devouring my pussy.

And when I felt that first long lick of his tongue, sliding slowly along the length of my juice-laden slit, I knew I was in for a treat like no other I'd ever experienced. Michael was going to make love to my cunt with his mouth; and I was going to focus on the incredible pleasure that was permeating every cell of my core. I placed my hands lightly on his head; not so much to guide as to feel his movements as he explored and probed my pussy. His tongued curved and cradled my clit, as I felt his upper lips come down to join in a pursed sucking of my sensitive nub. After a few wet passes along my fleshy crease, he leaned back with a smile. His lips were wet from me.

"Your pussy is so smooth, Molly. Did you shave?" Michael asked.

"I did," I admitted.

"For me?"

"Yes, Michael. Just for you. I wanted to be smooth for you," I replied. "Suck me."

"Open your lips for me, Molly," he commanded.

I was still a bit embarrassed, but far too turned on to resist such a demand. I reached both hands down and spread my lips so he could see my innermost core. I watched him as he watched me. I knew I was wet and pink and glistening.

"That may be the most beautiful pussy I have ever seen, Molly. Do you know how gorgeous you are down there?" he queried.

"Mmhmm," was all I could muster in reply.

I lay there on my back, my legs spread, knees up, fingers framing my pink treasure. Michael bent down, but surprised me, by kissing and licking my fingers and hand rather than my pussy. Suddenly he took my middle finger into his mouth and began to suck on it. I couldn't believe the jolt of arousal that spiraled right down to my pussy. He was sucking my finger, but it was my clit that was throbbing. He continued to kiss and suck my fingers, one after the other, along their length, then licked between them. He kissed my wrists, then went back to my fingers, as I rubbed myself and fingered my loose wet lips and opened my cunt to Michael and his mouth and his eyes. .

Never had I been with a man so attuned to finding my sensitive spots; each and every one; some I didn't even know I had. It seemed as if his antennae were on overdrive and picking up on every signal my body emitted. If he tried something and he didn't get a positive response, he moved onto the next thing. And when he did strike a chord, he continued and explored and improvised; then came back to that spot later. He was totally lost in me and my pleasure; a lover for the ages.

"God, Michael," I whispered. "I've never had anyone suck my fingers before. That feels unbelievable," I offered.

He smiled at me, knowingly, as he paused and pulled back.

"Stick a finger inside, Molly. Deep," he commanded.

I did as I was told, totally aroused by the fact that he was watching my finger disappear into my tight pink hole. I sunk my middle digit in as far as it would go; amazed at how tight and warm and wet my hole felt. Then I withdrew it slowly, knowing full well what he would do. I pointed it at his mouth and, never leaving my gaze, he opened wide, took the whole thing in his mouth, and closed his lips around the base of my glistening finger. Slowly and seductively, he pulled back, inch by inch. I could feel his tongue washing over my fingertip, tasting my juices. I could not believe how sensuous it was; how amazingly good it felt.