The Professor Ch. 03

They'd been at his house, and he was showing her his tool shop. She'd looked over some of the work he'd done, and jokingly, kind of, asked about bondage-type furniture.

Later, she showed him some examples from online catalogs. She'd apparently been looking at them for a while. He looked them over, checked the prices and particulars, and then he rather casually told her he could simply make something custom, or adapt something, with no real problem. A chair, maybe. Her eyes flashed open and she got terribly excited with the idea.

They'd actually gone shopping for furniture, after a while of pillow talk and discussion, and eventually had found the exact, delightful piece in an out-of-the-way, dusty antique mall. They'd picked it out together. It was an older, maybe early 20th Century, chair. It was finely fitted with wide arms and a low back, a sort of captain's chair. She'd loved it immediately.

He remembered with amusement and a little embarrassment how she'd placed herself in it backwards, trying it for fit, and how they'd discussed in low tones and almost giggling whispers what he could do to make it more comfortable, or perhaps effective? The piece hadn't been in the greatest of condition, but he was glad of that; it would have been a shame to attack or even refinish a truly nice chair, but this one was absolutely perfect for their purpose. Loose joints and bad finish, some damage, all repairable but disqualifying it from heirloom status. He liked it, and she loved it. She'd stroked the seat with her hand when he carried it out to his truck, smiling softly to herself.

He had his shop set up in a heated half part of his garage, his sort of guy den, complete with beer fridge. She'd come over while he worked on the chair. He remembered how amused he was when she brought over a bottle of fine wine and, smiling, placed it in his guy fridge, staking her claim.

He took the chair apart, dismantling it (that disappointed her, but it had to be done) and then, to her fascination, fitted it to her body. She'd placed herself in it, facing to the back, over and over, while he felt and rubbed and planed and sanded and buffed, until the seat, the arms, even the legs fit her form perfectly.

Some evenings they didn't get much done past the first test, instead fucking violently in the house.

By mutual agreement, although it was tough, they didn't use the chair. It had to be totally finished and done before they used it, and the agreement lent a sense of anticipation and torment to their companionship and sex life.

At one point, he went to her place, and she produced a set of small, loop-style nipple clamps, and insisted her put them on her. She wriggled and squirmed and cried while he fucked her, and when they tightened and pulled at her large, round breasts she gasped and pushed back onto his cock frantically.

That little discovery had led to a slight delay on the chair work, while he fitted a sort of contoured wood bracket to the back, set in a slot to be removable, with a fitting to hold the chain for nipple clamps.

When she tried that arrangement, while he measured and fitted, she'd gotten so excited, and him as well, they almost broke their agreement. But they managed by a split hair: she'd grasped the seat, kneeling but not sitting in the chair, while he fucked her from behind. She'd put her face on the smoothly finished, hand-rubbed and sensual surface, and cried out in stunned release.

Images flitted and flickered in his mind as the beautiful woman in front of him sucked him, licking inside her mouth as he pushed and retreated, placing his desperately throbbing cock into her welcoming mouth. He leaned over some, pushing deeper into her mouth, and looked down at her ass, the fine globes criss-crossed with slightly colored markings. The sight sent him completely over his personal edge, and without being even slightly able to control it he came. His orgasm was intense and exhausting, forcing his back to spasm and his knees to shake violently.

He moaned loudly, exclaiming and exhaling deeply as his cock spurted come in her mouth. She rolled the back of her tongue around on the very tip of his cock while he came, and the effect was so spectacular it created a near pain. He couldn't help it, couldn't stop himself, and he stuffed his cock all the way in her mouth, gagging her. He heard her make a sound, and tried to withdraw, but she stopped making the noise and took him all the way in, voluntarily surrendering. He pumped the last of his come directly down her throat as she swallowed frantically, moaning around the shaft of his cock.

When he was completely done and leaning forcefully into her mouth, he finally, slowly, stepped back and withdrew his cock. He could hear her breathing through her nose, gently, and as he slipped all the way out she followed his cock with her tongue, extending and flicking until his ultimately sensitive tip was beyond her reach.

She tipped her head back and exposed her throat. She opened her mouth and showed him his gift, and he watched as she swallowed all of him, her throat muscles delicately contracting and sliding. She closed her mouth and lowered her head. She squirmed a little, shifting her ass on the fine chair.

When he managed to calm himself enough to hear her voice, the words made his blood thump and his heart race, despite his feeling of sexual exhaustion.

She said, "Thank you, sir."