Auto-Correct: The Truth in the Typo

"Ahhh!" I cried as he worked on my now pained nub.

And then the sensations shifted again, from pain back to pleasure as he kept licking, kept nibbling, refusing to let go of his new toy.

"It will be a while before I can come again," I warned Marco, now that I could speak.

"That's fine," Marco muttered into my pussy. "I just want to enjoy this for a while, please?"

I relaxed, "Ok."

No longer feeling the urgency to cum, and allow Marco to be done, I just enjoyed the feeling of his tongue on my pussy while gently massaging my breasts. I was rather amazed that it really seemed that Marco loved licking my vulva for no reason other than just enjoying the taste and feel of it.

Considering how much I enjoyed sucking on a cock, I guess it shouldn't have been too surprising that he'd like the converse. Still, none of my past boyfriends had been so interested in cunnilingus, always acting like it was a chore. I'd been OK with that, but I was rapidly having an epiphany. This was amazing and I didn't want to give it up.

Marco didn't seem to get tired of paying lavish oral attention to my pussy, which he explored thoroughly. I don't know how long it took, at least twenty minutes I figured, but I came again. This time a much larger gush of fluid spurt out of me than I was used to.

"Whoa!" I exclaimed.

Marco swallowed what landed in his mouth and busily went after any spills, cum trickling down my thighs was licked up quickly. Most amazing to me, my clit no longer felt overly sensitive, so I let Marco keep going, since he still seemed interested in it.

"Marco..." I sighed happily, "You are incredible."

(Marco)

My knees were killing me, but it had been worth it. Maybe next time we could find a more comfortable position. Because I wanted nothing more than to spend hours lost in Liz's pussy. It was, as far as I was concerned, the most perfect example of a pussy I'd ever had the pleasure to eat. And her cum tasted delicious, as I'd managed to confirm four times on Saturday.

"Have a good weekend?" Benson asked with a smirk Monday morning.

"Yes," I replied happily.

"Morning!" Liz called as she came in the lab to go over what needed to get done that week.

"Good morning, beautiful," Benson said with a wink.

Liz frowned at him, which filled my heart with joy. Yes, Benson might be a handsome young man with more charisma than was fair, but I was going to win this battle for Liz's heart. I was feeling really smug, and then it all went wrong.

Setting her shoulders, Liz said, "Benson, let's keep our relationship professional, please."

"I assure you, that I can flirt and be professional. So, there's really no reason not to mix business and pleasure."

Liz rolled her eyes, "Yes, you're cute and I've recently amended my position on inter-office romances," Benson beamed, then Liz continued, "but I'm actually already dating someone, so please respect that."

Benson gave a conspiratorial wink, "Ah, but this mysterious boyfriend isn't here, is he?"

Liz smiled, "Actually, he is."

It took about ten seconds for Benson to reach the correct conclusion. He turned to me in shock, and I had this terrible feeling of premonition that asking him for advice on Friday had been a very bad idea.

"Liz is the woman you asked me to help you seduce?" He said unnecessarily loudly, and with feigned disapproval.

"Wait, what?" Liz cut in before I could say anything.

Benson gave me a pointed look before slapping an innocent expression back on his face and turning to face Liz, "Marco said he needed help getting in some tart's pants."

I could actually feel as the blood drained from my face, "Liz, no! That's not what..."

"So, Benson is the reason for all this?" Liz waved her hand at me, "This haircut and the clothes? The flowers? You just wanted to get lucky? Is that all I am to you?"

With each word, her voice rose in volume, and Benson's smirk grew. I opened my mouth but could not think of anything rational to say. At moments like these, when words failed and emotions ran strong, I resorted to the problem-solving method of a childhood spent in the barrios of Mexico City. Benson didn't see the upper cut that knocked him on his ass, but I took great pleasure in seeing him fly backward.

"Marco!" Liz exclaimed in shock.

Ah, her expression was not so pleasant to consider.

"Benson is a miserable, conniving, manslut." I said angrily, "And a liar too!"

I instantly regretted my choice of words as I saw Liz's face whiten. Too late, I remembered her moment of vulnerability on Saturday, her fear of being considered a slut. I should have used any other word to insult Benson, but not that one.

"Liz, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that."

"Get out," Liz hissed. "I don't want to see you again today, and I'm not sure about tomorrow either. You'll be lucky if Benson doesn't press charges."

I nodded; she was right. I'd let my anger ruin everything.

"I... I care about you, Liz. I want a lot more from you than just sex," I said, and then I left to consider where it had all gone wrong.

(Liz)

It broke my heart to see Marco's pained face as he slumped his shoulders and left the lab. I had been upset with him, true, but his last words to me melted my heart. And, I would never admit it, but it had been very impressive to see him knock out Benson. I think I soaked my panties.

Still, it was best for him to go so I could get the situation under control and do my best to keep Benson from pressing charges, if he was so inclined. So, I sent Marco away, thinking I hated him.

On the floor, Benson stirred.

"What happened?" he asked blearily.

I suddenly had a wonderful idea. I cradled my hand as if it hurt and wrapped it in my shirt to hide the total lack of damage to it.

"I hit you," I said. "I'm so sorry, I was just upset, and I was aiming for Marco, but you like, were in the way somehow?"

Benson smiled, "You were trying to hit Marco?"

"Well, I got over it, so don't get any ideas," I said, exasperated.

This was ridiculous. How on Earth I'd become the middle of some sort of love triangle was beyond me. If Benson was a reasonable sort of man, I could simply tell him I wasn't interested. He seemed to be the type that took that as a personal challenge, however.

"Look, Benson," I tried to think of something that would be meaningful to him, "if you can't stop flirting with me, or whatever, I'm going to have to kick you off this team. While that may not be a big deal for you, it's a big deal for me. There are no other technicians available, and I really need this project to go well. So, if you care about me at all," which felt very weird to say to a man I'd just met, but it was worth a try, "you'll just keep your head down and get this work done. Can you do that for me?"

Benson rubbed his jaw, on which a bruise was already forming. He grabbed a lab wipe and spit a glob of blood into it. He considered thoughtfully, "Yeah, Ok. I can be good. But, after this project, no promises."

I sighed, it was good enough for now, "Fine."

That settled, I sent Benson home for the day too. I was sure that getting knocked unconscious required some sort of recovery. It had never happened to me, but apparently Benson had experience with this sort of thing because he insisted that he didn't need to go to the hospital and would be fine. I guess that getting knocked out was a frequent risk of indiscriminately hitting on every woman he met.

Taking out my phone, I texted Marco.

Me: I told Benson that I hit him. Don't let him see your hand if it's hurt, OK?

Marco: Si, Jefa. Please forgive me.

I stared at my phone screen for a long time, feeling completely confused about everything. I really wanted to just type, "yes, forgiven," and get back to enjoying the many benefits of dating Marco: free home repair, food, fun conversation, an anime watching companion, and last but not least, amazing pussy licking. On the other hand, what I'd feared had happened in a far more explosive way than I'd imagined, my romantic life had interfered with my work. And worse, was the expression of disgust on Marco's face when he'd called Benson a slut. That was hard to forget.

(Marco)

When Benson showed up for work on Tuesday morning, he had a lumpy bruise on the right side of his jaw.

"Morning," he commented as he walked over next to me, waiting to be told what to do.

"Morning," I said, then instructed, "Go cut all those samples into one-inch by three-inch rectangles."

Benson nodded, took the material, and went to the other side of the lab, where he settled in quietly and got started. I eyed him warily. I didn't trust this new quiet, focused attitude from him. At any moment, I expected him to say something about Liz, and I was still buzzing with tension after she'd left my text unanswered yesterday and avoided me this morning by showing up later than normal.

"I know you're the one who hit me," Benson said an hour later, breaking the silence.

"What?"

"Liz said she hit me, but it was you. I may not have seen it coming, but I can see which side of my face the bruise is on, and I know where I was standing. You were on my right, Liz on my left. No way she hit me like she said and gave me this bruise," Benson pointed at his chin.

"And?" I prompted, irritated with this pointless denouement.

"And I'm not mad."

I barked a short laugh, "Do you think I care if you're mad?"

Benson narrowed his eyes at me, "I guess not."

This time, the silence only lasted about ten minutes before Benson broke it again.

"You're in trouble with Liz, you know."

"No shit. Thank you for that, by the way."

"I can help you fix it," Benson offered.

I glared at him, "First, it's your fault in the first place that I'm in trouble. Second, what makes you think you can fix anything? Third, why should I trust you?"

Benson, sensing conflict - from which he apparently gained energy, smiled, "First, you should have told me you were chasing Liz. Second, I can fix any relationship problem," he winked, "and third, because what do you have to lose?"

I put my hands on the lab bench in front of me and pressed against it, easing some of the tension in my arms. I closed my eyes and bent my head, then took a couple deep breaths. I considered Benson my nemesis. What did I have to lose at this point?

I snapped open my eyes and glared at the young man who'd first accelerated, then destroyed my budding romance with Liz.

"Fine," I growled.

Irritatingly, Benson grinned with unfeigned good cheer. I frowned at him, which made him grin wider. I fought against the urge to smile back unsuccessfully. At least, I told myself, if he'd managed to get me to forgive him in less than two hours, he should be able to fix my dilemma with Liz within a week. Women are better at holding a grudge, though, so I tried not to feel too hopeful as Benson explained what I had to do.

(Liz)

I was miserable. I missed Marco. I missed the close bond we had working together, our banter and our daily conversations as we worked.

There had been none of that this week as I'd avoided the lab, instead sending instructions via email. I'd even started leaving early just to miss Marco's end of day check-ins. This was precisely the reason I had not wanted to date a coworker.

By the time the weekend rolled around I was exhausted, just from the emotional load of it all. I lay in bed and felt terribly sorry for myself, not even motivated to get up and eat. Instead, I read through that old text thread with Marco that started it all and listened to my stomach grumble while my pussy fluttered, every part of my body in need.

Finally, around the middle of the day I rolled out of bed, put on a big puffy robe over my pajamas, and shuffled into the kitchen. I opened my refrigerator and stared at the shelves, empty of anything but condiments and soda. I closed the door and opened it again, convinced something new and appetizing would appear.

I was startled from my investigation of the fridge by the ring of my doorbell. My heart thudded, driven by the unreasonable fantasy that it was Marco. But there was no reason for him to be here. Still, I thrilled with excitement as I went to the door. Looking through the window, I saw him.

Immediately, I realized that I was not nearly presentable for company, and neither was my house, as I'd not been keeping up with cleaning over the past week. I was torn between the desire to fling open the door, and the opposing urge to run back to my room and pretend I wasn't home.

The indecision lasted long enough for Marco to glance at the window next to the door and meet my stare. Pretending was no longer an option. I held up a hand and waved my fingers with a small smile. Marco's answering wide grin stopped my heart. I had missed that smile. Sighing, wishing I was dressed better, I opened the door.

Marco took in my disheveled appearance uncritically and thrust forward the bundle in his arms, "I brought menudo!"

My stomach rumbled loudly at this announcement, "Thank you."

Marco walked in like a man coming home, immediately gathering everything he needed to serve the hearty stew that he'd brought. The smell made my mouth water and the sight of him made me drool. Literally, I drooled a little, I realized with embarrassment.

Seeing me standing there, stupefied, Marco gestured that I should go sit down at my small table. I did. He set a steaming bowl in front of me, along with a bolillo and a glass of water. Then, he sat down on his side and pointed at my bowl with his spoon.

"Eat," he said with a goofy grin.

"Ok."

"I missed you in the lab, and in your office, this week," Marco said after I'd consumed half of my food.

My cheeks burned with embarrassment. My brain still felt foggy and slow, and I couldn't think of anything to say.

Marco put down his spoon and looked at me seriously, "Liz, I am sorry for the trouble I caused at work. It was unacceptable and it will never happen again."

I blinked at Marco. Was he talking to me as his boss, or his lover? As I contemplated how to respond appropriately, he started speaking again.

(Marco)

Liz didn't respond to my apology, just stared at me. She hadn't said more than two words since I'd shown up, actually. I couldn't stand it. It was time to bring the big guns.

"You know the comic convention next month?" I asked.

Liz nodded.

"I was wondering if you'd like to go with me?"

Liz cocked her head, her eyes narrowed. I'd give anything to read her mind right now. Benson had insisted that the way to redemption is through shared interests, a mutual adventure. I hoped he was right.

"Are you asking me to cosplay with you?" She finally asked.

Having spent several hours this week trying to figure out what Liz would like, I now knew what cosplay was. It looked like a particularly humiliating form of emasculation that I would normally avoid with prejudice. At this moment however, it seemed a fitting atonement for my transgressions.

"Yes," I said firmly. I had considered that she'd ask for this concession, and I even had a plan already formulated. "I was thinking that we could go as Vegeta and Bulma. And to prepare, of course we would need to watch every episode of Dragon Ball and Dragon Ball Z, together."

Liz raised her eyebrows and her mouth twitched in a very encouraging manner, "Would we?"

I nodded earnestly, "Yes, absolutely. We must study our characters."

Liz laughed, and my remaining anxiety bled away.

"Alright, it's a date. Or, I guess, a series of dates," her cheeks flushed as she shook her head as if in incredulity that she'd agreed to my suggestion.

Her mussed hair, fuzzy robe, and frumpy wrinkled pajamas made her look more adorable than I'd ever seen her at work. I was glad to have caught her in this moment of authenticity. I hoped to see her this way much more often.

"Do you sew?" Liz asked curiously after a little quiet had passed.

"No, but my niece is a dressmaker. She is always making costumes for the kids in the family for Halloween and school plays too. I already asked her if she'd help me out."

Liz's eyes opened wide as she considered the implications of this suggestion. I'd already considered it. Yes, I wanted her to meet my family. I was ready, already.

"Ok," Liz said quietly, an expression I'd never seen on her before crossed her face.

It was nervousness, I realized, "They're going to love you," I assured her.

Liz looked at me, a question in her eyes, "And you? Are you going to love me?"

The urge to blurt 'yes' was overpowering, but I resisted. Liz wouldn't trust such a glib reply, not so soon in our courtship, no matter how strongly I felt about her. She was analytical and cautious and didn't trust deep emotion that built quickly.

So, I took her hand in mine and tried to explain my heart on her terms, "I've known you a long time, Liz. Worked with you every day, respected you, admired you. I've laughed with you, shared stories of my life and dreams with you. I have loved you as a friend, and I am prepared to love you in any way you'll have me."

Liz stilled as she listened to me, feeling each of my words with their full force, absolutely focused on me and what I was saying. It was this intensity that made her a good researcher, I knew. And when she turned her focus on me, it was like being seen as never before. I'd always appreciated that, and even more so now.

"I..." Liz paused and considered, "I missed you this week and I should not like to miss you again."

For me, sweeter words had never been spoken. It was typical of this woman to demand truth and vulnerability yet give hardly anything in return. It could have been discouraging, and it would have been if I didn't know her so well. From Liz, this simple declaration spoke of a hidden depth of feelings. And I vowed to coax them out of her.

(Liz)

I felt lame, responding to Marco's beautiful words with such a pathetic proclamation. Here he was, showing up with food, an invitation to cosplay and to meet his family, a statement that was practically a declaration of love, and I'd said I missed him. Dumb.

I just couldn't seem to get out any of the other words I'd been thinking. I'd been thinking that it felt like my heart was being squeezed in a vise while I was avoiding him. I'd been thinking that I never wanted to feel that way again. I'd been thinking that it was stupid to fall in love so quickly, and who knows if that was really what this feeling was anyway? So, I'd said the first thing that came to mind, the easy thing.

Surprisingly, Marco didn't seem disappointed.

"Excellent," he replied. "Let's get this Dragon Ball marathon started!"

I followed as Marco lead the way to the couch, already taking over the space as if he belonged there, and I liked it. I wondered what his house looked like, though.

"Maybe tomorrow, we can watch it at your house?" I suggested.

Marco looked back at me and grinned, "Curious to see how I live?"

I nodded, "Yeah. I want to know if you're a slob before I get too invested."

"It's too late," Marco said with a cheeky grin, "you're already invested."

My heart lurched my groin fluttered. He was right. I tried to imagine stopping this, whatever this was, just because his house was a mess. I couldn't. What I did imagine, on the other hand, was telling him needed to clean if he wanted to ever get his tongue on my clit again, and then I would watch him do it, my pussy tingling all the while, dying to give him his reward.

I flushed as the scene played out in my mind, and it only got worse when I saw Marco looking at me quizzically. He'd stopped in the hall during our conversation, and I pushed passed him now and sat down on the couch purposefully. Banning my naughty thoughts, I turned on the TV and started up Dragon Ball.