Caring for Sheridan Manor Pt. 02

Thank you all for your positive feedback on the first part of this story! Hoping to get more up sooner rather than later.

-

Monday morning, I came back to what felt like an entirely different Sheridan Manor. The visit with my brother was nice and uneventful, only a few fights picked between extended family, and I was ready to return to the place I'd come to think of as my home in addition to my work. Construction crews had taken over the house. Scaffolding had gone up around the edges as they reinforced walls that threatened to crumble and re-faced windows that couldn't open.

I had to admit that I was nervous to see Sophie. I may have played confident -- and, sure, my skills had yet to disappoint -- but it wasn't exactly in character for me to pin a girl who'd never even had sex with another girl up against a wall and give her an orgasm before heading home. She didn't even have my phone number, for God's sake. I didn't know her favorite color or where she'd gone to college or if she had any siblings. Even a hookup from the local lesbian bar usually began with an hour of conversation and a few drinks before I had them climaxing around my fingers. Plus, I had no idea what she wanted or how this would affect things. Did she want a one-time confidence boost? Was she hoping for a girlfriend? She wasn't even out; would I have to help her through that?

Christ, I sounded like a teenager.

I shook the thoughts out of my head and pushed into my cottage around the back so I could get ready for work. Spring meant pulling up dead roots and planting new life in their place. Hours and hours hunched over earning a new neck tan and enjoying the dirt between my fingers and under my nails. I had to scrub for ages in the shower until my skin felt just a bit raw to get it all off at the end of the day. That slight sting always made me feel alive.

Half an hour later, I had on my trusty black tee, old loose blue jeans, work boots, and scrunched-up hair. The air in the greenhouse was delicious after even a few days away; it was earthy and soft and humid. I decided to dig into work instead of dwelling on Sophie. I didn't even want to talk with any of my fellow workers; what if they could sense the change in the air? I shook out the thoughts just as I shook the roots of a new plant for the front flower beds.

After prepping all my flower transplants, I took them in a wheelbarrow toward the main house, breathing mindfully as I approached the construction crews and other employees. I got down on my knees and started digging out the holes where the flowers would take root. The construction crew working on the upper floor windows shouted and clanged so loud it was hard for me to get into the flow of my favorite time of year.

Still, I kept my head down.

Around high noon, the moment I'd been dreading (and silently wishing for, deep down) came.

A soft, delicate hand found itself on my shoulder.

I turned toward her face, which blocked out the bright sun and created a halo around her blonde hair. Christ, she looked like some vintage Hollywood starlet. My heart skipped in my chest without my permission or thought. Today, she wore another one of those damn pantsuits that would dry me up on anyone else. This one was full secretary: Gray woolen houndstooth, ruffly white button-up, black nylon tights, kitten heels. She wore a deep, almost wine-colored red lip instead of her usual pink. I wondered, absently, if she'd done that to look sexy for me.

Her smile bloomed when our eyes met. "It's good to see you again, Ros. We all missed you over the weekend."

"Oh yeah?" I stood up, wiped the dirt on my jeans, and took her in properly. "Even you?"

She took a step closer and, for a split second, I thought she might kiss me then and there. But, of course, she didn't. She wouldn't. I wished she would. Instead, she whispered, "Especially me."

I grinned. "Good. Looks like they're making some solid progress on the place."

She practically squealed. "You should see the work I've been doing on the interior! This is the first time I've been collecting and designing it all myself. Everything is so stunning. The main bedrooms are nearly ready for the open house next weekend. We're going to get this place sold in no time."

That thought made me sad, naturally, as did every sale of the house over the years. But that was beside the point. She was proud, and I didn't need to take away from that -- especially since the way she brimmed with delight was so cute. I said, "If you're in charge, I'm sure it's all going to be as gorgeous as you are."

Her cheeks turned rosy, which only made me smile more. Sophie shook her head in a way that reminded me of an hour ago. Getting rid of the thoughts that made her nervous. After a few awkward beats between us, she offered, "Do you want a tour? Nobody has let me gush about all the pieces we've picked out, but I have a feeling you might."

"Happy to let you gush."

She turned around as her cheeks reddened further. I followed her up the marble steps -- their cracks and chips expertly filled in now -- and through the front door. I stopped by the first bathroom before the grand staircase to wash the dirt off my hands. Never know when you might need clean fingers.

Sophie led me up the curving stairs to the lofted entryway, then down the east wing of the manor toward the more opulent master suite. Along the way, she pointed at newly installed crystal light features, paintings by local artists I'd never heard of, wallpaper sourced from lands far away, excited to share every little detail with me. Even though I didn't know much about that sort of thing, I had to admit I was impressed by her sense of style. She hadn't turned the storied old home into a tacky beige nightmare like so many of the "renovations" around here. The pieces were period-accurate or close to it and fit naturally into the history and energy I'd come to love.

We reached the master suite and I took in a deep breath. "Wow, Sophie, this is just..."

The room had gone from an abandoned space full of potential to a cozy, elegant bedroom. The sweeping canopy bed had sheer drapery and emerald pillows. A stunning vanity with a mirror nearly to the ceiling sat opposite the bed, its dark wood carved into whorls and flora. Even the area rug felt lush and clean while being antique.

Sophie ran her hand over the silken emerald bedspread. "Isn't it, though? I'm very proud of this one. Hopefully everyone will love it as much as I do."

"I can't imagine how they wouldn't," I replied, and I wasn't lying to be nice. "You've got a real eye for this stuff."

She turned to me with a nervous smile and took my hand after checking nobody had followed us down the corridor. "Really? Dad thinks I'm too much of a maximalist. Says nobody likes clutter anymore."

"No, no," I assured her, "he probably thinks a house shouldn't look lived in. You've made it feel alive in here again."

She kissed me.

I pulled back from her, surprised, and held her shoulders.

She stammered, "Oh, I'm sorry, is that not okay? I just thought after-"

I kissed her back, this time ready for it and wanting it. Her lipstick tasted like strawberry as it mixed with my chapstick. I noticed immediately that she'd gained confidence over the weekend. Her lips urged mine forward. Her tongue gently but insistently played with mine. When I grabbed her lower lip between my teeth, she gasped with anticipatory pleasure but didn't pull away or yelp. And when my hand snaked back behind her head and grabbed a fistful of her hair, she ground her body into mine.

She shrugged off her jacket and it fell lazily to the floor behind her. I separated my lips from hers so that I could watch as my fingers freed those perfect breasts of hers. Today she'd worn an angelic white lacy bra: Not a push-up this time but unlined, and that was so much sexier. Her breasts were small -- maybe a full A cup -- but the way they sat so perky and soft on her chest made them divine. The outline of her soft pink areola was visible through the mesh and lace. My mouth watered thinking of her surely matching underwear.

I went to take off her bra so that I could start working on her breasts but she took my chin in her hand. "Wait."

I hummed, "What is it? Everything okay?"

Her eyes searched mine. I could tell she wanted to say something but was too nervous. Instead of pushing her, I just gave her time. And I was rewarded with the sweetest words ever to grace my ears.

"I want you to teach me," Sophie said breathlessly, her hair messy and her lipstick smudged and looking sexier than I'd ever seen a woman. She said it in this sweet, borderline virginal way that made my knees weak. "I want to make you feel the way you made me feel."

As much as it turned me on, the thought also took me back for a second. Usually, I filled a role I was comfortable with. Butch-ish top. I liked to get girls off and rarely accepted the same in return. Receiving just wasn't even close to the top of my to-do list when I had some beautiful horny thing spread out on my bed. I liked to watch her writhe and shake and beg, but I didn't love to end up in that vulnerable, thoughtless state myself.

At least, not usually.

Because she'd never done this before, and she wanted to do it for me, and that made her special.

Fuck.

I couldn't resist her.

"Well, I started, my insides all shuddering and nervous all of a sudden like I hadn't felt since my first kiss with a girl, "okay then."

I reached down to undo my jeans, but she stopped me again.

"Let me."

It was a command, but it sounded more like begging. I didn't stop her. Sophie's hand -- I noticed that she'd cut her glittery nails short and almost laughed -- traced down the sides of my tee. She was methodical and gentle and my breath caught in my throat with every single touch. She found the hem of my shirt. I lifted up my arms and helped her get it over my head, where it joined her blazer on the shiny wood floor.

I didn't exactly feel sexy as she revealed my old gray Nike sports bra, but she swallowed hard and her eyes opened wide. For a second, she was frozen. I took that small opportunity to keep my dominance and shimmied the bra over my head, tossing it across the room.

My breasts were probably twice the size of hers. I wore something like a 38C, but the last time I'd been fitted for a real bra with clasps and everything had been years ago. No matter what, I was thicker, fuller, rounder, and more muscular all around. As I kicked out of my jeans to reveal boyshorts underwear on sloped hips, she looked at my body with a reverence usually reserved for sculptures.

Gently, trying to make it sound certain, Sophie said, "Lay down."

I tried not to laugh at how sweet it was to see her 'taking charge.' I obliged, sitting back on the soft duvet. I stared at the ceiling for a second and took a deep breath. Then she went for my underwear.

I touched her cheek and said, "Slow down."

She looked up at me almost hurt. "What?"

"You said you wanted me to teach you, so learn. You have to go slow. Make them want it." My voice wavered because, God, I already wanted it so, so much. But you can't send a baby dyke out into the world thinking she should go straight for the belt every time. So I continued, "Get on top of me and kiss me, go to my neck, my breasts, my stomach. Slow. Don't leave anything untouched."

Sophie nodded seriously, like it was an assignment, and dropped off her shirt, wearing only the bra and skirt now. She climbed onto the bed next to me and straddled me. From this angle, her breasts pointed outward and her lips seemed plumper. Great view. Really, really great.

It took her a few seconds to get up the courage to touch me in earnest.

When she did, though, it took my breath away. Not that she had the most confidence or skill or anything, but just that she did it with so much curiosity and intention that I felt like the only person who existed. She bent down and pressed her lips to my neck, her mouth closed at first. She kissed just under my ear, then at the place where my heartbeat pulsed.

I breathed, "You should suck, not kiss. And even bite a little, if you feel like it."

Her mouth opened against my skin and her tongue traced down the salty line of my tendon. She sucked just above the hollow of my collarbone and a shockwave went straight to my already throbbing cunt. There's something so godly about a girl exploring you for the first time. She bit me gently, sweetly, but when I moaned she did it again, harder.

I didn't even notice myself saying, "That's a good girl."

I felt her lips curl into a small smile as she continued. When she'd finished with my neck, she moved to my breasts, immediately sucking on my nipple and palming the other.

"Slow," I reminded.

So she took in a breath and twirled her tongue around my right nipple until it hardened and wrinkled in her mouth. Then she did the other. Then she sucked a bit. She looked up at me for approval, her big green eyes piercing into mine, and I practically came right there. How did she manage to look so innocent and so devious and so absolutely, stunningly slutty all at once? With my nipple in her mouth, no other thoughts could make their way through my brain.

I nodded and affirmed, "Harder. You won't hurt me. And don't forget the other one."

Sophie was damn good at taking directions. She sucked on my right nipple harder now and reached her hand up to twist the other. I encouraged her to do it harder and harder until she reached that perfect place where pain intersected with pleasure. She moaned around my tit, knowing that she'd found it because my hips ground up into her and my own mouth opened up into a gasping circle.

Using her fingers on both my nipples now, she kissed and licked and sucked and bit her way down my stomach, leaving small red marks along the top of my pubic hair. The bedroom door was still open but neither of us noticed or cared as she finally, slowly, agonizingly slowly, pulled my underwear down my legs.

She beamed like this was the greatest accomplishment of her life as she said, "You're wet."

"No shit," I chuckled. "Do you want to finger me or go down on me?"

"I want everything," she replied, breathless at the sight of her first ever pussy spread open, nearly dripping, for her. A tiny bit of mischief twinkled in her eye. "I'm in charge now."

I raised my hands up and laughed, "Alright, boss."

Sophie looked between my open legs. I swear I could see her heart beating through her chest, which flamed pink. "You don't shave," she mused, almost to herself, not quite ready to touch me. I didn't push her, much as I wanted to.

"I don't like to look like a preteen; I want to look like a woman," I replied honestly. "Does that bother you?"

"Not at all. I think it's kind of hot, actually."

"Good." I'd thought about shaving in case this happened, honestly, but it just wasn't me. "And you keep yours however you want. Doesn't change how pussy tastes."

"Right."

I could tell she was trying to get up her courage, so I softly said, "You can just explore. Don't worry about getting me off or being judged. Pay attention to how I move and sound. Just play. Have fun."

She smiled at me one last time before diving in. She must've done some research because she started with my clit, finding it naturally. Her tongue traced a searching, questioning circle. I made sure to give her lots of feedback by breathing and moaning when she did well. Which she did. She discovered every millimeter of my pussy with her mouth before deciding on a direction. Her tongue tasted the opening of my entrance, plunged inside a moment, and trailed close to my asshole. She enjoyed every second, which only brought me both mentally and physically to another level of pleasure. Nothing got me off like my partner really and truly having fun.

I was more than impressed as her explorations and curiosity turned into exactly what I needed. Using just a bit of pressure and sucking a tiny bit at the same time, her tongue found a home right beneath the hood of my clit on the most sensitive bundle of nerves. I felt myself get wetter and she groaned as she tasted it.

"Now," I gasped through breaths, "now slip two fingers inside. Curl them, don't thrust. You can tell if I'm getting close based on the clenching. When you feel it tightening up hard, stay at that exact pace. Don't speed up at all. Tease it out. Don't rush it."

She pulled back a tiny bit to respond but I grabbed her hair and pushed her face back in, which she didn't mind at all. In fact, it made her more insistent with me, more eager to earn my orgasm. She moaned against my cunt and slipped in her two middle fingers. They curled inside, just about brushing my cervix and hitting the spongy wall inside. She curled them in time with the insistent, firm thrumming on my clit, ushered on as I couldn't help but thrust my hips back to meet her pace.

In another few moments, my cunt began to clench up around her fingers and she sped up for a split second, excited, before remembering what I said. She kept her pace again as the sparks built in my stomach, then lower, then lower, then exploding into the waves of pleasure that I so rarely let myself have.

"Don't stop yet," I cried through the orgasm and she obeyed, pumping her fingers and sucking my clit until I couldn't take it anymore and tapped on her arm.

She bounded forward and kissed me, clearly proud of herself. I tasted my own tartness on her lips and let my breaths slow down as she kissed all over my face. When I'd caught my breath, she asked carefully, "Was that good?"

I laughed. "Very good, especially for your first time." I pulled in a deep breath and kissed her forehead, tasting her salty sweat. She snuggled into me, kissing my neck and shoulder over and over. "I'm certain we can get you all the way to greatness if we keep at it."

She pressed her forehead into my arm and giggled, "I'd like that."

"You know what I'd like?"

Sophie looked up at me once again, those green eyes killing me every time, and asked, "What?"

I flipped her onto her back, pulling down that pretty little thong, and replied, "To stop going slow for a few minutes."

She nodded hungrily and I stepped to the end of the bed. I yanked her by the hips to the bed's edge, got down on my knees, positioned her legs on my shoulders, and committed to getting her off fast and hard. I needed that sweet, bitter taste all over my lips and chin as soon as I could get it. She was already soaked and the thought that getting me off turned her on so much tickled my brain in such a good way.

Her clit was swollen under my tongue and I gently lapped it so that she wouldn't cum _too_ fast. I still wanted to control the pace, not just slap her with a half-hearted orgasm that left her unsatisfied. I slipped my first two fingers into her cunt, curling them rhythmically like a drumbeat, and pulled my mouth away. Without

"Have you ever had anything up your ass?"

Sophie's eyes widened into saucers. "No."

"Do you trust me?"

She bit her lip. I sped up the pace of my fingering a tiny bit and her body responded, rolling against me. She gasped out, "Yes, yes I trust you."

I growled, my post-orgasmic desire alive and hungry, "Good girl."

I returned to eating her out, still curling my two fingers. I kept her close to the edge of herself, not letting her break open, as I pressed my other thumb to her asshole, which was slicked wet with her own pussy juice. At even that small contact, I felt her cunt clench around my fingers and heard a breath suck hard into her lungs. I pressed gently, careful not to give her too much, but after a moment it was clear she was even more turned on having the extra sensation.

From there, fully stuffed and stimulated, it didn't take long for that delicious pussy to clamp down around my fingers. I slowed down through her orgasm, coaxing it out long to reward her for doing such a good job. When the pulses changed from frantic to soft and slow, I pulled my fingers out slow and kissed her cunt. I watched her juices pool at the entrance and licked them up, not wanting a drop to go to waste. She shivered.