Nordberry Nosh

She had a certain focus, and I knew she was distractible.

I stopped her again, to her confusion, "No, not quite, Mads,..." (this was the first time in my memory I ever called her 'mads'), "Pile of clothes on the floor? No, please. Tidy. Fold them."

Looking at me with one raised eyebrow, she had an incredulous, "Seriously?"

"I folded mine." Really, I had a calm feeling flowing through me even though this was oddball, mostly because I knew her Default Pattern.

She would always do _only_ what she had to do, if she didn't want to do something. She mostly cared just about herself, and I had been putting boundaries in front of her that I doubted she'd encountered before.

My boundaries were, just what I said, utterly fair and equal. Equal was NOT her making a mess in my nice new kitchen I'd been working so hard on.

She was not going to leave random clothes strewn about.

I said, "You're not going to walk all over me, Mads, the way you walk over your friends. Here, you're only equal. That means to get to equality, you have to work harder. No messy throwing things everywhere. Clearly, here, that means, being Tidy. Always be Tidy. I folded. You fold."

She considered, then picked up her sweatshirt and dumped it roughly over the chair, and her pants on top.

I said calmly, correcting and enunciating clearly, "NO, my house, my rules. Folded, please. See, I did it."

Her pause showed she was thinking about it. It wasn't a big ask. I just didn't want it strewn about, and there was no amount of cajoling later if I let this one get by.

She looked at the chair and waited, longer than any person should have. I'd watched toddlers have less resistance before, and this was kind of funny.

Plus, I got to look at her well-trimmed crotch the whole time she was waiting.

She picked up the pants and shook them out, then folded them onto the counter, and her shirt the same way. Her Bra and panties, she straightened but didn't strictly 'fold', but then again, I'd seen my mother fold hers, and I'd also seen my sisters just chuck 'em in the laundry basket. I guessed there was a diversity of opinion on how to fold a bra and let it go.

She came over, and bent down, taking a knee to look closely at my cock, from different angles. Her hand came up, like she was going to touch it.

I said, "You touch me, I get to touch you."

She licked her lips, "O... okay."

Her finger tentatively touched the shaft and traced up the side, then, using thumb and forefinger, she grasped it to squeeze and feel if it was firm.

Suffice to say, with her in the room, yes, it was firm.

Encircling it, she held it more tightly, but I said, "Easy! Gentle!" For some reason, I remembered my 'superman' underwear, and joked, "I only LOOK like steel, I'm not _really_ steel."

She laughed, a huge laugh, breaking the tension, stumbling from her crouch slightly and having to steady herself by holding one of my legs. Still crouching, she glanced up at my face and then back at my cock and said, "Kevin. This does not look like steel. This is much...prettier."

"Thank you. You're really pretty yourself."

She leaned in, not being that far away anyway, and sniffed in a short series. Then, inhaling a long breath, she contemplatively and kind of nostalgically said, "There's something about this smell that's different, Kev. It's... familiar? I can't place it, though. Comforting? It's like... Home, like.... Goodness. A delicious hot meal. Gravy. Hmmmm."

I had no idea what she meant since I didn't smell any different to me, but, heck, I'd heard that comment before, and had decided to accept it.

From looking at my penis, her other hand came up my thigh, then underneath, and lightly cupped my balls, feeling their weight. She started to squeeze a little but I gave clear instructions how that was a bad plan. She was attentive, nodding and following directions to learn how hard she could squeeze safely but no harder.

In this moment, she wasn't the queen bitch Madison, she was just someone, female, learning and looking and exploring with care, accepting limits given.

After another couple of minutes, I got an idea and said, "Do you want to touch my nipples?"

She laughed and looked up, "Do they squirt like this does?"

"I haven't squirted..."

She got a judgemental tone all of a sudden, "Not yet. Not for me. I know what you boys do. Go hide, rub it a while," she used thumb and forefinger dismissively jacking an air-penis, "and shoot yucky cum everywhere. Then, sleep in the mess."

I laughed at how wrong she was, and I think my confidence in doing so startled her a little. I added, "Not quite... So, yes, all guys do it, at least, probably, it's not something we talk about much. Yes, I clean up with tissues, after. But, doesn't matter. Girls do it, too. I know that for a fact - I've seen lots of vids online and they mostly do the same kinds of moves, rubbing circles on their clits."

She bit her cheek, considering, and I knew the look was remembering not imagining.

"Besides," I said, "Hiding? You're criticizing hiding? I have _sisters_. Not good to walk around jacking off."

She laughed and agreed.

I had a little precum at the tip, so I said, "Some precum there, if you want. Might taste good."

"Not Even."

"I get it." I was going to call her scared, but I shut up. This wasn't the time to play with her.

"You... aren't trying to manipulate me."

"Should I?"

"Just... my ex boyfriend Tim, he... always wanted something."

This struck me as funny, so I said, "I know what he wanted...Your Superb Earlobes!"

She was super-distracted, and when she looked up she finally realized I was smiling. She shrugged, "Something like that."

"Well, when you're done looking, and touching, it's my turn. How about, we trade off, take turns."

She didn't like the idea, obviously. "What are you going to do to me? You're... buff. I'm ... I don't want to ..." I could tell she was a little scared.

I put her at ease. "My parents and one of my sisters are upstairs. Tina isn't home yet, she works late some days. You shout, everyone hears. So, don't shout. Please. Besides, you know me well enough. I'm not the type, I don't think. I hope I'm not. If I was, my sisters would have beat the snot out of me long before this."

"Oh." She considered this, then took her index finger and touched it to the tip of my penis, right into the pre-cum, and then rubbed her fingers together to get the consistency.

I just watched.

After a moment, she brought it to her nose, did a long inhale, stuck out her tongue, and proceeded to suck her fingers. "HmmmMMMmm! This is ... pretty good, actually. Not like..."

"Tim?"

"Yeah."

We waited a minute, and she just stared. She licked her lips a little, and I thought she might kiss it, but she didn't, just stayed there looking.

I decided that was enough, and she wasn't going to do anything but stare, so I said, "Okay. Time's up, time to switch, my turn."

She absently nodded and stood, and as she did, she looked up at me. We weren't so far separated. Very, very slowly, I leaned forwards, gently, and instead of kissing her lips, gave that a miss and kissed her cheek, paused, and then pulled back.

"What did you do that for?!?"

"Oh, just touching your cheek. Soft skin."

"Duh." Her mouth said that, but her tone said that she was surprised at my approach being gentle and appreciative.

I settled down crouching, to look at her breasts, but I stopped and said, "Can you there? Leg on the ...chair, maybe? The way you're standing, I can't see much."

She backed up her butt to our sturdy kitchen table and put a leg up on the chair, doing what I asked. As her leg came up, it worked - her sex was wide open, exposed, beautiful, soft...

I crouched down, getting my eyes to the height of her breasts and looked them over carefully, then sank farther to kneel in front of her and looked over her mons and hair-tuft.

This was fun, and I sniffed, too, like she'd done, and I could smell her sweet goodness. Going down farther, I faced her sex. Her lips were full and pouty, though stuck together and off to one side, almost.

This was only the second real time I'd ever seen a pussy close up, in good room lighting. I couldn't help but compare it to Dani's, but both were amazing.

Getting closer, I inhaled deeply, and said, "Beautiful. So full and rich.... I love the smell." She did have a good smell, but mostly I was just wanting to encourage her to relax and feel appreciated. The concept of being mean because of low self-esteem seemed reasonable, but I was guessing.

She didn't say anything, just watched me. It was hard to get a read on her emotions.

I asked, "Can you... part it, or, shall I?"

"Uh... Okay? How long is this going to take?"

"Equals, same-same. Same amount of time for you and me."

Her hand came down and rubbed herself, but it didn't do much. I reached forward (she was watching me closely) and gingerly ran my finger up and down, lightly riding over her clit.

Leaning in, I sniffed and planted kisses on her upper thighs, just like I had been, with Dani. Mads didn't stop me, so I kept kissing, and then ran a flat tongue up the center over her lips, long and slow, medium pressure. At the end, I made a yummy sound.

Her whimper told me she liked it, so I did it again, and again, and pretty soon I was licking up a storm, my tongue going up and slightly inside, then up and over her clit, over and over.

Between licks, I asked, "So... Mads... do you... like this???..."

"Oh god oh godyesss... oh, keep doing that... yes...."

I did, I kept doing that. Holding her in place, she obviously was climbing a ladder of feelings, and about 5 or 6 minutes later, she came, same as Dani did, convulsing and whimpering. In the process, her legs clamped in on me and her jerking body moved my head around despite my trying to hold her in place with my hands and arms.

Gradually, though, she slowed down, and though I'd stopped my licking because she'd gotten to an overstimulated push-away point and I wanted to still be there, I waited.

After she came to, her face just stayed as astonished, stunned into a silence about what had just happened. I smiled at her and said, "Very nice. You're beautiful, and... what a rush!" I was appreciative in the tone of this, not insulting, or crass. I definitely didn't want to sound crass.

She couldn't respond, she was still just breathing hard and trying to figure out what had just happened.

I stood up, and pulled her up with me so we were both standing. I said softly, "Shall I kiss you now?"

Her breathy reply, still trying to figure me out, was, "Uh... yes?"

Slowly bending in, aiming my body sideway so my hard cock hit her side and not right in front, I kissed her slowly and sensuously, a tender moment. I wanted to give her a contrast, the next time she thought about being mean to me, she'd have a point to think of that would make that meanness incorrect.

We kissed, our lips touching, opening, tongues moving lightly over each other, mouths opening farther, and I hugged her to me, strength in my arms pulling her up and into me. This was not the kiss of a wimp, or a sycophant, or a subservient person. I made the kiss about me as a man, and her, as a woman, but trying also to make it soft and passionate even while my arms pulled her into me with some strength.

She liked the kiss. I could tell.

I did, too.

Breaking it, I backed up, and we looked at each other.

I said, "I had a bad break-up last year. I don't want a relationship with you. This is not a commitment. I'm tutoring you, mostly."

She looked sideways twice, trying to figure this out, and said, "Okay? Yeah? That's our deal."

I nodded, "Good." Looking down at my cock, I said, "I can't do much about this for now. I'll handle myself when you leave. Let's get to the math."

She was confused. "You don't want to...?"

I said, "This isn't a 'first date', but, no, I like looking at you, but you're ... I don't know yet if I trust you. Starting to, not sure." I was functionally not allowing her to do anything more with me, and I know this confused her. I liked it that way.

Her eyebrows knitted up and she said, "You're ... so strange."

"Ethical. The word is, ethical. Let's do math."

I went over and sat at the table, and motioned for her to sit, too, and she handed over her notebook for me to read through the problems, like normal. I found some errors, not in the actual result, but in her not showing enough work (something I'd harped on), and she wrote out the steps on another sheet, doing what I asked.

It occurred to me that by telling her what to do so much, I may have been setting her up to not be so domineering and conceited, every time we interacted. She still had moments of presuming she was better, more deserving, whatever. She had started our interactions, months ago, making a lot of comments like that.

As we'd gotten through more sessions though, she was doing that less and less.

My advice was welcomed, as it usually was, but I had a feeling the matter was coming to a head, with her orgasm and my asking for more equality. She spent most of our session looking more and more profoundly confused as time went on.

She confronted it eventually. "Kevin. You're sitting next to me. You have a giant boner. It's not going down. You have to be seriously horny. Yet you're not touching me. You've got to be frustrated, and I'm worried you're going to ..."

"Not going to happen, because I don't want it, and because you don't want it."

"Who says I don't want it?"

"Your mannerisms. Your words. You're like this, all day long, you're acting like you're 'better than', so much better, and you expect other people to do stuff for you. You want something from me. You want me to go ape-shit over you, maybe, I don't really know."

She was really irritated with me, but I continued.

"I'm guessing? Maybe? You think I'm going to act immature, or subservient and say PLEEEEEz, or something, so you can say you're better than me. I'm not doing that. Ethics. I respect you, but I'm not going along with that game plan."

She got a little huffy at my matter of fact statement that she felt superior, and started to object, but I just shrugged with a, 'Yeah, face it, it's true' expression on my face. I made the insult of her being haughty less of an insult and more of a fact statement.

Scowling, she looked back down over some of her work, and I went back to looking over some homeworks she'd brought, and checking something in our calc text.

A few minutes later, she picked up the math conversation again, and we were back in the thick of things.

I was pretty sure she was hugely turned on still, and insulted by what I'd said.

Sometimes, I figured out, people are most insulted by being told something that was absolutely true, something bad they knew about themselves already.

Maybe. I was not a student of people. I was a college-aged guy, not some guru - and at least I knew it. I totally couldn't pretend to be an expert on people, so I tried not to be.

We finally got to the end of the section and I encouraged her to re-do about a third of the problems, ones that she'd done perfectly correctly, and ones I'd complimented her work on.

This she didn't like, but she knew me already, and she'd had the experience of re-doing problems until she could do them fast. I was proud of my work with her - coming up with ideas that actually helped her. Plus, it was cool, what she'd done, how much she'd advanced.

I told her so, that I liked what she'd done, that she'd changed the way she approached things, and she was making real progress. Lots to do still, but so much better than before.

Her eyes were mean at me, her lips set. She said, "Sometimes, Kevin, you Really Seriously Piss me off. Honesty, right? Good honesty? That's it. I hate you sometimes."

I nodded, "Sorry to hear that."

"Honesty. I hate that's what you want. It's like it's free to you. Fine. I love you. There."

That hit me like a wallop.

I couldn't very well just let it sit there, though.

I said, "Thank you."

"Aren't you going to say something?"

It hit me, she wanted me to say I loved her, too.

The thing was, I probably did, if I thought about it. But, I loved Dani, and the "four musketeers", and my lunch tutor-ees, too. Certainly I loved them more than I loved Mads.

I had to reply, but as fast as my brain was, I couldn't keep up with this. "I... don't know what to say, Mads. You are fun, and smart - you earned those things, so compliments are okay. As a matter of accidental fact, you're seriously pretty, gorgeous, even, and probably have been told that by everyone since you were little, to no good effect - you didn't earn that."

She was confused, "Didn't earn it?"

"Yeah, you sort-of earned it, you're an athlete, I get that. Sure, so yes, you sort of earned it. But, perfect boobs and a pretty face and a ... wow, rest of you... that's ... offset a little. I could love the core of you, but the ... attitude, it's hard to deal with sometimes."

I could see she was thinking I was rejecting her.

Letting that stew for a moment, I kept going. "You love me. You do. I can see it in your eyes, I've seen it already in flashes, when we're doing something, and you glance at me, unguarded."

I had seen that, but it'd kind of crept up on me and I was speaking and putting it all together in my head as I talked.

"I love my other students, the people I tutor. Some girls from Chorus, Dani, from my D-and-D lunch group, yeah, so... I love those people, and - I love you. I guess I could love you more? I would be willing to be open and loving with you, more, but you never let your guard down. Except, sometimes. Today, playing with my ... package. You were genuinely interested, respectful, kind... honest... and, yes, trustworthy. But, then, I have a bunch of history with you, to get through, where you weren't."

She looked at me, and her face dropped a facade, and she was genuinely worried. Her face looked like she had a stomach ache. She said, "I... don't know what to do with you. You're completely not like any other guy I've gone out with. None of Carol's boyfriends, for sure. Not like my step-dad."

"Second most honest thing you've said all day."

She nodded.

"Mads, I am willing to work with you on two things. First, your math, and I think we're doing well on that. Second, though, on... being genuine, with... me. I told you I don't want any relationships right now. I had my heart broken, by Gail. A person you know pretty well. So, yeah."

Her appreciation of my face and my mood continued in her trying to figure out what was playing on my face, I think. Her eyebrows knotted and eyes slowly searching, slow breathing meaning we weren't in a done place, but she was starting to get what I was talking about. Probably.

"Let's just play it by ear. If you want me, you'll have to share me. I'm only one guy, I'm... only who I am, maybe good, I hope so, but maybe not, I can't know. I got you to trade your physical ... self, for favors. That's not good of me. That's not totally ethical. True, I didn't force you, and I shared an even greater... view of myself... to you."

Her head tilt sideways told me she got that part.

"You had the open option, Mads, so the choice I gave you _was_ ethical. Still, I think it wasn't an equal trade if we count how you valued your nudity, versus how I valued mine less. So, in that way, it wasn't fair."

I paused to think.

She just sat and pondered what I'd said.

I finished with, "In the end, hating me? Entirely reasonable. Unreasonable at the same time, sure, but, with some logic to it, and emotions don't follow logic rules sometimes. I learned that last year. Still, what have we done here? You've done good things. I gave you an odd choice, and maybe it cost you more than I know. Maybe it was a price you needed, profoundly needed, to pay? I can't know that. If I hurt you, I'm sorry. I am sorry. I do have love for you, Mads, but it's a thing I build into, I guess? I ... don't really know. In the meantime, as I've offered before and will again, if you want to switch to real money instead of this arrangement, that's fine by me."