Pavlov'ed

All characters are over 18. New idea!

Any suggestions welcome! I have decided to both explore what gets me going, and how to write better! Criticisms please :D

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"My favorite scientist...definitely Nikola Tesla. His inventions were - as all inventions are - innovative and impressive, but my heart goes out for how Edison stole them all away. Maybe it's a bit of a stretch to say my favorite, but I do think his name deserves more credit."

The professor nodded his head. "To each their own. I've always been a Hawking kind of guy myself. Anyway, class, that concludes today's lecture." The sounds of backpacks being zipped and light chatter ensued as the students funneled out of the hall, most, myself included, towards a dining hall.

A rowdy site of clinking and chaos, I was nonetheless usually able to categorize the various friend groups I saw sitting around. It was no longer like high school, where cliques asserted spaces nearly designated for them, but I saw familiar faces day in and day out at this university of but a few thousand. One in mind stood out.

Emily tended to be surrounded by a few, if not many girlfriends at a time - not necessarily loud or talkative, yet still finding herself often the center of attention. Perhaps an extension of the pretty privilege she had often been the beneficiary of; one that I certainly also bestowed upon her. By no means was Emily a shy, "you-don't-know-you're-beautiful" kind of girl, but the kind who would consistently walk into class and turn heads with nothing particularly striking on at the moment. Her attractive figure both a result of fitness with rounded glutes and genetics with what were definitely C or D cups (a fact I often sought to estimate, visually, with my weak willpower being the only opposition to letting my eyes wander), she basked in the attention, yet content to do nothing with it, generally a passive member of social interactions.

These thoughts streamed through my mind as I distractedly cut my lasagna, my gaze and attention flitting around the room, yet inevitably landing on her. I admired the way her highlights framed her face, the slight movement as she laughed a contagious giggle that sent my heart fluttering. I smiled, embarrassed, just as she made eye contact. Emily tilted her head ever-so-slightly to the side. I blushed, looking down at the cut skewered by my fork.

I set it down and rubbed my hands under the table. Now or never. I walked over to her table, and the conversation died down, an expected silence now mine to fill.

"Hey, uh, Emily, could I talk to you for a second?"

She turned around in her chair a little, facing me more comfortably. I felt the heat emanating from my face, striving to maintain eye contact with her and not waver down to the low cut crop top she was wearing, or the eyes of her various friends trained on me. "Sure! What's up?"

"No, I, ah, meant, like, alone, if that's fine?" My voice cracked a smidge as I enunciated the last syllable, because while I hadn't planned this conversation through, in none of the 14 million probabilities did I plan on confessing in front of everyone.

"Oh, why? Is it something personal?" Emily smiled with too-wide eyes, naivete I was confident must be feigned - no way she was this dense, right?

I steeled my nerves. I'd already made it this far. "Yeah, it kinda is. Is this a bad time?"

She glanced around the rest of the table, then flashed a winning smile. "No, this should be fine. Let's go."

I didn't expect her to have an idea in mind of where to go. I envisioned just walking outside the dining hall and her following, and talking under the shade of a nearby tree, not for her to be involved in the exposition of the climax.

I followed her to an empty classroom, the door slowly closing behind us with an ominously final thud. Emily smiled. "So what did you want to talk about?"

I scratched the back of my head nervously, an expression both of my anxiety and attempted nonchalance. "Well, as I'm sure you've probably guessed, I really like you, and...I guess I wanted to tell you that."

She nodded, brows furrowed. "And...?"

"Um, I guess I wanted to ask if I could get your number...? If you don't mind?" I ventured. What was she asking?

Emily grinned. "No. I'll take yours, though." She reached for my hand, opening my palm for a phone already on the "New Contact" page. Suddenly, she paused. Clapping her hands, she exclaimed "I almost forgot! Take off your clothes."

"Uh...what?"

"You heard me. Three...two..."

I unzipped my jeans, the denim falling in a heap around my ankles. I blinked. Why did I do that? That was kinda hot. The beginning of an erection began to stretch my underwear, and I instinctively moved my hands to cover it, shy.

A curt slap ended any hope of that. "Keep going. I wanna see that dick. Girl's gotta have standards."

I blushed deeply. Where was this going? I couldn't imagine a scenario I didn't like, but also, I was scared.

Fuck it.

I removed them, fully erect by now, at a solid six inches - nothing to write home about, nothing to be embarrassed about. Emily nodded appraisingly. "Okay." She gave me a quick flick in the balls, at which I gasped. I saw her angle the camera at it, taking a few photos at different angles. She giggled, handing me her phone. "Couldn't resist."

Having secured the digits, she walked towards the door. "Expect a text later. If anyone asks, you wanted a date with me and I politely rejected you." So saying, she left, leaving me undressed in the hall.

I reached for my clothes. She had taken my underwear with her.

~~~

Bzzt!

A message from an unknown number. I opened it from the notifications bar.

Holy fuck was I being thirst trapped.

Emily had sent a selfie just about showing her chin, taken from a POV at maybe head height and looking down her top, centered around the disappearing shadows of her breasts, leaving enough yet not very much to the imagination. The outlines of a lacy bra were just visible, and the fullness of her curves had an immediate effect in my pants. I could feel it growing, my eyes hungrily scouring the pixels for more.

"u hard yet?"

Moments later, another buzz:

"oh yeah you fucking are. unzip, i wanna see"

She wants to see? Wait, what? Where was she?

My head swiveled around the room, eyes meeting hers to my left. She gave me a sweet smile, waving discreetly with fluttering fingers.

"unzip before i airdrop those dick pics to the whole class LOL"

In class? Was she out of her mind?

"Yo we're in class chill"

"three..."

I stared at her in disbelief. Her smile persisted, unchanged.

"two..."

I looked around the room. Attention was mostly on the professor, but still...

"One..."

I licked my lips in nervousness. Centimeter by centimeter, I ever-so-slowly began unzipping my jeans. The zip sounded SO LOUD.

"gogogo you got this :)"

After what seemed like an eternity, with my dick beginning to hurt from being compressed by the unforgiving jeans, I texted "Can u stop now?"

"LOL shut up. Move your dick between the zip. I wanna see the head. Then stroke yourself."

I was sure my face was red, and by now, someone had to have noticed. My fingers moved up and down the shaft, slowly increasing in pace. My eyes remained glued to her texts and the picture, face burning from embarrassment and lust alike.

"think of me while you do it. Say my name. Don't come, though. Or do, irdc tbh"

My lips barely moved, essentially only mouthing her name. Fuck, it was beginning to feel good. I could just about make out the top of her breasts, with the tightness of the bra squeezing the two together. They protruded lusciously over the rest of her figure at that angle, obscuring the rest of her body save some mid-thigh and onwards.

But I was in class. I WAS IN CLASS.

With superhuman effort, I stopped. The feeling began to subside, yet I was unbelievably horny, having essentially edged myself.

"aww you look so desperate :(( so very sad. Don't worry baby, more to come"

Leaving class, I found her sitting on the hood of my car, texting a friend. She heard my footsteps as I approached, looking up.

"Yes?" I said, mustering up what was ideally perceived as coldness in my tone. Definitely didn't work.

She raised an eyebrow. "Drive me home."

I climbed in the driver's seat, pulse already quickening a little. What next...? I glanced to my side, noting her absence in the passenger. Emily stood outside, arms crossed (intentionally or not squishing her breasts together). Our eyes met, and she tilted her head to the side expectantly.

I sighed and rolled my eyes in exasperation. Making a big show of it, I came around to her side of the door, ever-conscious of any eyes. Emily was too, yet no one was really around. She sat down as I opened the door, smiling. God, I knew I shouldn't peek, but the crests of her tits, and the way her perfect thighs both angled slightly inwards...she knew exactly where my gaze flickered to.

I prepared to drive, one hand on the wheel and one on the gearshift. A comfortable, soft, warm weight impeded movement.

I froze, my face flushing a strong red. My palms instantly began sweating; I became hyperaware of every minute callus and blister, how awkward and rough my clammy hands were compared to the softness of her slender fingers. Her thumb gently caressed mine, sending butterflies flitting.

"Eyes on the road," she instructed, while I could feel hers on me. Those slender fingers I had imagined jerking me off so many times made their way to my inner thigh, separated only by the denim of my jeans. The sensation was weak, the denim a tough material, and keeping my focus on driving was more manageable than I thought.

This, of course, worked until, in one firm motion, she undid my zipper - that damned zipper. Underwear missing due to aforementioned complications, the warmth of prized fingers so daintily brushing an erogenous zone had me hard immediately.

Index finger and thumb alternated between excruciatingly slow strokes and lazy circles on the head. She leaned over, another hand around my neck - a position surely uncomfortable to her - smiling, and whispered in my ear, with hot breath, "You like that?"

I shivered. A wet spot had formed. My brows were furrowed in concentration. Breathe in, breathe out. Right indicator. Emily giggled. One hand still flitted around my dick, one caressed my neck in softness that made me want to moan in ecstasy.

I braked as we approached the house, a very sudden stop, white knuckles on the wheel indicative of the mental exhaustion she had exacted on me. I looked down, the head of my dick completely wet, nearly dripping precum. She licked her finger. Emily leaned in towards me, offering another view of ample cleavage. "Hey."

With difficulty, I broke eye contact to meet her gaze. "If you walk inside naked...I'll make you happy." She opened the door, already strutting to the doorway in a stride that had to have been done with the sole purpose of accentuating her shapely figure.

Fuck, man.

I looked both sides through the car windows, the rear view...no one was in sight. Was I about to become a streaker? An exhibitionist? Over a crush? My erection had not subsided in the slightest. "I know you'll make the right decision!" she called, grinning in glee.

Damn straight I would. I opened the door, and booked it inside, dick flapping against my thighs as I did, while covering what I could with wadded jeans. She got on her tip toes to offset our five-six inch height difference and ruffled my hair. "Good boy," she crooned. I knew it was more than a little sarcastic, but that didn't stop my subby side from feeling the rush of pleasure.

"Can I have my underwear back now?" It came out in a smaller voice than intended. Emily had clasped her hands around the nape of my neck, forcing me to slightly stoop my neck. What ought to have been a demand was abraded into a plea by both the clothing context and physical position - I could feel her hands pulling me down, and I enjoyed it a little. And she knew that.

I was, of course, still hard.

"Do you really want it?" she asked, wide-eyed. "I thought you were having a rather good time. If you seriously want, though, I guess I'd consider..."

I licked my lips. "What about the making me happy?"

"Of course, baby. Will you listen to me?" Her voice dropped to little more than a whisper, more seductive, syllables stretched, so soft I couldn't possibly refuse. Those gentle hands had been inching me closer to her, and by now her lips were only a few inches from my ear, to the point I could nearly feel her breath as she spoke - or perhaps it was only imagined.

My mouth was dry. I nodded, as she cupped my face with her left hand and ran her right through my hair again, brushing it back and smiling as she emphatically looked into my eyes.

I became suddenly very cognizant of how loudly my heart thumped. Surely she could hear it. My focus vacillated between each of her eyes, too nervous to settle but yet unsure of what to do, save drinking in th-

Emily hooked a foot around my ankle and pushed me with one hand on my chest, other on the shoulder, tripping me - and as I fell back, hard, she used the hand on my shoulder to fall with me, but far more gracefully as she braced off of my body.

She essentially straddled me at this point. I propped myself up to my elbows, with her sitting just in front of my very erect dick. Emily's weight made it uncomfortable to move, and I had no such aspirations. I could feel the sides of her thighs against my obliques, and she felt so much taller from this perspective, and yet gorgeous as ever. A goddess.

Then, she leaned in and kissed me.

Her lips were so soft - softer than anything I could have ever imagined. My eyes widened in surprise, but I closed them; it felt inappropriate to have them open when hers weren't. She tasted faintly of strawberries. They were warm and moist, but not in an uncomfortable way. Gentle was a term that came to mind. Tender, nothing like the furious and animalistic making out I'd seen at parties, but...loving.

She stopped and pulled back, grinning at me. "I knew you'd choose well," She whispered. "Did I make you happy?"

I was aghast. Flabbergasted. Discombobulated. Flummoxed. Shocked. "Um...yeah?"

Emily raised an eyebrow, not having moved from her position. "Are you asking or telling me?" She sounded amused more than annoyed, but I was still bewildered. At no point did I expect this to go romantic. Sexual at best. Police at worst.

"Telling." I started to struggle to get up, not that it was a difficult endeavor so much as I was trying to do so without disturbing her as she sat on me. Certainly a futile effort.

She pushed me back down. "Then?"

I paused. "Then...?"

Emily cocked her head to the side. "Aren't you grateful?"

"I guess, yeah, but to be fair, you did owe this to me. You promised. But thank you?" This was not how I imagined my first kiss going, but today had more than proven that reality scoffed at imagination's whims.

Emily frowned, seeming displeased. Genuinely, and it bothered me. I liked her more when she was happy. "Hm." With no indication of her next action, she swiftly shifted backwards, now sitting on my thighs with legs tucked under her as she faced me.

Soft hands began stroking my dick, with a fury that made me gasp and immediately jolt upwards. It was nearly painful the way she was squeezing as she did, pressing the foreskin into the flesh of the organ, powerful undulation increasing the friction.

But it also felt...good?

I could feel the orgasm building, feel the strength in each motion, and was half-aware of how her expression - determined, vindictive, but also smug - hints of a grin veiled by thinly set lips, indicating the strenuousness of her effort. It felt like she was pumping the orgasm out of me, each stroke registered by my brain, and she still looked so hot as she did it. As she moved her hands up and down, her body mirrored her motions, locks of hair and breasts also bouncing to what was not an anime extent, but appreciable enough to add to the spectacle. Was she really jerking me off?

The familiar pre-euphoric feeling began to materialize, and I moaned. Fuck. I couldn't think straight. Sensation was only her, her hands, my dick. Nothing more erotic could have possibly existed, in fantasy or actuality. "Emily, I'm co-..."

She stopped, and that feeling receded, fast enough for me to mentally cry out at the shock, but slow enough for me to process and truly experience the gradual ebb of it. Emily grinned, chest ever so slightly heaving at the exertion of the last minutes - not a sight I minded. "Grateful yet?"

Emily, however, had allowed that primal lust to subside too far. My ego and satisfaction were as unsatiated as my dick with the subservience she had evoked from me, and the desire to annoy edged out the desire to ejaculate. "Eh. I guess." A challenge. I returned her earlier smile, infused with a trace of a smirk.

Both eyebrows were raised. I was in for it, but that's why I was here. All at once Emily became all that was in my view, hair momentarily trailing behind her as it fell around our faces. Here came the impassioned, aggressive, hungry making out. My lips were assaulted, and there was no supple lip hesitantly contacting the other - no, this was visceral. I was being devoured, my vision was Emily, my lips were hers, and as she mercilessly commenced her attack on my previously virgin lips, she then chose to begin stroking my dick.

Euphoria. I was melting. Every few seconds she would pause to breathe, and it seemed too difficult for her to coordinate the continuation of stroking me while ceasing her meal. Those short punctuations were filled by gasps and heavy breaths, warm, steamy exhalations that sent every hair rising on end. Halfway through a breath she would dive back down - indeed, no other word seemed appropriate than dive, for I was drowning in her. The discordance of the stroking made each one more sensual.

It must have been no more than 10 seconds or so when I cried out, "I'm gonna come!"

Then, nothing.

Now definitely short of breath, both of us, she halted, and looked down self-satisfiedly. My dick pulsated, denied again, yet so close. The dissatisfaction was so much stronger this time, and veins were popping out more than usual. So close. "I'm grateful. Thank you for kissing me, Emily." It came out a whimper, a plea. I implored her. "Please?"

She grinned, then caressed my face. "You can come."

Her hand was no longer on my dick, and she stood up. I sat up, still very erect and frustrated. My confusion was all but written on my face, and she smirked in the face (ha) of it. That was my answer.

"What do you need my hands for? Yours have been serving you well - you showed me that yourself! So are you going to jack off or not?" Emily tapped her foot in mock impatience. She made a big show of sighing, then squatted down to pull me up.

My hand slowly made its way to my dick of its own accord, my eyes following in what was both incredulity and detachment. I was beginning to get soft though. All of this strain had taxed the poor thing, but at the same time, I was still horny. I'd come this far (although not at all) and wanted that sense of finality to it that only orgasm would bring.

"Please, Emily...?" I beseeched her, still sitting, now on my knees.

"Well, you do look quite cute from there. And you've mostly obeyed me. But you also need to know your place." She stepped on my dick, not as much as causing pain as discomfort. The symbolism was impossible to miss, obviously.

"What are you?" she asked, prodding, with an unmistakable air of knowing that satisfaction was surely coming soon.