Protecting Les

The next day, Les apologized again, by text. He promised he wouldn't suggest going down on me, absolutely swear to God. But, please, he really needed to learn things, because he really hoped that one day Beth would let him do her. Would I help? Please? Could we at least talk about it? Could he just ask me questions? He didn't have anyone else to ask.

I agreed reluctantly, for two main reasons. One, I was already masturbating to fantasies of Les licking me. Since I couldn't stop thinking about it, I felt like a total hypocrite: that I would refuse to have a mature conversation about cunnilingus, while the whole time I was secretly jilling about it. And two, Les sincerely wanted help. So I told myself, okay, this would be for Les and not AT ALL for Beth. Still, I was too embarrassed to talk about it in person, so we started with texts and emails. I told him that first he had to know female anatomy -- go learn what was what and don't come back with questions until you know the geography, thank you very much.

Well, Les got into it. Les makes his living analyzing problems and designing solutions, and he's good at it. He asked me questions I had never thought of and couldn't really answer. Some were not even about oral; some were just about what women want. Did I have a G-spot? What kind of foreplay was best? What was essential? What did men most often do wrong? What made me want to dope-smack them? What was my most sensitive spot? What did I crave most often? What had no one ever done that I wished someone would? You get the idea -- basically, here was a creative, inquisitive mind asking totally embarrassing questions. Some were specific. Like, okay, if someone was licking me, was it better up-and-down, or side-to-side? Circular? Where -- on the clit or off? I mean, come on, I don't even know.

I didn't know because no one had ever done it for me. I barely knew more than Les did -- I knew how to masturbate, but that was about it. Shithead thought it was disgusting to go down on me, but that I should just love going down on him. Like a penis is holier than a vagina. Please. Needless to say, Les wasn't like that, and he tried to be delicate, not coarse, just wanting to learn. It was charming in a way. Unfortunately, I just didn't know what to teach him. And I hated the idea that some bitch -- Beth -- would be the beneficiary of whatever he figured out.

The turning point came when Les sent a long email with yet more detailed, numbered, ultra-polite questions about cunnilingus, including a link to a lesbian blog post. Frustrated, I thought all of a sudden, you know what, let's just do it. I sent him a text: u around? He was. Okay. I took a deep breath, screwed up my courage, took off my jeans and rummaged through my closet in top and panties, searching for my skirt. The only one I owned was a drab, shapeless peasant number (I'm a slacks, jeans, and leggings girl). When I found it, I put it on and barged into Les's apartment before I could change my mind. He was surprised. I asked him, "Do you really want to do this?" He looked perplexed at first (like, 'do what?') but he nodded. All right. I sat down, lifted the skirt and invited him in. I should have skipped the underpants, but they weren't a problem for long. "Let's go."

Les was surprised, but he went with it and started smooching, tentatively at first, but then just... licking. Wow...licking. He was inexperienced, but whoa...wet licking. I had imagined giving instructions, you know, calmly directing him in the spirit of education and then we could be done. But, God...Licking. Without either of us saying a word, but with Les going like a machine and my pussy starting to glow, I realized what was going to happen. I was going to come. Faithful Les kept licking and I got closer. Still licking. Suddenly I pushed him away, stood up, and cringed, covering my pussy with my hands. Basically, I panicked. I could barely talk. I needed to get out of there before it happened. I mumbled 'sorry' and ran out like a little girl racing to the potty.

Back in my apartment, I started rubbing, afraid I had lost it. There's this fine line... you can lose an orgasm if the moment passes, and I was worried it had. I hadn't wanted to come in front of Les, but having gotten this far, now I really, really did. Fortunately, it wasn't too late. I had a sweet little climax. Petite, but lovely. As I relaxed into the after-orgasm, Les texted me. I remembered my panties were still over there and got embarrassed all over again. Was that what he was texting about?

- U ok?

- Fine. No worries [But hmm, how do I ask for my panties back?]

On our run the next day Les was still concerned that either I'd had a problem or he had done something wrong. I made light of it. Nah. No big deal. "Then why did you leave?" he asked.

"I just needed to do something." I hoped he would drop it if I hinted at something personal. Like having his face in my crotch wasn't already personal.

"In the middle of that? You needed to 'do something'?"

I blushed and confessed. "Okay. I was afraid I was going to come."

"Really?"

I didn't respond.

"I made you come?" He was getting more interested, not less. "So it was good?" Now he was getting proud, at least hopeful.

"Let's drop it, okay?"

"But why did that make you leave?"

I got exasperated. "It's embarrassing, Les."

"Oh." He grinned. "But isn't that what's supposed to happen? Isn't that the whole point?"

"Can we please not talk about me coming?"

"Okay." But he couldn't drop it. "But you did, right?"

"Les..."

"Sorry. I just...I mean, I'm trying to get good at it. That's all." We ran a little farther. "You're a good teacher." Now he was teasing me.

"Les..."

"Sorry." Then he added softly, "It was really pretty."

"Huh?" As soon as I asked, it dawned on me that he was talking about my pussy. Now that's embarrassing. I must have turned bright red, but at the same time it felt nice. I guess we were both happy. Wow. My pussy's really pretty.

You can guess what happened later when I was by myself. Again. I couldn't help it, thinking about Les's tongue. Who cared whether he knew what he was doing? It was a tongue, for God's sake. In my pussy. Licking! A tongue is so different from fingers. Or a penis, for that matter. It's erotic, but it's also such a cool little organ. Soft, warm, wet, flexible, oozy, wiggly. I took a gamble, put my skirt back on, and marched back over to Les's. Commando this time. I figured if Les took the hint, we'd have another lesson. If not, no problem, I'd just come home and do it myself.

When I walked in, he understood without either of us saying a word. [Les is a smart guy.] He saw the skirt, looked at me, and raised his eyebrows. I nodded. Butterflies. We used one of the poofy chairs -- I just sort of sank into it, closed my eyes, and waited for him to lift the skirt. We were both less nervous this time. I let him start however he wanted -- whatever he thought he had learned was fine by me. He was probably wondering if I would run away again. I knew I wouldn't. Now I wasn't afraid to come -- I was hoping for it, practically counting on it, which was probably unfair to Les.

Once he got me warmed up, I did give instructions. "Flat tongue. No, FLAT. No...yes, there. Yes, yes. Slow...slow, slower. EASY...Now pointy tongue, stiff. Okay. Yes. Like that...Just like that. Don't stop..." At first I was calm, like I had imagined being the first time. Eventually I got so hot, I just blurted whatever. And I couldn't always say what it was I wanted anyway -- I just grabbed his head and moved it or jerked it or twisted it. I was creaming and probably moaning. Pretty soon I was, like, wearing his face. Without thinking, I lifted my shirt and got a hand under my bra to work on a nipple. Les couldn't see and anyway I didn't care if he did. God. I was going to come. Sometimes it sneaks up on you, but usually I know when an orgasm becomes possible, then likely, and then -- hallelujah -- you can't stop it. It just takes over. This was a pretty big one -- I was like falling through it, rubbing on Les's tongue like crazy, but falling, falling...then crash! Everything stopped with me gasping and spazzing, gripping Les hard, holding him still -- frozen -- rigid. He can't touch my clit again or I'll die. Hold it. Hold it. Hold...then ahhhh. It really is amazing. When I finally relaxed and pulled my fingernails out of his scalp, he looked so happy. His face was glistening. I was panting and sweating but he shouldn't have been, so the wetness must have been all me.

He grinned. "Let me guess. You came, right?" He was so pleased.

I was too weak to laugh, but I had to smile. "If Beth doesn't let you do that, she's insane."

Actually, Beth was insane, and she proved it just about every time we spoke about Les. The next time I saw her was at a company off-site. It lasted all day and everyone was tired and grumpy by the time they opened the pop-up bars. Beth had been one of the presenters and looked totally played. She made a beeline for the wine bar, got herself a glass, and looked for a chair. I drew a breath and joined her, without a drink. Les told me that he hadn't seen her for a while, and I thought he was bummed out. I figured I'd see what I could find out. She wasn't in a very good mood, but she did speak right up.

"I heard Leslie finally corrected his mistake. How nice."

For Les's sake, I was determined not to get into a fight and so ignored the snarky comment. I said, "Listen, Beth, why don't you give him a break, okay? He's been a really good sport."

"How would you know? And what sort of 'break' did you have in mind?"

"Well, you call him your boyfriend. Why not treat him like one? Or at least be nice once in a while."

"Oh, I see. And just how do you treat a boyfriend? I suppose you think I should unlock him. Did Leslie tell you to ask?"

Bitch. I shook my head. "No. He wouldn't do that. But it wouldn't kill you, you know."

She took a sip of wine. "I told you. I won't fuck him." Her eyes twinkled, like she had decided to enjoy this. "Oh my. Mousey Mallory thinks Little Leslie deserves a fuck." She rolled her eyes. "Even if I did it, it would be the Pity Fuck of all Pity Fucks. Sorry to disappoint you." Then her eyes brightened, and she said, "I know! Why don't you fuck him? I'm sure he'd love it, and maybe you wouldn't mind it. I give you my permission!" As if that settled everything.

I was quickly moving from 'mildly annoyed' to 'really pissed.' I said, "Les and I are just friends, Beth, okay? He's your -- air quotes -- 'boyfriend.' And you locked him, remember?"

She giggled and waved her hand. "Oh, I didn't mean fuck fuck. I meant you could peg him."

"What?"

She leaned toward me. "Peg him. You know, get a harness and a dildo (not too big to start), and...boom," she pantomimed, complete with a pelvic thrust, not caring whether anyone was watching, though she whispered the next part. "You fuck him, silly. You know, in his cute little butt." As though I hadn't understood the first part. "He might even be a virgin," she added, like that was a bonus.

I was offended and got up to leave. "Never mind."

"Oh, I see. Not your problem. You're right, of course. But it's not mine either." She smiled with mock understanding. "It's dear Little Leslie's problem, isn't it?"

I stared daggers at her, but Beth was having too much fun to stop. She put a hand on my arm to keep me from leaving. "Don't worry. I'll have Brian do it. Problem solved."

What?! She knew she had shocked me and was loving it. Also, she was batshit crazy and she might actually do it. With my teeth clenched, I told her, "Les isn't gay."

"Well who said he was?"

"Jesus, Beth, be serious. You can't rape him."

"Well, of course not." She was indignant. "You're the one who thinks Leslie needs a fuck. I'm just trying to help. How about this? I hereby promise not to rape him. Nor will Brian. But I don't think consent will be a problem. I find that boys in chastity will consent to almost anything. In fact, they'll beg for it." She chuckled. "Isn't that your experience, Mallory?"

Evil. In my whole life I have never more regretted a conversation. As I walked away, she called after me, "Brian is sizable, you know. Leslie will need to prepare himself." She laughed.

I had to say something to Les, but what? 'Watch your back!'? 'Don't go near Brian'? 'Beware of your bitch girlfriend'? I mean, what do you say? Poor Les. I felt even worse when he showed up in my kitchen a couple of days later with a shopping bag. I had a bad feeling, and sure enough he awkwardly pulled out a dildo and harness, trying to be nonchalant about it. Like it was nothing unusual, probably the third or fourth I'd seen already that day. In my kitchen.

"Now, don't get upset, Mal.' [Never a good way to start.] "We, umm...we don't have to do this. But, well...Beth says if I let you, she'll unlock me. So, umm..."

"Les, you CANNOT be serious."

"We don't have to..."

"She said she'll unlock you? For real? For good? She'll hand over the key?"

"Well, she didn't say that."

"What did she say? The two of you will have sex?"

"Not exactly."

"Jesus, Les, what then?"

"That she'll let me, you know, jerk off once."

"That's IT?!! That's all you get? One wank and then she puts the lock back? Jesus, Les. In exchange for that?" I gestured at the fake cock. "Forget it." [I know, who am I to sneeze at a wank, right?]

"Well, I haven't gotten to for a while now," he sort of apologized. I hated that Beth was right -- he was going to beg for it. He looked a little sad, or maybe ashamed, but he really wanted me to do it. I felt terrible and wanted to kill Beth. Plus I was worried about Brian.

Twenty minutes later I was wearing the stupid cock over my jeans and Les's shorts were around his ankles. He was bent over the kitchen table, waiting for it. I was a lot more nervous than he was (I did peek at the famous cage). I had rubbed canola oil all over the thing and I kept asking him, "Are you sure? You really want to do this... Are you sure?" And every time he nodded. Finally, we just did it. I mean I pushed it up his butt. He winced and I paused. "Are you okay?" He nodded and said we needed to do a couple more. Thrusts, I guessed he meant, so I did, and that was that. I took the harness off and looked the other way while he pulled his shorts up. He thanked me -- can you believe it? -- and left with his shopping bag. I resisted the urge for the rest of the afternoon, but eventually gave in and rubbed off.

Well, it wasn't good enough for Beth. She wanted proof. Of what? That Les wasn't a virgin? I mean, come on. The next day Les was back with the harness and one of those little tripods for his phone. He kept saying don't worry, everything would be fine as he was herding me into my bedroom -- my bedroom! He handed me the dildo -- "Here, put this on" -- while he positioned his phone on the table by the bed.

"No, Les. No pictures!"

"Don't worry, it won't show you, just me. Here..." He started helping with the harness while I protested haplessly. He was doing everything at once -- taking off his pants, setting up the phone, lubing the cock. I was fairly useless. Then I heard Beth's voice. God, nooo! We were Facetiming.

"Is that you, Leslie? Good... And that must be Mallory. Good morning, Mallory...Leslie, fix the camera, I can't see...That's better...Good." Les kept whispering to me, "It's okay. It's okay. Just a few minutes. No problem." He leaned over the bed and dropped his boxers. Beth instantly objected. "Oh, no! I want Lover Boy on his back. Legs up. Let's see everything." Les didn't even hesitate. He just turned over and raised his legs. I noticed he was hairless. Whose idea was that? Losing no time, Beth took charge. "Okay, Mallory, you're on. Time for Leslie's fuck."

I didn't budge, so Les reached around his hip and grabbed the cock to guide it home, mouthing to me 'don't worry, it's okay.' And then it just sort of happened. We did it. I was pegging him. Beth scolded me for being too gentle ("Mallory, I know you can do better than that!") and Les kept saying 'it's okay' until I began to get a little annoyed with him, too. But I was pegging him. I won't say it stopped being weird, but I did find sort of a natural rhythm. It reminded me of tennis: backstroke, stroke, follow-through. Or a baseball pitcher: wind up, delivery, follow-through. I actually thought of Annie Savoy in Bull Durham. It's like a lot of things, I guess, follow-through is important. I had stopped paying attention to Beth -- who probably was having the most fun -- but at one point she started taunting Les about how he was not allowed to see anything. That annoyed me, so I took off my shirt. Probably a mistake, since Beth no doubt intended it, and she started clapping. "Oh, there you are, a lingerie show, Leslie." Oh yeah? I unsnapped my bra and flung it somewhere. Naturally, Beth loved it. "My goodness, Mallory!" Then she added, "You see there, Leslie? Those are tits. Only smaller." Bitch. Les did finally stop repeating 'it's okay' and stared at my chest (which I'm actually proud of, thank you). I started kneading my breast and pinching my nipples. Still going with the rhythm.

I was definitely warming up. I guess Les was already there because he started moaning. For a second, I worried I was hurting him. His moans got louder, and his eyes were screwed shut when he suddenly went rigid and splooged. It went everywhere. I mean, everywhere. You know how when you have a mouthful of milk and someone makes you laugh? That's what happened to Les. His penis spurted hard -- I forgot he hadn't come for a while -- but the cage was in the way and semen sprayed us. Messy, for sure, but pretty hot. Then, bam, I came, too. Complete surprise. My knees almost buckled. Beth was beside herself.

I guess Beth thought that was the finale because right after, she signed off with mock congratulations. I was on auto pilot. My thrusting had slowed, but still had a pop to it. I had come, yes, but I honestly thought there might be more. I couldn't tell what Les was thinking. His orgasm looked a lot bigger than mine. "Is she gone?" I panted, so relieved to get rid of Beth.

Les nodded. "I think so."

"For real? Turn the phone over." I didn't trust her. But pinned to the mattress by my fake cock, Les couldn't actually reach it. I leaned over to whack the phone away. "Les?" I asked as I returned to business. He groaned as I pumped. "Les!" I repeated.

"Yes. What?"

"I need you to lick me." We could quit if there was nothing there, but I wanted to try.

"Okay." Good old Les.

The interruption was frustrating and almost killed the mood. I had to withdraw from Les, get the harness off, get my jeans off, panties, the whole show. Les stayed put patiently. At last, I straddled his head. Relief. My pussy found his mouth, his tongue was out, and the licking started. Ahh; I settled. I was sitting on his face, his eyes peering up between my thighs as he licked me. His head was a saddle and I started riding. Even now, that sounds harsh, but it didn't feel harsh. It was so nice, so natural, so perfectly comfortable. Still, I don't think I'd have gotten the tsunami if Les hadn't suggested that I turn around.

It was reverse cowgirl on his mouth. There I was naked (first time), wide open on my knees, my pussy and rosebud completely exposed -- really lewd, but that made it so hot. In front of my face, his penis was puffed up in the steel cage. It looked uncomfortable, but that just made it hotter. I supported myself with one hand and leaned over his body so I could reach under and frig myself with the other, right on his mouth. I began rocking on his tongue, squeezing his face with my thighs. Again, lewd, but again, that just made it hotter. And, God, I was in control of everything except only the tongue itself. My breasts hung over his torso and swayed as I moved (and yes, they sway, despite what Beth said). When I wasn't frigging my clit, I was frigging my nipples. We were soaked in sweat, semen, lube, cream, everything. Les had buried his wiggling tongue. If he needed to breathe, he would have to speak up. GOD it was hot.