The Good Girl's Reward

The clock struck ten. Three hours of accounting homework had left her colorful tresses a little disarrayed and damp and her bottom lip was swollen from her nervously nibbling on it every time she had to calculate retained earnings.

Accounting is such a tease, she mused. It promises sweet, sweet discipline but really all it does is punish.

It pulls you in like "Everything is so straightforward. You're looking for structure in your life, maybe a little bit of discipline? Come into a relationship with me. I'll tell you what you're allowed to do and what you're not."

She noticed a button on her blouse had worked itself loose, revealing a little more skin than she had intended for a serious task like finishing an accounting assignment. As she surveyed herself, she thought with a chuckle that the laughing figure on the cover of her accounting text -- a tall, nerdy guy in a purple sweater -- was surely eyeing her cleavage appreciatively. She could practically feel his long, slim fingers brushing her most sensitive spots ever so gently -- although, for what she paid for the book, he had damn well better be willing to service her in any way she wanted. She rubbed her swollen lips together as she thought about them leisurely pleasuring each other until she had cried out and shuddered in wild, wanton abandon at least as many times as she had been forced to compute a subtotal in the most recent income statement...

And then it turns out that Accounting doesn't actually allow anything except one technique, which it insists on you doing over and over again until you feel like you'll die of boredom and your hand cramps up. Then you have to do it sixteen more times on the exam so you can get an internship and do it five hundred more times until you get a job and do it three thousand times a year -- and get no satisfaction out of it. Oh yes, you do accounting -- but Accounting never does anything back. What a selfish bastard.

How different this course was from the innocent, vanilla veneer of introductory accounting. Dewy-eyed ingenues thought they were ready for the Rules, but they would be unprepared when they actually had to follow them...or else.

She had that hidden strength -- and could handle the discipline. What she needed now, though, was a break and a way to forget about the strictures (and repeated pairs of letters) of double-entry bookkeeping. It would have to be a singularly powerful experience, however; three hours of arid had left the inside of her mouth feeling like sawdust and she doubted anything short could remind her how much she used to enjoy life so much. It had been a long time since she'd felt the zing! of anticipation in her most tender spaces and she wasn't sure whether it could happen again.

It doesn't matter, she thought.

It's just me. And my textbook.

Oh, and CARL.

A quiver of anticipation made it clear that it was time for her reward. She'd encountered the mysterious Carl on the internet and had never tried to consummate the relationship before -- but had finally yielded to the temptation to get a sample and make up her own mind. She'd been saving the experience for a special occasion, a true reward for completing her assignments. Now she was going to take her time and be as serious -- and as thorough -- about her pursuit of sensual pleasure as she was about her pursuit of her accounting degree, and try to be just as bad -- in the very best way -- as she had been good for so many weeks of social distancing. At times she had thought she would burst from the tension.

Carl was waiting for her at her bedside. She had to kneel to bring her mouth to Carl's level but she had been longing for this moment for weeks.

Well, hello there, she whispered huskily, her deft fingers busy undoing the covering that stood between her and her reward. She gasped as its length came into glorious view -- at first glance, not so different from the others, but a little thicker and the target of so much built-up anticipation -- and she knew she had to have it in her mouth soon or expire of yearning. Her pulse was racing as her lips moistened with her desire. Her toes curled and....

Take it slow, her sensible side urged her.

Make it last.

She wasn't ready to give up control yet but wasn't going to miss one moment of passion, either. Just the tip of her tongue explored Carl's secrets, racing along the edge like the singing she felt in every nerve. Her warm breath cascaded sweetly over the smooth surface, her tongue caressing its smooth, silken corners and circling the leading part once! Twice! Thrice! A fleeting wonder about whether she was really the type of woman to use "Thrice!" in a sentence gave way to sheer teasing playfulness as, little by little, maddeningly slowly, she ran the tip of her tongue over all its contours, not daring to take it all into her mouth at once. She felt the inside of her mouth getting slick and she knew something had changed about her desire, from playful to carnal; Carl had aroused her past the point of no return and it was clear that she would be consuming Carl all the way, with nothing held back or left over for next time. Her eyes rolled back as she imagined how intense the experience would be and a soft moan escaped her lips. She then retreated while gently suckling along its full length, not wanting to end the ecstasy too soon -- yet her head spun with her sharp need to have it deep inside her. It was clear that her sensible side was losing and that she was going to yield to her desires...soon.

It was firm, but not hard, in her mouth and it became clear that her lips and tongue were destined to envelop it completely. She drew it in with gentle but swift suction, determined to experience it fully. Although it didn't quite fill up her smiling mouth, the smooth, sensual feel of its full length made her feel lightheaded. In a moment of surreal clarity, she wondered whether she was simply experiencing a particularly vivid erotic fantasy (as she may have done a few times while she really should have been highlighting the changes in FASB standards pursuant to various tax reconciliation acts), or whether this was really happening to her in the sweet, sweet flesh.

I do not let anything defeat me.

I will take my own pleasure, on my own terms, even as I willingly surrender.

Her tongue was spasmodically active over every bit of Carl she could accommodate. She knew that the finish was close as a delectable pearl dripped from the corner of her mouth. As she came closer, she realized that she could never understand why her impossibly skinny girlfriends refused to swallow it (they made excuses about their complexion) but she knew that could she not get complete satisfaction unless she took Carl's essence deep inside her.

Yielding herself completely to her primal lust, she swallowed, and felt with smug satisfaction the warm, comforting slickness sliding down her eager throat. Along with the expected saltiness, it tasted sweeter, richer, and smoother than anything she had ever had before. When it hit her stomach, she knew it would fill her with energy and allow her to reach epic completion...

But only of my assignment, damn it.

The rest of the accounting exercise never stood a chance. Nothing could stop her now; she was fortified with the strongest elixir she had ever experienced. Her first experience with Carl had left her weak-kneed but giddily happy. The deep thrill she got from misbehaving told her there would be a repeat. Now that she was more mature, pure vanilla didn't satisfy her any more; she needed something a little darker, but still sweet and satisfying. The best part was that she knew that the rich, salted caramel- and dark-chocolate taste would stay with her until she brushed it away later that night, cleaning her wickedly agile Cupid's-bow mouth of the last remaining evidence of her sweet, satisfying indiscretion with Carl.

Perhaps next time she would attempt a larger portion.