Warm Fuzzy Feeling

"...and the young woman behind me will have a grande half-caf macchiato with extra milk." Irene tuned back in to the burble of conversation around her just in time to realize that the man in front of her was ordering her drink for her. Before she could say anything, he turned and flashed her a warm smile. He was older than she was, maybe ten years older, with steely gray eyes and precisely trimmed dark hair that led down into a short-clipped beard. He reminded Irene of some of her younger professors, the ones that inhabited that awkward and nebulous stage between 'peer' and 'authority figure'.

"I hope you don't mind," he said, taking out his card and handing it to the barista. "I've seen you in here practically every day this week, so I figured I could buy you the usual and you could sit and talk with me while you drank it." There was no hesitation in his voice, no questioning tone at the end of his sentence to indicate that she had the option to refuse--in his mind, the issue was settled. Irene had her coffee and he had Irene. For a little while, at least.

Normally, Irene would have been annoyed by the presumption, but... he did get her drink right. And she didn't exactly have any plans for the morning beyond reviewing some notes on the Spanish Civil War that she'd already gone over so many times they were starting to lose all meaning to her. And she had to admit, he did have a very nice smile. She felt a little buzz at the back of her head, that little 'click' that happened when the chemistry felt instantly right with someone, and she wasn't a bit surprised to find a reluctant smile spreading across her face. "Okay," she said, her long dark hair falling in a curtain over her face as she dropped her gaze to the floor for a moment. She felt as though she didn't know what to do with herself, as if her own audacity surprised her so much that her own body became a stranger to her for a moment.

It didn't seem to surprise him. He stepped out of the way to allow the next person to order, and reached his hand out companionably to hers. "I'm James," he said. "James Tenbroek. I teach art history here at Cornell. And you are...?"

Irene stepped aside as well, reaching out to take his proffered hand before allowing herself to be led over to the pickup counter. "Irene," she said, feeling a slight blush tinting her topaz cheeks. "Irene Nguyen. First-year grad student, studying, um... history history." It was such a crap joke and she knew it, but he chuckled like it was funny. Irene felt that little glow of happiness brighten like coal under the bellows.

"I suppose it could be worse," he said, an adorably crooked grin on his face. "You could be studying the history of academia, specializing in different interpretations of historical events. Then you'd be studying history history history." It was an even worse joke than Irene's, but the way he acknowledged and built off of her comment made her laugh as much as the attempt at humor. They'd only exchanged a few sentences, but she already felt ludicrously comfortable around him.

It only got better when they got their drinks. Irene sat down with him in a secluded corner of the coffee shop and he listened attentively while she babbled about her fascination with the interwar period and her plans to visit Spain next summer and her hopes for a research fellowship with Cornell once she got her doctorate. She didn't normally open up like this to anyone--even Irene's parents didn't know about her post-doctorate plans--but something about the way James leaned in and listened made Irene feel warm and happy all over in a way that she couldn't simply ascribe to the hot coffee.

It felt practically addictive, to the point that when James reached out and put his hand on her knee and said, "Listen, I know this is a bit forward, but... I've only got office hours today, and I can put those off. Would you like to go for a walk with me down by the creek? We're not going to get that many more nice days for a while, and I'd like to enjoy this one," Irene found her resolve to attend every single one of Doctor Lincoln's lectures crumbling under the weight of sheer delight. She was acutely conscious of the warmth of James' skin through her pantyhose, the delicious shock of sensation as she felt his presence and closeness on an immediate, tactile level. She'd read about this kind of instant connection in books, but she'd always dismissed it as romantic propaganda. She never thought she'd be feeling it herself.

Irene's eyes dropped again, unable to meet his gaze as she murmured, "Yes. Please."

The sky turned cloudy as they left the coffee shop, but then James slipped his hand into hers as they walked down toward Fall Creek and the weather didn't seem to matter anymore. It started dumping buckets about halfway down the walking path, but James had an umbrella and Irene had to lean up against him to stay dry and suddenly she felt absurdly grateful for the rain. She was missing class, something she hadn't done since she had emergency dental surgery during her sophomore year, but James had his arm around her as they walked and Irene knew from the bottom of her heart that there was nowhere else she wanted to be.

Even when the umbrella flipped up under a particularly strong gust of wind, it didn't dent Irene's perfect mood. Somehow, it just seemed like one more memory they would giggle over together. They sprinted down the trail, laughing madly as the rain soaked their clothes right down to the skin and finally ducking into the shelter of a bus stop to wait out the worst of the storm. Irene wasn't sure whether she was shivering from the cold or from anticipation when James finally leaned in to kiss her. All she knew was that the chill melted into wild, furious heat when she felt his lips on hers.

When the rain finally stopped, James said, "My place is just a few blocks away. Why don't we go and warm up, and I'll make you lunch? I'm not a great chef, but I can just about manage a couple of burgers." He gave her another one of those calm, confident smiles of his, the ones that told her he already knew what Irene's answer was. Irene knew that he wasn't just offering her food. She knew that if she went with him, they'd wind up in bed together.

"That sounds nice," she whispered, not trusting her voice to stay steady.

James never did get around to making the burgers. They walked the three blocks to his townhouse hand in hand, and when they got inside he said, "Why don't you go up to my room and get out of those wet things? You can just hang them over the tub and wear my robe while they dry." Irene nodded, trying her best to pretend that it was just a common-sense practical offer to make her more comfortable and help keep his furniture from getting damp, but she could already feel the course of events taking shape. When she heard the bathroom door open just as she was peeling off her panties and letting them drop to the tiled floor, she welcomed the inevitable.

It seemed so right when James wrapped his arms around her, his cool skin pressing against hers and gradually warming both of them. It felt so perfect when his fingers snaked down between Irene's thighs to cup her vulva and rest his hand there possessively. It made Irene feel positively adored when he kissed the back of her neck, the hairs of his beard lightly brushing her skin and making her tingle all over with excitement. And when she felt his cock pressing gently against the crack of her ass, twitching and pulsing with arousal, Irene felt a swell of pure, unadulterated joy in her heart.

James led her to the bed, her body seeming to almost float on a cushion of euphoria as he slid under the covers with her. He looked her right in the eyes as he reached down and began to play with her pussy, smiling proudly as her eyelids fluttered with pleasure and her stare became ever so slightly distant. "That's my good girl," he whispered to her, his fingers slowly working their way between her labia. Irene had always hated being called a good girl, but somehow the words felt different coming from James. They felt like approval and love and warmth and tenderness, and Irene moaned openly as she wriggled her body closer to his.

Irene normally insisted on a condom, even with her birth control pills, but when she felt his cock pressing against the entrance to her cunt just below the spot where his fingers swirled and danced on her clit, all she could find herself thinking was just how happy it made her to imagine him fucking her. She didn't want to stop, not for anything. She heard herself whimpering, "Please, James, please..." and somehow the simple act of begging for his hard shaft inside her seemed to fill Irene with more joy than she could possibly imagine. When he thrust all the way down inside her, she felt...

Fulfilled. Irene didn't understand why, her brain was too full of pleasure to comprehend anything but the intensity of their sex, but somehow fucking James felt more intimate than any connection Irene had ever experienced. It wasn't her first time with a man, not in bed nor in love, but somehow it had never felt this powerful before. Irene felt like she was losing herself, dissolving into fathoms of endless dreamy bliss as she wrapped her legs around James and urged him to fuck her harder, deeper, more. "Please," she babbled, not even knowing what she was begging for anymore but loving the way the word felt on her lips. "Please, please, oh f-f-fuck, please..." Her first orgasm caught her so off-guard that all she had time for was a momentary squeak before her whole body locked up in ecstasy.

James didn't stop, though. Irene counted a second climax, and then a third before his hips finally strained and his body shook and quivered and Irene felt a tiny dribble of warm fluid coming out of her pussy as he withdrew. "Good girl," he whispered to her, petting her softly. She shivered helplessly, the intimacy of his touch blending seamlessly into the afterglow to make her feel happier than she'd ever been. "Good girl. See how good you made me feel?"

She didn't. It was dark under the covers. But as he gently guided her head down to nuzzle his softening cock, Irene could taste the intermingling of her musk and the last few trickles of his cum, and she found that she knew exactly what he meant. She knew exactly how good she made him feel, all the way down to the very bottom of her heart, and it made her so happy that she couldn't stop licking and sucking him back to a full erection. She felt herself purring around his cock, a sleepy moan of continuous pleasure that made the warm darkness seem safe and comforting and loving, and she fell into a contented sleep almost as soon as he shot his second load into her mouth.

*****

Irene tried to concentrate on Doctor Lincoln's lecture, but her notes kept trailing off into indecipherable scrawls as the buzz on her clit momentarily intensified. James must have finished his classes for the day, she thought to herself with a surge of affection. He always spent a few minutes on his phone after class playing with the vibrator app on his phone, teasing her pussy with taps and swipes until she couldn't think of anything but the constant thrum between her legs. It was never enough to make her come in class... at least, he hadn't done that to her yet... but it was enough to keep her distracted. Wonderfully distracted.

Irene's writing hand slowed to a stop, and her eyes glazed over a tiny bit as she slipped into a reverie. Doctor Lincoln's slow, measured voice faded into the background as Irene's mind drifted back to the morning and the joy she felt spreading her legs so that James could push the wireless sex toy into her cunt. "That's my good girl," he cooed to her, his fingers gently massaging her labia until her pussy churned itself into a creamy mess of anticipation. "What do you want to do for me today, good girl?"

Irene never imagined that she would be into talking dirty, but somehow James made her so eager to describe the way he made her feel when he touched her like this. "I wwwant," she purred, arousal and pleasure slurring her voice into a kittenish drawl. "Wanna, wanna make myself wet and... and horny for you." It was happening already, the channel between her parted labia shining with liquid bliss as she squirmed lightly under his ministrations. "Please put your toy inside me? Please?"

Irene almost couldn't believe how helpless she sounded, how desperate she was to feel James' fingers pushing the remote-controlled vibrator into her cunt. It seemed absurd that it had only been a week since the day they first met back in the coffee shop; Irene felt like they'd been lovers for years, her body now so accustomed to his touch that she craved him like a drug. The toy had been his idea, but as soon as he suggested it, the thought of having him inside her all the time made her beg him to keep her pussy filled for him. It had become a morning ritual less than a day since they bought the vibrator together.

"It makes you so happy, doesn't it?" James asked her, staring down into her bright, adoring gaze and working the thick end of the toy into her slick cunt. "It makes you so happy to be filled with my pleasure, teased by my control. Fucked all day, every day, whenever I want you to be." His voice was thick and husky with arousal, and Irene didn't even need to look to know that his cock was stiff and purplish-red and dripping with precum. She loved knowing how horny she made him. She loved everything about her mornings now.

"So happy," she whimpered, letting out a tiny choked gasp as the toy settled into place and her vaginal muscles automatically clenched around it. "S-so happy..." Her eyes lost focus for a moment, staring at nothing as the sensations in her pussy took primacy away from all her other senses. There was a momentary sense of temporal confusion in Irene's head, the events of the morning blurring into the present as she realized she was gazing into the distance with exactly the same expression of vacant pleasure that she had when James turned on the vibrator for the day. And then it vanished, as Irene retreated back into her memory and let the lecture pass by unnoticed.

All she could think about was how blissfully fulfilled it made her feel to kneel at the foot of the bed and engulf James' warm, firm cock with her mouth. All she could think about was the joy that filled her mind when his fingers tangled into her hair and pulled her down until her lips were resting against the base of his shaft. All she could think about was the delight that swamped her mind, pushing out everything else except for the intimate pleasure of sliding her tongue out and caressing his balls with it.

The buzz in Irene's pussy intensified, muffled to almost absolute silence by the tightly-clenched vaginal tunnel that absorbed every last bit of the thrumming vibrations. Irene knew her panties were going to be soaked by the time she got done with class, but she didn't care--she was going right over to see James in his office after this, and he loved to see a great big wet spot right in the middle of the sheer fabric. It was going to please him, and Irene felt a surge of warm bliss at the thought of his gentle smile of approval. She was being a good girl. She wanted to be a good girl for James. Every time she thought about it, it felt... hot, but not just hot. Intimate. Like she had a clit in her soul, and James was stroking it with his words.

That feeling stayed with her, even when the heat in her pussy finally quieted after her climaxes. Even when all she was doing was making dinner for James, or cuddling with him, or sucking on his cock... Irene's lips unconsciously parted in an 'O' as she once again drifted into the memory of their morning blowjob... it was a constant pleasure. Continuous joy. Irene had never imagined feeling a love this powerful, this intense. She knew it was bound to subside, as the raw passion of their new relationship melted into an easy intimacy, but right now all Irene wanted to do was curl up inside James' love like a drowsy kitten.

The Spanish Civil War couldn't possibly compare to that. Irene ignored it completely, a tiny trickle of drool dripping onto her notebook as she let her thoughts fade into the memory of James pushing her head all the way down onto his cock until his cum spurted down her throat. She quivered, the vibrator inside her pushing her right up to the edge of climax for a moment before subsiding to a gentle whisper against her clit.

James was very happy with Irene's panties that afternoon.

*****

James leapt to his feet almost as soon as Irene came through the door, his face breaking out into an adoring smile as he said, "Irene! I'm so glad you're home. I've got the most amazing present for you upstairs!"

Irene felt her resolve, never very strong when it came to confrontations, melting like a block of ice in the summer heat when she saw his enthusiastic expression. "I... okay," she said, a reluctant smile spreading over her own features to mirror his. "But after that, we've got some things t-to talk about." She hoped he didn't notice the momentary hesitation in her voice. She didn't want to make him anxious--this was already going to be hard enough without letting it hang over whatever his special surprise was.

It was probably lingerie, Irene thought to herself as they went up the stairs. She'd gotten more naughty underwear in the last month than she had in the entire previous twenty-five years of her life, to the point where she could probably wear nothing but skimpy underwear and still have plenty of clean outfits. Not that she was complaining, or anything; something about the way James looked at her when she was wearing those tiny little wisps of fabric felt so much sexier than being naked for him. Just remembering the way he fingered her pussy through the thin silk made Irene shiver with--

She forced herself to clamp down on the thought. It wasn't going to make things any easier if she got... distracted like that. She needed to focus her mind on the task in front of her. She couldn't let herself become... um, preoccupied. With sex. With James. That would be a mistake. If she started thinking about sucking his cock again, her hands bound behind her back with those new cuffs he bought for her last weekend and the monster vibrator he got for her birthday buzzing away inside her cunt, um...

Shit. She was wet again. Goddamn. All that effort making herself take out the remote controlled vibe this morning, and she was still fucking wet for James. She clenched her teeth, willing herself to think about nothing but the reason she came here tonight. It wasn't sex. It wasn't James' new present for her. It was--

James opened the door to his bedroom. Irene saw the present he had for her. And her focus dissolved like mist in a strong breeze.

"Do you like it?" he asked, gesturing to the kennel at the foot of the bed. "I got it just for you. I measured you one night while you were sleeping, and I went out and found a cage just the right size to keep you all snuggled up and cozy while you rest. There's a soft pillow in there for you, and look!" He reached under the blankets and pulled out a small box. Inside, resting on a satin cushion, was a black leather collar. "To remind you that you're mine forever, good girl."

Irene felt her head swim with sudden, uncontrollable delight. She'd never had even the slightest desire to try anything kinky, let alone something as dehumanizing as sleeping in a dog crate at the foot of someone's bed, but the powerful surge of sheer, soul-hammering joy she experienced on seeing the kennel and the collar made her feel weak in the knees. She could hear James talking, saying, "You don't even need to get up when you're here with me, you can just kneel and crawl like the good girl I know you want to be," but his words seemed faint and distant next to the inexplicable joy that washed over her. It felt perfect. It felt absolutely perfect.