Teach Me Pt. 01

At ten thirty he had a break between appointments, and despite the nicotine patch on his arm, he took advantage of a few free minutes to sneak out the back door of his office and light a cigarette. He had been doing well, but as November drew to a close and business picked up he had found himself more and more wanting to sneak out to what had once been a backyard to have a Marlboro. He had bought a pack of reds to maximize the amount of nicotine he could get from a single cigarette.

She had made the appointment under her maiden name. It had sounded familiar, but he couldn't place it, not until he opened his office door and asked the young girl he paid to Instagram for eight hours a day the three days each week he saw clients in the office to send in his next appointment. When she stood up, he couldn't believe it. He hadn't seen her in years, and now he had seen her twice in the same week. Monday at the grocery store and now, today, in his office.

He welcomed her happily but tentatively. There was an awkward moment as they worked out whether they would shake hands or hug. He ended up taking her hand in both of his and just holding it a moment. Finally, he stretched an arm out toward her desk and pointed her inside. She stood by one of the chairs. He wasn't sure, but he had the distinct impression she was shaking.

He left the door open as he always did when he saw women clients and walked back to the high backed leather chair behind the desk that was more old than antique.

"Can I close this?" she asked. It startled him when she spoke. He realized they were the first words she'd said. He had done all the talking.

"Sure," he said, trying to keep his voice cheerful.

She was a tall woman who, when his wife had asked, he had described as "not unattractive." Truthfully, he found her almost irresistible. A long time ago she had been his wife's best friend. For a short time He and his wife, she and her husband, had socialized. They had met for happy hours, gone to dinner, bought tickets for a New Years Eve cruise and even planned to go to Las Vegas together for a long weekend.

She was wearing a long red dress he knew well. It was her go-to dress. It looked casual with flipflops and dressy with heels. He watched her ass shift through the thin satiny material as she closed, latched, and then tugged on the door. Satisfied she turned back to him.

"I know you do your books. What can I help with? You run into something sensitive?"

She smiled a little and looked at him. "You could say that," she replied. She stepped towards the chair he had expected to sit in but remained standing.

"You should call Susan. She would love to hear from you, I am sure. You guys should go get a drink. I think she has been lonely lately."

"I bet," the tall blonde scoffed. She still smiled, but there was something in her eyes.

As he tried to figure out what was going on, she moved her hands up her body as if smoothing out wrinkles until they crossed at her chest and she had one hand on either shoulder. His breath caught in his throat when she tugged at her dress, pulled it off her shoulders, and then shifted her weight slowly from one hip to the other as it drifted down her body like a leaf in the wind. The moment felt as though it lasted an eternity. Finally, she stood posed alluringly wearing nothing but red lace panties, a matching bra, and strappy silver high heeled shoes.

Her legs seemed to go on forever, and he thought about the highway outside of El Paso, endless, curving gently one way and back the next sensually making its way across the desert.

"Jennifer..." he said, neither a statement nor a question.

"This is going to be difficult," she said flatly, her eyes cast upon the floor. "But, please, don't stop me. I have to do this."

She began to saunter toward him making her way around the end of his desk until she approached where he sat. He had slowly turned watching her. He loved the way she moved. He loved to watch the muscles in her legs flex with each step. He loved to watch the softer parts of her jiggle gently as her foot would fall on the floor. He loved the clip cloppy should of her heels on the wood floor, and although he did not intend to let happen whatever it was she intended to happen the shape of her, and the promise represented by the state of her undress had aroused him. He hoped it wasn't obvious.

"Jennifer..." he tried again. She placed her finger on his lips. The nail was long, red, and immaculately manicured. "Jenn..." he said through muffled lips. She pressed the finger into his mouth. It was a sensual deviant sort of thing to do and his cock pulsed in his pants.

"Shhh."

She moved to her knees between his feet. Her back was long and lean. Her blonde hair was a curly tangled sort of mess. She removed her finger from his mouth and used her long fingers to work loose his belt and trousers.

"Stand up," she whispered, keeping her eyes down in a hyper-submissive way that made him feel bad about himself in some very personal way because of how good he suddenly felt. He felt good in a bad way. He felt good in a way he hadn't in a long time.

She took his cock in her mouth. Her tongue danced around the crown as she sucked on just the head of his dick and then, very slowly and intentionally began to slide her lips down his shaft.

She paused halfway and swallowed nervously and then moved her hands from his cock to his ass. She opened her eyes wide looking up at him and then pulled him to her pressing his cock slowly deeper into her mouth.

She gagged, and he pulled back. She reacted by gripping his ass firmly with her fingernails. He froze holding himself still, and it was left to her to move forward. She gagged again, swallowed again, and pressed her eyes closed in concentration.

She was not to be stopped. She was determined to accomplish it, and after backing away for a moment, she pressed forward taking him deeper until he came to a stop.

It wasn't enough. She adjusted how she rested on her calves sitting up and forward and then pulled again gagging, choking, swallowing, torturing his cock until her lips were pressed to the tuft of hair at the base of his dick.

She held the position for a moment and then released him rocking backward until he sprung free of her and she could gasp for breath.

"I have never done that before," she whispered. She ran her fingers up and down his dick staring at it. "I want you to teach me. I want you to... make me."

"Teach you what?" he asked in shock. "Make you what?"

"Everything," she said, her eyes gazing up at him. She worked her mouth around his cock again and apparently, having said everything she intended to went to work.

Her mouth was warm and wet, welcoming, and she tortured him. The whole process was so slow and diligent it was as if it was scripted.

It was a set-up, he was sure. It was a plot hatched by his wife to take another $75 per month or some such nonsense in the settlement.

It was hard to be angry.

She was delightful. She was a sweet girl, he knew. She was in a tough spot, he had heard. She was undeniably desirable. She was in lace lingerie. She was also trying so hard.

She began to move more quickly, and her words returned to him out of the darkness that was enveloping his mind. "Teach me," she had said.

"Slow down," he said quietly. Once upon a time, a long time ago, he had gone through this with his wife. It was fun, it was naughty, it was exciting. He had taken unexpected satisfaction from it. his wife had called him deviant at the time, and he had liked it. "Look at me," he told the woman. "Move your hands," he instructed.

He then took her head gently and pressed his cock into her throat until he couldn't press on any further. He held it there a moment and then let her slip backward enough to breathe. When she tried to release his cock, he stopped her, gripping her by the hair again.

Slowly they repeated the process several more times. A tear developed in her eye and made its way down her cheek to the corner of her smile.

"I'm coming he whispered."

She pointed at his desk, and he turned and followed the path of her finger to the box of tissues in the corner.

"No," he said. He pulled her head, not so far that she choked, just enough that her mouth was full and her tongue pressed at different parts of him. He set a steady pace by thrusting his hips and holding her by her golden tresses until he felt the tightness near his ass that signaled he was there.

He growled a little, thrust a little, and it came. It was a hearty full serving sort of orgasm, and she choked again, this time on his come and his cock, and he pulled out of her. His cock pulsed cum onto the side of her face and then onto her neck. He let his load expend itself on her and then pulled her mouth back to him, slipping his cock again into her lovely lips.

She sucked at him, her eyes locked on his, as long as he made her.

"Don't move," he told her before letting her go. He pulled out of her and sat back down, leaning forward, he reached out and used a finger to gather the droplet of cum on her cheek. He pressed it into her mouth.

She sat submissively, allowing him to finish the process. He used his finger to gather the cum off her neck. As she licked it away, she resisted the need to swallow.

Somehow he knew this. At some point along the way, some happy hour, some late night drinking, she had mentioned she didn't swallow. Her husband had mocked her for it.

"Go ahead now. Swallow it down. A good girl takes her medicine like a lady."

She swallowed.

"Get your lips."

She smiled a little, ran her tongue along her bright red upper lip, and then time moaned a little as she swallowed down the salty mix of come and spit.

If it was a trap, he was done for.

"Stand up."

She didn't say a word but complied. He ran his hands over her bare flesh, stroked her gently where she was covered in lace, asked her to turn until her back was to him and she looked out across the desk. The panties were a delightful little cut, not so lurid as a G-string but more revealing than regular panties and he pressed her forward in order to bare his teeth and nibble at the flesh where her ass met her leg.

He stood, pulled the panties from her waist and down her ass, gripped her by the hips, and pressed his still firm dick between her cheeks until it slipped lower and inside of her pussy.

She braced her long, strong arms out on his desk.

He gathered her tangle of hair in his hands.

He fucked her.

It was neither hard nor soft, not fast or slow, simply long steady strokes of his cock into her soft fleshy cunt.

She was silent.

He slapped her ass.

She was so fucking hot. The muscles in her shoulders and back tightened. He wanted to go slow but hard as he tried the world was slipping away from him. His sense of himself, her concern for all of the parts of his world he had fought so hard to hold together over the last two years was being slowly fucked into his wife's friend's hot, wet, tight, pussy.

He pulled her hair firmly and her neck bent backward with her back arched. He slapped her broad ass again. Still, she did not make a sound. She was fucking with him. This was all some sort of devious plot, and he had fallen into it balls deep.

Fuck it.

He took her. He took her in a fury of lust, love, anger, and frustration.

He released her hair and reached and leaned forward until he could get around her ribs to take her tits, one in each hand, firmly, gripping them like the handles on an exercise machine.

He was coming again, and he fucked through it.

Still, not a sound.

He wasn't quitting.

If it was a game, she wanted it was a game she would get.

He fucked her still, he fucked her hard, he fucked her slow.

Nothing.

He released her tits, and in each hand, with his thumb and finger, he gripped one of her long hard nipples.

She squeaked.

He pinched harder.

She squeaked again.

he threw his entire body into it until his leg cramped and his back ached, and his fingers began to burn and give out.

She sighed.

He stopped. He stood behind her, his cock inside of her, and simply let her cunt twitch and grip at his cock.

He felt cum drip down his balls.

He backed away from her, bumped into his chair and collapsed.

She collapsed as well onto the pile of papers and folders now a mess on his desk.

Her ass, cunt, and clitty sat exposed in front of him, his cum dripping slowly onto the Gonzalez Plumbing tax returns.

"So that was unexpected," he said, still panting.

"Was I good."

"You are spectacular."

"Did I do what you wanted?" her voice was small and far away.

"I guess so," he answered, feeling more forthcoming than normal. "Was it good for you. It was hard to tell."

"Why?" she asked. She sounded like she wanted to know.

He could have answered, but as the oxygen returned to his mind and he could think again, he thought better of it.

"What was this all about. What was that 'teach me,' stuff."

"I need you," she said.

It was the sort of thing he had been pining to hear for longer than he could say.

"You need to go," he said flatly.

As silently as she had fucked, she now got herself dressed again. She took a compact from her purse, fixed her lips and a small streak that had formed in the corner of her left eye and walked out the door.

He let her go. He put himself back together. He picked up the pack of cigarettes, and then terrified he had waited for too long ran out the door of his office ignoring the call of the receptionist and into the old driveway that was now stripped for five cars.

She was sitting in the driver's seat. She was crying. When she saw him, she threw her car into reverse. He caught her before she got to the street. She stopped but didn't put down the window.

She sat in the car for a long moment as he stood, his hands locked on the roof line until finally, she pressed the button and the window went down.

"Talk to me," he said.

"Follow me," she responded.

He was behind her at a red light when he realized that more than he wanted the beautiful woman to suck his cock, more than he wanted to fuck her round ass, all he really wanted, what he really needed in his life was the last thing in the world he would ask for, the last thing he had said to her. He wanted to talk.

She drove on for a while before turning into a little gravel lot off the freeway. On one side sat a muffler repair, on the other, an old, dying bar.

He followed her inside with no clue what he expected, wanted or needed other than to sit with her. A tall beer with a bourbon back wouldn't hurt either.