The First Instruction

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We leave the bar, heading on foot towards campus. She follows me closely, never once asking where we’re going.

I take my graduate advisor’s card key from my bra and swipe it over the electronic lock, which admits us into the engineering building.

It’s empty, though the hall lights are on. Our shoes click loudly in the reverberating space.

We take the elevator up to the third floor. We stand side by side, not saying anything, watching the numbers.

More walking through hallways, then we arrive at the office. With some fumbling of the card key, I let us in and close the door behind us.

“Are you sure this is cool?” she says.

“Don’t worry. It’s fine,” I say.

There’s no window on the door, and the door has a lock. My advisor is lucky enough to have a relatively spacious office. It even has a window to the outside, behind my desk.

When he’s gone, I can come here and do whatever I want.

The blinds are shut, bathing the room in streaks of low, diffuse light from the street lamps outside.

I toss my handbag on my desk and turn to face her.

For a moment, neither of us says anything.

I blurt out, “Do you like my body?”

I see her nodding in the dim light.

“Do you want to see it?”

She nods again.

I take my hair down and shake it out, letting it fall about my shoulders.

I can’t blame her for being trepidatious. She’s still new at this.

I kick off my flats and shimmy my dress off over my head. It’s a process–I have wide hips, and my tummy hangs over my thighs. Sheath dresses like to vacuum-seal themselves to me.

But I do my best to make it sexy, even giving her a little turnaround as the dress comes off.

“Jesus,” I hear her whisper partway through. I think it’s when she sees my tie side thong, which nearly vanishes between my asscheeks.

When face her again, one of my tits is fully out. It overhangs its cup completely. I kind of expected that to happen.

But I think I’m playing it cool.

To her, I’m mostly in shadow, with the light hitting me from behind. But she can see me well enough, and she’s not trying to hide that she’s looking me up, down, and up again.

I give her some time. Then I say, “I like your body too, you know.”

She nods. I watch her disrobe. She’s not trying to be sexy–it might not even occur to her to take her clothes off in a way other than how she’s done it her whole life.

It’s cute. It’s disarming. I love the whole clumsy display.

Soon, she’s out of her jeans and her crop top, barefoot, clad in just her heather gray boxer-briefs and a padded plain nude bra.

She’s casino oyna beautiful, on display in the wan light. Not fat, but every inch of her is soft and thick and supple, not a hard line in sight. Her torso is short, though her arms and legs are long.

I try not to let my gaze linger. I don’t want to make her uncomfortable.

But my inner horndog is thirsty.

She steps forward and embraces me around the waist, bringing my attempt at visual reconnaisance to an end. She smells like lavender and tea.

Her body presses into mine. Her soft belly, the rough thread of her bra making contact with my bare breast, feels wonderful.

She kisses me. I kiss back. She opens her mouth and the kiss gets sloppy. I hold the back of her head in my hand, running my fingers over the buzzed part of her scalp.

Our mouths part, a string of spit connecting us. She wipes her chin. I leave mine alone. A strand of saliva falls to my breast.

“Tell me what you want,” I whisper.

“I want you,” she says.

I shake my head and smile. “Be more specific.”

This is lesson one. Shake off this discomfort with words. Be clear about what you want, always.

She lowers her eyes, puzzling for a moment, then looks up.

“I want to kiss your nipples.”

I grimace.

I don’t want to tell her no.

But the alternative would be complicated.

“Okay,” I say. “But I’m going to have to walk you through this.”

She looks at me quizzically.

“I want you to suck my nipples,” I tell her, “but they’re really sensitive. I need to show you how to work them up to it.”

I can see in her face that she’s taking this as a no. I’ll just have to be firm with her.

“Just promise to do exactly as I say, okay?”

She nods, still seeming kind of skeptical.

I turn, walk over to my desk, making my ass wiggle just a little bit extra to cheer her up. I clear away some books and papers, bend over slooowwwly, and leave them in a stack on the floor.

The papers are actually really important. It’s going to drive me nuts getting them back in order later.

But I don’t give a fuck right now.

I sit on the edge of the desk and spread my knees apart, inviting her in. She comes in and reaches around me to take my bra off.

“Hang on,” I say, “let me handle it this time.”

I reach behind my back and undo the clasp. It’s a three-hook job–all my nice bras are–and all three hooks are under incredible tensile pressure.

I reach behind my back, unhook the bra with an expert pinch of two fingers, slide it off, and toss it aside. My big tits rest on the curve of canlı casino my belly, free in all their pendulous glory.

“Can I?” she asks, eyeing my big pale nipples.

“Put your hands on them,” I say. “Just like cups on a bra. Keep your touch wide and flat. Don’t rub them or anything.”

She does as she’s told. Her soft, warm palms make contact with my nipples. I inhale sharply between my teeth. It’s a sudden, intense feeling.

But it’s pleasurable.

“Just hold them like that,” I say, “and lean your body weight into mine.”

She does, leaning her belly into my crotch. I drape my arms loosely over her shoulders and hug her with my thighs. We neck for a while in the diffuse moonlight.

A couple times, I feel her moving her palms just a little bit, agitating my nipples.

But, mostly, she behaves herself. They’re warming to her touch, armoring themselves in the excitement of arousal.

“Put your thumbs on them,” I tell her.

She does.

Obediently, she doesn’t move them.

“Stroke them with your thumbs,” I say. “Gently.”

She does.

The sharp tingling in my tits makes me jump. But I don’t tell her no, and she doesn’t stop.

A second, deeper tingling is resonating sympathetically deep in my abdomen.

I tell myself, I can take it.

At first, I’m just psyching myself up.

Then, with confidence, I believe I can.

I can take it.

I lean back, holding myself up with my hands on the desk, and arch my back, tits up. I look up at the ceiling.

I whisper, “Put your mouth on my nipple.”

“Which one?” I hear her whisper.

I laugh. “Pick your favorite.”

I feel her mouth on my right nipple. Initially just a wide open-mouthed kiss, hitting mostly areola. Then her lips close around it. The tip of her tongue touches the hard, fleshy nub.

I let my eyes close and I sigh. It feels good. Not at all unpleasant.

“Suck it,” I whisper. “Just a little.”

She does, a lovely little suction that throbs in my breast and makes the heat deep within me more insistent.

“Flick it with your tongue,” I say. “Keep it in your mouth.”

Her lips fastened on me, I feel her tongue flicking back and forth.

“Play with the other one with your thumb,” I say.

She grips my breast, flicks my nipple with her thumb, as she did earlier.

“Harder,” I say. She does.

I’m really, really horny.

And I need relief.

“Don’t stop,” I say. “I just need to know…”

She doesn’t stop.

“I need to get off. Is it okay if I masturbate while you do this?”

A moment’s hesitation, then an affirmative kaçak casino “mmhmm” that hums delightfully into the flesh of my tit.

I feel blindly with one hand, dip into my handbag, and pull out my lipstick vibrator. Clutching it in my hand, I reach down between our bodies. She graciously pulls her hips back to make room.

Expertly, I click the vibe on and place it on the shining strip of satin that covers my vulva.

Between the vibration on my clitoral hood through the cloth and her continuing attentions to my breasts, it only takes about 30 seconds.

My breath stutters in the back of my throat. Warmth and tension spreads through my pussy and my ass and my stomach, knotting me up inside.

“Don’t stop,” I whisper, “don’t stop.”

I gasp and everything releases at once. My skin radiates heat. My toes and my ears tingle. Even the roots of my hair feel it.

And my nipples… she’s doing wonderful things.

As I start to come down and sag back into my body, I think to myself, what she lacks in experience, she more than makes up for in taking direction.

I become cognizant enough to click the vibe off. She responds to that unspoken signal and releases my nipples.

She’s reluctant, though. It seems she was enjoying herself.

My breasts thrum, suddenly bereft of stimulation. The right nipple chills quickly, coated in her cooling saliva.

I let the vibrator clatter onto the desktop. I haul myself back up to sitting upright, and I hug her to me. She hugs back. The air is thick with lavender, tea, and pussy.

Once I feel fully in possession of my faculties again, I ask her:

“What else do you want?”

“I don’t know,” I hear her whisper next to my ear.

“What do you want me to do for you? Or is there anything else you want to try on me?”

After a second’s thought, I feel her shake her head no.

I ask, “Are you okay?”

She nods.

I decie to keep the hug going in case she’s not comfortable meeting my eyes. “Take all the time you need,” I say.

Baby queers. Sometimes, it’s hard to know what to expect.

“I know this was just supposed to be a quickie,” she says, “but can I crash at your place tonight? I’ve been up since early this morning, and my roommates have a bunch of people over tonight.”

I cock my eyebrows.

She says, “I just need a quiet place to sleep.”

I nod. I don’t see why not.

We get dressed without a word, leave my office, and walk the long walk to my car in the parking garage.

It occurs to me that I might have been rash in bringing her to my office to fuck. She’s new to all this; I have to be delicate.

Before she’s cool with a quick fuck in someone’s office, she might need some more notches on her bedpost.

With her sleeping in my bed tonight, she might get all of them.

~THE END~

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