His Indecent Lessons 2

by Sky Corgan

  As he went to sit down in one of the chairs, I began peeling the wrapper off the lollipop. It was probably strawberry or cherry flavored. I would find out soon enough, though I hoped that it was strawberry. Cherry was a bit too tart for me.

  Damien crossed his ankle over his knee and rested the clipboard on his thigh. I could feel his eyes upon me, watching my every move, which only made me feel more vulnerable.

  I forced myself to look at him, allowing our eyes to lock. Eye contract was important. That was seduction 101. His gaze was so dominant though that my instinct was to cower away from it.

  No, I chastised myself. This will never work if you can't even look at him. He needs to be able to see that you fully mean the things you do.

  My small pink tongue flicked out of my mouth, tasting the lollipop. Cherry. Damn. No matter. Focus, Chey. Focus. You have to make him . . . hard. The very thought brought a blush to my cheeks. I could still picture Damien's cock, perfect and straight, hanging out of his jeans in his office at college. I wanted to stroke it, to take him into my mouth. But everything had gone by so fast. One minute, I was terrified that he would threaten to have me expelled. The next minute, I was sitting on his desk with my skirt hiked up to my hips and my legs spread. The memory made my face grow warmer, and my clit twitch with sensation.

  Now, I could take things slow—show Damien how much I really wanted him. He said I wasn't allowed to touch him sexually, but I could pretend. Couldn't I? This moment wasn't so much about expressing myself as it was about expressing my desire for him. And oh how I desired him.

  In my mind's eye, the lollipop became Damien's thick phallus. I stared at it longingly, lapping at its red candy coating with the utmost care. My only knowledge about how to give a proper blow job came from pornos I had watched. I tried to mimic them as best I could, giving the lollipop feathery strokes with my tongue before I stuck the entire thing in my mouth, sucking on it gently for a while and then plunging it to the back of my throat, moaning as I went along. All the while, the sensitive parts of my body began to heat up from the eroticism of the moment. Who knew that a person could get so aroused just from sucking on a lollipop? I must be doing a bang-up job if I'm already starting to get myself off, I thought. But then I looked back up at Damien and realized he wasn't sharing my sentiment. My eyes sunk between his legs, to the absence of the bulge there, and it took everything in me to suppress a frown. Not good enough, Cheyenne. You're going to have to try harder.

  Warmed up and feeling bolder by the minute, I crossed the distance between us to stand in front of Damien. It was time that I showed him I meant business. I would give him an erection if it killed me.

  Feeling a strange surge of confidence, I used my free hand to take the clipboard off his lap and set it on the chest of drawers. When I returned to him, I grabbed his crossed foot and pulling it over his knee so that it was forced on the floor. Then I stepped between his legs, making sure they were spread nice and wide for me.

  Now I had his full attention. He was staring up at me, trying to make me cower with those powerful dark eyes of his, and I was giving it right back to him, burning down into him with the fury of my desire.

  I let go of the lollipop stick and grabbed the bottom of my blouse. My heart pounded fiercely in my chest. I was about to do something I had never done before, and the angel on my shoulder shook her finger at me. This was dirty and wrong, but if I stopped now, then I might never get up the courage to do it again.

  As slowly and seductively as I could, I pulled the blouse up, exposing my pale skin and blue lace bra for Damien to see. When the blouse cleared my head, I shook my long red hair and tossed the garment over Damien's shoulder. His expression was deadpan, and there was still no bulge in his pants. Geez, this guy is a hard sell. I hope he's not broken. Then I remembered his sizable cock trying to force its way inside of me. No, definitely not broken. Maybe he just has some strange tantric willpower. It doesn't matter. I said I won't stop until I pass this test, and I'm not going to.

  My hands fumbled behind my back, working to unclasp my bra. The stress of the situation made me clumsy, and I worried that I might crumble at any moment, both emotionally and physically. Negative thoughts attacked me from all sides. What if he doesn't find me attractive? Do I look stupid? Am I really doing the right thing?

  The bra finally gave way, and I shrugged it off my shoulders, taking a deep breath. My nipples were hard pink pebbles against my smooth skin. The feel of the material of my bra rubbing over them sent a wanton twitch straight to my clit, helping to stabilize my mood. Even if he wasn't enjoying this, a large part of me was. It was exciting to be doing these horribly naughty things—things I had never done before.

  I cupped my hands against the sides of my breasts, squeezing them together and rolling my nipples between my thumbs and index fingers. It felt absolutely exquisite, sending wave after wave of pleasure coursing through my nether region. A soft moan left my throat, though it was partially muffled thanks to the lollipop occupying my mouth.

  I looked down. Still, no erection.

  Today's skirt was held in place by a simple elastic waistband. I dug my thumbs into my sides, pulling it down to my ankles. As I did so, I leaned forward, my head only inches away from Damien, my breasts kissing the top of his right thigh. For a moment, my face was close to his crotch, and I took a second to inhale his scent. There was nothing there but the smell of cologne and fabric softener. Not quite close enough, I thought with a twinge of disappointment.

  I kicked the skirt aside and straddled his right knee, looking down as if I was the one doing the dominating. I wanted him to touch me, to give me some sign of approval—to do anything, but he just sat there, gazing up at me, his cock unwaveringly flaccid.

  My well of ideas was quickly running dry. There wasn't much left I could do to elicit a response from him. If showing my tits hadn't done it, I highly doubted that exposing my cunt would produce different results. Still, it was the only card I had that hadn't been played yet.

  Stifling a sigh, I hooked my fingers into the waistband of my blue lace panties and slid them over my ass with the same deliberately slow motion I had used when I took off my skirt. Cool air flowed between my legs, sending a chill down my spin as it kissed my warm wet parts. My mound had been shaven hairless, which I hoped Damien would like. I wasn't sure of his preference, but most men seemed to prefer the shaven look nowadays.

  With my panties dropped to the floor, I stood in front of Damien Reed completely naked, more exposed than I had ever been in front of a man. I had expected to feel shy and vulnerable, but somehow, I felt empowered, like I had just accomplished something great. It seemed stupid, but being naked in front of a man was a big step for me.

  I dropped to my knees between Damien's legs, returning my attention to the lollipop, which had been sucked down to about half its original size by that point. I swirled it around in my mouth, moaning and gazing up into his brown eyes. For a moment, I thought about pulling it out of my mouth and trailing it down my body, but I didn't want to get sticky. Seducing Damien Reed was starting to feel like an impossible task.

  I took the lollipop out and held it in front of my face, rubbing it across my lips. Eventually, my creative well ran dry, and I ended up just staring at the thing.

  Damien reached forward and took it from me, bringing it up to his mouth. My eyes followed it like snipers on a target. It was so close to his lips, those beautiful lips that had kissed me tenderly in his office. How I wanted to taste them again.

  In a matter of seconds, the tables were turned. I was watching him, my eyes hooded and wanton with desire. His breath steamed on the red candy coating of the lollipop, and then it disappeared into his mouth. He sucked on it for a moment, then pulled it back out, his tongue making a soft swirling motion over the back of it. The peaks of my nipples grew harder, imagining that warm wet mouth ravaging them. He was an insatiable tease, and it was about to drive me absolutely insane.

  “Are you ready for part tw
o?” he asked.

  My eyes were hooded, captivated by his seductive spell. It blew my mind and pissed me off that I had been working for close to fifteen minutes to give him an erection, and in the span of only two seconds, he already had me silently begging for him to take me. All he had to do was ask, and I'd be spreading my legs for him shamelessly, ready to take his thick cock into my wet folds.

  “Part two,” I murmured, still staring at the lollipop as it rolled around inside his mouth.

  “You look very ready for part two.”

  “What's part two?”

  “I want you to masturbate for me.”

  My breath hitched in shock, my mind suddenly drawn back to reality. Masturbate for him? I had just gotten done being proud of myself for getting naked, and now he wanted to push the envelope even further.

  “I'm shy,” I muttered.

  “You don't seem very shy to me.” He leaned back, killing the sensual moment by cracking the lollipop with his teeth.

  “It took a lot of courage for me to even do this much,” I confessed.

  “And I commend you for it. You did a good job.”

  “But you didn't. . . I mean. . .” My cheeks burned. Why was it so hard for me to say erection? He hadn't gotten an erection. It wasn't particularly difficult to say, and yet my words got all jumbled up in immature embarrassment.

  “I didn't what?” he smirked, and I hated him for it. He was going to force me to say it.

  “You're not hard.”

  “So you've been looking,” he teased.

  “Well, yeah. I figured that would be a sign that I had done a good job.”

  “You did a great job. I just have a lot of self-control. It's not often my body does things I don't want it to, excluding when I'm sick.”

  Is that even possible, I thought, or was he just saying that to be nice. Sure, he wasn't some teenage boy who was going to pop a boner at every boob he saw, but still. I had given him a very intimate one-on-one strip show. Few guys could see something like that without getting hard.

  “Masturbate for me. You're warmed up as it is. It's important for me to see you pleasure yourself, for future lessons. Now, I know it might be a bit awkward, since you've never done it in front of anyone before. Just try to pretend I'm not here. You don't need to do any fake moaning or try to impress me, or drag it out longer than necessary. Do what you normally do.”

  I thought about opening my mouth to argue, but instead, I found myself crawling onto the bed and rolling onto my back. Damien had one thing right; I was definitely warmed up and ready to go. My mind was still stuck on the image of him sucking on the lollipop, teasing it with his tongue.

  The sensitive nerves in my clit tingled as my fingers found their way between my legs. Normally, it only took me about five minutes to rub one out. That wouldn't be the case this time though. Despite the fire burning between my legs, my mind kept getting distracted. No matter how much I tried to pretend I was alone, I knew that Damien Reed was sitting a few feet away watching me without a tent in his pants. It was a discouraging thought.

  This is for you, not for him, I had to remind myself. You're doing this so that you can be more sexually secure.

  One hand worked back and forth in heated circles over my clit while the other teased one of my erect nipples. I tried to keep the picture of Damien sucking the lollipop in my head. My thoughts kept drifting deeper though, moving further back to when we were in his office. The head of his cock had pressed against my passageway, nudging to the point of pain. It hadn't bucked all the way inside, but that feeling when he was there, when we were so close to coupling. At the time, I was a bit afraid. Now, the memory brought back nothing but excitement.

  My finger worked with energized fervor, massaging while my toes curled, and I pressed my hips forward, practically writhing on the bed as I rubbed out my pleasure. All the while, I imagined Damien's glorious tip at my entrance, threatening to break through and invade my virgin tunnel. It would have felt exquisite, I was sure. Maybe a bit painful, but that would have gone away once I got used to his girth. The thought of Damien Reed between my legs was enough to send me over the edge, drowning me in a fit of blissful contractions. My lips parted to moan, but I swallowed the sound, not wanting to seem fake or flaky. The contractions rolled through me in rapid succession, firing off my sensitive nerve endings, and soon I found myself spent and breathing ragged on the bed.

  When I finally turned to look at Damien Reed, there was a tent in his pants.

  No Touching

  I got dressed while Damien jotted notes down on the clipboard. Hearing the pen scratch against paper was a bit unnerving, as if I was being graded on my performance. Curiosity made me want to ask what he was writing, but I was too shy and embarrassed, and part of me feared it wasn't something I wanted to know anyway.

  With me dressed and his notes taken, the session was over. Like the professional that he was, Damien walked me to the door, going over what time he'd like me to come over the following day. My brain went wild, trying to imagine my next lesson. Apparently, I had used up all of my boldness during the striptease and self-pleasure session, because I could barely utter out more than a few words before I found myself standing outside of his house, staring at my Miata, my mind replaying the afternoon's events while my body automatically walked to my car and got inside.

  I picked up my cell phone and realized I was shaking. Adrenaline was still pumping through me, and I wondered how long it would be before I calmed down. The session had been so intense; the memory of it would stick with me for a while.

  With unsteady fingers, I dialed Tanya's number. Everything in me wanted to blab about what had happened. She was my best friend, and I told her everything. Yet this felt somehow forbidden. I had to keep it to myself. Or maybe I could lie and tell her I had met some wonderful boy, just so I could get this off my chest.

  We met up at a local restaurant, and she seemed to be beaming with excitement as much as I was. She wiggled as we waited for the host to show us to our seats, going on about having big news, though she refused to tell me what it was until we were seated.

  I slid into the booth opposite her. Before we even had a chance to say a word to each other, our waiter was at the table, taking our drink order. The ear to ear grin on Tanya's face told me that she had probably just gotten laid. She always smiled like that after sex. Sometimes, she reminded me more of a guy than a girl. She was so promiscuous, practically a nymphet. If she could have a different boy every night of the week, she would.

  “Oh. Oh. Oh.” She patted the top of the table in excitement as soon as the waiter walked away.

  “You go first,” I told her, as if I had a choice.

  “I met a boy,” she said and then squealed afterward.

  “I kind of figured.” I tried not to sound too unsurprised.

  “No. No. Not just any boy. This boy is dreamy and smart and rich. Did I mention that he's hot? Because he's really really hot.”

  “Dreamy usually implies hot.” I grinned at her.

  “And his dick.” She held her hands almost a foot apart and then mouthed the words, “this big.”

  I couldn't help but laugh. “Sounds like the total package. I'm guessing that you two—”

  “Of course we did,” she giggled like a school girl. “You know me better than that, Chey. Why'd you even ask?”

  I wanted to roll my eyes, imagining a bedpost full of notches that went all the way down to the floor. “Why'd I even ask? Oh, by the way, how's the sugar daddy going?”

  “I don't want to talk about him. He's old news. I'm going to cut ties. I just don't have time for him anymore with college and all of these new boys.”

  “I'm sure he'll be disappointed.”

  “Wouldn't be the first time I left a guy heartbroken.”

  Tanya was the quintessential Asian dream. She was petite, with long silky dark hair that hung down to her lower back, a round tan face, and almond eyes. There weren't many guys who didn't lust over her s
mall frame and perky tits. She knew how to work them too, always wearing something to accentuate her body. Today it was a skintight mini dress, black with soft white flowers crawling up the side.

  “So what about your news?” she asked.

  “I met a boy too.”

  “Oh really now?” She arched an eyebrow, giving me a strangely sleazy looking expression that made me giggle.

  “Yes.”

  “What's his name?”

  It was a question I hadn't expected her to ask. Usually, her mind was completely sex focused. Why'd she have to ask a question that made me think . . . and hesitate.

  “James,” I fumbled, cringing after I said it. Damien Reed looked nothing like a James. I didn't even like the name James. Why had I said it?

  She wrinkled her nose, mirroring my thought. “I don't like that name.”

  “Me neither, but he's pretty dreamy too.”

  “So, what does he look like?”

  “He's tall, with dark hair and dark eyes.”

  “Sounds yummy. Is he chubby?”

  “No. He's very fit. He wears . . . really tight clothes.” I wanted to drool, thinking about the tent in Damien Reed's jeans. It reminded me of the saying about love. Stop looking and you'll find it. I had been working on giving him an erection for what felt like forever, and when I finally stopped concentrating on him and started thinking about myself, that was when it happened.

  “He's not one of those emo kids, is he? Cause I don't like them.” She shook her head in distaste.

  “Does it matter? It's not about whether you like him or not. All that matters is that I like him.”

  “Ew. He is an emo kid. Chey, they're so immature. You can do better than that.”

  “No. He's not emo,” I laughed. “He's very . . . serious, and smart, and . . .” Distant. And not really yours.

  “Does he have a big dick?”

  “Tanya!” I wanted to reach across the table and slap at her. Then I grinned, realizing for the first time ever that I could actually answer that question with honesty. “Yes, he does,” I said.