2 comments/ 10523 views/ 2 favorites Learning from the Master By: kimbelina I sighed as I stepped back from the wall, shaking my head back and forth and frowning at the crooked edge I had just painted. As I let my head fall, discouraged, my eyes were just quick enough to notice a big glob of paint about to drip from the end of my brush. I managed to reach out just quickly enough for the splat of eggshell to land on the drop-cloth rather than the hardwood floor. Nice way to start a Saturday. It was hopeless, I thought to myself as I set down the brush and picked up a rag to wipe my filthy hands. I just had to face the fact that I wasn't good at this. Easier said than done, as I'm quite a perfectionist. But when it came down to it, I'd have to decide which was more important to me: that I proved I was a great painter, or that I was actually satisfied with the paint job. And as I daydreamed about having friends over, entertaining with pride in my new home, the answer became clear. I'd have to ask for help. I'd bought this house just a couple of months earlier, after picking up and moving my life half-way across the country. If it hadn't been for my parents' support, and the significant salary I'd be earning in the dream job that had brought me here, I couldn't have afforded the cute bungalow on the tree-lined street in the desirable neighborhood. After all, real estate values were fairly inflated in this suburb consistently named one of the country's 'most livable'. But I was so delighted to be there, I was willing to buy a house that desperately needed landscaping, a new roof, and new paint inside and out. What I hadn't realized was that my high-achieving nature didn't necessarily translate to success in home improvement. I didn't have the time or skills to do the work myself. And when I reached out for help, inviting contractors over to give an estimate or visiting the hardware store on my way home from work, I inevitably saw my attractive young body reflected as so many dollar signs in the eyes of those I met. This was my first time on my own - no more dad or handy roommate to take care of these things for me - and I can't express how frustrating it was not to be taken seriously. Don't get me wrong, I don't mind guys staring at my chest or ogling my legs - it's just that usually I can use my assets to get free dinner and drinks; this time around, it was just leading to high estimates for the work I needed done! The first people I hired - to paint the outside of the house - were a couple of college guys. They happened to be going door to door looking for work when I was wrestling with my new lawnmower, assured me of their vast experience painting houses the summer before, and impressed me with their cheap quote and eagerness to start the job right away. What the hell, I figured. They'd probably do a good job, and it wouldn't hurt me to have a little eye candy around. I didn't even have to feel guilty, a single 26-year-old who just happened to enjoy the view of the shirtless 19-year-olds as they climbed up and down ladders. Innocent fun. Only problem was, they were sloppy. They were careless. For supposedly experienced painters, they didn't seem to have much respect for the subtle differences between colors. If I hadn't been finding excuses to watch them work - OK, so it had been a while since I'd had a date - they would have finished the trim in 'Surf Green', when I'd been very clear that my choice was 'Cilantro'. In the end, they did finish the job, but they got by with just the minimum. Typical of guys their age, I couldn't help chuckling to myself. It was a real 'in and out' job. If I wasn't there to keep an eye on them, and to clean up after them, I never would have gotten what I wanted. So, things bring us to where this story began - trying and failing on a Saturday morning to paint my own living room. The guys had finished the outside work a few days before; that evening, I stood out on the front lawn in the late summer sun, surveying their work as I nursed a glass of merlot. Not bad, in the end, and certainly a huge improvement since I moved in. But there's no way I would hire the young guys back to paint inside. So that weekend, I told myself, my confidence bolstered by the wine and a successful day at the office, I would get it done myself. As I headed back into the house, my neighbor waved from his porch. "Looks good," he hollered. I noticed he'd been keeping an eye on the college guys when he could, something I appreciated even though I'd never exchanged more than a few words with him. Terrible, I thought to myself, how little neighbors talk in this day and age. This was something I'd have to work on as I settled into the neighborhood, especially since this guy was so handsome, and appeared to be single. "Thanks! Although it's nothing compared to your house - beautiful!" "Hey, thanks. But don't worry, you're still getting settled in. It took me a long time to get things looking this good. Plenty of time for you to catch up!" I smiled, waved, and walked up the steps and into my house. I wondered how much older he was - I guessed early 40s. And if his handsome face and athletic body weren't enough to catch my attention, he exuded confidence. I had indeed admired his house many times, with its immaculate and historically accurate paint job, gorgeous landscaping, all accented by the always-clean sports car in his driveway. His words echoed in my mind as I settled in for the night. He was supportive, yes, and understanding of the hard work involved with fixing up an old home. But somehow I also took his words as a challenge. Hmm. Guess I should have shared with you that I'm competitive, as well as a perfectionist. Anyway, if I was hoping to get to know my neighbor better - goodness, I didn't even know his name - the chance came that Saturday morning. Frustrated with my near-spill and below-par painting skills, I fumed out of the house to get some air. With some nasty language that I won't repeat here still on my lips, I practically ran into him as I stormed down my front walk. "Oh, yikes, sorry!" I looked up into his eyes, and blushed as I realized he'd heard everything I'd said. "That's OK, no worries! Are you OK?" "Yeah, I'm fine, just getting frustrated with my painting project." "I can see that," he replied with a smile, looking down at my dirty overalls, which somehow had almost as much paint on them as what I'd managed to get on the wall. "Yeah, not my forte. But it's OK, I just needed to get some air, clear my head, then I'll get back at it." Just then, I realized he'd been coming to see me. "Hey, were you coming over for a visit?" "Well, yes! I was thinking after we chatted last night, what a shame it is that neighbors don't know each other better, and figured I might find you home on a Saturday morning." I nodded and smiled, not quite ready to admit that he'd read my mind. "What a nice thought. Please, come in, I'll show you around." "My name's Jake, by the way." "Nice to meet you, Jake," reaching out to shake the hand he had offered. "I'm Ashley. Come on in." I gave him the quick tour, pointing out the work I intended to do in each room, and sensed his eyes moving over my body as he followed me through the house. Dirty as I was from attempting to paint, I smiled to myself, I could tell he found me appealing in my cute home improvement outfit. My wavy blonde hair, which normally fell just below my shoulder blades, was up in two pigtails. My paint-covered overalls hugged my figure, showing off my tight little ass, great legs, and especially my tits. I was wearing a lacy red bra that was just barely concealed by a fitted white t-shirt. A sexy outfit, really, and something I wouldn't have been caught dead in outside the comfort of my own home! He looked, as he always did, exceedingly comfortable and confident in jeans and a polo shirt. He was about 6'1", I estimated, to my 5'7", in great shape, and much to my delight, clearly hadn't shaved that morning. My mind was wandering down a dangerous path when we found ourselves back in the living room and he spoke, bringing me back to reality. "So, looks like you bought out the whole store here?" I looked around, taking in the cans of designer paint, drop-cloths, various sizes of brushes and rollers, several rolls of painter's tape, etc. "Well, yeah, I wanted to be prepared." "It's just that, well, never mind." "No, tell me, what were you going to say?" "It's just that, just buying the right supplies doesn't insure that you can paint." "Yeah, I know..." I let my voice trail off, my eyes following his glance to the crooked edge I'd painted that morning. "Here," he said, handing me the brush. "Let me watch your technique. Maybe I can help." Once again, I couldn't decide whether to take his words as supportive or challenging. But as I wanted to do whatever I could to get to know him better, I figured I should go along with it. I looked back at him once more, and he gave me an encouraging nod, so I walked back to the wall, added paint to my brush, and nervously painted another crooked edge, this time along a window. My lack of skill was only amplified by the fact that a sexy older guy was watching my every move. "So, will you let me give you a few tips?" "Well, I'm sure it's just a matter of practice, I mean, after I've been at it for a while, I'm sure I'll get better." "Yes, but meanwhile you'll waste a lot of paint, time, and anguish. Listen, I've got lots of experience, and I'll be happy to help you if you're willing to check your ego at the door before we get started." "Excuse me?" "You heard me," he said with a smile and a wink. "I can tell that you're an accomplished young woman, and used to things being under your control. But I think you'll find that when it comes to things like this, listening to me is always the best way to go." My mouth wanted to drop open, but I caught myself before that could happen. It struck me that he was referring to more than just painting, but I tried to play it cool. "Alright, Jake. You're right. I'm competitive and used to handling things on my own. But I admit I'm a lousy painter. I'd love your help." "OK! First, you don't need to use that painter's tape. Look," he said, pulling it away from the edge I'd been painting, "your getting paint underneath it anyway. Watch me for a second." Putting paint on another brush, he smoothly painted a perfect edge, with no irritating blue painter's tape to guide his way. "Wow, how'd you do that?" "You can do it too, Ashley, you just need to slow down and have a little patience. Here, you try this edge." I followed his direction, and did my best to follow his example, but once again I painted a crooked line, globbing paint where I didn't want it and leaving some areas bare that should have been covered. "You're trying to hurry it. You need to take your time to do it correctly." He came up behind me and took my hand in his, guiding the brush slowly and gently, and I quickly understood the difference between his touch and mine. "See, you were trying to move too quickly, and in the process, you were making a mess. A little patience..." his voice trailed off as he put more paint on the brush, put it back in my hand, and once again guided my motions. I could feel my body warming as he stood so closely behind me, my heart beating faster as I felt his breath in my ear. But just as soon as I began to melt into him, he pulled away from me, stepping back into the room to survey my work once again. "That's it, Ashley. Much better. Keep going, I'll be right back, just want to run home to get a few tools." My mind raced in the few minutes that I was alone. I wanted to stop, to ponder a possible next move with this guy, but I also felt strongly that I needed to keep going, keep painting, show him that I'd made progress by the time he returned. I was overwhelmed with a sense of frustration at how easily he had taken control - in just a matter of minutes, he had made it clear that he was in charge, that he would be calling the shots - and unfortunately I didn't know whether painting was all he had in mind for the day. I just knew I was hoping for more. Before I knew it, he was back, carrying a cordless drill. "Good job, Ashley, much better. Why don't we try another color now, is this what you wanted to use for an accent wall?" I looked to see which paint can he was pointing at, and nodded. I reached for a screwdriver to pry open the lid, and with my other hand, grabbed one of the stir sticks I'd been given at the paint store. "Oh, no, Ashley, I've got something much better." Jake quickly switched attachments on his drill, kneeled next to me, and stirred the paint in just a matter of seconds. "I didn't know there was such a tool!" "Oh, yes, stirs the paint much more quickly and effectively. Besides, we'll find a better use for those stir sticks later." My mind raced once again, searching his face for any clue whether he was talking about home improvement projects or bedroom activities, but I couldn't read anything from his piercing blue eyes. They were at once serious and mischievous. Oh well, nothing I could do but continue to go along with this. He was clearly in the driver's seat. We worked together in silence for a few more moments before he spoke again. "Do you believe me now, can we get rid of all of this tape? Again, I can think of much better uses for it than cluttering up your living room. And while we're at it, you do realize you don't really need this drop cloth, right?" "But, um... I just don't want to get anything on the hardwood floor." "Nor do I. But as with many things in life, if you do it properly, you won't make a mess. Be aware of how much paint is on your brush. Don't rush it. A little patience." I nodded, allowing his confident voice to wash over me as I worked. Much as I tried to focus on my painting, though, I couldn't help but be distracted by most everything he said. Once it entered my mind that there were double entendres in everything he said, it was difficult to focus on much but the growing warmth between my legs. "With the drop cloth, you're preparing yourself for failure. You're assuming that you're going to spill a drop. We won't be needing it, trust me." I nodded my understanding, and he gathered the cloth up from the floor, folded it neatly, and put it in the corner of the room. "So, how are we doing over here?" As he had before, he came up behind me, his breath hot on my neck as he watched me paint. I had already improved, my strokes much slower now, and I was no longer spilling paint in all directions. It was actually ending up where I intended - on the wall! Just as I began to take pleasure in this success, I felt his hands on my hips. For a moment, it could have been innocent enough, but then his hands began to wander, reaching underneath the overalls to cup my breasts. I sighed and melted into him, and nearly dropped the paintbrush. I managed to firm up my grip before it fell to the floor, but in the process, a large drop of green paint fell to the floor, splattering on the hardwood. His hands pulled away from my body, and I spun around to face him. "I thought you understood that we wouldn't be relying on the drop cloth?" "But, um, I thought you wanted to..." "Oh, I do, but not until you accept that there will be a consequence to your sloppiness." His usual confidence remained, but I could tell he was searching my face for a reaction, making sure I was interested in going along with his latest whim. Oh yes, I was. And I was quick to respond. "I assume that's what the stir stick is for?" "That's right, Ashley. A few swats should remind you to be more careful in the future." He picked up one of the virgin sticks, asked me to hold out my hands, palm up, and swatted each of them once, firmly. "You look disappointed, Ashley. Were you hoping for something more?" I blushed, realizing that maybe I'd misread his intentions and revealed more about myself than I should have to my neighbor. But my fears were quickly assuaged. "Don't worry, Ashley. There will be more. All in good time. Remember, a little patience." He tossed the stick to the floor and took me in his arms once again. With a few quick motions, he unhooked the straps of my overalls, letting them fall to my waist, and quickly pulled my t-shirt up and over my head. He pulled my breasts out of the cups of my bra, and took them one by one into his mouth, sucking aggressively. My nipples had always been sensitive but eager, and I arched my back in pleasure as he gently nibbled on them. My hands slipped down to his crotch, and I massaged his growing cock with one hand as the other quickly moved to unbutton his fly and fish it out of his boxers. "Not so fast, Ashley. A little precision, please?" He backed away from me and slowly stripped naked, his eyes locked on mine as he removed first his shoes and socks, setting them neatly aside, then his jeans and boxers, and finally his shirt. Only his hard, erect cock revealed that he was aroused - everything else about his movements and the calm of his eyes spoke only of the utmost confidence. "Now you." I followed his lead, just as I had a few minutes earlier when I imitated the stroke of his paintbrush. Now it was my turn to peel off what remained of my clothes and set them neatly aside, keeping my eyes fixed on his except for the occasional glance down at his cock. "Do you want to pleasure me?" "Oh, yes." "Then drop to your knees." Once there, adjusting my kneecaps to the hard, cold floor, I looked up into his eyes, smiling. He continued with his instructions. "Now," he said calmly, reaching once more for the stir stick. "If I get any sense that you're resorting to the rushed motions you're used to, you're going to get a firm swat, understood? As long as you show some patience, I'll let you work. And remember, don't spill a drop." I could hardly control my excitement as I eagerly took his cock into my hands and mouth. I moved quickly, lustily, and it wasn't long before I felt the sting of the wood against my skin as he bent down to slap it across my ass. "A little patience, Ashley. All good things to those who wait." I answered wordlessly, going back to work on his cock with long, slow strokes, as I felt my own juices begin to trickle down my leg. I looked up at him as I took his entire length into my mouth, and, apparently sensing my willingness to follow his rules, he put down the stick. Both hands free, he now grasped my pigtails and gently guided my motions. I was determined to maintain my slow and steady pace, massaging his balls in my hands as I let his cock slide in and out of my mouth, but before long it was he who began to speed things up. For a few minutes more, he thrust in and out, whispering gentle commands to guide my touch, and I responded instantly to each, eager to please. He raised his voice just a bit to warn me that he was about to orgasm. Then, with a level of control I'd never experienced from a man about to cum, whispered, "Remember, Ashley. Not a drop." Just at that moment, I felt his warm load shoot deep into my throat. Gagging a bit, I nonetheless continued to suck him off, swallowing every drop, and smiling up at him with pleasure at my success when he finally pulled out of me. "Nicely done, Ashley. You see, you are a quick learner. Now it's time for your reward." Before I could respond or react, he picked up the painter's tape and strolled out of the room, down the hall towards my bedroom. My knees both weak and sore, I climbed to my feet as quickly as I could and followed him, arriving just in time to see him pull a long length of tape from the roll and rip it free. "Now, for your next lesson. For those of us who can paint without this silly guide, there's a much more satisfying use of this tape. On the bed, please." Learning from the Master Ch. 02 Jake would be arriving any moment, so I quickly glanced around the room to make sure all was as it should be. When we'd parted ways the weekend before, he'd given me specific instructions about how to prepare for our next project - today's project - painting the dining room. And after the lessons I'd learned in our first encounter, I wasn't about to disappoint him. Not only did I have a lot to learn about painting, there was also still a great deal he could teach me about the potential for pleasure. So the ladder was in one corner, ready to help us reach the trim along the ceiling. I'd removed all of the furniture except for the dining table, which remained in the center of the room, covered with a drop cloth and serving as a work table. Cans of paint, brushes, and rollers were neatly stacked there. I had also brought out all of the other supplies I'd been conned into buying at the hardware store - although I had learned last week I didn't really need them to paint effectively, I was hoping Jake might have some additional creative uses for them. Everything was ready, I thought to myself, as I wiped my brow, suddenly aware of how much I was sweating on this hot summer morning. Already scantily clad in a fitted t-shirt and shorts, I had no room to undress further, so instead went into the kitchen to put some cool water on a wash cloth. Jake knocked on screen door while I was still in the kitchen, and I hollered for him to come on in. I gave him a broad smile as we met in the dining room, but his smile quickly turned to a frown as he watched me pat my forehead and cheeks with the damp cloth. "What's wrong, princess, are you too warm?" "Well, just a little. It's supposed to hit 90 today, and I guess I got a little overheated moving furniture and carrying painting supplies in from the shed out back." "I appreciate your diligence, everything does look to be prepared just as I asked. But I have trouble understanding how you can be overwhelmed with heat, wearing that skimpy little outfit, while I'm perfectly comfortable over here in my usual attire?" "Hmm, maybe in addition to the warm weather, I'm also a little hot and bothered thinking about your visit today?" "Again, Ashley, a little patience wouldn't hurt now and then." There was a smile in his voice, but his expression was still serious. "Now, listen carefully, so that we can get started. First, I'm disappointed that your hair isn't up in pigtails like it was last week. Do you suppose you could do something about that while I get things rolling here? No pun intended," he said wryly, glancing at the roller in his hand. I scurried off to my bedroom, found a pair of blue hair ties that matched my baseball-styled blue-and-white tee, and quickly brushed my hair into two matching pigtails. As I looked into the mirror, I couldn't blame Jake for his request. The look was a sexy one. Just as quickly as I'd run into the room, I dashed back out to show Jake how eagerly I'd followed his direction. "That's better," he said, not even looking up from the paint he was pouring into a roller pan. When he was finished, he looked up to see me once again wiping my brow. "Are you still complaining about the heat?" "I'm not complaining, I'm fine!" "Ah, and now arguing as well." "No. I mean... I'm sorry." "As hard as you've tried to follow my directions, it sounds like you still have some learning to do. Patience and discipline aren't exactly your strengths." "I'm ready to listen." "I hope so. Here's what we're going to do. I'm going to ask you to go up on the ladder and paint the edge of this wall as it abuts the ceiling. That way, it will be ready for me to roll the rest of the wall." I nodded in understanding, afraid that in my overeager way, I'd turned him off to any extra-curricular activities, and he was in fact just going to get to the business of painting. But again, I just wasn't being patient - his next statement showed he was still up for more. "Take off your shirt and shorts, pick up your paintbrush, and climb the ladder." I wasn't about to question this time, so I silently followed his instructions, happy that I'd taken the time that morning to pick out my favorite lacy powder blue bra and matching thong. I knew how sexy I looked, and a quick glance towards Jake's crotch confirmed that he was aroused. I put my paint can on the ladder's shelf, clutched my paintbrush, and climbed two steps to bring me to the level where I could reach my work. "Good. Now, carefully, patiently, work that edge for me." I did as I was told, focusing as much as I could on the task at hand, although completely distracted by the thought of Jake standing behind me, watching my nearly-naked body as I struggled to paint a clean line at the top of the wall where it met the ceiling. "Nice work, Ashley. Keep it up no matter what I do, alright? This will be an exercise in patience and discipline." I turned to look at him, but before my eyes could meet his, I was reprimanded with a slap across the ass with what I could only guess from previous experience was a stir stick. "I thought I told you to keep up the good work?" "Yes." My hand trembling with excitement, I went back to painting. I could hear him move behind me, but didn't dare look back a second time. Soon, his hands were on my ass cheeks, massaging the flushed skin that still stung from his strike. His fingers began to weave in and out of the thin strap of my thong, and I struggled to keep my focus as the warmth grew between my legs. As I put a bit more paint on my brush and continued to work, slower now, he took a firmer grip on my thong, using the tension of the fabric to massage my clit. I moaned and let my weight fall into the ladder, needing to keep my balance in spite of my growing excitement. With no punishment coming my way after a few moans, I let out a squeal after he quickened his pace. He released the fabric, snapping it back towards my skin, and after another moment, there was another firm slap on my ass with the stick, then another, even harder. "Was there something you wanted to say, Ashley?" "No." Slap, a third time. Realizing my error, this time I simply nodded. Satisfied once again that I was paying attention, his hands returned to me, gently massaging my ass cheeks. "Good work, Ashley, much improved. Looks like it's time to move the ladder, so why don't you come down." My knees wobbling, I stepped down off the ladder and watched as he moved it a few feet to the right, a position from which I could finish that particular assignment. I also couldn't help but noticing that his cock was now straining against his jeans, and took it upon myself to reach for his belt, figuring I'd await his reaction as to whether he wanted me to proceed. He grabbed my outstretched arm by the wrist and spun me into him hard and fast, his other hand taking my paintbrush from me and setting it gently on top of the paint can on the dining table. My body pressed against his, he looked down into my eyes, and whispered, "And just what do you think you were doing? Are you trying to take control?" "No." "Hmm, I'm really growing tired of hearing that word from you." Still clutching me close with one hand on my wrist, he reached to the table with his other hand, and my eyes followed, watching as he picked up the knife he'd used to open a package of rollers. "Eyes on mine, Ashley." I obeyed, my eyes quickly meeting his again, as he wrapped both arms around me now, and the cold blade of the knife came to rest on my bare ass cheek. "Trust." "Yes," I whispered, as I did indeed trust. With one smooth motion, he wrapped the fabric of my thong around the blade and sliced through it, sending the material cascading to the floor. My eyes likely betrayed some surprise, but I remained still in his arms. "Good girl." Just as quickly, he found the thinnest part of my bra strap and sliced through it as well, and then set down the knife and freed my breasts from their lacy enclosure. His big, strong hands now moved over my body, gripping and kneading first my breasts and then my ass cheeks, as I melted into him. He then turned me around, and my head fell back to rest against his chest as his hands reached around and began exploring my pussy. I instinctively spread my legs for him, and he gently stroked me, my juices lubricating his fingers as they explored deeper and deeper. Soon, he was furiously rubbing my clit with one hand while the fingers of his other hand plunged in and out of my pussy. I writhed in pleasure against him, and soon began whispering words of encouragement, "Yes, that's it, yes, more, more!" It wasn't until my words took on that tone of direction that he reacted, his hands immediately stopping. I whimpered, but quickly understood, as he plunged his dripping wet fingers into my mouth, and I had no choice but to lick them clean, tasting my own juices for the first time in my life. His fingers still in my mouth, keeping me from speaking, he flashed me a naughty grin and began surveying the work table, clearly making his next plan for a combination of pleasure and punishment. His eyes settled on a mini-sized roller, which he plunged into my mouth just as soon as he pulled his fingers out, thus insuring my silence. "Now, back to work, Ashley. I need you to finish that edge before we move on." My clit still throbbing and my lips now straining around the foreign object in my mouth, I dutifully picked up my brush once again and climbed the ladder, this time naked. I longed for him to carry me down from this place, take me into my bedroom, and make love to me, slowly and gently; but I also had to admit to myself how incredibly turned on I was as he continued to challenge my controlling nature by asserting his own control in such blatantly sexual ways. I had indeed learned a few lessons of patience this morning, which I proudly demonstrated for him now. Even though I could hear that he was removing his clothes, even though I wanted nothing more than to spit out the irritatingly fuzzy and unbudging object in my mouth, I slowly, carefully, finished my work on the ladder, and awaited his command before coming down. "Very nice, Ashley. I appreciate your hard work. Now it's my turn." I came down from the ladder, set down my paint and brush, and he gently pulled the roller from my mouth. I admired his naked body as he stood before me, spreading paint onto his roller. "Now, I'm going to roll a coat of paint on this wall. It should take just a few minutes. While I'm doing that, I have a favor to ask of you." "Yes?" "Go into your bedroom and get a few pillows, and then go to the kitchen and get a tablespoon. Bring those things back here, set them on the table, and wait for me to be finished." Trying to move calmly, I nonetheless completed the mysterious tasks he'd given me quite quickly, and so was able to spend a few minutes leaning, naked, on the dining table, watching him work. He finished the wall, set down his roller pan and roller, and wiped his hands on the same damp cloth I'd used to wipe my brow when he first arrived that morning. "Now, Ashley. Come here." I walked the few steps towards him, until I was close enough to feel his breath on my bare skin. "Take me into your hands, stroke me until I'm hard enough to give you a proper fucking." I needed no more encouragement, and grabbed his cock in one hand, stroking it steadily as I tickled his balls with my other. After a few moments, he could wait no longer, and, pushing my hands away and pulling me closer, put his rock hard cock between my legs and moistened it by rubbing it slowly against my pussy lips. "Grab a pillow, Ashley." I reached back to the table, clutched at a pillow, and presented it to him. Wordlessly, he spun me around, pushed me towards the table, and just before bending me over against it, encouraged me to place the pillow between my skin and the table. His body pressed firmly behind mine so that I couldn't move on my own, he forced my legs further apart. "Now, take the other pillow, hold it in your hands, and press your forearms against the table." As soon as I had done so, he plunged into me, and I cried out in pleasure as my pussy adjusted to the depth of his thrust. As he began pounding in and out of me from behind, I smiled at the thoughtfulness of his request that I bring the pillows. Even as the motion of our bodies pounded me into the table, I felt no pain, buffered by my plush pillows. If I weren't so overwhelmed by the power of his thrusts, I might have had time to wonder about the purpose of the spoon. After a few more moments in this position, he reached down with one hand, grabbed my right leg at the knee, and lifted it until it was resting on the table as well. This new position spread me incredibly wide, and made his thrusts even deeper, and I began to cry out in pleasure. I knew I wouldn't last much longer before reaching a powerful orgasm, and I was amazed that he was able to hold back so long. Even as I came, screaming out and writhing beneath him, he continued his steady pounding, slowing only when I had fully recovered from the longest orgasm I could remember experiencing. He waited until I pulled myself to my hands and looked back at him before he increased his rhythm once again and spoke. "Now, Ashley, listen carefully. I've decided that I'd like to shoot cum all over your face, do you understand? That's why I've asked you to bring the spoon. Take it in your hand, please, and have it ready. When the time is right, I'll ask you to turn around, kneel before me, and take what I give you." As he spoke, the pace of his thrusts into my pussy increased, and his voice lost a bit of its power, turning instead to a husky whisper. "Remember the first rule I taught you? Not a drop hits the floor." I nodded my understanding of his instructions, my hand clenched around the spoon, as he continued to fuck me. After just a few moments more, his motions became irregular, and he shouted, "Yes, it's time!" As he pulled out of me, I quickly turned, dropped to my knees, and smiled up at him, my eyes meeting his just as he shot his load. After a few brief moments, my entire face was dripping with his hot, sticky cum, only some of which landed conveniently near my mouth. The rest was oozing down my forehead and cheeks, and I moved quickly to collect it with the spoon before any of it dripped to the floor. The few drops that did escape thankfully hit my breasts, and Jake merely smiled, massaging the sticky cum into my skin. "May I have the spoon, please?" I handed it over to him, and he fed to me what I had already collected, before slowly, affectionately, tracing the spoon once more against each cheek to collect the remainder and feed that to me as well. "Good girl." "My pleasure." He pulled me to my feet and we began to survey the room. One wall finished, three to go. Oh, and a couple of cut-up pieces of lingerie in the middle of the floor. "Oh, yeah, sorry about that, Ashley," Jake said as he watched me observe my favorite bra, ruined. "Those were nice. Don't worry, I'll replace them for you. Hey, why don't you give me a call sometime this week when you can take a long lunch, and I'll meet you at Victoria's Secret. I've always fantasized about fucking in a lingerie shop dressing room, think you'd be up for that?" "Absolutely, Jake. Your wish is my command." To be continued... Learning from the Master Ch. 03 He left the message on my cell while I was in a meeting on Tuesday morning. "Hi Ashley, it's Jake. I'm at the airport, about to get on a plane - unexpected trip out of town for business this week. I won't be back until Saturday, but I'm looking forward to our next project. Check your mailbox when you get home this evening, I left you a note." It was great to hear from him, but a disappointment to learn that we wouldn't get to spend any time together that week. After all, he had promised to take me to Victoria's Secret and help me pick out something new to replace the sexy bra and panties he had sliced from my skin with his work knife the weekend before. The rest of the workday dragged on, and traffic was horrible, as I could hardly wait to read the note he'd left for me. Maybe he'd left me information about where he'd be and when I could call; maybe some naughty thoughts to keep me company until we met again. I practically ran up my front steps after parking my car, and fished through the junk mail and bills in my mailbox to find his note. It was a small envelope, sealed, with just my name handwritten on the outside. Wow, I thought to myself, how rare is a hand-written letter these days! Much as I wanted to rip it open and read it right there on my front porch, his gesture really deserved more thoughtful attention than that. I let myself in, set down my purse and pile of uninteresting mail, hung up my jacket, kicked off my shoes, and went into the kitchen to pour myself a glass of wine. As I came back into the living room, I paused for a moment to admire the newly-painted space, before sitting down on the sofa, taking a deep breath, and opening his letter. "Dear Ashley, So sorry that I had to go out of town this week, and break our date. I'm looking forward to helping you paint your bathroom on Saturday, and have some instructions which I hope you won't find too difficult to follow, to prepare for my arrival. If you do as I ask, I'm confident we can both enjoy a productive day." I paused, smiled, and took a sip of wine. I loved this little game he had created for us - the line he was so confidently able to walk between master painter and, well, master. It was all so new to me, but also such an incredible turn-on, that I was happy to keep going down this road, exploring this newly-discovered side of my sexuality. I set down the glass of wine, and with that hand free, began to massage one of my breasts through the fabric of my suit as I went back to reading. "I know you were looking forward to that visit to Victoria's Secret. Please do take care of that, and if possible, replace exactly what you were wearing the last time I saw you - the powder blue looks fabulous against your skin. But I want you to pick up something else as well. When I arrive on Saturday - which will be at 11am sharp - you will be in the bathroom waiting for me. You will be wearing a sheer babydoll - I'll let you choose the color - with matching panties. Whatever color you choose, you will also get a silk tie to match. You won't forget to put your hair up in pigtails, like you know I like it. And you will have left the front door unlocked, so that I can easily get in. You will have all the necessary tools ready with you in the bathroom: paint, of course, brushes and rollers, tape and stir sticks. Everything else that might get in the way should be out of the room, and out of my sight. Most importantly, It's become very clear to me that you need to learn both patience and discipline. Therefore, I must ask you to refrain from pleasuring yourself between now and Saturday. I would recommend that you focus entirely on following my instructions, and making sure that all is as I've requested. I assure you, if you meet my expectations on Saturday, you will experience the utmost heights of pleasure, and the wait will have been worth it. I certainly hope you don't have any questions, as I'm far too busy on my business trip to take time with that. Looking forward to seeing you on Saturday, Jake" My hands fell to my sides and I sat silently, taking it in. He had earned my trust in our previous two encounters, so there was never any doubt that I would follow his instructions, and be ready for his return that Saturday. But somehow there was a little nervousness mixed in with the excitement that I'd felt in reading his words. The instructions weren't complicated, but seeing them in writing really hammered home the fact that I'd need to be sure to follow them to a 'T'. And then there was the time between now and Saturday morning - what would I do to keep myself busy, to keep my mind occupied, as I waited patiently for his return? I mapped it out as I relaxed on the sofa and finished my first, and then a second, glass of wine. Work would be busy the rest of the week, so at least those hours would go quickly, with plenty of distractions to keep my mind off of Jake. Tomorrow evening I'd go by the mall and take care of the necessary purchases at Victoria's secret. Thursday I'd go out with friends for dinner and drinks after work and pour myself into bed late, with no energy to disobey Jake's request that I keep my hands off myself. Friday evening, I'd clean the house and prepare the bathroom just as he'd asked. And Saturday morning, I'd get up early and go for a long run, hoping to lose at least a little of my excess energy and nerves. That first night proved to be the most difficult. My mind raced, as I imagined phrases from his letter as they'd sound in his voice, imagined his hands moving over my body, his big cock inside me once again, the punishment he would issue if I didn't follow each and every instruction. It was all I could do to keep from touching myself, held back only by the awareness that I wouldn't be able to cover up my weakness - if I gave in and pleasured myself, he'd be able to read it on my face. ********** I arrived at Victoria's Secret the next evening just after 5, having snuck out of work a few minutes early. Being a Wednesday evening, there weren't many shoppers in the mall, and I had the full attention of Jessica, a hot young blonde who was happy to help me try on as many things as my heart desired. After debating with myself for a few minutes, I decided it would be exciting to share just enough information about my situation that Jessica could help me to her full ability. "So, Jessica, let me tell you what I need. I have a date on Saturday, and the man in question has given me some very specific instructions for my attire. Let's just say that there could be some interesting consequences if I don't meet his demands." "Ah, I see. So you want to follow his instructions carefully," she said with a wink, "but you won't necessarily mind if he decides a little discipline is in order?" "I think you have an excellent understanding of the situation," I said with a giggle. "My name's Ashley, by the way." "Nice to meet you, Ashley. OK, then, what exactly are you looking for?" I explained that I needed to replace my adorable powder blue ensemble that was, um, harmed in my last encounter with Jake. After we'd picked out the perfect replacement, I explained his current request, for the sheer babydoll and matching panties. She smiled when I mentioned that he'd let me pick out the color, and we made several trips to the dressing room, trying on first red, then black, then white, and finally settling on a lovely pale green that, according to Jessica, really brought out my eyes. "Not everyone can pull off that color, Ashley, but with your gorgeous tan and green eyes, it's really a good look for you." "Thanks, Jessica! I really appreciate your help. I'd better get going - a few more stops to make here at the mall before I head home." "OK, I'll let you go, as long as you promise to come back next week and tell me how things went! I'm here every weekday evening. Oh, and assuming things go well, I'll be happy to help you with your next lingerie assignment!" I giggled and assured her I'd keep that promise. It was almost 7 by the time I left the shop. I made one more quick stop, at my favorite department store, to find the rest of what Jake had asked me to have ready. Luckily, I was able to find a beautiful silk tie in exactly the same shade of pale green as the babydoll I'd picked out. I began to imagine what he had in mind with this request, but quickly stopped myself, so I wouldn't get too excited. My last stop was in women's accessories, where I found some beaded hair ties that were also an excellent match, for holding my hair up in the pigtails he liked so much. ********** Thursday dragged on at work, but my dinner with friends proved a wonderful distraction, and before I knew it, it was Friday. As I promised myself, I cleaned the house, wanting no distractions for Jake's discerning eye. My sleep was restless that night, but when I woke up to a glorious sunrise on Saturday morning, I eagerly set out for a run. My usual route was about 3 miles, circling around the neighborhood of well-kept bungalows, and this particular morning, I'm sure I set a personal best, nervous and eager as I was to get home in plenty of time to be ready. Still in my workout clothes, I made a couple of trips to the basement, bringing all of the painting supplies into the bathroom, and setting them in an orderly pile in one corner. I then peeled off my sweaty clothes, tossed them in the hamper, and jumped in the shower. Once again, I had to fight the urge to touch myself, so excited was I at this point for what was coming in just under an hour. But once again, all it took to find my willpower was a reminder to myself that he'd be able to see the guilty pleasure on my face. Once out of the shower, I dried myself off, and then used the towel to wipe off the mirror and dry the floor, before getting out the blow-dryer to work on my hair. A few minutes later, the bathroom gleaming, the wet towels in the hamper, and my hair dry and full of body, I was in my bedroom, pulling on the babydoll and matching panties, and then twisting my hair up into pigtails. It really was quite a sexy look, I thought to myself as I glanced in the mirror - I understood now why he'd requested the babydoll. I glanced at the clock, realized he'd be arriving any moment, and quickly returned to the bathroom, where I set down the silk tie and proceeded to wait. ********** With no watch on my wrist and no clock in the bathroom, the few minutes of waiting before his arrival felt like an eternity. Who knows, maybe it would have been worse to watch a second hand tick away. Fortunately, I had complete trust that he would be on time, so just waited for the sound of the front door and his footsteps in the hall. I did have to realize that - while unlikely - it was possible anyone could have walked in that front door, finding me scantily clad, eagerly waiting in the bathroom. This thought only served to heighten my anticipation, and my heart was pounding by the time his footsteps approached. I relaxed a bit when I recognized his voice, "Are you ready, Ashley?" "Absolutely, please come in." I smiled when he came around the corner into the room. He was looking cool and confident as always in his polo shirt and jeans. His eyes met mine only for a moment, before he proceeded to look me up and down, taking in the full view. I posed for him, twirling around, the lace of the babydoll brushing against my uppermost thigh, before facing him once more and asking, "So, up to your expectations?" "Oh, yes, Ashley. And I must say, nice choice on the color. Really brings out your eyes. So, shall we get to work?" "I'm ready if you are," I replied as suggestively as possible. "Turn around, please." I turned so that my back was facing him. "Give me your hands." I reached both hands behind my back. As I did so, he picked up the green silk tie, and quickly used it to secure my hands. The fabric was cool and comfortable against my skin, but his knot was firm, and there was no way I'd be able to get my hands free without his permission. "Now, you've done a very nice job of preparing all of the supplies, but I notice something is missing." My eyes quickly searched the neatly stacked materials, unable to think of what he was referring to. "Um, I think everything is here?" "Are you arguing?" "No, but..." "I don't see my drill here, with the attachment for stirring the paint." "Oh, but..." "I suppose you're going to give me an excuse?" His eyes twinkled, and I knew that he knew full well there was no way I could have gotten his drill out of his locked house while he was out of town. I decided to play along. "No excuses. You're right, something is missing." "That's right. And the problem is, that means I'll have to use the stir stick to stir the paint. Which would make it unavailable for other purposes. Is that what you want?" "Um, no." "Good girl. May I see your beautiful tits?" "Yes." He pulled my breasts out of the lacy babydoll, and then bent down, picked up the stir stick, and held it above my exposed flesh, ready to strike. "Is this what you want?" "Yes, please." "Good girl. Because of your good behavior, you'll receive only a few gentle swats." After my days of anticipation, pleasure washed through my body as the wood hit my skin, grazing first one nipple and then the other. I whimpered when he stopped, and he promptly responded by striking my flesh harder, hard enough this time that my breasts were soon rosy from all the attention. "Haven't you had enough yet? I really need to get to work on painting this wall." "Yes, sir." "Let's put these away for now," he said as he gently pulled the fabric back over each of my breasts, massaging them a bit as he did so. "So," he said, pointing to one of the cans of paint, "this color for the wall?" "Yes. And the other is for the trim." "This shouldn't take me very long," he said as he opened the can, stirred the paint, and then poured some into a roller pan. "I don't suppose you could take care of my needs while I'm doing this?" "Absolutely. What would you like?" "I'd like you to get down on your knees and crawl over here. I'd like you to pleasure me with your mouth as I paint. And since you don't have the use of your hands, you'll need to be resourceful. Just remember the first rule I taught you - never spill a drop." "Yes, sir," I said, smiling as I dropped to my knees. My first task was to move a few of the painting supplies, as they were taking up space where I would need to position myself if I hoped to pleasure him while he painted. There was a paint brush, a few rollers, and a quart of paint, each of which I took in my mouth, clutched in my teeth as I crawled across the room, and dropped as gently as possible against the other wall. My knees already ached a bit from moving over the cold tile floor by the time I was finished and making my way back to where he was standing. Jake had put the roller tray on the counter next to the sink and begun to paint, and there was just enough room for me to kneel between him and the wall he was working on. I was now faced with the challenge of freeing his cock from his jeans without the use of my hands, and the added challenge of receiving a slight tug on one of my pigtails anytime I bumped into his foot with my knee or brushed against his leg with my shoulder in an effort to get myself into position. "Careful down there, a little precision, please!" I debated for a moment whether to try to remove his belt, or just unzip his fly, and decided on the latter. Tilting my head slightly to avoid his belt buckle, I used my tongue to pry up the pull tab on his zipper, until I finally had it positioned between my teeth. The fact that his cock was already bulging and now growing even larger didn't make my job any easier, and it took all of my concentration to pull the zipper down safely. Once that was done, I grabbed an edge of his boxers between my teeth and pulled back until his hard cock sprang free, hitting me in the cheek as it did so. "Not bad, Ashley. A little slow, but not bad. Now, get to work!" As Jake continued to work above me, I licked up and down on his cock, moistening the full length and girth before taking it into my mouth. I started with just a few inches, building a slow, steady rhythm before taking in a bit more of the length with each stroke. After a few minutes of this gentle stroking, he rested the roller in its pan, wiped his hands on a washcloth, and wrapped his hands around my pigtails, using them to push his entire length deep into my throat. "I want you to keep it there, Ashley, while I finish my work here. You can suck, you can use your tongue, but don't you dare let it out of your mouth." "Ummmm," I groaned in reply as much as possible with my mouth stuffed with cock. "You're not trying to talk with your mouth full again, are you?" I nodded from right to left to acknowledge that I understood, and after clutching my hair for a moment longer, he let me go and went back to his work. I concentrated on breathing through my nose and ignoring the pain in my kneecaps, focusing instead on the feeling of his long, hard cock in my mouth and pressing into my throat. As much as I could in my compromised position, I worked to pleasure him, using my tongue and moving my head back and forth to change his sensations inside my mouth. "That's it, Ashley, keep it up just a little longer!" Encouraged by his feedback, I closed my eyes, focused even harder on breathing through my nose, and pulled even more of his length into my mouth, so that my nose was pressed against his jeans and his tip was firmly in my throat. Once again, he set down his roller, this time using his free hands to clutch my tits, squeezing my nipples and causing me to gasp in a mixture of pleasure and pain. "Yes, Ashley, my god, that's wonderful. Just hold it there a few seconds longer, then I want you to start moving on it again. You're going to make me cum!" Relieved to finally be moving again, I began bobbing up and down on him with abandon, and it was just a few moments more before he began to approach his orgasm. "Remember, not a drop!" I never slowed my motions, even as he began to jerk and spasm in my mouth, and I was rewarded with a huge load of cum, my mouth soon full of warm, sticky goo. I eagerly swallowed it all, except for one drop which escaped my lips, dripped down my chin, and because I couldn't stop it with a finger, dropped to the floor, splattering just in front of my knee. At first, I thought he might not notice, as he was still recovering from his powerful orgasm, but as he looked down into my eyes, smiling, he was just in time to see the drop splat against the tiles below. He shook his head in silent disappointment, and reached down to help me to my feet. My knees were weak, and it took a moment for the blood to reach my feet again, so I leaned against him for support as he untied my hands. As soon as he had done so, he promptly turned the tie into a blindfold, covering my eyes and then spinning me around so that he could tie it against the back of my head. "Now, listen carefully." I listened, expecting him to give me directions, but first all I heard were sounds - his belt being ripped free from his jeans, the rest of his clothes coming off, the moving of painting supplies which were obviously in the way for what he had in mind next. "Are you ready for your punishment, Ashley?" "Um, yes?" "Was that a question?" "I'm ready." "Good girl." The sound of the belt as it struck firmly against my ass reached my ears almost before I felt the stinging sensation. Had he continued, it would have been too much, but apparently it was to be a single strike. "Very good, Ashley. I'm glad you've learned to control your whining. Now we can get back to something more pleasurable." Learning from the Master Ch. 03 His hand was soft against the back of my head as he released the knot of the blindfold and the tie cascaded to the floor. As soon as my eyes adjusted to the light, I could see that he was indeed naked, and I smiled at the sight of his gorgeous body. He wrapped his arms around me and lifted me in one smooth motion up onto the bathroom counter, the cold marble just what my still-tingling ass needed. He put his hands on my hips, and, wrapping his fingers around the fabric of my panties, quickly pulled them off as I stretched out my legs to make the job easier. I then spread my legs for him as his fingers worked to spread my lips apart, exposing my dripping wet pussy to his full view. As he began rubbing my clit, he used his other hand to turn on the hot water faucet, then, as steam began rising, reached down and picked up one of the unused paintbrushes, and held the plastic handle end under the faucet. My mind raced as I imagined what he had in mind, and I looked at him with pure lust as he plunged the full length of the handle into my pussy. The handle wasn't large, perhaps four inches long and no more than an inch around, but the overwhelming naughtiness of his actions amazed me. I began moaning in pleasure as he moved the brush handle in and out, in and out, faster with each stroke, and then bent down to replace his finger with his tongue on my clit. After just a few moments more, I couldn't control myself any longer and began screaming out as my orgasm hit, fast and hard. "God, yes, Jake, that's incredible. Faster, fast...." He interrupted me by pulling the brush handle out of my pussy and forcing it into my mouth, so that I was tasting my own juices as I continued to cum. In place of the brush handle, he pushed four fingers inside of me, simply leaving them there as my pussy clenched around them, and I rode out the waves of pleasure. "Ready for one more?" He pulled the brush handle out of my mouth just in time for an answer. "Oh, yeah, Jake. Anything." "Alright, turn around, spread your legs, and put your hands on the counter." The warm water was still running in the sink, filling the room with steam and giving the slight sensation of a sauna. Before putting both hands on the counter, I reached up with one and wiped the mirror clean, so that I could see Jake behind me. As soon as I was ready, he pressed his body against mine, his hard cock slipping between my legs and rubbing against my open pussy lips. He reached around and began working to remove the babydoll, which was now wet against my skin from a combination of sweat and steam. I watched in the mirror as he removed it, tossed it to the floor, and began fondling my breasts. I can't remember the exact moment when he pressed into me, it was such a natural escalation of his motions behind me. My eyes never left his in the mirror as he began fucking me, first with long, slow strokes, then gradually faster, and it wasn't long before we were both overwhelmed with pleasure. I had never experienced such sensory overload as he pounded into me from behind - the ability to watch in the mirror, all of the sounds of sex amplified by the small, tiled bathroom, and then his hand reaching down to my clit - I finally lost control and cried out over and over in ecstasy. Somewhere in the middle of my orgasm, I felt him cum deep inside of me as well, before finally collapsing against me, his head resting momentarily on my back, before he finally pulled out of me and began cleaning himself up. "God, that was incredible." "You can just call me Jake, really." "Very funny," I said, and pretended to slug him in the shoulder. "Just one complaint..." "Oh really, what's that?" "I was kind of hoping you would have painted the bathroom before I got here. Then we could have moved on to more interesting activities even sooner..." Learning from the Master I did as I was told, eager at this point to entrust my pleasure to Jake. He gently pushed me down so that my head was on the pillow and my body was exposed to him, and then motioned for me to give him my hand. He wrapped one end of the tape gently around my wrist, pulled my arm up over my head, slipped the tape between slats in my headboard, and then used the remainder of the tape to secure my other wrist. I'd never entertained the thought of letting anyone tie me up before, but Jake had done it, no questions asked, in just a matter of seconds. "Now, spread your legs." Knowing that his next action would leave me completely defenseless, I nonetheless followed his command, and he quickly had each of my ankles tied to the foot of my bed. I was utterly exposed and vulnerable, and was shocked that my excitement contained no fear, just eager lust. He gave me once more the questioning look he'd used earlier, making sure I was OK to proceed, and I nodded. Jake climbed on the bed with me, kneeled beside me, and slowly, gently, began licking and massaging my inner thighs. It took him what seemed like minutes to finally reach my pussy lips with his tongue and press between them. I groaned with pleasure as he finally reached his goal, and his chin was soon covered with the juices that had been building there throughout our encounter. With the same patience he had demanded of me, Jake slowly licked and fingered me, following my lead as I writhed beneath him and hissed with any remaining breath, "Yes, that's it, right there. Yes, yessssss....." I wasn't even aware of my orgasm arriving, it was so long and gradual in its build-up. But when I finally did cum, shuddering and pulling against the tape holding my limbs, I couldn't help but scream out in the most intense pleasure I'd ever experienced. No man I'd been with had ever attempted - much less had the skill or patience to bring me to such a climax - never more than just a quick fuck. After giving me a few moments to recover, Jake now climbed on top of me, and I wondered whether he would take me right then and there, still tied and defenseless. As if in answer, he climbed to his knees and turned his attention, one by one, to each of my wrists, then my ankles, freeing me to join him in a new position. My limbs a bit stiff from their captivity, I rolled over to one side and stretched. He climbed behind me, his body spooning mine, and whispered in my ear. "Didn't I promise you that listening to me was always a good idea?" "Yes, and I'm very interested in your suggestions for our next activity?" Wordlessly, he answered. He slid one hand between my legs, playing with my pussy lips for a few moments, before following with his cock, which was already hard again but became harder as he rubbed it against me. I groaned with pleasure as he finally pressed into me from behind and began stroking in and out, slowly, gently, of course. After a few minutes in this position, he reached for a pillow, positioned it against my belly, and gradually rolled me over onto it, so that he was now on top of me, never breaking the rhythm of his thrusts as he changed our position. "Oh god yes, you're so deep inside of me. Keep going, faster now!" After a few more moments, he gradually pulled me up to my knees, so that he was now fucking me in a traditional doggy-style position. This allowed him to pick up his rhythm, and also gave him access to grab my breasts, kneading them and pinching my nipples as he pounded into me, harder and faster with every minute. After the slow and steady attention we'd each given each other earlier, it was delightful to finally fuck with relentless abandon. I encouraged him with louder and dirtier talk as we both pressed closer to orgasm, and finally at the end, reached down and began furiously fingering my own clit. "Yes, yes, that's it! Fuck me, pound my tight little pussy! Harder, harder! Yes, yes......." Just as I came, no longer able to speak as my body convulsed beneath his, I felt his load shoot deep inside of me. His hands fell from my breasts to the bed, holding some of his weight as the rest collapsed against me, our spent, sweaty bodies melding into one. After a few moments of panting, enjoying the last rush of our mutual orgasm, he finally collapsed to the bed, pulling me down with him. We relaxed together for quite a while longer before he finally got up and motioned that he would like to take a shower. I nodded yes, and just heard his last statement before disappearing into the bathroom, "Next Saturday, let's paint the dining room!" To be continued...