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Principal's Pet

By: Penelope Street



© 2007 by Penelope Street

Even looking back, I remember the exact moment I first laid eyes on Andrea Marshall. I'm certain my heart missed a beat. Or two. I guess I didn't know she was different at that moment, but I still felt it.

"Mrs. Larson?" she queried, rising from behind her desk to reveal a form that, even in an A-line skirt and tweed jacket, was curvy enough to make me look like a boy. She had that Mediterranean look- flawless olive complexion with jet-black hair pulled tightly behind her head. My son's principal wasn't supposed to be this pretty. Or young. Maybe even younger than me. And I was barely thirty.

"Mrs. Larson?" she repeated. 

I snapped my head back and forth before forcing my attention back to her face. "Yes."

"I'm Andrea Marshall." She extended her hand across her desk, but I didn't really see it. Gleaming from behind the lenses of her black half-framed spectacles, her hazel eyes had captured mine. And those eyebrows. Too thick. Yet too perfect. She had to pluck them. Had to. But not as much as I would have. Her mouth moved again, but I heard nothing. And that nose. That impeccable little upturned nose. How I hated it. And loved it. 

"Mrs. Larson?!"

My spine stiffened. Intent on accepting her hand, I glanced down to find she had already withdrawn it. I inhaled a gasp and turned my attention to her face. "I'm sorry."

Again, her eyes bore into mine. "For what?" 

"I, uh, this is all so embarrassing."

The principal motioned with her open hand toward the empty guest chairs, then waited until I looked back to her face. "It's going to be ok," she said. "Every child misbehaves now and then." 

I slid into one of the chairs and pulled my purse onto my lap. "Sure, every child is naughty now and then, but hitting a teacher?"

"Yes," she said. "Quite a first offense. Misbehavior that occurs suddenly like this often goes with unexpected stress at home. I understand you and Robert's father have split?"

I grimaced while nodding. "Yes. Over the holidays. How'd you know?"

She smiled. "Robert told me. Went on for a good fifteen minutes how he wants you two back together."

My chest shuddered through a guffaw. "That's not going to happen."

"I know," she said, "but children often have a hard time accepting such things are permanent. I got the impression you haven't spoken with him about it much?"

"Not recently. I'm not sure what I can say that I haven't already."

Her head moved in a slow nod. "Then say it all again. That you love Robert. That it had nothing to do with him. And that... why did you and your husband split?"

"He couldn't keep his dick out of other women." I could all but feel my cheeks warm as my own words reached my ears.

To my surprise, the principal smiled instead of scowled at my risqué admission. "Well, I don't think Robert needs to know all the details, but he does need to understand things can never go back to the way they were."

I nodded my agreement. "It can't be easy on him."

"Still, we can't have him hitting teachers, can we?"

"Of course not!"

The principal placed her elbows at the edge of her desk before resting her chin on her folded hands. "Do you have any ideas on how he ought to be punished?"

I shook my head. "I'm afraid I'm still so stunned I haven't been able to think of anything."

"How do you feel about corporal punishment?"

"Spankings?" I sat upright in the chair and took a deep breath. "They aren't my favorite."

"So you don't like to give them," the principal began, sitting back in her chair, "or you don't like to receive them?"

My eyebrows fell to hover over my eyes. "Mrs. Marshall, I don't see..."

"It's Miss Marshall," she insisted. "But, really, do we need to be so formal? Call me Andrea."

"Ok," I agreed with a brisk nod. "I'm Courtney."

"Perfect," she said with a grin. "So you don't spank Robert?"

"Never."

"I see. Did your husband?"

"I suppose. Once or twice."

"Only once or twice?"

"Well," I began, adjusting myself in my chair, "Robert certainly wasn't abused, if that's what you're implying!"

"Not at all. What do you do instead, when your son misbehaves?"

"Scolding. Time outs."

Miss Marshall nodded. "The good old corner is often the best choice. Is that what your parents used?"

My mind rushed back to my childhood. "No," I said with a sigh. "My mother was big into spankings."

"And your dad?"

"My parents divorced when I was young," I related. "My father never had much hand in my disciplining."

"How's your relationship now with your mother?"

I swallowed. "We were always close."

Andrea's continence melted. "Were?"

"My mom died two years ago."

"Oh," she said with a tisk of her tongue. "I'm sorry to hear that. Was it sudden?"

I shook my head. "Breast cancer." 

Andrea's eyes bounced to my bosom before returning to my face.

I forced a grin. "Hers weren't any bigger. Hardly seems fair, getting cancer of something you barely even have."

Miss Marshall leaned over the desk and whispered, "Just between us, I feel blessed not to have really huge ones- all they do is attract the wrong kind of attention."

My forced grin widened to a genuine smile. "I've often thought the same thing."

"I lost my mother too," Andrea related as she leaned back again. "Back in college. I'm still not sure I'm over it. But that's not what you came here to talk about, is it? Where were we?"

"Robert's punishment."

"Oh, yes," she said. "That. Well, I have to suspend him, of course. Three days is the usual, but spring break coming next week makes that potentially awkward."

I leaned my head to one side. "How so?"

"Well, for a suspension to be most effective, it shouldn't seem like an extension of his vacation. You know?"

"I see. Do you have something in mind?"

"Depends. Do you have plans for the break?"

"Me?" I began. "No. But Robert's going to spend the break with Dave. That's my ex. They're going fishing up at our cabin." I paused for a dry swallow. "I mean, Dave's cabin."

"I see." Miss Marshall sat up and reached for her desk drawer. Retrieving a pen, she looked back to me. "In that case, I'd like to speak with Dave too. Do you happen to have his number?"

"Sure." My hands moved to open my purse. "It's in my phone." My fingers raked through pens, lipstick, perfume, my compact, a tampon, some tea lights, my hairbrush, tootsie rolls, a travel toothbrush, stray receipts, and more, all in an ultimately futile quest. "I must have left it in my car," I said with a sigh. "Or home."

"You don't know your husband's number?"

I shook my head. "No. He seems to get a new one every month."

"I see." Andrea's left hand disappeared into the drawer, reappearing a second later with a business card. On the back, she printed the digits of a phone number. "Call me later," she said, looking back to me and extending the card my way. "That's my cell number. I probably won't answer it this evening, so just leave his number."

I smiled. "Hot date?"

"Not exactly. I'm in a band."

"A band? Like a rock band?"

"Yeah," she said with a nod. "We just play local clubs, nothing big." She wiggled her hand, attracting my attention to the card therein.

"Ok." I agreed, accepting the card and depositing it in my purse. "I'll call you later."

"Also, I'd suggest Robert be grounded to his room for the days he's suspended, just to reinforce that it's not an extension of his vacation."

"That's exactly what I had in mind," I said.

"And I want to see both you and Robert the morning he returns, before school. Just to see how things have gone over the week." Miss Marshall glanced to the calendar on the wall adjacent to her desk. "That'll be the twenty-second," she said, looking back to me. "Will that be a problem?" 

"Would seven be too early?"

"Not at all."

I smiled. "Then it won't be a problem."

"Very good." The principal stood and extended her hand. "I'll see you both then."

Without thinking, I stood and extended my own hand, sending my still-open purse from my thighs to the floor. My hand stopped. My head and eyes turned downward, following my bag for the split second it took to reach the carpet and scatter its contents beneath Miss Marshall's desk. 

"Let me help you with that." Andrea withdrew her hand and started to stoop. 

"No!" I insisted, leaping to my knees. "I'll get it." My eyes and hands rushed about the floor, gathering my things all the while seeking one item in particular. A smile formed on my face when I saw it, the floppy disc resting near her feet. 

The next instant, my smile dissolved. My eyes roamed the smooth flesh of her foot amidst the broad, black straps of her heeled sandal. Not a principal's shoe. Not a principal's foot. Feet like hers should be kissed. Worshipped even. All of her should be worshipped. I caught myself inching forward and taking a deep breath, hoping I might catch a hint of leather. And her. 

Closing my eyes, I pictured myself with my splayed fingers wrapped about her lower calf just above the straps of her heel and my lips suckling the exposed upper surface of her foot.

With a gasp, I shook my head and snapped myself back to reality. My hand flew like a striking snake, grabbing the black plastic square and thrusting it back into my purse in a single motion. Steadying my nerve with a single deep breath, I stood. 

"Let me guess," Andrea said. "You like foofoo stuff?"

My lips formed a purse. I leaned my head to one side. "Foofoo stuff?"

"Scented things," she explained. "Candles. Perfumes. Lotions."

I looked down at my purse, trying to recall how many of the items in her list were inside. By the time I looked up, I was smiling again. "Yes. I like foofoo stuff."

Andrea's lips curved to mirror mine. "Did you find everything?"

"Yes," I said with a nod. "Found everything I wanted." I inhaled a crisp gasp. My eyes widened. "I mean, everything I lost."

The principal's eyebrows bounced into her forehead. "Good." She again extended her hand. "See you the twenty-second." 

My eyes fell to her open hand. Clutching my purse to my body with my left hand, I reached with my right, putting just my fingers to her palm. 

Andrea's fingers closed at once, trapping mine. Her heat rushed into my digits. I gasped and looked down at our joined hands.

"Your hands are cold," she noted, relaxing her grip until her palm lay open with mine atop it.

In no hurry, I withdrew my fingers and savoring the feel of my flesh sliding over hers. I looked back to her face. "You know what they say about cold hands." 

"No." From behind the lenses of her glasses her eyes seemed bigger than ever as they bore into mine. "What do they say?"

I swallowed. "Cold hands. Warm heart."

Andrea smiled. "I'm feeling a bit warm too." Her tongue appeared just for an instant, its tip teasing her upper lip. "Must be the season."

My chest froze in mid-breath. "Yes," I agreed. "Must be." 

I drove home in something of a daze, trying to keep every facet of Miss Marshall fresh in my mind. By the time I reached my front door, I was all but squirming. Thanking the fates that my ex had already picked up Robert, I let my purse fall to the floor and headed for my bath, disrobing along the way. There in the dark privacy of my retreat, I imagined the scents on my fingers were hers. The heat of the water was from her. The hands sliding over my form were hers. And the toes I suckled were hers. 

~ ~ ~ 

With a towel wrapped about my still-damp hair, I headed for my bedroom, humming in the blissful afterglow of my bathtub fantasies, just daring to hope one day a few might come true. My attention wandered across my nightstand and the cell phone thereon. The smile already on my face broadened as I recalled that I owed Andrea a call. Sure, I would only hear her recorded voice, but that might be enough. It would have to be.

To the entryway I went with my phone in hand. My purse was just where I had left it. I dumped the contents on the sofa and my eyes alighted on the business card. This I reached for, but my hand never made it. My gaze settled on the little black disc nearby. 

The label held my eyes. 

The wrong label.

My eyes widened. My smiled vanished. Dropping the phone, I grabbed the disc and headed to my computer where I discovered file after file of academic drivel. My heart sank in my chest. 

Steadying my nerve with a deep breath, I rushed to the entryway, picked up the phone and dialed the principal's number. When I heard her recording, my chest froze. I had no idea what to say. I tried to swallow, but couldn't. Pulling the phone from my ear, I closed it.

I repeated the call every hour for the next several, always hanging up just after hearing her greeting. At ten o'clock, I made my last attempt, then went to bed, resigned to calling her again first thing in the morning. 

In spite of my hopes for sleep, I was still staring at the ceiling in the first hours of the morning when my cell's melody chimed through the silence. I tensed, gasped, and then sat upright, looking to the glow of my phone on the nightstand.

I rubbed my fingertips against one another for the half-second it took me to overcome my fears and snatch the device. Flipping the phone open, I brought it to my ear. "Hello?"

"Hello, Courtney. I thought you were going to leave the number, not call fifteen times and hang up."

I inhaled a crisp breath. "Oh, yeah. The number."

"That was why you called, right?"

My throat flexed through the driest of swallows. "Not exactly."

"What then?"

"I'm missing a floppy disc. From my purse. I think I picked up yours by mistake." 

"Let me see. Does yours say 'monthly budget' on the label?"

My chest expanded even as it tightened. "Yes," I managed to whisper.

"I have it right here," Miss Marshall said. "Right in my hand."

"You haven't looked at it?"

"Sure I have."

"You have?"

"I'm looking at it right now. How else could I tell you what it said?"

I pictured her turning my little black square over with her fingers with a smirk on her face. "I meant the files."

"Should I look at the files?"

"No. They're, uh, private data for my company."

"Then perhaps you should keep better track of it."

"Of course. Can I come get it?"

"At this hour?"

"Yes. I, uh, need them first thing Monday morning."

"I could e-mail them to you."

"No!" I gasped, regretting my outburst in the next instant.

"Oh," she said. "That private, are they?"

"Yes," I said, trying to sound calm.

Several seconds of silence followed before Andrea again spoke. "I see," she said. "I suppose you could come by my house and pick it up, if you like."

"Please?"

"You have a pen for my address?"

I took a single large breath and spun my legs from my bed. "There's one in my purse."

Andrea giggled. "If I recall, there are at least three in your purse."

~ ~ ~ 

Only her face appeared in the crease of the door. I hadn't been this close to her before and my eyes rushed to take in what I could. Heavy eyeshadow- too much. Glittery blush at the corners of her eyes. Fire engine red lipstick. Big silver loops for earrings. Tendrils swarming over her shoulders like an ebony river wanting, but not daring, to stray from its appointed course.

"Forgive me," she said. "I just got home and haven't cleaned up." She stood to one side, taking the door with her. "Do come in."

With a gulp and a nod, I accepted her invitation and slipped inside.

"Why don't you have a seat," she said, motioning toward the sofa. "I'll see where I put that disc." Without awaiting reply, she closed the door and strode away. Only then did I notice the long gray bathrobe that so clashed with her makeup. I wondered for a half-second where she might have gone, but then decided I didn't care- I just wanted my disc. 

Sliding onto the sofa, I took in her living room at a glance. White brick fireplace. White leather couch and matching chair. Glass coffee and end tables. Black wooden entertainment center. Abstract modern Art. Nice enough for suburbia, but somehow I'd expected a principal to live someplace extraordinary.

"This what you came for?"

I jumped and spun in a single motion to find her staring down at me with those eyes. Free from their shielding spectacles, her orbs were like the surface of a lake on a cloudy autumn day- you suspect the water's chilly, but have to put your toe in just to find out.

My attention slipped from her face down the seam of her robe to where her finger held the disc over her heart. But my eyes did not stop there. Below her bosom, her robe hung loose, providing a glimpse of the laces of a snug black corset. Was it....?

I couldn't stop myself from leaning a few inches and inhaling. My nose detected a scent, but it wasn't leather. My eyelids flew wide. Was this really my son's principal, the stoic, conservative woman I had first met at the school less than a day before?

"Is this what you came for?" she repeated.

My jaw fell. I looked up.

Andrea's thumb moved, sliding the robe open to reveal a sliver of her, from her corseted bosom to her gartered full-length stockings. "What's the matter?" she asked. "Some of the women on your disc are dressed like this. Most of them, as a matter of fact." 

"You looked!" I gasped, searching her features for any sign of revulsion.

She smiled. Her eyes glistened. "I told you I looked. Do you still want to pretend you didn't want me to?"

My eyes and mouth opened in unison. "Pretend?!"

Andrea sighed and shook her head. "So it was all an accident, you leaving your little disc right at my feet?"

"Yes! It was!"

"Well, then," she said. "Guess it must be your lucky day." Her hand opened. The disc fell. My attention following the dropping black square only as long as it took her streaking hand to find my hair. Her fingers wrapped in my tresses. I inhaled a breath that left my chest rigid. She pulled. 

To my shock, I helped her to drag my face to hers. My mouth to hers. I felt her. The subtle slickness of her lipstick. I smelled her. A trace of cigarettes in the hair that tickled my nose. I tasted her. A hint of sage on a tongue that licked the length of my stagnant lips. 

She released my hair and withdrew, looking down at me with bright red smudged all along her lower lip. 

With my vacant stare fixed upward at her, I just sat, unable to do anything other than shiver.

Over the next several seconds, her lips melted from a grin to a purse. Her eyes widened, losing their gleam. Her skin faded to a hue closer to mine. Her lower lip stuck out a shade and quivered. 

"You really did leave it by accident?" she whispered.

With my lips pressed into a line, I nodded.

Andrea's chest collapsed through a lengthy exhale. "I'm sorry. I just thought, well, that you were clairvoyant or something."

"It's ok," I insisted. "I'd have probably thought the same thing."

Her eyes narrowed. "Don't lie." She stooped, vanishing behind the back of the sofa before reappearing with my disc held toward me. "I believe this is yours."

My head bobbed in a brisk nod, but I otherwise I could not move.

Andrea's lips formed a smirk. With her free hand she grabbed one of mine, spinning and opening it before slamming the disc into my open palm and curling my fingers about the hard plastic. "That is what you came for, isn't it?"

No! my conscience screamed, but still my mouth would not move.

Miss Marshall shook her head, then marched to her front door and held it wide. With the continence of a corpse, she just stared until I stood, dropped my gaze, and ambled my way toward her.

"Why do you even carry a disc like that with you?" she asked the instant I had cleared the threshold.

"At work," I muttered. "Sometimes I get bored and..."

"No," she interrupted. "Why don't you use a flash drive."


Principal's Pet



My head leaned to one side. "A what?"

"It's smaller and holds a lot more pictures. You can get them at any computer store." She waited for me to look up. Our eyes met for but an instant. "I really am sorry." 

With that, she slammed her door. 

"So am I," I whispered to the unhearing metal barrier before me. My gaze fell to the somber gray of the concrete. This kept my attention until it turned to the bleaker gray of asphalt, until at last the bottom of my car door came into view. Plopping into the driver's seat, I stared out into the lonely dark of the night, and burst into tears.

~ ~ ~

It wasn't until I got home and leaned to collect my purse from the passenger seat that I noticed the black disc lying next to it. The other black disc. For a moment, I considered driving back, to return it at once, but an instant later a grin spread across my face, a grin that had become a smile by the time I got to my front door.

I didn't even pretend to sleep, though I spent a good portion of the wee hours in my bed staring at the ceiling. Over and over I asked myself if my dreams about women like Andrea were true desires or, like the rape fantasies of my youth, something I enjoyed imagining, but didn't really want to happen.

By the graying that comes with dawn, I had my answer, but another few hours ticked by before I thought it was acceptable to sit in front of my computer and dial the number I was meant to have given Miss Marshall the evening before.

Dave answered on the third ring. "We're fine. He hasn't hurt himself yet, but I plan to change that by this afternoon. Skinned knees. Fish hooks. Anything else?"

I smiled at once- there was no sign of slumber or disgruntlement in his tone. "Thanks, but I didn't call to check on Robert. Or you."

"You didn't?"

"No. I need some help. Computer help."

"Yeah?"

I nodded. "Remember how you used to add text to photos."

"You want to do that?"

"Yeah. And some big red arrows, if it's not too hard."

"It's easy. You at your computer?"

"Of course."

"Good," he began, "In the lower left hand corner you'll see..."

~ ~ ~

With my picture ready, drowsiness got the better of me and I slept most of the day. As a result, it wasn't until late afternoon that I called Andrea. I rehearsed my intended message while the line rang, but to my surprise I got a cold monotone instead of her voice mail.

"Hello, Mrs. Larson."

"Please," I said. "It's Courtney. Remember?"

There was a breath, maybe two, before she responded. "Ok, Courtney."

"I forgot to return your disc last evening."

"Oh. You can just bring it with you when we meet the twenty-second. I won't need it before then."

"No," I insisted. "I'd rather get it over with." I cringed at once, realizing that hadn't come out anywhere near how I had wanted it to.

There was another pause, longer than the first, before Andrea asked, "What's your hurry?"

"I just, well, we got off on the wrong foot..."

"I guess you could say that."

"But it doesn't have to stay that way!"

"That's good," Andrea whispered. 

I could almost hear her smiling. "So that's why I want to see you."

"It'll have to be late again."

"Your band?"

"Yeah."

"Why don't I come see you play?"

"I, uh," Andrea stammered. "I'm not sure you'd enjoy this kind of club."

"I'm a big girl," I insisted. "I can decide for myself."

Andrea issued a subtle chuckle. "Sounds like you already have. First song's at eight. You know where the 'Back Forty' is?"

Even on the phone I shook my head. "No."

"It's a few miles out on route forty. You know where the old radar post is?"

I nodded. "Yes."

"Ok," she began. "You go past there about..."

~ ~ ~

The name 'Back Forty' should have provided all the clue I needed regarding the true nature of the establishment, even if the location didn't, but I was still expecting a trendy club catering to late-in-life lesbians when I pulled into the parking lot. The gravel parking lot. Full of dusty pickup trucks. And flattened beer caps. From cheap beer.

Even though the name was emblazoned on what passed for a marquee, I still double checked the address before looking back to the tow-trailer sign beneath the main one: "Playing Tonight: The Country Kittens"

The interior was like the exterior. Rustic. Dimly lit. Floor made of hard wooden planks with years of dirt and peanuts shells ground into the grain. The haze from several dozen cigarettes. At least there wasn't a cover charge.

I gave my eyes a half-minute to adjust, then followed my ears toward the music. I found the band on a stage decorated like a hayloft. Four girls- two guitarists, one singer, and a drummer. The three blonde sprites in front all wore cream-colored cowboy hats with ponytails running from beneath all the way to the tied flannel shirts that held their bosoms. My eyes continued downward across their exposed midriffs, their cut-off blue jean shorts, and their long, smooth, legs.

On a different day I might have coveted their beauty. Or their talent. But not today. Though they would sing and play an hour more, I barely saw them again. The brunette on the drums had my full attention. She and her black hat. Heavy makeup, perfect under the stage lights. Ponytails lying across the sleeveless vest laced snug about her breasts. I didn't have to smell it to know it was leather, though that didn't stop me wanting too.

I picked the farthest table I could find from the stage, but her roaming eyes still found me before the end of the first song. Thereafter, we each had the other's full attention, until the band took a break and she sauntered toward me across the emptying dance floor.

"You're right," I said as she slid into the seat across from me, "this place isn't what I expected."

Andrea smiled. "Did you imagine my band played dungeons where hooded mistresses dance with slaves on leashes?"

I giggled through a smile of my own. "Something like that."

"I told you this wasn't your kind of place."

"Yeah," I agreed. "I guess you did. At least the stage doesn't have chicken wire in front of it like that one movie."

Andrea continued to smile as she laughed. "No. But we might play 'Rawhide' for our last song." Her smile melted. Her lips twitched. She swallowed. "I don't suppose you'll be here then?"

My smile vanished too. I shook my head. "I don't think so." I paused to glance upward at the haze. "Smoke doesn't agree with me. And, you're right, it's not my kind of place."

With her lips pressed into a line, Andrea sighed, then nodded. "Ok, I guess I better visit the little girls room before we start up again." She put her hands to the table and started to rise.

"Your disc?" I said.

"Oh, yes," she replied. "That."

I retrieved the disc from my purse and slid it across the table, but my fingers kept a firm clamp on the plastic even after she had tugged twice. With her brows low over her eyes, she looked back to me.

"I'd appreciate it if you'd have a look and make sure the files are ok," I said.

Andrea's head fell to one side. "Why wouldn't they be?"

"I might have edited one. By accident."

She smirked. "How do you edit a file by accident?"

"Maybe it wasn't an accident." I smiled and let go of the disc. "You decide."

~ ~ ~ 

My hands shook on the steering wheel all the way home. I guess I knew she'd call me soon enough, and that some of the things I'd fantasized about were about to happen, if not tonight then tomorrow. What I didn't know about was what Monday morning would bring. Or the next week, when my son returned home. 

I found my timid side hoping Andrea wouldn't be everything I'd secretly longed for- that I'd discover imagination to be one thing, and reality something else entirely. That I wouldn't find my life turned upside down. Deep inside though, I knew my life needed turning upside down.

Andrea kept me waiting until noon the next day. The same heart that had hurt all night skipped a beat while I gathered the courage to answer.

"Hello?"

"You aren't teasing me, are you?"

"No," I said. "Of course not."

"What changed your mind?"

"I didn't. You were right the first time. I just needed a little while to realize it."

"I want to believe you."

I swallowed. "Then let me prove it."

"Fine. Be here at six tonight. Dress like it's an interview. Because it is."

"An interview?" I muttered, but the line was already dead.

~ ~ ~

Though I owned but three jackets and only a handful of skirts I'd dare to wear with them, I still changed my mind a dozen or more times before returning to my first choice- a pink blouse with a heather gray suit resembling the outfit Andrea had worn the day I met her. Hoping imitation was the sincerest form of flattery, I pulled my hair back and restricted my makeup to eyeliner and a hint of blush. To be sure I would look up to her, I chose my black leather mules.

The woman who greeted me that evening wasn't dressed for any interview I'd ever been to. The corset was the same one I had seen two days before, but instead of stockings she wore thigh-high boots. On her arms were matching gloves that went well beyond her elbow. Her hair fell over her shoulders in the same unruly rivulets. 

At least our makeup was the same.

"Right on time," she hissed. "I like that. This way."

Leaving her door wide, she sauntered away. My wide eyes fell at once to the smooth curves of her thighs and ass cheeks. So smooth. Such uniform hue. Not even a hint of cellulite. Sometimes life just isn't fair.

With a gasp, I glanced behind me, then hurried inside and closed the door. 

Andrea had pulled the chair about the glass coffee table so that it faced the couch. She reclined in that chair, her legs crossed about the knees like a man's- much to my chagrin. "Please," she suggested, motioning toward the sofa. 

Leaning, I nodded and placed my purse beside the couch, then slid onto the leather cushions.

From within her corseted bosom, Andrea produced a folded piece of paper and spread it in front of her. "I've been reviewing your resume, and you do seem to offer what I've been looking for." She paused, looking from the paper to me. "I think I have an opening for you to fill. Maybe even two." With that, she tossed my alleged resume upon the coffee table.

My eyes widened as they settled upon the creased image, the same image I had edited and placed upon her disc. A buxom brunette stood in black corset, boots, and gloves, and nothing else- looking over her shoulder to where a petite blonde rested on her knees, nude, her eyes turned upward, her nose shoved into the crease of the brunette's ass. A big red arrow accompanied by the word 'YOU' pointed to the brunette, while a smaller arrow with the word 'ME' indicated the blonde. Additional text at the bottom, in white letters, read, 'THIS is what I'm looking for. Are you?'

I caught myself smiling, just a bit, my lower lips just grazing my upper teeth. Only my eyes moved as I turned them upward toward Andrea. 

She'd moved her index finger to her lower lip. "So," she said, "this type of position is what you want?"

I nodded.

"Say it," Andrea demanded. "Tell me exactly what you want."

"You," I whispered.

Her eyes neither blinked nor wavered. "Too vague. Try again."

I swallowed. "I want to be with you."

"And I want you to want to be with me." She just stared into my eyes for several seconds before adding, "What I don't want is for you to need to be with me."

My head fell to one side. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you must want to please me," she began, "not need to please me in order to please yourself. Have you never been with anyone needy like that?"

I turned my blinking eyes to the pale gray of her carpet. "I can't say that I have."

"Well, I have," Andrea said. "He showered me with gifts and attention, but it was all about making himself feel good. And when he went down on me, he was always trying to impress me. My orgasm was his goal, like scoring a fucking touchdown or something." She sighed and shook her head. "He called it chivalry. I called it selfish."

With a swallow, I turned my eyes back to hers. "He?"

"He. She. It doesn't matter. What matters is you can't need me."

I nodded. "I've lived this much of my life without you, and I can live the rest without you too."

"So, whatever we do, it'll be because you want to, and because it pleases you- not because you think it pleases me?"

My mouth formed a wide grin. "Yes."

Andrea's lips curved to mirror mine. "Perfect. Where do you see yourself in five years?"

My head bounced backward a half-inch. "What?"

"It's a standard interview question. Where do you see yourself in five years?"

My blinking eyes wandered. "I'm not sure."

"Do you see yourself with me in five years?"

My eyes snapped back to hers. My brows dropped. "I can't promise that. I've never been in this kind of relationship. How can I promise that?"

"Who said anything about a relationship? This is just about sex."

My loins tightened. My thighs squeezed toward one another. "Yeah. Just sex."

"Good." Andrea smiled. "Tell me about your strengths. As a person. And as a partner."

"Let's see," I began. "I'm loyal. And honest."

"Honest?" The principal's smile vanished. "Like when you told me the files on your disc were company data?"

My throat flexed once in a dry swallow. My eyes wanted to wander, but I forced them back to hers. "I'm smart enough not to trust just anyone with my secrets."

Andrea's smile returned. "Good. Tell me about these secrets."

"You know them." I insisted.

"Tell me anyway."

My sex clenched. I squirmed in my seat. My tongue teased my lips. "I want you to make me do things. Nasty things. Things I shouldn't want to do."

"But you do want them?"

"Oh, yes," I whispered. "I want them. And I do want to please you, even if I don't need to."

"So you think it's important to please your partner?"

"Yes."

"Then why did your previous partner start looking elsewhere?"

My jaw fell. I inhaled a gasp. 

"Tell me," Andrea said. "Did he start putting his dick in other women before or after you lost interest in him putting it in you?"

My eyes narrowed. "Ok," I admitted. "After."

"Are you going to lose interest in me?"

"Does it matter?" I retorted. "Neither of us needs the other."

Andrea's head began to move in a slow nod. "No. I guess it doesn't matter. Tell me about your weaknesses."

"Lack of patience," I said without the slightest hesitation. "And my knees."

Andrea kinked her head to one side. "Your knees?"

"They're always weak when I'm with you."

The ends of Andrea's lips showed just a hint of curve. "Maybe that's because you should be on them." 

My diminutive bosom swelled as I inhaled. She tongued her lips. I did the same. She uncrossed her legs. My eyes jumped to the union of her thighs, but she leaned forward too fast for me to catch more than a glimpse of her.

"On your knees," she whispered.

I brought my eyes back to her glistening orbs. My breaths became shallow. I slid forward, settling on my knees between the sofa and coffee table.

Andrea slithered onto the glass of that table. I wondered for a moment if the transparent pane would hold her, but the next moment she was upon me, her face so close to mine her countenance was a blur except for her eyes. One hand rushed about my head. Grasping my tied hair like a handle, she forced her mouth to mine. Her free hand darted inside my jacket.

Our lips crushed against one another. Our first real kiss. A big sloppy wet one with lips massaging one another. She moved her mouth to the side, suckling the edge of my lips, licking my cheek once on the outside, then again on the inside. Her hand found my bosom where she drew each of her fingernails over my already enraged nipple, plucking my flesh much as if she might be playing a guitar. 

I inhaled a short breath through my nose. My ass began to wiggle against my heels. An instant later, my torso moved the opposite way, dancing with my hips. Not a second had passed before my entire body writhed in time with the movement of our lips over one another, all the way to my spread and quaking fingers.

She pulled away. My neck craned to follow her, but our lips parted just the same. I whimpered. 

Looking into my eyes, she snarled, then exhaled through her clenched teeth. "You're hired."

I tried to say something, anything, but my lips only quivered. My eyes fluttered. I lost a tear.

Andrea rushed forward. Her tongue caught the salty rivulet on my cheek, licking all the way back to its source. Her mouth continued onward to my forehead where she planted a series of kisses along the edge of my scalp.

Her hand departed my bosom to join the one still wrapped about my locks. She pulled my face to her body as she slid upward, forcing my mouth to the soft hollow at the base of her throat. There I suckled for a second, maybe two, before she moved again, pushing her chest upward until my lips rested above her pounding heart.

"Yes," she gasped. Pressing herself to me, she forced the upper reaches of her corseted bosom over my lips. So soft she was. Made to be kissed. To be suckled. To be loved.

My eyes closed. Her breathing became ragged, almost labored, as she compelled my mouth back and forth from one breast to another, allowing me but a few seconds of suckling before she slid me back to the other one. With each pass, she urged me a little lower, until the edge of her corset stopped the advance of my wanting lips. 

Andrea pushed my face lower and my nose picked up where my lips had left off. Mashed amidst the ripples and laces, I breathed, savoring the sharp scent of leather. My hands slapped against my thighs, squeezing the flesh beneath through the wool of my skirt. My mouth watered. My breaths became deeper, longer, irregular.

Again she slid her body over my face until near her navel another primal scent joined that of the leather. Even sharper this aroma was. My hand departed my thighs for her ass. There, my fingers bit into her taut flesh, pulling, groping, urging her onward. Scrunching my spine from my neck to my hips, I sought to bring my mouth lower, closer to her.

With her pace unaltered by my urging, Andrea slid onward, forcing my neck backward until the rear of my head nestled amidst the cushions of her couch and I felt on my chin the softness where her tummy met her mons.

I gasped, bringing my teeth to bear. It was only a nip, but one that sent a shiver through her form. Emboldened, I sought to kiss what I had bitten, but her fingers coiled in my locks, holding my head while she pulled away. Her right leg came up, over my shoulder, to rest on the sofa. For several breaths, she held herself there, displayed before me, but just out of reach. Hoping my nose could discover what my mouth could not, I inhaled twice in rapid succession.

As if that was her cue, Andrea brought her foot from the couch to the floor behind me, straddling my shoulder. Pulling my face to her abdomen, she began to rut herself over the fabric of my jacket. So much for dry clean only.

One of my hands found her thigh where my fingers began to massage her muscles. My other palm cupped and caressed my still-clothed bosom. At first, the scent of the leather dominated my senses, but soon moisture joined the pressure on my shoulders and again I smelled her. 

Clamping my eyes tight, I inhaled deeper with each breath, savoring her fragrance until her intertwined fingers pulled at my locks. For a moment, I resisted, but then I opened my eyes and relented. Her hands twisted as she pulled, urging my gaze upward. 

"Smell how sexy you are," she whispered the instant our eyes met.

"Me?"

"Yes," she whispered. "You. Think about it." With that, she released my hair and drew the leg upon which she had rested over me. My freed head followed her spinning form to find her resting on the sofa, knees on the cushions, arms on the back, her ass in my face. 




Principal's Pet



"I'm ready," she said.

My eyes leapt to the two globes of bronzed flesh. Such a beautiful ass. Even so close my eyes could detect no blemish in texture and hue. And just visible between her cheeks, the tufted lines of her sex below the tender pleats of her other aperture.

She wiggled her hips. "Do it," she hissed. "Make me come all over your face."

Her words snapped me from my stupor. My hands sprang to her flanks, holding her ass steady. I planted a quick kiss on each check before closing my eyes and driving my nose into her folds. There I inhaled until my lungs were full. Not a hint of leather. All her.

A shiver traversed my form as I exhaled. I rutted myself into her moistness, baptizing my face with her bouquet. Then I began to lick. Long, wide, strokes the entire length of her lips. Lips already moistened soon parted and my tongue found the valley within, a smooth furrow between her furry folds.

All the way from her hardening nub to the supple flesh of her entryway I licked, over and over. With each pass, I felt her pushing back against me just a little more.

"Inside," she said. "Lick me inside."

Without a thought, I drove my tongue to the base of her sex. There I pushed my appendage in and out, trying with each thrust to reach deeper than before.

"No," she gasped. "Don't try to fuck me with it, just put it in and lick!"

This I did, twirling my tongue within the supple lobes of her entry. She gasped again, this time clearly an exhale of pleasure. Emboldened, I pressed my face harder against her flesh, trying to lick still more of her softness. At once, my nose encountered another softness. My eyes sprang open. My tongue stopped. Preparing myself for the worse, I inhaled a quick breath, but again I smelled only her. 

"I need more," she whispered. "A finger. Inside."

With a nod, I withdrew enough to focus on her sex. For a moment I paused to admire her lips, glistening as they were with a combination of her secretions and my saliva, but then my attention strayed up that inch to where my nose had been. 

A wiggle of her hips regained my attention.

My hands sprang from her hips to her folds. Spreading her sex with the fingers of my left hand, I slid the middle digit of my right within. Twice I pumped my finger in and out before I recalled her instructions regarding my tongue and pushed my digit all the way in. Within the warmth of her depths, I twirled my finger until she cried, "There! There. Rub me there!"

I knew at once what the spongy lump beneath my fingertip was.

"Harder," Andrea demanded. "Slower. And my clit, use your thumb."

With a subtle nod, I brought my thumb to the enraged nub peeking from the apex of her folds. Her entire body shuddered as if I had shocked her. She pushed back against me the instant the tremors had subsided, slamming her thighs into my shoulders and her ass toward my face.

My left hand departed her sex and rushed about her thighs, seeking to both hold her close and steady myself.

"That's good," she hissed. "Now, lick me. You know where."

Yes, I knew where. My eyes leapt at once to the wrinkled folds. My ultimate fantasy, to be forced to do something on the surface so degrading, so subservient, so sexy, so perverted. So personal. 

Except I wasn't forced- at least not by her. She knew it and I knew it. It was what I wanted. That she wanted it too didn't change what I was.

Closing my eyes, I thrust my tongue out and my face forward. Up from my motionless finger I licked, over her rippled flesh and swirling tufts until I felt the soft wrinkles of her ass flexing beneath my taste buds. 

"Please," she whispered.

I wasn't completely sure what she begged for, but I knew what I wanted. My finger again massaged her G-spot. My thumb caressed her clitoris. And my tongue laved her supple folds. Licking. Probing. Loving. 

Andrea whimpered. Within seconds, her ass cheeks tightened against my face. Her passage collapsed upon my finger. Her rings quivered beneath my tongue. With an audible gurgle, a warm, briny gush coated my fingers, hand, and forearm.

"More!" she cried. "Harder!"

Pressing my tongue into the softness of her wrinkles, I pinched my fingers together and massaged her both inside and out with the same, firm rhythm. Within seconds, her body shuddered and tensed again. I inhaled, treasuring the hot scent of her emanating from my now-saturated forearm.

I increased the pressure from my fingers, as if I meant them to squeeze through her flesh and meet one another. Spreading my tongue, I bathed her most private place with slow, labored licks. With a long, low grunt, she climaxed again. And again. 

Neither of us spoke, at least not with words. With every lick, I told her that every part of her was beautiful. In allowing me to love that most private of places, she told me there was nothing she would not share with me. Long after I knew her orgasms had subsided, I continued to pet and lick, basking in the afterglow of the moment I had so long coveted. 

"That's good," Andrea whispered at last, pulling away and taking my eyes with her. She spun and sat on the back of the sofa, facing me. Her lips curved upward at once. "You are a mess."

Looking down, I saw she was right. Her juices were splattered all over my blouse. I could feel the weight of her moisture in the sleeve of my jacket. A sticky sheen coated my chin and throat. I could but imagine what my face and hair looked like.

The moan of flesh sliding across leather reached my ears. I turned my eyes upward to see Andrea slithering downward. For a moment, I imagined she might straddle my face. My lips had just begun to curve at the thought when I saw her path was not toward me.

She slid beside me into the narrow space between the couch and coffee table. Three times I watched her chest expand and collapse while her eyes roamed my form. Again I imagined what she saw. A pervert. A filthy, come-soaked, ass-licking pervert. My shoulders shrank, taking my eyes with them.

Andrea's movement was a blur. Two palms found my cheeks, forcing my attention upward. For less than a breath, those two orbs bore into mine, then her palms clamped my face tight. Her mouth rushed to mine, striking with such force I toppled backward. She followed me, pinning my thighs to my calves and trapping my body between hers and the carpet. At no time did our lips part. I whimpered my appreciation through our kiss.

Andrea slid her mouth from mine and suckled her way across my cheek until her breath teased my ear. "It's your turn," she whispered, pulling back to look me in the eye. "Hang your clothes in my coat closet." Her eyes flashed toward the entryway for a moment before returning to mine. "When you're good and naked, follow me."

With that, she leapt to her feet and sauntered away, never looking back. My eyes followed the sashaying mounds of her recently-licked ass until she reached the hallway. There her hand slapped a light switch, plunging the house into darkness.

I sighed and rolled to my stomach, then pushed myself off the floor. At once, I leaned. Looking down I realized I'd lost one of my mules. I giggled through a smile and kicked the other one across her living room toward the closet.

That smile didn't leave my face while I undressed. All the while I tried to imagine what my turn entailed, to no avail. My smile faded when I turned and again imagined what she would see- even in the dark.

I scurried to the couch and knelt beside my purse. My eyes had not yet adjusted to the dark enough for my compact mirror to be of much use, but I still managed to give my hair a hurried brushing. With a gulp, I decided the rest of me would have to do. I sighed, stood, and marched toward the hallway.

In the corridor, a low, meandering orange glow played across the wall opposite the only open door. I crept forward, peering about the corner and into the room. My eyes widened as I beheld the sights, and the scents.

A floral fragrance hung in the air. Two rows of jarred candles lit my way to the bed where Andrea lay on her tummy amidst a host of stuffed animals. Corset, boots, and gloves were gone, revealing the svelte smoothness of her form. Her chin rested on her folded hands. Even in the dim light, I could catch the glimmer of her eyes.

Knowing those eyes were trained on me, seeing all of me for the first time, I stopped. I swallowed, and awaited her response, but she continued to just lie there. And look. My gaze wanted to falter, but I forced it upward.

"I thought you didn't like foofoo stuff?" I ventured.

"I don't," she said with the subtlest grin. "You do."

I nodded and glanced to the flickering lights at my feet. 

"Magnolia blossom," she said. "You like?"

"I would," I whispered, bringing my eyes back to hers. "Except I know there's something else in this room that smells much better."

Andrea smiled and rolled to her side. Without turning her eyes from me, her hand snaked outward, finding a stuffed Siberian tiger. She scissored her upper thigh into the air, exposing her pubic patch, but I only caught a glimpse before her hand and the tiger blocked my view. She rubbed the fake pussy into her real one before bring it too her nose. With her eyes still locked on mine, she inhaled. "Then what are you waiting for?"

My thighs and ass checks tightened, but only for an instant. The next moment, those same muscles urged my body toward her. I leapt toward the mattress, intent on putting my nose to the source of her scent.

With a playful giggle, Andrea dropped the tiger. She rolled as I flew, crushing a kangaroo, a unicorn, a dog, and a trio of bears, before coming to rest near the headboard. There, she came up on her hands and knees, looking far more beast-like than any of the surrounding animal effigies. 

"How do I compare to your fantasy women?" she asked, pulling my eyes back to hers.

I knew she was fishing for a compliment, but she had the right bait and a big hook. I picked up the tiger, pressed it to my face, and inhaled the sharpness she had left there. "Don't you know?" I whispered through a smile. "You are my fantasy woman."

"Not any longer," she said. "I'm your real woman now." Keeping her eyes on me, she slid her hand beneath one of her pillows. Her fingers emerged with a dark brown cube between them. Still looking at me, she put the cube between her incisors.

Andrea bounced her eyebrows once, then spun and rolled back over the stuffed animals until her face came to rest just below mine. Looking down, I recognized the cube still clamped between her teeth. 

I knew in an instant what she wanted- exactly what I wanted. The tiger flew across the room. Neither of us saw it hit the wall. Leaning, I covered her mouth with mine, pushing my teeth to hers. My front teeth pinched through the chocolate. I withdrew, leaving a tendril of caramel stretching from my mouth to hers until it snapped and fell back to lie upon her cheek.

Wearing twin smiles, we began to chew at the same moment. With each churn of my teeth, I moved lower, until her face filled my vision. She swallowed, the pushed her lips upward. I gulped down my half of the chocolate and lowered my mouth- but not to hers.

My lips found her cheek, first kissing, then licking, tracing the caramel trail all the way back to her mouth. There our lips roamed one another, suckling the subtle traces of flavor from them. Soon our tongues joined our lips and we each licked the chocolate from the other's teeth.

"I'm not even sure why," Andrea whispered the instant our lips parted, "but you really make this kitten purr."

"Purr?" I smiled and bounced my eyebrows. "You make my pussy positively growl."

"I can't hear it." The principal's tongue sliced between her lips. "Maybe you should bring it closer."

At once my loins clenched their want. The rest of me just shook except where my throat flexed through a dry swallow. 

"Now," Andrea whispered.

With a nod, I stirred my limbs to action, crawling until my other set of lips hovered over her face. Staring at the flickering orange glow on the wall, I wondered what she saw, what she felt. I could feel the pulse of my own blood through my enraged sex. My toes trembled. My eyes closed. I imagined any moment I would feel her mouth upon me.

But I was wrong.

"I don't hear anything," she said. 

Before my eyes had even opened, she'd spun from under me, taking my legs with her and leaving me face down on her mattress. With a gasp, I spun my head just in time to see her straddle my waist. I felt her furry moistness settle onto the small of my back just before the warmth of her palms caressed my butt cheeks.

Turning my attention upward, I found her looking down at me.

"We should have a song," she said.

"What?"

"You know," she said. "What's our song?"

"Our song?" I queried. Sex partners don't have songs. Couple's do!

Andrea smiled. "How about this one?" Turning, she proceeded to use my ass for a drum, slapping out the opening to a song.

My blinking eyes fell to the pillows as I tried to place the melody.

"Well?" she asked.

I looked back up and forced a smile. "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun?"

Her mouth formed a close-lipped grin. She shook her head. "Leather and Lace."

I licked my lips. "At least it's appropriate."

"Yeah," she hissed. "Something else is appropriate for your cute little ass. I wonder if you'll enjoy it."

My eyes bulged. "Why wouldn't I?!" I gasped.

"You lied to me."

"When?"

"A couple of times. But the one that really hurt was when you said you didn't want me."

"I, uh, I wasn't ready!"

"You still lied."

I swallowed. "You're right. I'm sorry."

Again her palms caressed my cheek. "Are you?" One of her hands left my bum only to return less than a second later with a resounding smack.

I inhaled a gasp. My eyes widened. A second blow landed, adding to the burning sting still present from the first. My mouth fell open, but my lips could form no words. 

"Are you sorry now?" Andrea asked.

My teeth clamped together. Sorry? I wasn't sure what I felt, but it wasn't regret! 

"Hello?" She queried, bring her palm to my butt cheek to a third time.

"That does hurt!" 

"Well," Andrea whispered. "I know what my mother used to do when I had an owie." Moving her palms to my flank, she pushed, sliding until she sat astride my shoulder blades. In the same motion, she leaned, bringing her lips to the still-enraged flesh of my buttocks.

Her kiss cooled the burning at once, leaving only the sting. My thighs quivered. I closed my eyes. She kissed my ass again. And again- until a cool, surreal, numbness coated my cheeks.

"Better?" she whispered.

Turning my head toward her, I opened my mouth to answer, but in that instant she spanked me again- not as hard, but hard enough to send a gasp instead of words through my parted lips. Before the stinging had even had a chance to subside she brought her mouth again to my ass, kissing, then nibbling my tingling flesh.

"How's that?" she asked, looking over her shoulder.

"Not bad," I admitted. "But you lied too."

"I did?" she asked with a giggle. "When?"

"When you said it was my turn- what happened in the living room was for me. That was for me. This is for you."

"I'm thinking it's for both of us."

"I'm thinking it's still a lie!"

"Really?" Andrea whispered. "I suppose it might be. What are you going to do about it?"

Behind my curving lips, my teeth clamped against one another. I inhaled a sharp breath. Bringing my hands to the mattress beneath me, I pushed. 

Andrea made the slightest pretext of holding me down before toppling to one side. I rolled after her and found my face adjacent to her hip. My eyes roamed the curves of her flank, her back, her shoulders, all the way to the curve of the close-lipped, fiendish smile that graced her face.

She bounced her eyebrows twice. Like a cat, she pounced, twisting her body and grabbing my thigh. Bringing her hand upward, she paused to blow me a kiss, then brought her spread palm back to my ass cheek.

I gasped. My eyes widened. A smile spread across my face. Turning, I grabbed her nearest leg and forced my head and right shoulder between her thighs. The scent of her sex and the lovely mounds of her ass both greeted me, forcing me to pause just long enough for her to spank me once more. Clutching her thigh with my left arm I brought my right hand upward, then down upon her bum with all the force I could muster.

She laughed. A silly, high-pitched squeal of a laugh. And she slapped me again. I slapped her. She kissed my still-tingling ass. I bit hers. 

For a precious few minutes we were an orgy of spanking and kissing and nibbling and giggling. Soon, though, there were more kisses than bites and more moans than laughter.

I kissed my way from her ass to her sex by way of her feet, but she only allowed me to plant a single peck on her nether lips before she rolled off the mattress onto the floor. Pushing myself up on one elbow, I looked down as she rose to her knees.

"I didn't lie about one thing," she whispered. "It is your turn- even if it is for both of us." She patted the edge of the mattress. "Come on."

My skin tingled from the slaps and the bites, but my insides tingled more. Chewing my lower lip and smiling at the same time, I spun and presented myself to her. 

"Lean back," she instructed, "and get yourself a pillow." 

This I did before looking down at her across a tummy glistening with the sheen of moisture that had formed during our exertions.

"Now," she said. "Pull your thighs up for me."

With a gulp, I complied, never taking my eyes from hers. 

"Lie back," she insisted. "Close your eyes and let it happen."

I did, but my eyes popped open again the instant I felt the warm wetness of her mouth on me, nibbling the soft fold in the crease of my knees. My ass pushed upward from the bed, begging her to rush to it, but she did nothing of the sort.

To the other knee, her mouth flew. Then back to my other thigh. Back and forth. A kiss. A lick. A bite. I never knew for sure where her mouth would go next, or what it would do, but I knew where it would end up and by the time it got there I was squirming.

Upon the first touch of her tongue to my sex, my thighs shuddered, taking my knees toward one another. My mouth flew open. A gasp emerged. My fingers bit at the flesh of my legs- how I wanted those fingers wrapped in her hair.

For a half dozen raged breaths, she just held her tongue there while I squirmed beneath it. Then she drew her warming appendage upward in the slowest of licks, as if she laved an ice cream cone she meant to last all day. Her second lick was almost as slow and twice a maddening. 

My inhales became irregular gasps. A crescendo of grunts, moans, and groans accompanied my ragged exhales. Spasms rippled through the muscles of my thighs, ass, and abdomen. A tear crawled from the corner of one eye. My chest shuddered through a series of sobs that culminated in a single word drawn out over several syllables as if to match the length of one of her licks. 

"Puleeease!"

Her tongue stopped at the top of the next lick, blanketing that blessed nub of flesh that so coveted her attention. The warmth from her tongue rushed into me, setting off a smoldering beneath it. Between the cheeks of my ass I felt another presence- her flattened hand, one finger of which petted the lower limits of my sex, until the tip turned slow circles in the soft folds of my entry. 

The warmth of her tongue vanished, but only for a frightful instant. In the next moment, she took my clit between her lips and sucked it into her mouth. My ass bounced from the mattress as if drawn by her suction. Her tongue massaged the tip of my enraged nub. Within me, her finger pressed just inside and up. There she began to caress of my G-spot, her tongue and fingertip moving as one. Between the two, the warmth her tongue had bestowed developed into a burning, not unlike the stinging of a spanking- yet it was the farthest thing from pain.