9 comments/ 119205 views/ 9 favorites My Boobs! By: zipado321 Right now, I'm a 22 year old girl with a 38D-cup chest. It's official: I'm a college gal with big boobs. I recently had a late-night chat with a friend who is pretty flat chested, and I walked away with a new appreciation for my breasts-- and I realized the impact they have had on my life. She made me realize that being busty had encouraged my sexual side to come out at times when for her as a petite girl she had more of an option to think things out. It all started when my breasts started to appear early, a good six months before anyone else in my class of 200 even could think about boobs. I'll admit it was a weird experience for me. I didn't have any friends in a similar situation, I didn't have an older sibling, and I wasn't close with Mom like I am now. So I decided to hide my ever-growing chest. Maybe, I hoped, I wouldn't have big boobs like she did. I was able to dance around the issue by wearing sweaters and other baggy clothes, but Mom finally caught on and by the spring I was in my first training bra. I felt so incredibly embarrassed and for a little while I stupidly blamed my Mom somehow. By the end of the year the word was out in school: I was the first girl in the grade with boobs. It definitely effected me because I stuck out like a sore thumb—never a good thing in middle school. The other, more popular girls resented it, and the boys didn't know how to react to it. I started to keep more and more to myself as my chest grew, and by the end of middle school I was one frustrated and fed up girl. That all would change in high school and I knew it. I walked in the first day as a freshman girl wearing a 36D cup bra and a tight white t-shirt. That definitely stuck out, but I quickly learned it made me stick out differently than in middle school. My chest was a good thing now. It got me attention and it made me finally feel appreciative about my breasts. Kids in the older grades noticed me and I quickly fell into an older crowd. I just loved the attention from the juniors and seniors, but with it came the pressures of the older high school kids, namely drinking and sexual stuff. I had personally ruled out having sex just to be popular, but I figured less than that was just having fun. As the other girls in my grade were going out on first dates, I was in the basement of a party with a drunken senior's hand on my breast. As other girls were enjoying Christmas break by having their first kiss, I was nervously being pressured into jerking a guy off—I just had to, I was told, because my tits had turned him on so much and he needed a release. As other girls were being felt up for the first time, I was pressured more and more often into giving blow jobs to a particular guy I liked. I had told him I wouldn't swallow (it really scared me then, but looking back I'm not sure why). When he complained a lot and implied I was getting to be no fun, I ended up telling him that I still wouldn't swallow, but he could cum on my naked breasts. He eagerly accepted and I felt happy that once again my big boobs had saved the day. What was weird about all of that was figuring out what I meant to people. I knew I really enjoyed the power and pleasure of being sexual. Each time I was there on my sore knees, my eyes closed tightly, reaching for a tissue to wipe some guy's cum off my cheek, neck, and breasts, I felt that I was the real winner there. I was getting attention and appreciation for being the person that I was, I thought. But I also knew deep down that in one way nothing had changed. I was once the middle school girl with "the big boobies." Now I was the high school girl with "the big tits and nice mouth." Girls my age still resented me, and guys my age and older still couldn't figure me out, even if they did enjoy using me. I was getting tired of being the young and easy chick and decided that guys couldn't get with me so easily. Suddenly I was spending a lot more time alone again. For the rest of high school, and since then, I won't usually put out unless I'm in a relationship, and I certainly feel better about myself. But still I know when a guy says he loves me, even if he means it, my breasts have helped him come my way. Not that I don't love sex, because I'm still very sexually minded! I guess I'm just not sure if my big breasts brought me increased sexuality, or if my already high sexuality has fit well with my big breasts. I really really love being sexual and even though my breasts have given me a different road to take. Each and every time I feel a hand on one of my breasts I feel a rush of gratitude and shame at the same time. I love the feeling but I wonder if I'm still that teenager appreciating being humiliated by an older guy as he cums all over me. I've known since puberty hit that having a big chest makes me different, and if I have the proper outlook, they can make me special. * * * * * I hope you've enjoyed reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it. I return all email, so please feel free to contact me. My Boobs and I A lot of people have issues with my boobs. In fact if there is an issue that could polarize citizens more than healthcare reform it would be the effect of my tits on anyone who happens to see them. Some people, especially young boys or lecherous old men (my brother and dad included) think they are the quintessence of divine engineering, a true masterpiece from the Creator. Others mostly jealous girls or insecure older women (my younger sister and mom included) think exactly the opposite. They think my tits are a gift from Satan to lure weak men-folk to Hades. Either way I couldn't care less. I love my breasts and I'm pretty frigging proud of them. But before I go further maybe a detailed description of my most valuable treasures is necessary. It isn't just that my breasts are big- a lot of breasts are big- but they are shaped like two oversized pears and stick out a mile from my chest. They sprouted quite early in my life and now that I'm twenty they are the very definition of double D. My boobs don't sag even with their considerable weight and they defy gravity. My tits actually point upwards. A male friend of mine once commented that I must be wearing some special type of bra. I told him that I hardly ever wore a bra due to the fact that getting my size was difficult and that even when I did, it made no difference. He didn't believe me so I took him to a quiet corner and asked him to remove my bra and feel me up. He couldn't believe his good luck and he gave my boobs a good squeeze. He later apologized for doubting the turgidity of my tits. Also my nipples are long and hard like ice picks. There is no fabric known to man that can hide the bulges from onlookers. There was a time I used to tape them down due to the embarrassment I felt from staring eyes but nowadays I just don't care. I now enjoy flaunting my boobs and I make sure I wear very skimpy outfits to show them off. I enjoy jiggling them every time I pass someone and I relish the looks of intense lust or envy I receive. I've even caught my junior brother and my dad shooting dirty looks at me and have also noticed that they liked to brush up against my boobs at any slightest opportunity to the chagrin of my mother and sister. I loved it! But matters were bound to get to a head someday. That day I was doing a little bit of gardening outside and I was wearing a white cotton blouse and a pair of baby blue bum shorts. The blouse was too tight round my bust so a few buttons had to be left undone. This left most of my creamy white cleavage in full view and naturally I wasn't wearing a bra. The weather was hot and humid so rivulets of sweat were running down all over my body, soaking the blouse and making my heavy tits even more obvious. My brown areolas were clearly visible. I noticed that the usually quiet street was suddenly quite busy as a lot of young guys kept walking past our yard. I pretended not to notice them. "Lynn! Lynn!" Someone was calling me from my neighbor's house and I noticed it was my 18 year old brother Thomas standing at the door. He was beckoning me to come. "What!" I snapped irritably. "Come and check out the plasma TV that Mr. Jonas bought for Richard" he said excitedly, "It's huge!" A surge of envy gripped me and I wanted to know whether his TV was actually bigger than mine. "Okay, I'm coming." I dropped the tools and went next door. As I approached the front door I could hear the loud sound of home cinema speakers coming from Richard's bedroom and my envy intensified. I hurried past the door and walked into the hallway. As I was walking past the kitchen I stopped abruptly. Something was amiss. Apart from the sound of the TV there was nothing else that could be heard. I should have heard Thomas chatting excitedly with Richard or something but there was nothing. If not for the TV the house would be silent. As I stood processing this information a hand stretched out from the kitchen doorway and grabbed my arm. I gave a frightened yelp and turned to find my brother's friend Richard grinning mischievously and leering at me. He started to drag me inside and I immediately tried to pull away. He grabbed both my wrists and pulled for all he was worth. I bent at the waist as I tried to wrench myself free. Another firm pair of hands grabbed my protruding buttocks and pushed me forward. Completely overpowered I was bundled into the kitchen. Richard turned me around and pinned my arms behind me. He pulled me close to him so that my palms rested on his bulging crotch. Instinctively I grabbed it and it felt like a hammer. His hands immediately reached out to grab my breasts. I gave a little whimper as his fingers fondled me through the weak fabric of my blouse. My nipples hardened as he roughly twisted them. It was then I raised my eyes to find my brother Thomas watching appreciatively from the door with a tent pole in his shorts. He was the one that pushed me in! "Tommy!" I hissed, "What do you think you are doing?" He laughed and told me that he and his mates had been discussing all morning what to do with me. They wanted to know what I looked like without my clothes on and how big my boobs really were. Their classmate Andy was upstairs waiting for me but he and Richard had decided to grab me first. They would take turns to grope me and later on to fuck me thoroughly. I protested that this was gang rape and incest on Richard's part but they laughed at what I said. Meanwhile Richard kept squeezing my boobs. "Hey, Tommy, fancy a feel of your big sis' boobies?" Richard asked my brother generously. "Don't mind if I do" he replied grinning and I looked at him in horror. His hands reached out and unhurriedly unhooked the rest of the buttons. My boobs spilled out and pointed straight at him. "My goodness, Lynn" he breathed, "You've got the juiciest tits I've ever seen!" I hate to admit this but I felt kind of proud when he said that and my nipples seemed to get even harder. Tommy's hands are quite hard and he really gave my breasts a good kneading. I gasped and groaned while my hands stroked Richard's cock through his trousers. He grunted appreciatively. Minutes later I was dragged into the living room and the two boys pushed me on to the couch. I looked up at them wondering what was next. I made a half hearted attempt to button my blouse but Thomas slapped my hands away. They now both pulled down their shorts and their turgid cocks jumped out at me. I sat in shock looking at the two stiff members. Both were quite alike- very big and rather thick. "Alright, Lynn" said Thomas cheerfully, "Be a good sis and suck our cocks, huh?" I should have told him to go fuck himself but I couldn't take my eyes off those gorgeous pieces of meat and quite frankly I couldn't wait to put them in my mouth. I reached out and grabbed the two dicks and while jacking one off, stuffed the other in my mouth. It was Richard I was sucking and while he tasted good it didn't take long for him to come. He groaned and backed off and I diverted all my attention to the penis of my brother Thomas. His cock was a real beauty and I sucked him for ages. When he finally ejaculated his cum tasted wonderful- really rich and creamy. Bending down he grabbed my chin and kissed me passionately using his tongue to lick off any splatter on my face. We stared at each other briefly and that must have been the most intimate moment of my life. However it didn't last long as they pulled me up and dragged me upstairs to Richard's bedroom. The TV was huge but that didn't worry me anymore. I was more concerned with what my kid brother and his friend had in store for me. First of all they stripped me of all my clothes and pushed me to flop unceremoniously on the unmade bed. Richard bent down to work on my mouth and my tits while Thomas shoved his head between my legs and licked my wet pussy with his tongue. After a few minutes they suddenly got off me and quietly left the room. I lay there panting and confused and very far from satisfied. I wanted badly to be fucked. It was then I heard the toilet flush and someone stepped out of the bathroom and filled the doorway. Andy Okafor was a big ass Nigerian guy who went to school with Richard and Thomas. He was a handsome guy with jet black skin and rippling biceps. However he came from a background that had little patience with women and judging from the fact he was stark naked and at full mast, he was hot and ready to go. "Hi. Lynn" he said jovially as I stared at the huge black monster that hung between his legs, "You seem to be leaking. Let me help you plug that hole." I was so alarmed I quickly jumped out of bed but he grabbed me round the waist and playfully pushed me back. Grabbing my ankles he pulled my legs wide apart and slowly pushed his cock in my pussy. I gave a sharp cry of pain as he made entry. For the next couple of minutes he fucked me silly and spurted deep inside me. I then realized that Richard and Thomas had been watching us from the half closed door while they wanked off. They now both walked in and took off the rest of their clothes. For the next three hours they took turns fucking me- between my boobs, in my pussy, in my ass and in my mouth. Eventually I was marched out of the house, with Thomas still massaging my exposed tits. I didn't get much sleep that night. My Bookkeeper Copyright © 2010 by licapeba. All rights reserved. This work may not be reproduced anywhere in any form without written permission from the author. * "After we're done here, you can walk on my back," she said. She said it with a husky, breathy tremor in her voice that signaled her excitement. I would have bet a lot that this would never happen. The suddenness of it surprised me, and quickly excited me too. Michelle was my part-time bookkeeper, had been for over ten years. I ran a consulting business from my large home. I did well charging a few clients a lot of money, so mine was a simple business from a bookkeeping perspective. I had Michelle in a couple of times per year for a few days to tidy up the company's records and prepare reports for our accountant or the government. For the first few years, the days working together weren't easy. She was stiff, and humorless, and barely sociable. She was not unattractive, but somehow not the sort of woman that fuels fantasies. She was single, probably in her 40s but never married as far as I knew, about 5' 6", with an angular smooth-skinned face surrounded by thin blonde hair that dropped straight to her square jaw line, accentuating it. Her green eyes never seemed to sparkle much, though I saw them flash with anger a couple of times when I didn't seem concerned enough about her fretting about little details. She had a mature figure, not undisciplined but not svelte. Her bum was slightly full, her breasts ample. She invariably wore conservative dark pants and plain blouses that advertised nothing but good sense. It didn't help that she wore far too much inexpensive perfume which not only filled my home while she was there, but lingered after she was gone. Though she and I were often alone together, the idea of any romantic interplay between us never even fleetingly entered my mind. However Michelle was thorough and reliable, and our accountant praised her work, so I kept asking her back, year after year. Eventually, the tension between us eased. She saw that I was an honest guy after all, not someone trying to cheat the government or cause trouble for her. She had a dog, so did I. She loved coffee, so did I. She stopped using too much perfume, and wore more-relaxed and more-attractive clothing. Over the years she seemed to become more comfortable with herself as well as with me. We began to share our interests and experiences in moments of chat between questions about my accounts. I joked with her, even teased her a bit sometimes, and she would giggle. She had shot a few zingers at me lately too, showing a sense of humor I had not seen in her. It became comfortable. But it was still just work, no hint of anything more. On this occasion, we had frequent moments together all day while she was working on our accounting system to ready the books for year-end. Her back was bothering her, so often when she had come into my office through the day with her questions she had put her hands on the edge of my desk and leaned there, moving her back and shoulders around slightly as we talked. I didn't take much notice, even when she got pretty close to me, but at one point I joked, "You know Michelle, if you want me to walk on your back for you, you won't feel much pain afterwards." I weigh 275 pounds, and she laughed at that. Later in the day she asked about a series of notices from the government demanding payment of a small fine for filing a tax return late. I explained that we had not filed late, so I had ignored the notices until the government figured out its error and rolled back the charges. I had ignored government notices?! In Michelle's view of the world, that was a very daring thing to do. She looked shocked. "Ohhh Michelle," I said, "I could teach you so much!" She flashed me a look I didn't understand, and then giggled again. In retrospect, that's likely where I had unintentionally flipped a switch, and in Michelle's mind a line was crossed. Only about fifteen minutes later, she was back in my office again, with a sheaf of papers in her hand. I was standing at my bookcases looking for something. She came very close as she asked her latest question. I began answering it, and suddenly she interrupted me, in mid-sentence. "After we're done here, you can walk on my back." She looked into my eyes very intently for a moment, then looked away, and then turned back to me, and then away again. She was obviously fearful of my reaction, and probably afraid of being rejected, but she was also obviously very, very excited at what she had just said and done... I could see her chest heaving. I recovered from my surprise, and smiled to reassure her. "Michelle, I'd love to help," I said, as I touched her face and turned her to look at me again, pausing to let her calm a little. "I'd say you need relief right away... we can look after the books tomorrow. C'mon over here." I took the papers from her hand and led her to my desk, where I dropped the papers and took her wrists, gently nudging her into the position she had been in several times that day, leaning onto my desk, bent over, palms flat on its surface near the edge. "Stay there, just like that," I said. "I'll be right with you." We were alone in the offices. I turned off the overhead lights, and moved to the windows to close the blinds. As I turned back to her, hands obediently on the desk, watching me, the golden late-afternoon light filtered through the blinds and lit her face in warmly-shadowed relief. It suddenly struck me that she looked quite pretty - wide-eyed, vulnerable, maybe even a little anxious, but also obviously excited. "Relax, Michelle, you're in good hands. I'm a doctor." She laughed; she knew that I wasn't a doctor. "Well I'm in a bad way here doctor, I hope that you can help me." I moved behind her and laid my hands on her back, just letting them rest there, being careful not to move in too close to her, to advance too quickly. Her back was undulating as she breathed deeply and quickly, seeming to try to calm herself. "It's OK, Michelle. I'm going to be very gentle, and do just what you want. I've wanted to do this for a long time." That last part wasn't quite true - I was surprised we were here - but I certainly wanted to do it now, and the little white lie worked. She sighed especially deeply, a lot of the stiffness went out of her, and I could feel her back relax. I slid my hands very slowly, very lightly, up her back and began to knead gently at her shoulders and work my thumbs into the base of her neck. She murmured softly. She wanted the touching as much as anything, I sensed; she just wanted to feel someone touching her. I thought about how lonely she must be for physical companionship... she had told me once, sounding only half-joking, that she had given up on men. I took my time. After minutes on her shoulders, I began to work slowly down her spine, pressing into the muscles on either side of it with my thumbs, sweeping my fingers in large arcs across her back and then down to brush lightly against her sides. Soon I was brushing the sides of her breasts through an armor-like bra and my thumbs were working just above and just below its thick strap. I thought carefully about what I would say. "Michelle, it would be..." "Yes," she said quickly. Nothing more was required. I continued kneading her upper back with one hand, and with the other I moved to the waistband of her pants and began to pull with deliberate slowness on her blouse, very, very slowly working it out from her pants while I continued massaging her back. I wanted her to feel each millimeter of the silky cloth sliding against her skin as I slowly freed it all the way around. Eventually, it hung loosely all the way around her waist, and I started my hand up her back again, this time under her blouse. As I touched the skin of her bare back, the sound of her catching her breath masked my own sigh. Her skin was so soft, surprisingly smooth, and very warm. I stiffened as some of it appeared beneath the hem of her blouse. I reached the clasp of her bra, and popped the three hooks with a practiced flick. Her bra released with a quick loud rustle. She sighed again. "I don't know how you breathe with that thing on," I said, as I rubbed over the indented skin on her back where the strap had been. "It's the curse of being a woman, especially one with big... it feels awfully good when it comes off." There was a long pause as I rubbed into her back with one hand under her blouse, the other hand over it. "Especially now," she said quietly. "Mmmm," I said. "Feels very good to me too." I slid my other hand up under her loose blouse to join the first, taking its hem up with my wrist, exposing much of the soft skin of her back. It was so smooth, without even peach fuzz on it, and her waist was quite narrow until it flared into her luscious bum. Hers looked like the back of a much younger woman. She was in better shape than I had thought. "Your skin is so beautiful, so soft and smooth." I bent to kiss her lower back, soft butterfly kisses on one side, then the other, working slowly up her back. My hands moved up too, to knead briefly at her shoulders again, and then drift very softly back down as I continued kissing her lower and middle back. "Is this where it hurts, Michelle?" "Ohhhhh," she breathed, and I realized she had been holding her breath. "You're a good doctor, Peter," she sighed, "it isn't hurting a bit right now!" "Mmmm hmmm," I rumbled, "I think this is the right course of treatment." I let my hands drift up and down her back for minutes more, sometimes working firmly into her muscles, sometimes just barely touching, occasionally scraping very lightly with my fingernails. I drifted off to her sides, lightly dragging splayed fingers up and down the length of her torso for a few moments more, and then moved to graze ever-so-softly down the sides of her breasts, gently cradling them in my hands as I returned to kissing her back. Her nipples were already prominent, and I let them fall between the first and second finger of each hand as I slowly squeezed and moved her breasts around while pressing my lips into her back, here, there, everywhere. She couldn't know where the next warm kiss would land. I let my tongue touch her a few times, leaving a tiny wet spot to cool quickly as I pulled away to land another hot kiss somewhere else. She started to move, shifting her bum against me, pressing back slightly, shifting from side to side slightly. She may not have even been aware she was doing it, but as my cock nestled warmly in the crack of her bum, even though separated by clothing, I was certainly aware. I leaned into her more firmly, pulling her back towards me, raising her into a standing position, and closed my fingers, trapping her nipples between them and squeezing my fingers closed, firmly but not hard. Always a risk; some women want only the most gentle grazing of their nipples; others are less-sensitive there and need firmer pressure. I won the lottery... Michelle sucked in her breath and backed up hard into me, reaching back to grab my hips. "Ohhhhh!" I released the firm pressure on her nipples, allowing blood to rush back into them, and bent to nuzzle her neck. She gasped again and pulled on the sides of my pants, pulling me into her bum. "Ohhhhhh!" "Did that hurt, or are we on the right track?" I asked. She reached up to cover my arms and hands, still cradling her breasts, with her own and squeezed hard. I had my answer. I held her back against myself for a few moments longer, enjoying her soft warmth against my body, her heavy soft breasts in my hands. I nuzzled her neck, kissing it softly, then nibbling gently at her ears with my lips. She lolled her head around, offering new vistas, obviously appreciative, nuzzling me back with her soft cheek. She returned her hands to my hips, and gently moved them around on my hips and back towards my bum. I felt tenderness that surprised me, and a desire to give her exactly what she wanted. My voice was deep and husky. "Michelle, we may have distracted you from your symptoms, but I'm not sure that we've found the root cause of your back pain. I can give you the medical terms if you like, but basically I'm going to explore some of the nerve pathways in your body and see if I can find other areas that might be related to your pain, OK?" I felt her chuckle begin in her body before I heard it, throaty and warm, and she leaned further back against me and reached up to hold the side of my face with her warm, smooth hand. "You've done everything right so far doctor. I'd like the full treatment please." I kissed her cheek, grasped her wrist up near my face, and reached down for the other one at my hip. I moved her back towards the desk, where she again bent over and obediently placed her hands on its cool surface. I pressed a little further, and she sank to her elbows, bent ninety degrees over the edge of my desk, and I heard another quiet murmur of excitement. Hmmmm. Submissive too? Her pants were made of a heavy woolen fabric, and not very loose. I found the hook at her hip, and then the zipper underneath it, and slowly eased its grip around her hips. The zipper sounded loud in the quiet office, and I deliberately took my time easing it down a couple of tooth-clicks at a time, until the pants were loose. Then, as with her blouse before, I moved them down by half-inches, letting her feel the heavy cloth creeping over her hips and the silky expanse of her panties for as long as I could until the pants released of their own weight and fell with a soft plop at her feet. I looked up from the marvelous view of her soft, round bum in its tight white panties to notice her back heaving again with heavy breathing. I was getting to her, as I had hoped to do. I ran my left hand up her back, and kneaded comfortingly at her shoulder. I hooked the index finger of my other hand under the waistband of her panties, and dragged it slowly around on her soft skin under her panties from her left hip, across her back, and around to her right hip, enjoying the feeling of her smooth warmth against the back of my finger as I edged her panties down very slightly. Then I reversed direction and started back towards her other hip. I caught my own intake of breath as I felt the indentation at the top of her bum, but it was again masked by her own low moan as I tickled gently there. Time was suspended for both of us. It may have taken two minutes, it may have taken five, but eventually my gliding finger had covered every millimeter of her bum and upper thighs, and her panties were gathered halfway to her knees. Her soft round bum looked spectacularly inviting as she continued to very naturally wriggle it gently around as she rhythmically squeezed her thighs together around her aroused center. I knelt, hands on her hips, and leaned in to plant tiny butterfly kisses around on her bum cheeks and into the soft crevice between them. Her thick, damp, clean scent filled my nostrils as I breathed with excitement. Gliding my hands down the sides of her thighs and calves, I slid her panties down the rest of the way, noting that their center was long past damp, it was soaked with her excitement. When I tapped lightly on her ankle she lifted her leg, and then the other, so that her pants, panties, and shoes could be cleared away. Her warm humid scent brushed my face as her center opened further when her legs were raised. A thick mat of slickened blonde hair covered most of her pussy. Unfortunate, but not surprising; I would have been surprised to find Michelle's pussy bare. However her dewy crevice could be seen nearly splitting the mat, and her puffy lips beneath it provided further assurance of her want. She smelled great; clean, damp, hot woman. I brushed her calf and she immediately spread her legs wide and leaned lower on the desk. I could hear her gasping for breath, and I had barely touched her. I felt like both master and servant as I leaned in, steadied myself with my hands on her smooth thighs, and ran the tip of my tongue into that glistening crevice. Michelle cried out and panted heavily. Encouraged, I pulled her into my face and went to work, working my nose into her center and lashing at her prominent clit with my tongue. She went wild, bucking and gasping and crying out as I held her tightly to my face and worked my tongue and nose into every slick place I could find. She began humping back and forth, at first subtly, but then more vigorously, making it difficult to keep my face in contact with her sensitive parts. Rather than just let her hump my face, I wrapped my arms tightly around her upper thighs and gripped hard, pulling her back into my dancing tongue and pressing it more firmly into and onto her slick crevice, driving her higher. She cried out, and within less than a minute she stiffened hard in my grip, her pussy flooded with slick moisture, and after a moment she gasped out her release and went nearly limp in my arms. I held her tightly as small shocks seemed to pass through her. I rose to my feet, and pulled her into a standing position leaning back against me. I wrapped my arms around her, just under her soft, heaving breasts, and nuzzled my lips against her neck. "Ohhh, god Peter!" she said, breathing heavily, "That was amazing. You can probably tell, it's been a long time for me. Thank you." She reached for the back of my head, pulling me into the side of her face, and then tried for an awkward kiss. She missed, but the thought was definitely there in the passion of her kiss against the side of my mouth. "You're welcome," I rumbled when she released my head, "but thank me when we're done. The treatment is not yet completed." I slid my hand down her front, and was immediately rewarded with a catch in her breath and a wanting sound deep in her throat. I moved my delicately-tracing fingers around on her flat stomach under her blouse. Again, her skin was smooth, soft, fairly firm, seemingly-youthful, exciting. She giggled and squirmed away as I unintentionally tickled her, and I continued moving down, into the top of her bush where I lingered and tugged gently for a moment, and then down through it to the slick and matted hair on her still-puffy nether lips. I cupped her entire pussy in my hand and lifted firmly upwards. She sucked air through her teeth, and stiffened back against me. My other hand slid up under her blouse to cradle her breasts, again trapping the nipple of one between two fingers, as down below my middle finger curled and began very lightly exploring the sopping folds of Michelle's pussy. I avoided sinking it inside as I traced back and forth along her slippery crease. My touches were light as I brushed past either side of her sensitive bud, but when she didn't seem over-sensitive there I increased the pressure, and occasionally flicked directly on her clitoris, already emerging again from its folds. Each flick brought a reaction, at first quiet and subtle, but soon her pleasure was again more vocal and more obvious. I traced down, fluttered around at the entrance to her vagina, then glided onto the sensitive perineum where I pressed the pad of my finger and rotated it around the nerve endings there before starting the journey back up to her prominent button. Her excitement rose ever higher again as I continued my looping ministrations to her hot buttons. She was straining up onto her toes, pressing back into me and pulling my hips strongly into her gyrating bum, when I stopped everything, hands still holding her gently at her pussy and breast. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "Oh that was so nice! Please?!" I chuckled and kissed the side of her neck. "Your treatment is going to continue, I just need to explain the next phase to you." My Bookkeeper Returns Copyright © 2010 by licapeba. All rights reserved. AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is a sequel to "My Bookkeeper" (I devote considerable time and care to selecting my story titles!) and the experience of reading it may be enhanced by reading the other one first. * Michelle, our part-time bookkeeper, was due to return to work on our accounting system. I was feeling jittery. The day before, she and I had a sudden and surprising romantic encounter in my office. After she had left, and overnight, I had become concerned about the after-effects of that impulsive event. She was a good bookkeeper. I didn't want to lose her through her own re-evaluation of what had happened. Nor did I want a change in her behavior to make working together difficult. Through morning ablutions and early emails I thought about how to discuss this with her, and was still unsettled as she arrived. My worrying was wasted, though. Maybe it helped both of us past some awkwardness that one of our consultants was working in the offices when she arrived that morning, but Michelle was completely professional when she arrived, and throughout the day. There was no sign of resentment about what had happened the day before. There was also no fluttering of eyes, no mooning looks, no whispered intimacies... no obvious invitation of any kind to suggest that she thought we would repeat what we had done the day before. She was more happy than I could remember seeing her, chatting very cheerfully with our consultant and me and laughing easily. In the afternoon after the consultant had left, she was perhaps a bit more friendly and casual than before, but completely professional as she finished our financial reports and walked through them with me. After we were done, she gave me a quick hug, wished me a good weekend, said she'd see me in a few months for our mid-year bookkeeping needs, and left. A real pro. A grown-up. I thought of some of the other younger women who had complicated my life after intimacy. They had been far less appreciative of what I did for them in bed, and far more demanding of me afterwards, as though they thought that our intimacy gave them a claim of some kind. Even though I hadn't taken anything from Michelle in our encounter, I thought she was pretty great for not trying to make more of it. In the months that followed, we exchanged emails a few times. Usually I'd start an exchange by asking a question about our accounting, but would slip in something friendly or fun too. She would reply in kind, again showing cleverness and a sense of humor that I had not noticed in years of knowing her. She also avoided turning these exchanges into anything suggestive or cloying. If I was at all uncomfortable with myself, I might have interpreted her lack of communication about what we had done as a lack of interest in a repeat performance. But I didn't, for some reason, and my respect for Michelle grew. Months later, when she was due back for her usual mid-year updating and tidying of our books, I was out of the country. She came to our offices and did her work for several days, and I returned in the afternoon of the Friday she was finishing up. She told me she had a long list of things to talk to me about, but that didn't worry me. Michelle had never gotten used to seeing how much money we spent running the business. Her other clients were presumably less successful or more frugal, but I and our handful of consultants burned through tens of thousands of dollars per month travelling, entertaining, training, and preparing and making presentations to groups of executives and senior managers at our clients. We were also forever buying newer and better devices and services to support our activities and make our work easier. Especially in that group, she didn't always understand what our expense receipts were for, and didn't always understand whether they were business or personal expenses. "Looks like I'm in trouble again," I said with a smile as she came into my office with a thick file folder. "No," she laughed, "but your expenses must have helped a lot in ending the recession. I need help figuring out what some of these things are for." She settled into a chair on the other side of the desk and arranged her papers in front of us. We worked through a few dozen expense items quickly, clarifying what they were and what accounts they should be charged to. "Now this one," she said, "is this what it looks like, almost nine thousand dollars for an espresso machine?! Is that a gift for a client? Who likes coffee that much?!" "I do, Michelle. So do you. You didn't see it in the kitchen?" "No! I've been bringing my own Starbucks, I didn't go in the kitchen." "Ohhh, Michelle," I said, "I can teach you so much. Come with me." Her eyes softened as she smiled, seeming to remember the last time I said that to her, and she pushed out of her chair to follow me into the kitchen. It was hard to miss the huge new commercial espresso machine there. "We bit the bullet. I finally concluded that making coffee as good as the best coffee shops is easier using the same equipment they use. I'm going to make you a coffee and you'll stop questioning why I bought it. You'll also never - ever - want to drink a Starbucks coffee again. Do you want to try it?" She giggled. "I'll try a nine thousand dollar coffee machine any day, but I do love my Starbucks!" While I busied myself with the exacting ritual of making two perfect double lattes, we chatted about my recent trip, her vacation, family... stuff. I carried the two drinks back into my office, where we resumed our positions across the desk from each other, and I slid her coffee across to her. I watched her face carefully as she tasted it. She was first apparently startled. People are often surprised that coffee drinks can taste just as good as freshly-ground coffee smells. Then she looked contemplative as she tasted chocolate, and caramel, and a bit of fruit, flavors usually overwhelmed in typically-bad or badly-made coffee. She looked up at me as she sipped, eyes wide. It was at least thirty seconds before she slowly put down her cup in wonder. "Ohhh Peter!" she said softly, "that is absolutely incredible. I think I've just really had coffee for the first time." She paused. "You do teach me wonderful things." Her eyes sparkled, and we looked at each other for a long moment. I was about to speak when she looked down and said, "OK, how do we handle this wonderful purchase? It's a personal expense, isn't it?" "I don't think so Michelle. People buy coffee machines for their offices all the time. Some companies spend even more for those all-automatic things that spit out bad cappucinos and coffees at the push of a button. This is office equipment, business. Everyone here is using it. Now including you!" She gave me a wry smile. "It's in your kitchen in your home, Peter. If you get audited, I don't think it will fly. But I will do whatever you want me to do." I had glanced away from her when she said that last bit, but I thought I noticed a change in her tone. However when I turned back to her, she was looking down at the espresso machine receipt. She marked it as office equipment, and we quickly worked through another dozen or so more expense receipts before coming to another one that she was uncertain how to record in the company's books. "What do you think we should do with it?", I asked. "I will do whatever you want me to do," she said, looking up at me. Her gaze was sure and calm; there was a kind of quiet strength in it. Again we looked at each other for a long moment, and then again she looked down at the papers in front of her. "Michelle, are you telling me something, something that you think I want to hear?" Again she looked at me, calmly, certainly, deliberately. "I will do whatever you want me to do." Then she smiled softly, and for the first time I saw in her eyes a trace of longing, of a want that she had probably carefully suppressed for months. I reached across and closed her file folder, and slid her papers to the side of the desk. Leaning forward, I took both of her hands gently in my own, and looked into her eyes. She looked hopeful, but nervous at the same time. "Michelle, this is what I want you to do. I want you to go home..." She immediately looked crestfallen, so I squeezed her hands reassuringly. "No, I don't mean it like that, listen carefully. I want you to go home. I want you to take your time, and relax. Have something to eat. Cozy up on the couch for a while and read something sexy or romantic. "Then go upstairs and get undressed, very, VERY slowly. Do it as though I was undressing you." Her eyes widened and she took a deep breath as she apparently remembered our last time together. "Take a long, hot, relaxing bubble bath, at least half an hour, and make sure you rub the hot, soapy water into every part of your body." She inhaled a huge sigh, and her eyelids half-closed. "I want to you to shave or trim everywhere, as close as you are willing to do it, maybe a little more. "When you get out of the bath, dry yourself very gently and very slowly, as though it wasn't you drying yourself, it was your lover, or Brad Pitt, doing it." She sighed again, and then slowly, as the Brad Pitt joke finally registered, smiled a bit shakily. "Don't put on any makeup or perfume. Put on a super-thick, super-soft, warm terrycloth robe, a white one. If you don't have one, I want you to go shopping on your way home and buy the very best one you can find anywhere in town - no matter what it costs, get the best - and I will pay you back for it. I want you to put on that robe, and nothing else, nothing at all." I paused. "Well, unless you have a pearl necklace," I smiled, "that would be very nice. Then light one candle and put it by your bed. "When you're ready, I want you to unlock your front door and turn out all the lights in the house. Go back upstairs, and lie on your bed and wait for me. I will come at ten o'clock, sharp." I paused again as I smiled encouragingly at her. "That is what I want you to do. Will you do that?" Her hands in mine as I was speaking had begun to tremble very slightly. Her eyes were open again, glistening and dancing around my face, and she was smiling softly, her breasts rising and falling with her long, deep breathing. She turned her hands in mine and squeezed my fingers gently. "I will do," she said in a low quiet voice, "whatever you want me to do." After Michelle left, I relaxed too, and then had a shower. Still naked, I padded around packing a little bag with toys to take to her place, including a bottle of the marvelous Pjur Body Glide, a superb silicone-based lubricant. A little of it makes skin on any part of the body feel silky-smooth, wonderful for long, sensuous rub-downs. Add little more and all friction disappears completely... incredibly slippery. And it lasts and lasts without ever seeming to dry out or get sticky. As I thought of using it liberally on Michelle, my cock started bouncing up and getting in the way as I packed the bag. I dressed quickly and left. Driving through the crisp fall air to her townhouse not far away, my mind wandered through the things I wanted to do with her. By the time I pulled into her driveway and saw that her house was dark, with only a faint warm glow from the upper window, I had pretty good wood on. Her house was warm as I opened the front door, fresh-smelling with hints of a soapy bath and of vanilla that may have been wafting from the candle upstairs. I closed the door with a deliberate thud, wanting to leave no doubt that I had arrived. I then took my time in hanging my jacket in the closet, and began to slowly ascend the narrow stairs. Every few steps I let my foot fall more heavily, so that Michelle would know that I was getting nearer, but then waited seconds before advancing further. She was lying on her bed, not coquettishly perched on an elbow but flat on her stomach, hands by her sides, face flat on her pillow, turned towards me. If I needed further confirmation of her pleasure in being submissive, that might have been it. That, and the fact that she silently watched me as I entered the room, eyes wide and shining in the warm candlelight, smiling a bit tentatively, breathing heavily. Her marvelously-fluffy white terrycloth robe billowed around her body, revealing just her smooth calves and feet and small-looking hands in the dim light. The soft glow of pearls peeked out from under the robe at her neck. "Michelle," I said softly, "this is absolutely perfect, you've done very well." She smiled more widely, and pressed her hands against her hips. "Thank you," she said, and after a pause, "I really enjoyed getting ready. Thank you for that too." I took several things from my bag and laid them beside each other on her bed-table. One of them was a wicked-looking stainless steel thing, an Njoy dildo that was great for anal and g-spot play, but looked like a steel instrument of torture. "Don't worry about this thing, Michelle, " I said as I laid it down, "all of these are for pleasure only, the last thing I'd do is hurt you." She did look a little worried, though, as I stepped back and began unbuckling my belt in front of her, but she didn't say anything. I let my pants fall to the floor, leaving on my cock-tented shorts, and pried my slip-on shoes off my bare feet. Still dressed in a loose-hanging shirt and shorts, I sat on the edge of the bed. Brushing back a stray lock of her hair, I bent to kiss her cheek softly. I began to rub over the cozy robe, down her back and onto her bum, moving the soft cloth against her naked skin beneath it, as I talked to her. "Michelle, you've been a very good girl and you are going to be rewarded for it. If I do anything that causes you pain, it will be by accident. Tell me right away and I will stop. However if I am not hurting you, you must submit to me and accept what I'm doing, even if it feels strange or different, and trust me to make it part of your pleasure. Do you understand this?" "Yes," she said tentatively, in a small-sounding voice. Momentarily worried I asked, "Do you want it this way?" Immediately her confidence seemed to return and she looked up at me. "Yes," she said firmly, "Please. I will do whatever you want me to do." I brushed her face. "Undo your robe," I said, and pull it out from under you." She humped herself up and quickly complied, laying face-down back on the bed with the robe pulled out on either side of her, hands again submissively at her sides. Holding the cuff of her left sleeve, I nudged her arm and she pulled it out of the sleeve. After extracting her other arm, I nudged both into a folded position on the pillow just above her head. The fluffy warm robe was now just draped across her body. The pearls at her neck looked warm and soft in the candlelight. After rubbing up and down her back and bum for a few minutes, deliberately moving the robe against her skin, I drew away to open the bottle of lubricant. I heard Michelle's long, deep sigh. "What are you going to do to me?" she asked. "Whatever I want to do," I rumbled. I wasn't really into this dominance thing for myself, but it seemed to succeed at my intention to excite her... I heard a slight whimper as she exhaled a long breath and sagged against the bed. I warmed a little oil between my hands, and began massaging her arms and barely-exposed shoulders. The silicone lubricant imparted a silky-ness to her skin... just a little of it made skin seem softer but still very tactile, not slippery but smooth and sensual. I worked into her muscles from her neck to her fingertips, first one arm and then the other. Then I returned to her neck, and began massaging under the pearls and up the side of her neck. "Ohhhhh, " she murmured, eyes closed, "even this is wonderful." She opened her eyes and tilted her head to smile gratefully up at me. I patted her cheek. "I enjoy it too, Michelle. It's very satisfying doing this to someone who really appreciates it." Pause. "It'll be even more satisfying when I've made you so limp and wet you can't even lift your hand, let alone your head." She groaned softly as she dropped her head back onto the pillow and closed her eyes again, and she pressed her bum against my hip beside her. "I feel like I'm close to that already." I slowly rolled the thick robe down her back, a few inches at a time, until just the first swells of her bum began to rise above her back. When we had been together months before, I had left her shirt on and had felt more than I had seen of her back. Now seeing its smooth expanse completely naked, pearls at her neck, with her soft breasts pushing out from beneath her, was very exciting. Reaching for the oil, I chose not to warm it in my hands this time, but held the bottle high over her back. I didn't squeeze it, just allowed the oil to drip out slowly. As the first cool drops splashed down, she sucked in her breath for each, and squirmed slightly as it continued to drip down, one tiny cold splash at a time, randomly all over her back. She murmured something into the pillow, unintelligible. I returned my warm hands to her shoulders and began massaging again, spreading the oil into her soft skin, this time working down from her shoulders towards her narrow waist, and then back up again. I tickled lightly into her armpits, and glided on the silky oil down her sides and over the sides of her heavy breasts flaring out from her sides. Back and forth, up and down, occasionally eliciting little moans or gasps as I worked hard, and then lightly, and then hard again. I could feel her becoming even more limp and relaxed as I worked soothingly on her soft form. Replacing her robe over her naked back, I shifted down the bed, took some more oil, and began on her left foot, strongly working my thumbs into its arch and smoothing down the sides of her feet and between her toes. I moved up her calf - not a trace of hair or stubble - and worked the thick muscle there... Michelle was in pretty good shape. I moved to her other foot and calf and repeated the performance. She was sagging into the bed, totally relaxed. I then decided to take a little for myself. I'm a bum man, and slowly folding up her robe to expose Michelle's smooth thighs and wonderful full bum tented my shorts even further. I had to adjust myself before squirting a pool of oil onto her lower back, at the top of her cleft. I spread the oil thickly around her luscious bum cheeks before gliding deep into the crevice between them, gliding up and down the smooth warmth, feeling her cheeks squeezing against my hand. I pressed firmly against her anus for a while, twirling my thumb around its crinkled pad, and then glided down to her already-slick perineum to fiddle some more. Michelle pushed her bum up to meet this attention, squirming and twisting against my fingers, which I took as a promising sign. For long minutes I kneaded her full bum cheeks and worked down towards her hot centre, while my cock reached full staff and then some within my shorts. I returned to her leg, with more oil, working up her smooth left thigh with both hands, one inside, one outside, working up higher and higher, firm, then soft, then firm again. As I neared her pussy I could feel its damp heat while still inches away, and I felt Michelle slightly open her legs further and begin to tense in anticipation. I lingered away from it a moment or two, and then glided all the way up to press the side of my hand firmly into her centre, thumb against her anus. She gasped, and squeezed her thighs and bum against my hand as she pushed back against them. She was soaking, sopping wet, slick everywhere and, wonderfully, bare. She had shaved herself completely! What a thrill it was to feel her thick, puffy nether lips, slick almost beyond belief, and the hot slit between them with the prominent bump of her clit. My Bookkeeper Returns I gripped her upper thigh firmly with both hands and worked my inner index finger all over her wonderful slimy parts while Michelle bucked against it, voicing small plaintive, "oh, oh, oh" sounds every few seconds. Soon her rhythmic gripping of my hand became stronger and stronger. I judged that she wasn't far from going over the top. I waited for a moment when she relaxed her strong thighs enough after squeezing against me and then snatched my hands away. She groaned in protest and sagged against the bed, her back heaving under the thick white robe with the breath of her exertions. "Oh, Peter!" she exclaimed, and then again after a deep breath, "Oh, Peter!" I felt certain that if I repeated with a massage of her other thigh and its culminating hot juncture, she would get the orgasm she had almost achieved. Not my plan, though. I smacked her bum a couple of times, not hard, enjoying watching its jiggling softness, and said, "You're going to cum when I want you to, not before." I returned to massaging her bum, taking pleasure in its soft, full cheeks and well-oiled crevice and working the pad of a finger around and around her anus. Again, she seemed to enjoy that attention, so after a few minutes I tapped her and said, "Lift your bum up, and spread your legs a little more." While she moved I took a pillow and a nearby cushion, and slid them under her hips. "Now relax." She did, settling comfortably on the cushioning beneath her, bum raised nicely, very enticingly in the air, her wet centre open and exposed with its thick, smooth lips glistening. The robe had slipped off onto the bed, and she was now completely naked, and beautiful, and hot. Wow. Returning one hand to continue kneading her bum, with the other I reached for the wicked-looking stainless steel dildo. It had three bumps spaced evenly along one end of its length, the first being a small expansion at the tip with each successive bump increased in size for anal play, while the other end curved and terminated in a larger bulb perfect for g-spot stimulation. A great tool, with many successes notched (figuratively!) on it. Her bum was still plenty lubricated, so after sliding the cold steel dildo around to coat it with oil - she gasped and squirmed - I pressed the small end against Michelle's crinkled hole and applied pressure. She sucked in her breath, and tensed against it. I pressed a little harder, but heard a small sound like a whimper so I stopped. After a pause she said, her voice muffled by the pillow, "Peter, I don't know if I'm up for that, I've never had anything there before." She sounded embarrassed. I was surprised after her apparently-enthusiastic response to my finger rubbing the outside of her bumhole. I decided to push the point - not literally of course. "Does it hurt, Michelle?" "No," she admitted, "but it doesn't feel right. And it's distracting from all the other nice stuff you were doing." "We agreed, though, didn't we Michelle?" I asked gently. "You were willing to do whatever I wanted you to do, excepting anything that hurt you. I want you to do this. For you." I waited patiently for her response. When it came, it was preceded by an exasperated little grunt. Hmmm, maybe not so submissive after all? "OK," she said, "impale me if you have to. But I'm going to have a lawyer for our agreement next time!" She gave a little laugh. I spanked her bum lightly a few times again. "You behave, young lady. You're in a perfect position for a very good spanking. Now just relax, push out against it a little bit, and it will go in easily." And so it did. With the first small bump of the tool inside, I began rubbing her glistening pussy again with one hand, bumping into her clit frequently, while I wiggled the steel dildo gently with the other, working its little bulb just inside her anus. It took a while, but soon the attentions at her pussy and bum had her pretty distracted as she began to moan and move again. I don't think she even noticed the second bulb going in, and it was her own excited bucking and squeezing moments later that forced in the third and largest bulb. I whirred my fingers on her clit while I slowly slid the tool deep inside her bum, all three bumps on it rubbing along her sensitive sheath inside. She gasped, and cried out, and gasped again, and began to go rigid as I wriggled hand and dildo around at her sensitive center. And again I stopped, to her frustrated cry, and watched her breathing settle again, mouth open, face sagged deep into her pillow, as I rubbed softly on her sloping back, over her raised bum, and a little around her slick pussy. I gave the dildo a sharp little twist, and she sucked in her breath. "Ohhhhh! OK sir, you made your point. It's different, but it is pretty interesting." Then, in a much softer and less-flippant tone she said, "Thank you Peter. I will do whatever you want me to do. No more argument. But pleeeze, can you finish me off now? I can't take much more of this fabulous up-and-down agony, my muscles down there aren't used to this kind of workout." "OK," I relented. "Flip over onto your back. But be very careful when you're settling your bum onto the bed. The impaler is staying in, part of it is sticking out of your bum, and you could really hurt yourself." She carefully turned over as I removed the cushions from beneath her, and gingerly lowered her bum onto the bed, feeling the steel dildo pressing inside her. As she settled and I saw her naked front for the first time, I marveled at how beautiful she was. Her middle age certainly did not show in her full breasts, her smooth stomach, her narrow waist, her newly and neatly-trimmed pussy, or her strong legs. Stunning. The pearls just capped it off. The centuries during which they have been among the most prized of all jewels become understandable in an instant when seen like this. There is no sight more beautiful than a naked woman in pearls. As she looked up at me openly admiring her, she reached for my hand. "You make me feel like such a beautiful woman." Her eyes glistened. "I haven't felt like it in a very long time. I know we're not going to date, don't worry. I just want you to know how truly grateful I am." She smiled softly, almost sadly, and drew my hand to her lips. I took off my shirt and lay on the bed beside her, folding her into a soft bear hug and a long gentle kiss. "I'm grateful too, Michelle. Being appreciated as a lover is almost better than the sex itself. You make me feel very fulfilled too. But," and I reached down and tweaked the dildo in her bum, "the show's not over 'til the fat lady sings!" "Hey, I'm not fat!" She grinned and punched my shoulder gently, and then looked deep into my eyes. "But you can make me sing. Oh boy, you REALLY make me sing!" She said she wanted to head for home, so to speak, but there didn't seem to be any point in rushing it. I reached for the magic oil again. She watched un-protesting as I raised it high over her, and aimed for her left nipple. Perfectly. Her nipple hardened against the cold drip that landed on it, and she sucked air through her nose. I wasn't as good at hitting her other nipple, but it hardened too. As I slowly dripped more here and there over her breasts and onto her flat stomach, her breathing began to quicken yet again. I could feel her watching my face as I was intent on my drip-artistry, and then she reached to caress it with her warm hand. I put down the oil and kissed her again, long and soft, gently duelling with her tongue as I began caressing her breasts and stomach, spreading the oil around and delighting again in the silky-smooth softness of this beautiful woman. Her breaths became longer, and deeper, and she reached behind my neck and pulled me to her face as I worked nearer and nearer to her pussy. She made a little noise and sucked my tongue deeper into her mouth as I finally glided further down onto her pussy, taking more oil down to add to her own still-slick heat, and firmly cupped her pussy in my hand. Remembering the success of our other time together, I had already decided to repeat my hand magic and help her to another ripping, squirting blast-off before taking my pleasure. I really did enjoy giving it almost as much as getting it. Without much pre-amble - she was already moving herself against my hand - I slowly sank a couple of fingers inside her. As she stiffened in pleasure against them, I could feel the hard knobs of the dildo in her bum move against the back of my fingers against her vaginal wall, and she stiffened more. This was going to be plenty good enough, I decided, I wouldn't need any of the other toys I had brought. I hooked my fingers into the fleshy pad of her g-spot, settled the Mount of Venus (what a great name!) of my palm against her clit, and began rhythmically squeezing and sliding my hand around. She exhaled hard into my mouth, and I pulled back as much as her hand firmly clamped to the back of my neck would allow to watch her face and let her breath. She sucked in a long breath and held it, raising her pelvis to push into my hand and then lowering it against the bed, and I could again feel the dildo moving in her bum before she gasped out again. I imagined that she could feel it much more as she grunted and sucked air deeply, and rolled her bum on the bed. It was obvious that she liked my trusty toy... notch up another one. I squeezed against her insides and wriggled my palm against her clit a few more times. As I locked my lips over one of her nipples and squeezed hard with them, her eyes rolled back and she grunted in a very unladylike way, when I did it again she cried out and stiffened hard off the bed, holding her breath again as I sucked the nipple firmly into my mouth. I slowed the squeezing rhythm of my hand, trying to prolong her time on the plateau, but she was over-primed from our previous climbs that night and I miscalculated. Her ever-so-satisfying hot squirting and splashing through my fingers preceded her sharp cry by a second or two. With a practiced flip I pulled the protruding end of the dildo out of harm's way just before she crashed her hips onto the bed and pulled her legs up very tightly, trapping my hand between them. She grunted out a prolonged, "Uugghhhhhhhh!!" before pulling my head down with great strength into a very hard, passionate kiss. I felt the quivering and rolling of her stomach muscles against my trapped wrist, and she made a strangled sound in her throat as still more hot liquid gushed out of her. Gawd, it was great. I held her for long minutes as she slowly relaxed her legs back on to the bed, and sagged, and her breathing slowed, before deciding it was time to take my own reward. It wasn't going to take much, I was well-primed myself. I nudged Michelle gently a few times until she became conscious of my intent, she was still pretty hazy. She kissed me again, weakly, and rolled over, raising her bum in the air again, giving herself to me, and rubbed my leg in encouragement. As she lowered her head to the pillow again I slowly pulled the dildo out of her bum, and she winced a bit as I did it... not the fun part. Then I positioned myself behind her, lowered my shorts, and slowly slid home into her sopping wet, blazing hot pussy. Not tight, but I felt my balls sliding around on her slick nether lips as I pushed in all the way, felt the heat, felt the little fingers inside her stroking me, and then felt her squeeze down against me. It really wasn't going to take much. I gripped her soft bum cheeks and pushed into her as far as I could bury myself before gliding slowly back out. Fifteen exquisite, slow sloppy strokes later, when she reached between her legs and caressed my balls as I strained to hit bottom, I exploded, gushing deep into her the hot jism that had been building in my balls through hours of anticipation and excitement. I grunted, and gripped her bum harder, and squirmed against her, as the release exploded from me in a series of powerful pulses while I held my breath and the room seemed to go dark. Then I lowered myself gently over her back to give her a grateful squeeze before rolling off to fold her into my arms. We both lay there, breathing slowly returning to normal, perspiration evaporation cooling our backs while our joined fronts stayed warm, soft, tenderly still exciting. She had her hand resting lightly on my cheek, and was murmuring very softly, perhaps thinking she was talking. I couldn't understand many words, but I thought I understood her intentions. I done good. I had not planned an exit strategy, and realized I didn't feel like I needed one. As the soft, warm woman nestled in my arms drifted off to sleep, I let the pleasant darkness gradually overtake me too, though not before I had a semi-stiffy rubbing against her soft belly, imagining what we would do together when we awoke. My Bookkeeper "Aw, noooo, pleeeeeeze!" she laughed. I don't need to know, just treat me! C'mon! Pleeeeeeze!" I chuckled again. "OK, just listen carefully for a second, I'm serious. I'm going to do something next that I hope is going to make you feel like you want to pee." Her smile faded almost instantly, and she noticeably stiffened. "No, no, Michelle, no, I'm not into that, don't worry." I pulled her to me a little tighter, reminding her of the pleasure in my hands. "Just listen. I'm going to work at your g-spot -- you know about that, right? I'm going to try to give you a mind-blowing orgasm. A lot of women feel like they're going to pee when they are being rubbed in that area, and so they hold back, and they never GET the orgasm. OK? I want you to trust me, Michelle, will you do that? I want you to let go. You won't pee, I promise you, you won't pee. You may squirt, and blow your mind, but you won't be peeing. Just let go. OK?" I gripped her hard as her nervousness continued playing through her face, but then I saw it soften again. "OK, doctor." Her voice was soft, and low, but warm with her affection for me. She wasn't completely sure, but she did trust me. She was willing to try to blast off. I really loved taking women into orbit. I returned to my knowing finger-dancing back and forth along her slick center, swirling and flicking and squeezing her most sensitive spots, and within a few minutes she was again writhing against me, eyes rolling, again panting and hissing as I flicked against her button, again pushing back against me and pulling herself into me. I curled my middle finger still more, added my index finger, and slid the two of them gently inside her. There wasn't a trace of friction; I could not remember ever being with a woman so well-lubricated. I hooked my fingers into the spongy tissue of her g-spot and began to work in earnest. She hesitated momentarily at the new sensations, but as I gently increased the pressure on my fingers hooked inside her, and began working the fleshy part of my palm firmly against her sensitive nub, her eyelids fluttered and her eyes rolled far back. In another moment or two she sucked breath in, and in, and in, and then stopped breathing for long seconds before gasping out raggedly, then sucking in again. She became ram-rod stiff in my arms, pushing up on her toes, nearly pushing me backwards, as I increased pressure still more and also began closing my fingers rhythmically on her nipple, squeezing it and then releasing it, flicking it lightly, and then squeezing it again. Her sounds lost their feminine delicacy and became animal and guttural as her body took over from her mind. I have been with women who need to be brought to that plateau, and then relaxed, and then brought back to the plateau again several times before they can go over the edge. Not Michelle. She seemed suspended at the very highest level of the plateau, not relaxing at all, for well over a minute until suddenly she let out a sharp cry. I felt her hot juices squirt liberally between my fingers before she doubled over, pulling them from her, and gripped my arm around her chest with iron force as she cried out again. I bent over with her as she sagged towards the floor, in part to hold her up since her legs seemed dangerously rubbery. I thought that she would fall if I did not hold her. She heaved in my arms as her breathing racked her body, and I felt her bum shudder against my thighs as an aftershock rippled through her and drew out another, softer, cry. I snaked out my handkerchief and pulled Michelle back up to her feet. She was like a rag doll, but I maneuvered her into position leaning over my desk again. She looked at me with a bleary and inscrutable expression, still breathing hard. She hadn't quite returned to earth yet. I made a peculiar decision, but it felt right as soon as I made it. I felt like a god as I moved behind her. I pressed my rampant staff, still enclosed in my pants, into the softness of her bum and squeezed against her a few times. She was a hot, panting woman, bent over my desk, a woman who at that point would probably have done anything for me. Yet the rest of me was oddly feeling more tender than lustful, more giving than grasping. I pulled back without taking my advantage. As expected, wide, shiny streaks of her spent excitement descended both of her legs, well down into her calves. I daubed at them with my handkerchief while holding my other hand lightly at the top of her bum, feeling her slowly come down from her explosion. When done with her legs, I mopped the little pools off the floor too... I guessed that she would be mortified if she saw them, even after my assurance that they were not pee. I retrieved her panties, and gently lifted her leg to slide them on. Only when I lifted the second leg and slid them onto it did she finally become aware of what I was doing. I quickly slid them up before she turned unsteadily and sank to her knees in front of me. "No, no, nooo," she said, in a drained, but pouty little-girl voice. She pulled my arms down and drew me close to her face. "We can't be finished yet! What about you? I hav... I WANT to do something for you." I gave her a long, tender kiss. "Part of me wants to, Michelle, very much. Here." I took one of her hands from my neck and pressed it to the iron-stiff cock in my pants. "See? I've discovered that my bookkeeper is a smokin'-hot woman. But right now... hard to explain... I feel very satisfied at doing this for you. I hope I've given you the helping hand you needed, and for now I want to leave it at that. "That was the sexiest thing that has happened in my LIFE," Michelle said, suddenly clear and with calm certainty. "My LIFE." She pulled her face closer to me, looking deep into my eyes, as she squeezed my hard rod. "This is a serious condition, we have to fix it." "Take it as the compliment you deserve. And you're going to ruin my plan if you squeeze me down there a couple more times but..." Her eyes sparkled, the corners of her mouth turned up, and she squeezed, several times. I chuckled. I thought about it. I chuckled again. Hell, most guys wouldn't even have been in this conversation, but I was an odd one. I kissed her again, long and soft. She squeezed me some more during the kiss. But I was resolute. I took her hand from my cock and held it with both of mine. "Michelle, I am probably going to fuck you six ways to Sunday some day, and then do it again on Sunday, twice. You can tell that I want to, I hope. This has nothing to do with you not being desirable, believe me. But strange as it may seem, let's stop now. Her puzzled look crumpled into a gentle smile. "You're the doctor. I sure can't argue with your methods." She wrapped her arms in a lock around my neck and pulled me in for a tight kiss, and then drew back to look into my eyes again. "Thanks so much, doctor." Her soft smile and inviting eyes very nearly made me change my mind. I let her go. Not long after she left, I had a shower. I was in there for a while. Odd, but a true story.