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If this story pleases you, send me an encouraging email and I will continue the storyline. This is a work of original fiction. Do not copy it or use it without the express written permission of the author. Enjoy. – moreau
I. Student Olivia reviews her blowjob homework
“So tell me, Olivia, did you play ‘I want you to’ with Jeffrey, yes or no?”
Two months earlier, my 26 year-old former high school student, Olivia De La Cruz, had paid me a visit under the pretense of soliciting guidance on her master’s thesis. With her tanned skin, great mane of dark brown hair, full sensual lips, and impossibly high breasts, Olivia was a full-fledged Philippina vixen who had really come to solicit sex hints to please her boyfriend, Jeffrey. I introduced her to the game of “I want you to…” and she introduced me to my most memorable blowjob [read “The Blowjob Lesson].
When she had called and insisted on coming over “to talk,” I had no expectation other than to try to convince her to reveal some details about her relationship with Jeffrey. I figured that the mind-shattering blowjob she gave me was a one-shot deal. But let’s face it. The next best thing to having sex with a Philippina hottie is hearing her describe her sex life is full Technicolor detail.
“We are a lot happier now, and I owe it all to you, Peter.”
“Tell me about it, Olivia.”
“He loved the game. You won’t believe this,” she began, “but when I took off my pants and knelt in front of him, his eyes almost fell out of his head. You were right about doing it in front of mirrors. I’d look at him and he’d be, like, checking me out in the reflection.”
“Did he tell you what he wanted you to do?” I asked.
“Oh yes, just like you said he would, but he stopped saying ‘I want you to’ pretty fast and just started moaning,” Olivia added.
“You mean when you took off your pants and were kneeling in front of him in your black thong, he just started moaning spontaneously?”
“No silly,” Olivia laughed, giving my shoulder a playful slap, “I was doing something else at the time.”
We had reached the tension point in our conversation where I needed to push Olivia past the G-rated conversation and into the adults-only talk. I flashed back to her sitting in my Junior Honors English class, a slender and proportioned Philippina girl with pouty lips, legs demurely crossed under her desk, brown cat-like eyes looking up at me in high expectations as I was about to return her A+ research paper on “Sex and the Media Influences on Teenage Girl Self-Image.” I had always wondered if the racy pictures she included as part of her research paper were intended to turn me on or shock me. Now, we were getting ready to jump a taboo barrier between teacher and student for a second time.
“So just what were you doing that Jeffrey lost the power of speech?”
“Well, I was rubbing him…” Olivia started.
I interrupted her, “You mean, you were rubbing his cock.”
“Yes, I was rubbing his cock,” Olivia restarted, “more like, I was bobbing up and down on his cock, and what I couldn’t get in my mouth, I was rubbing that part, and I did something you didn’t tell me to do.”
“And that was?”
“I had just the tip, you know, the head of his penis in my mouth, and I rubbed the sides of it fast back and forth with both my palms…”
“Like you were a girl scout trying to start a fire?”
“Well, yes.”
“That’s a massage technique called the ‘Firestarter.’ Where’d you learn it?”
“I dunno, but Jeffrey looked down at me and I looked right back up at him with the tip of his cock in my mouth, that’s when he, like, looked up at the ceiling and said “Oh my God!”
“Did that let you know he was cumming?” I asked, perspiring now as this vixen confided in me details of her sucking off her boyfriend in the most innocent, matter-of-fact tone.
“He never came in my mouth before, but I kinda new something was about to happen. So I rubbed his balls again, then they like, tightened up, but I pulled off his cock and stopped sucking him.”
“Why on earth did you stop?”
“Well, when you and I had our lesson, you said ‘Look up at him and say something really nasty and he’d really enjoy that.’”
“So you did what I said.”
“When I stopped sucking him, he looked down at me, like, ‘Why’d you stop?’ and I said the nastiest thing I could think of.” Olivia paused.
“Okay, we’re grown-ups here, what were the magic words?”
“I said, ‘Jeffrey, I want you fuck my mouth hard and cum in it,’ and like, I barely had time to get my lips on his cock and he came like crazy.”
The picture burned in my mind was this long-legged Philippina girl wearing only a black thong and on her knees, begging her boyfriend to cum in her mouth, in fact saying “Fuck my mouth” and him exploding like a cum cannon. What could I say to keep my cool?
“How’d it taste?”
“He just kept squirting his semen so many times. A lot went in my mouth at first and I tried to swallow it, so I took his cock out of my mouth and pumped it fast. I put out Bostancı Escort my tongue and some hit it but also landed on my cheek, my forehead. It went everywhere but I was smiling. Jeffrey kept saying “oh yes, yes, you are so—o-o-o-o nasty,” and he even grabbed his own cock and pumped it for me, so I just stuck my tongue out with my mouth open so he could cum on my tongue.”
“And it tasted…”
“Well, hot, definitely yummy and thick and not salty at all. I had been feeding Jeffrey pineapple and orange for a week like you suggested, and I really enjoyed the taste.”
“You enjoyed it?”
“Yeah, a lot,” Olivia answered without hesitation and flashing a great, dimpled smile at me. I sensed that she and Jeffrey had played the game more than once.
II. Olivia’s Lesson in Massage Begins
“Good girl,” I said, resuming my role as the teacher. I patted her knee – we were sitting very close in a couple of swivel office chairs – and Olivia swiveled and our knees bumped slightly. “You deserve a foot rub for doing such a good job on Jeffrey,” I added, and she smiled at me, pleased that our lesson had paid off. I lifted her leg at the calf, resting her heel on my thigh.
“Oh goody-goody,” Olivia said, flexing her foot and pointing her toes, “I’ve never had the foot job.”
“You mean Jeffrey’s never massaged your foot before?” I said somewhat incredulously.
“Let’s move these closer,” Olivia said, reaching for the arms of my chair to draw me closer. Her foot naturally slid forward but down at the same time ending up firmly in my crotch. She flexed her foot against my crotch and said “Oops,” but I was not very convinced of this accidental slip. Olivia looked plainly at my crotch and we both knew my erection was visibly straining the front of my jeans.
“Let’s not be naughty,” I warned, lifting her left foot by the heel and replacing it on my thigh so I could begin her foot massage.
As I alternately pressed my thumbs into the ball of her foot and kneaded up and down the middle of her foot, Olivia grinned, closed her eyes, then said “Oh boy oh boy.” I pressed each of her toes firmly and held on, working each toe according to Olivia’s facial expression and breath intake since she had stopped speaking. I knew that the foot massage would put her to sleep, and I didn’t want that. I stopped.
“Don’t you guys give each other massages?” I asked.
Her eyes opened dreamily. “Don’t stop Peter.”
“Answer me.”
“Well, I’ll rub his back or neck a little, but he’s not too good on the massage stuffs. Peter, where’d you learn about rubbing my foot so well?”
“Maybe you should read a book on massage and practice with Jeffrey,” I suggested.
“But I’m here now, couldn’t you give me some practice pointers?”
“No Olivia, you and Jeffrey will just have to risk serious injury and learn through trial and error.”
“Okay Peter, I didn’t want to do this, but you’ve forced me,” Olivia said,“I want you to show me how to give and receive a massage.”
The effect of Olivia’s words were like Ali Baba saying “Open Sesame” at the secret entrance of the 40 thieves’ hideout. By invoking our game of “I want you to,” my student was demanding that I provide her another lesson, a demand I couldn’t refuse.
We marched into my bedroom and I threw the comforter completely off the bed, leaving the warm, green flannel sheets as our massage table. Olivia brought her backpack with her into the room and dropped it next to the bed. She looked around the room and examined some framed vacation pictures of me. “Man, Peter, you have some major muscles there,” Olivia remarked at my picture where I was wearing an athletic shirt in front of some broken statue in Rome.
I lay down on my stomach and slowly scissored my legs, alternately flexing and pointing my toes.
“Jeffrey,” I said in a falsetto, “would you be a sweetie and give my back a little rubbie-dubbie?” I was laying directly across from the nice, wide dresser mirror that showed all the action taking place on the bed.
“Oh, you’re going to play me, I get it,” Olivia chimed in. “Sure babeeeeeeeee, spread ‘em,” she ordered in a fake low voice. She climbed on the bed and slapped my butt fairly hard. “Wow, your butt is like a rock.”
“Look,” I said, “If you’re going to be Jeffrey, do you really think you’re flattering me by saying my butt’s like a rock?”
“Oops,” she giggled, “back when I was your student, I always wondered what was going on under your school clothes. You were my cutest teacher.”
Olivia’s confession was not going to trigger a similar one from me.
“Oh, Jeffrey,” I continued, “how long are you gonna keep a horny Philippina girl waiting?”
I watched in the mirror as Olivia straddled my hips. She rested her hands on the middle of my back, then started kneading half-heartedly and without rhythm. Olivia may have been the worst masseuse in the world.
“Peter, how am I going to learn massage techniques when you know them, but I’m the one rubbingyour back?”
Bingo! That was the Anadolu Yakası Escort point.
“Are you saying we should switch positions?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Then I want you to do everything I tell you when you’re receiving the massage, okay? Remember, we’re doing this for Jeffrey.”
I pushed myself up to kneeling and rearranged my erect package.
“Okay, lie down on your stomach and we’ll practice making Jeffrey horny so that he can’t wait to rub you.”
She did.
“Now, guys love it when a girl does this thing of scissoring her legs and pointing and flexing her feet in the air. Also, support yourself on your elbows so Jeffrey can see the beautiful arch in your back. This is his invitation to touch you.”
Olivia slowly scissored her legs and twirled her feet. With her head tipped up and a delicious dimpled smile on her face, I was ready to cream my pants.
I stood up and went to my small bedroom stereo, decided to random play whatever was in the CD changer, and a Madonna “Ray of Light” tune came on.
“I like her…,” Olivia started to say, interrupted when I returned to the bed and leaned my chest across her slightly upraised back. “We’re establishing contact now,” I said, and I pressed my entire chest against her back, feeling her warmth and inhaling her fragrance, intensified by some strawberry herbal hair product. Olivia’s feet were still dangling in the air and I gently grabbed her ankles and lowered them to the bed. I pulled her support arms to her sides and she submitted easily.
Kneeling to her side, I pressed my left hand on her left shoulder blade and my right hand on her right hip. I leaned over Olivia and gave some outward pressure. Olivia didn’t make a sound. I alternated my hand positions and did the same. Next, I knelt above her head and using long strokes with my hands molded to her back, massaged down her spine to her hips and pulled back up along her sides.
“One thing that’s going to bore Jeffrey is if you lay there like a lump of clay,” I said. “Normally, the person receiving the massage doesn’t need to say or do much, but if you want a sexy massage, there’s more to it.”
“Uh-huhhhhhh,” Olivia said, already very relaxed.
I smacked her butt sharply.
“Ouch!”
“Do you want to learn sexy massage or be a lump of clay?”
“Sexy.”
“Good. Now, I’m going to rub you some, but you should tell me out loud when I’ve found a spot that really feels good. If you wiggle a little or press yourself against my hand when I touch you somewhere you enjoy, that’s another signal I’ll look for. One final thing before we start.”
“What’s that?”
“If I’m massaging an area and you want me to reach for something I’m close to, just say ‘higher’ or ‘lower’ or even ‘faster,’ you get the picture?”
“Okay,” Olivia said.
I moved to straddle her hips. I looked down on her hip-hugger blue jeans, so tight you could read the date on a dime in her back pocket. Her snug black athletic shirt showed her tapering waist. I started to do a rocking horse glide up from the beginning of her spine on either side of her spine, gently pushing in with the index and middle fingers of each hand. When I reached her shirt, I didn’t even attempt to reach under the tight material but rubbed over it. My fingers reconnected with her skin at her neck, and I continued to massage her scalp by shampooing it with my fingertips. I repeated this cycle two times.
“Peter.”
“Yes.”
“I like the way your fingers are walking up my back, but I can’t feel much through my shirt.”
Heck, I could fix that. I slid my hands under her shirt and Olivia assisted by propping herself up on her elbows. I pushed her shirt up and over her head. Grabbing hold of her elbows, I stretched her arms straight, forcing her down on the bed. I completed pushed the shirt over her arms and shoulders and admired her topless form. Smooth, tanned skin and a narrow waist. I glanced at the mirror and saw the sides of her firm, ample breasts pressed into the mattress. Olivia lifted her mane of long hair so that I had access to her neck. We just had those hip-huggers to deal with now.
With no more shirt preventing skin-to-skin contact, I continued rubbing Olivia’s back with nice long, gliding strokes. I pulled up her sides, used my forearms across her back, and every other massage trick I knew. I’d always return to her neck, and Olivia made sure her hair was pulled aside giving me full access.
Other than some moaning, Olivia was basically a lump of clay in my hands. I leaned forward and nuzzled her neck, then gave her neck a lick.
“Oh God!” she exclaimed and wriggled under me. A woman’s neck is loaded with nerves, and I was going to set her on fire.
“It’s important that I massage you with different parts of my body, not just fingertips.”
“That was a good spot. It made me jump.”
I gave Olivia’s scalp a stimulating fingertip shampoo, and I ended by breathing close to her neck. “I think Olivia’s neck needs more attention,” I whispered in her Pendik Escort ear. With the tip of my tongue I made little circles on her neck, causing Olivia to kick her legs. As an appetizer I nibbled on her ear, then stuck my tongue in her ear firmly.
“Yaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh!” she almost shrieked. Her neck and ears were all erogenous zones. “Oh my goodness,” she sighed, “Oh my gosh!”
Since I was determined to make her crazy, I grabbed a handful of her hair with my left hand and pulled up, forcing her back on her elbows, stuck my tongue in her ear, and reached around her right side with my right hand and grabbed her breast.
Olivia sucked in air and exhaled a long, moaning “O-o-o-o-oooooooo,” while I gave her breast a squeeze and rolled her nipple between my thumb and index finger.
“Is that a good spot?” I asked.
“Uh, yeah, really is good,” she answered.
I let go of her scalp, stopped tonguing her ear and took my hands off her. Now, this is a form of torture during a massage, to suddenly stop and disconnect.
“Wha’ happened?” she asked, now a little frustrated.
“Oh, well, I need some massage oil to reduce the friction,” I said, and went to my bathroom searching for some. When I returned, Olivia wasn’t on the bed.
I heard the sink running in the guest bathroom, and Olivia soon returned, wrapped in a towel and carrying her backpack which she set down on the floor next to the bed. She unknotted the towel and lay back down on the bed, and I was a little disappointed to see she was still wearing those hip hugger jeans.
“Okay Peter, you can start again,” she said.
I warmed some massage cream between my hands and resumed working on her back. Olivia moaned and groaned as I circled, pulled, and gently pummeled her muscles. To begin my descent to her lower body, I wiped my hands on her towel and started rubbing her jean-covered hips, kneading her buttocks and working my way down her thighs. I used long connecting strokes to go up and down her legs, but feathered my touch when I approached the inside of her thighs. Olivia parted her legs ever so slightly.
“Olivia, I’m not hearing much from you.”
“Well, um, Peter, we’re running into the same problem with my pants that I had with my shirt.”
“And you’d suggest…?” I asked, my cock expanding even more as if it already heard the answer.
Olivia brought her hands under her crotch and I heard the unmistakable pop of very tight pants suddenly being unsnapped. Then a zipper being lowered. I lifted Olivia’s hips slightly and she did the rest. She pushed her jeans below her hips and there, proudly flossing the dimpled ass of my Philippina nymphet, was a leopard-print thong.
With the pants below her hips, I wasn’t going to take any chances.
“We don’t want any massage stuff on these,” I said, and pulled both pant legs down, leaving Olivia exposed except for the tiniest of thongs and some cute white socks that contrasted innocently with her wild leopard thong.
I sat back on the bed between her legs and began long, connecting strokes with both hands, up each leg, kneading a buttock, then up her back and back down the other side. At one point I grabbed hold of each calf and parted her legs. There was no resistance.
“Peter, would you go back to my hair, that felt really good,” Olivia asked, now propping on her elbows again.
I sat on Olivia’s hips and massaged her neck and scalp, leaning very close to her upraised face. She nuzzled me like an affectionate pussycat.
“Oooooohhhhhh, Peter,” she moaned, inspiring me to lick that spot on her neck that I had found earlier.
I suddenly felt Olivia’s foot pressing up against my butt, forcing my crotch more into her butt crack. I looked in the mirror and, to my surprise, so did Olivia!
“I like the way you fit on me,” she said, “but you know, Peter, those pants you’re wearing are sorta scratchy on my legs. I think you should do something about that.”
I stood up off the bed near Olivia’s face and did a strip tease for her. When I dropped my pants, Olivia didn’t flinch or look away from my crotch which showed a considerable presence under my tight, gray Jockey briefs. I pulled off my undershirt explaining that I didn’t want to get massage stuff on it, either.
“God, Peter, you are cute. You still look like you do in that picture.”
“Flattery is going to get you everywhere,” I answered, climbing back on top of her hips.
Instead of lying prone, Olivia lifted her head, propped up on her elbows, and I felt her foot pushing me back into her butt crack. Since my cock was already sticking above the narrow waistband and demanding relief, I started a slow, rhythmic cock massage in her butt. She raised her hips against me. This also gave me a clear view of her beautiful labia bisected by her thong. In the mirror her dimpled ass pushing against me was an achingly erotic sight.
Olivia reached down next to the bed and brought up her backpack. Was she going to take notes?
“Peter, would you mind if I practiced massage while you massage me?”
I had no clue what was going on. So I answered, “I’m all for multi-tasking.”
Olivia then drew from her backpack a 7”, anatomically realistic dildo, purple-painted head, true-colored veining, and a pair of real-looking balls to complete the package.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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