Bdsm

I was walking in my front door after my evening with Jessi when my phone pinged. I expected it to be a text from the sexy little blonde, even though she had barely spoken to me before I left her apartment. Moments after our kiss, and her expression of concern about my impact on her life, Jessi had quickly withdrawn, both physical and emotionally. She had rolled from on top of me and out of the bed. With her arms folded across her breasts, she had informed me that she was going to take a shower.

Then, with her intense blue eyes locked on me in one of her characteristically disconcerting stares, Jessi said, “Don’t wait for me. I’ll text you later.”

Following these words, the petite blonde had gone into her small bathroom and locked the door. I slowly gathered up my clothes, dressed, washed my face and hands in her kitchen sink, and grabbed a bottle of water from her refrigerator. However, all too soon I ran out of reasons to linger in her apartment. It was clear she had meant what she said.

Finding a small scrap of paper, I left her a short note: “You are an incredible woman, Jessi. I had a fantastic evening. Mark.” I placed the note on her small table. When I left her apartment, I made sure the door locked behind me.

As I drove home, Jessi words continued to reverberate in my mind: “I have a horrible feeling that you might be very bad for me.”

My former student had confessed this after our first kiss, a kiss that followed the twenty-year-old blonde giving me fantastic head and swallowing every drop. She had been surprised by the kiss, which is likely why I was able to deliver it at all. Jessi had been avoiding kissing me on the lips the entire evening, but in that moment, I had caught her unawares. I had not felt guilty when I did it, as her proscription on kissing was in seeming contradiction to her willing participation in various sexually intimate activities.

But what I should have realized then, and what I was coming to grips with now, is that there really was not a contradiction. I now understood that in Jessi’s world view, kissing equated to intimacy beyond just mere physicality. This fit with both what I had observed about her over the course of the last semester and what she had told me while we had been eating pizza in an interlude between sexual activities.

Jessi existed in a world in which her social awkwardness created a buffer between her and other people. It was through sex, she had told me, that she had been able to connect to someone else. What I suspected she meant by this was that physical/sexual intimacy was the only type of intimacy with which she was comfortable, or perhaps the only type of which she thought she was capable. Thus, I concluded that Jessi’s reluctance to kiss me was rooted in a fear of what was for her the unknown – connecting emotionally with another person.

“Maybe,” a voice in my head chided me, “She is just afraid of being emotionally intimate with you.”

“Maybe,” I said aloud, my voice startling to my own ears. I had not meant to speak aloud.

“Or perhaps they are one and the same,” I continued in my mind. “She feared kissing me, and told me she was afraid I was going to be bad for her, because she knows on some level that she wants our relationship be more than just sexual.”

“Yes,” the scolding voice spoke up, “but do you want more than mere sex from her?”

I pondered Jessi: her quirky personality; her intense blue eyes; her disconcerting stare that often lingered too long; her soft, slightly wavy blonde hair; her slender yet femininely shaped body, with perfectly shaped bosom and nicely curved hips; her delicate, almost elfin features; and her sexual openness. I thought that I felt something more than just lust for the young woman, but I was not sure exactly what it was I felt. What did I want from her?

“And if I you are not sure how you feel, why, knowing her social awkwardness and her apparent fear of emotional intimacy, did you kiss her, against her express wishes, in such an incredibly intimate moment?” my conscious charged me. Unfortunately, I did not have a good answer for myself.

***

The text was not from Jessi – it was from Jessika.

“Just got home from evening with friends celebrating grades. Saw Karen from class. She was very happy with grade )”

I smiled as I read Jessika’s message. I should have been annoyed she might have let something slip about us, but I was not worried about her doing so to Karen.

Karen, the student Jessika had mentioned, was a returning student in her late thirties, and in addition to becoming fast friends with Jessika, she was quite a success story for me as an instructor. When the semester had started, her writing had been unfocused and timid. Through the course of the semester, she had blossomed as a writer, gaining both technique and confidence. Despite the problems with her earlier work, I had given her an ‘A-‘ for the semester due to her rapid improvement. I did not think she would be quick to reveal anything casino siteleri that might embarrass either Jessika or me.

I texted back, “Not worried about Karen. Glad you had fun, though I hope you were safe getting home.”

Even as I hit the send button, I realized how parental the last clause sounded. I was about to apologize when her reply popped up: “Yep – always safe. Took a taxi. :)”

“I should have known you would be,” I replied. “Any plans for the holidays?”

“Work, I guess. I might go see my folks, but I am not sure.”

For the next forty minutes, as we both prepared for bed, Jessika and I texted back and forth about the holiday break, family, work, etc. Like most of my interactions with the curvy brunette had been since the start of the semester four months ago, our back and forth texting was relaxed and easy. It was as if we had been friends for years. I did not even feel awkward when I stood naked, drying off, and answered a text that had come in while I was in the shower.

I had just turned out the lights and settled into bed when a new text arrived. But this one was from Jessi, not Jessika. As with the naked photo of herself from earlier, the text contained only a link to media content. I hesitated before following the link. Our evening had ended so awkwardly, and my banter back and forth with Jessika had been so easy, that I debated whether it was wise to even look at whatever the blonde had sent. However, I had to see, so I tapped on the link.

Again the picture was of Jessi in her full length mirror. This time, however, the photo did not cut off her head. Her vivid blue eyes, surrounded by the black fur of a cat mask, burned from my phone’s screen. The petite twenty-year-old was wearing her Halloween cat costume, but the bra cups from the corset had been removed. The confining black garment pushed up her perfect breasts, emphasizing them in a way not even the nude picture she had sent earlier had accomplished. With some difficulty, I made myself look away from her obviously erect nipples to take in the rest of her. The black miniskirt of costume was just as I remembered, but black fishnet stocking and a pair of black high-heeled boot were new. I vividly recalled her legs had been bare on Halloween, because I had been enthralled by the creamy witness of her skin (and also curious whether she was cold in the outfit).

As I had felt several times that evening, not to mention over the course of the past semester, I again was off balance with respect to Jessi. I was surprised she had taken and sent that picture to me now, considering what had happened before I left, and I was uncertain as to how to proceed.

“Maybe it is an old picture that she decide to send,” I mused.

In the picture, her loose blonde hair was curlier than when I had been there earlier that evening, so maybe that lent some credence to the idea it was an older picture. On the other hand, I could see enough of her bed in the reflection that I could tell it looked just as it had when I had left.

“She could just be a messy housekeeper,” my mind suggested, but that did not fit with how tidy her apartment had been when I arrived, including the bed being made.

On closer inspection, I saw what looked to be a piece of scrap paper in her left hand, which she had on her hip. I thought it quite likely it was the note I had left for her.

I was saved from continuing to try to figure out what Jessi wanted when another message from her appeared on my phone screen: “Sorry I was weird. It was 2 much.”

“Let me make it up. Pls,” read the text that immediately followed.

“There is nothing for which you need to make up,” I replied.

“Was a bitch. Just scared. I had a gr8t time too.”

I felt bad for the young woman and what were obviously some difficult emotions for her- I genuinely liked her – but I was starting to truly appreciate the ramifications of her social awkwardness on any relationship we might have. And if it was already problematic now, so early in, how bad might it be later? Furthermore, everything so far had been much easier with Jessika.

“I should probably just concentrate on having fun with Jessika,” I thought just before Jessi’s last text message of the night arrived.

“Will wear the cat costume next time. Lick you all over & lap up all the cream. Bed time now. Night.”

“Goodnight, Jessi,” I texted when I had recovered sufficiently to think clearly. There was no response from her.

All of my intentions regarding the sexy but awkward blonde had evaporated on reading her final text. In place of my just formed resolve to concentrate on Jessika flowed a renewed wave of lust for Jessi. Additionally, to my astonishment, my penis had started to respond as I imagined what such an experience with the blonde would be like.

I shook my head and tried to clear my thoughts and ignore my semi-erection, but the picture and texts from Jessi had left me too agitated. I could not relax, and I knew sleep was unlikely. slot oyna Finally, I decided that what I needed was self-relief. However, my efforts in that vein brought a different frustration. Despite my best efforts, I was not able to achieve a full erection. So there I was, lying in bed, trying to relax, my mind unable to leave off recollections of my evening with Jessi and fantasies of what the near future might bring, while my body was too spent to achieve full arousal.

My misery was interrupted by a ping from my phone. I grabbed it from the night stand, hoping for a message from the temptress who had left me in such a state. But what I received was the next best thing.

“Are you up? I can’t sleep. I need a good, hard fuck to tire me out,” Jessika wrote.

I smiled at my phone – this might be what I needed. I could already feel my arousal level increasing.

“I am up. I cannot sleep either. I think your suggestion would work nicely for me as well,” I typed back to her.

“Well shit! I should have mentioned it earlier!” was the sexy brunette’s response. “But maybe we can still play.”

“What exactly do you have in mind?” I asked her.

“We could ‘sext’, but I hate typing while trying to get off,” she wrote.

Seconds later, my cell phone buzzed with an incoming call. I saw it was Jessika’s number and answered with a “Hello, Jessika.”

“Hi Mark,” she purred, “Watcha doin’?”

“Anticipating some erotic discussion with a wonderfully sexy woman I know,” I responded.

“You doing anything else?” she inquired. “I stripped off my nightshirt and am completely naked. I am lying on my bed, one hand on my boobs and the other playing with my wet pussy.”

“That is a nice sight to imagine, Jessika,” I told her as I began to stroke my almost full erection.

“What about you, Mark. Are you naked? Is your cock hard? Are you playing with it as you imagine me laying on my bed, my fingers rubbing my clit?” she asked.

“Yes,” I replied simply.

I was happy to let Jessika take the lead. I had participated in phone-sex before, but only a couple of times, and that had been with my ex-wife, which meant it was more precise than dirty. I was mainly a neophyte when it came to dirty talk, and dirty talk, I knew, was essential to this process.

“Mmmmmm,” she moaned through the phone. “Is it hard? If I was there, would you let me suck on it?”

“Yes,” I said again, before adding, “I would love to feel your luscious lips around me.”

“Would you lick my wet pussy and my little clit while I sucked your cock?”

“Yes,” I stammered, my penis now rock hard in my hand.

I closed my eyes as I stroked myself, imagining the feel of Jessika’s labia and clitoris on my tongue, the taste of her wetness, and the aroma of her arousal. Then my mind shifted to imagining Jessika as she was now, naked on her bed, the phone by her head as she used her fingers on both her nipples and her pussy. Both images were enthralling.

Almost before I knew that I was going to speak, I said, “I would love to lick you while you suck on me, Jessika. You taste wonderful.”

“Fuck,” she moaned. “You taste wonderful! I would love to taste your cum right now.”

“That would be great, but if that happened I could not put you on your hands and knees and slide into you from behind,” I countered, surprised at my own boldness, and a little troubled that an image of Jessi on her hands and knees, as she had been earlier, momentarily displaced my thoughts of Jessika.

A panting moan came from the phone before Jessika replied, “I would suck you until you were hard again so you could fuck me!”

Then she asked, “Would you fuck me on the floor, Mark?”

“Yes,” I replied, her words doing nothing to help me shake my recollections of Jessi. “Maybe I would give your butt a couple of swats too.”

“God yes,” Jessika breathed, before adding, “and pull my hair.”

The thought of Jessika’s wavy, chocolate colored hair, for whatever reason, put her front and center in my imagination again. I visualized what her curvy hips and round butt would look like as I slammed into her from behind and held her hair taught.

I realized that my breathing had quickened and grown ragged, and I was surprised at how close I was to climaxing for the fourth time in the last twelve hours.

“I’m close, Jessika,” I told her.

“So am I, Mark,” she whispered. “My fingers are slick with my juices, and just a second ago I pulled my boob up to my mouth and was sucking and licking my own nipple. Would you lick it if you were her?”

“Yes,” I growled, my mind filled with the thought of her mouth being able to reach her own nipples in that way. “Would you lick one of them while I tended to the other?”

“Fuck yes!” she yelped before a series of telltale squeaks revealed she had climaxed.

Stroking myself faster, I imagined her lovely face flushed, her full lips parted as the little squeaks escaped from it, her body tensed in orgasm. It pushed canlı casino siteleri me over the edge. I grunted a couple of times, and then a surprising amount of ejaculate pulsed from my penis, some of it shooting up on my stomach, the rest running down my shaft.

“Did you cum, Mark,” Jessika panted.

“Yes I did, Squeaker,” I replied, annoyed with myself that I had not remembered the nickname earlier.

“So I guess you know I did?” she asked rhetorically. I could hear the combination of embarrassment and amusement in her voice.

“Yes,” I answered. “I think it would be hard for you to hide it.”

“Just keep in mind it is easy to fake too,” she quipped even as she was laughing.

“Touché,” I laughed, a part of my mind cringing at the clichéd use.

“So, where did you cum,” Jessika asked, changing the subject.

“Lying in my bed,” I replied, teasing her.

“I mean,” she sighed, “where did your cum go.”

“Some of it is on my stomach, and some of it ran down my penis,” I explained.

“Would you let me lick it clean if I was there?” she asked.

“Yes,” I breathed, trying to focus on the thought of Jessika using her tongue on me instead of conjuring up images of Jessi making good on her comment that she would “lap up all the cream” the next time we were together.

“Mmmmm,’ she moaned. “I can almost taste you.”

I was not sure what else to say, so I just relaxed, the phone beside me. I am not sure, but I might have drifted off for a moment or two. I jerked up, listening to see if I missed anything Jessika had said. However, all I heard was breathing and faint snoring coming from the phone.

“Jessika,” I called.

A grunt and a snort issued form the phone’s speaker, and then in a voice heavy with sleep, Jessika mumbled, “Did I fall asleep?”

“I think so,” I replied. “And I think I did too.”

I heard Jessika yawn before she said, “That worked well, huh Mark?”

“Yes it did, Squeaker,” I yawned back.

“Then we should both go to sleep. Good night Mark,” she breathed.

“Good night, Jessika,” I reciprocated before ending the call. I vaguely remember the phone’s screen going to sleep just before I did.

***

I was at a meeting of the Core Writing program at 9:45 Tuesday morning when my phone buzzed with a text. Happy that I had remembered to set the phone on silent before the meeting, I snuck a look at the screen.

“That was very nice last night. You sure know how to get a girl hot and ready. ;)”

I hid a smile. Jessika was being too kind – she had set the tone for our fun the night before. I had just followed her lead.

“You are the one who knows what you are doing, Jessika,” I typed surreptitiously. “I just followed your lead.” Then I added, “I am in a meeting. I should be done at 11:00.”

“Ok,” she replied. “Text you then, sexy.”

I tried to suppress another smile as I attempted to concentrate on what the director of the Core Writing program had been saying. Luckily, the meeting ended earlier than I expected, and at 10:50 I was in my office and texting my lovely brunette former student.

“The meeting is over,” I wrote. “What are you up to?”

“I should be doing housework,” was her reply, “but instead I have been reading erotic stories online and masturbating.”

I shook my head at her reply and felt my cheeks grow warm. I am not sure why I was blushing, but I think it was the juxtaposition of her salacious message with the environment of my office.

“What are you up to?” she asked a few seconds later.

“I am in my office doing some post-semester work,” I replied.

“So I guess phone-sex is out.” It was a statement, not a question.

Nonetheless, I texted her back with an answer: “Probably so.”

“Sigh…” she sent. “Well, probably for the best. I have some errands to run before I go to work tonight.”

“Do you often work nights?” I asked.

“Just Tuesday nights, now that class is over,” she explained. “A spa I contract with has a reduced price night on Tuesday. They need lots of people for it.”

“I see,” I responded. “Maybe we could get together tomorrow.”

“Yes, please :)” she sent seconds later. “I can’t wait to have you in my mouth and pussy. ;)”

I shook my head again, uncomfortably aware that me penis was starting to strain against my pants. Jessika always seemed to be a bit more forward in her playfulness than I expected.

“Although, less disconcertingly so than Jessi,” I thought. I believed that I could become accustomed to Jessika. I was not so sure I would ever be able to be comfortable with the petite blonde’s level of forwardness.

Jessika’s next message pulled me away from thoughts of Jessi: “How about you come to the spa tonight for a massage.”

“That sounds nice. Am I able to pick my masseuse?” I wrote back.

“No,” she texted almost instantly.

A few seconds later, her next text arrived: “I am your only choice ;)”

“Will there be a happy ending?” I asked on a whim, my cheeks again burning as I once more deviated a bit from my comfort zone.

“Naughty boy,” she chided me. “No happy ending tonight for you. I am not a hooker. :(“

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