I descended on him completely. A particularly hard thwack caused my throat to close around him and I almost lost control. I retreated, swallowed, and swirled my tongue around the tip again.
I eased off after that, partly to protect my ass — which was feeling hot — partly to keep Fredrik fresh for what was to come. I had ideas too.
Finally I rocked back on my heels while stroking his slippery-slick length in my hand. He set the cane aside.
“Since you seem all fired up, perhaps we should consider the holy trinity. Seems fitting, me being Catholic and all.”
His eyes widened. Usually he was the one to ask. Usually I said no. “Really?”
“It’s been a while.”
“It has.”
The holy trinity was the stuff of legend in his mind, like the Garden of Eden, virgin births, or me squirting. The holy trinity had been attained only a handful of times, often when I was a little tipsy, always after the discomfort of the last time had faded from my mind. Neither was the case this time. Perhaps I was in a giving mood.
“We’re a third of the way there,” he observed.
“Thirty-three percent. Hardly a passing grade. I want to do better than that. I want a hundred.”
It occurred to me that I was taking charge when, by rights, Fredrik was supposed to be calling the shots. I glanced up at him. He didn’t seem overly put out.
“I know you’re capable of great things when you set your mind to it,” he said.
“I mean to apply myself,” I said. “To you.”
I crawled up to the sofa, straddling his legs. His erection rested on his abdomen.
He pinched my nipples through the flimsy fabric of my top. Not hard, but enough to get my attention and set off a spark of need.
I raised my hips and moved closer, reaching down to place his cock at my entrance. Then I set my forearms on his shoulders.
“Is this what you want?” I asked.
He nodded.
I allowed just the head of his cock to enter me. “You shouldn’t be abusing your authority this way.”
“I don’t care.”
Another inch slipped in. The goofiness of the outfit fell away and I immersed myself in the role, feeling the same rush of headiness and trepidation that a young girl in this position might. “What if the headmaster knew that you were fucking one of his students?”
I lowered my hips just a little more. Halfway there.
His hands bracketed my hips. “He’d want you too.”
“But I don’t need him, do I? You’ll take care of me?”
It occurred to me how easy men were. Give their cock a warm home and they were putty in your hands.
He untied the top I was wearing, exposing my breasts. I rose a little, bringing my chest to the level of his mouth. I knew what he wanted. I wanted it too. His lips closed around a nipple and he sucked and nibbled. I thought back to when we were younger, when we’d just become parents. Occasionally he’d partake of the milk in just this way, not greedily but out of curiosity. It had been a novelty. Sometimes I asked him to suck on them when my ducts were blocked and my breasts ached. Then one thing would lead to another. It was an odd feeling, an inherently nurturing act rendered sexual.
He sucked hard, as though trying to coax my glands back into service. For a moment, I wished I could again. One of the many things I wish I’d done more when I had the chance.
But a young girl in a school outfit would likely have none of that context, and so I gave myself up to the simple pleasure of it, him sucking and me rising and falling shallowly on his cock.
“I think you have it in you,” he said, “to do really well.”
I bottomed out and tightened around him. “You feel good, sir,” I said.
He leaned his head back, his eyes closed, his hands still on my hips. I knew he was focussed on the warmth that enveloped him. Eventually I established a rhythm, rising and falling, swivelling and angling my hips just so, seeking those hidden spots that, while elusive, I knew existed. He fit me well, a hand in glove.
And so I played with him, taking my time, experimenting. After all these years and still experimenting.
“If you keep this up, I won’t make it to the last part.”
I’d forgotten about him, lost in the rhythm, awash in sensations and the pleasure of being filled. I hadn’t noticed his breathing, the way he rose up to meet me, the pinched on his face that told me he was close.
“And I will have gotten a mediocre grade. Sixty-six percent. I won’t accept that.”
I rose and the glistening length of Fredrik’s cock fell back onto his belly. I traced its underside with my fingernail. It twitched obediently.
“How do you want me, sir?” I asked.
Without a word, he got up, led me to the side of the sofa, and draped me over the armrest. The bed would have been more comfortable, but this was his day, and if he wanted me like this, so be it.
He left me for a moment and I heard him rummaging around in the bedroom. I closed my eyes and waited.
Soon Fredrik’s lubed finger played around my anus, dipping shallowly in and out it. The finger alone felt like an invasion enough and I, as always, couldn’t imagine being able to accommodate his full girth.
As he readied me, I eased my hand between my legs. It was awkward, but I managed. If anything, I needed the distraction from what was to come.
He spread my cane-reddened cheeks and I felt the tip of his cock playing on my anus. I took a deep breath. He pressed a little and I concentrated on relaxing, thought loose billowy thoughts. The first inch or two were always a challenge. After that, I knew I’d be fine.