Jack gave a sigh as he felt her tongue exploring the head, before she bobbed down to take more of him. With her other hand, she fingered his testicles. She masturbated him as she sucked, stimulating him.
He placed a hand on her head, only for her to slap it away immediately. She pulled back and looked at him archly. “Did I tell you to do that?” Then she returned to her ministrations.
Just lie back and enjoy it, Dan had said. Well, okay, then. Jack stood there in their living room, practically naked, while his suddenly quite forceful little lady sucked him off. After a few minutes, he could feel his abdomen quiver. His breathing had changed, and his hips were starting to jerk, despite his attempts to keep still.
Abruptly, Emma stopped, releasing him. “That’s enough for now,” she said. “I don’t want you coming yet. There’s the whole evening to go.” She stood, and leaned in to whisper in his ear once more. “See? I told you: more blowjobs.” She twanged the waistband of his underwear. “You can pull those back up now.” Businesslike, she picked up a piece of paper from the coffee table. “Here’s the list of tasks and a reminder of the timetable. I’m going to freshen up and get dressed for the evening now. You should get on — it’s already ten-past.” She drifted out into the hallway, and then looked back once more. “No playing with yourself while I’m gone. Remember, I want you to last all evening.”
And then she was off.
Jack’s breath was steadying, though his erection still throbbed for release. “Down boy,” he muttered to it, as he pulled up the trunks, and went looking in the kitchen for the dust cloths.
***
He tidied all the bits and bobs away — although, in truth, there wasn’t too much to shift — and dusted the mantlepiece and dining room table. When Emma returned, he was dusting the coffee table. He’d taken everything off it, and was kneeling on the carpet, shining the polish with a cloth. So he was bending over with his back to her when she came into the living room again.
“Oh, perfect timing!” she said, and he felt his balls grabbed from behind again. Closing his eyes briefly, he continued to polish the table as she groped him and he stiffened again. Rule two.
After a minute, she said. “Pretty sure that table’s as polished as it’s going to get. Oh, silly me!” And she released his balls. Hard once more, Jack stood, turning. Emma was on her knees too, giggling at him. She was in a pale orange fluffy bath towel that covered her breasts down to her thighs, with a matching smaller towel wrapped her head. A wide grin on her face, she lightly ran the tip of her index finger along his erection from tip to base, as she said, “I should let you get on, shouldn’t it? But before I do: I’d like a glass of wine, please.”
“Red or white?” Jack asked, heading for the kitchen.
“White, please. There’s a bottle chilling in the fridge.”
He served her her beverage, and she snuggled on the sofa in her fluffy towels, to watch him as he set about the room with the vacuum cleaner. Each time he looked up, she was watching him with a happy smile on his face. Sometimes lustful, sometimes simply content.
“What?” he asked, when he turned off the vacuum cleaner to move the tables around so that he could clean under them.
She giggled. “That outfit really suits you. You look super hot. And Rebecca was right: it is really nice to have a hot guy to ogle at. I really hope you’re enjoying yourself, because I’m having a fabulous time.”
He barked with laughter. “I’m around quite often, you know, given that I live here too,” he told her. And, he considered, he was enjoying himself. It was all quite strange, and he was finding this new Emma sometime of a surprise, but it was a good surprise. He was not objecting at all to the way she kept molesting him — but he was looking forward to the promised orgasm, and hoped that she intended to follow through on that promise.
“But you’re not always dressed for ogling. And under all your baggy hoodies and scruffy jeans, you are definitely ogle-able. Come over here,” she said.
Time for more groping, he guessed. But instead, she pointed at the carpet.
“Kneel down,” she told him. “I want you to go down on me for a bit.” And she sprawled languidly on the sofa, leaning back into the corner, her backside on the edge of the seat, and one leg stretched up on the sofa to give him access. Half-lying, half-sitting, she could still sip the wine she held in her hand. “Whenever you’re ready,” she nudged.
As she’d positioned herself, the towel had ridden up, and now he could see that he wasn’t the only person who had received a trimming today. Her pubic region was completely bare, with smooth skin, exposing all the folds of her sex. He looked on in wonder for a moment, before placing his hands on her thighs and leaning in, and starting to work with his tongue.
“Mmm, that’s lovely,” she said, and Jack could feel her stretching a little as she relaxed into it. And she let him continue for a minute, before she spoke again. “Keep going,” she told him. “I told you sometimes I want one thing, and sometimes I want another. I’m going to talk though through some of those things. And you should know that, just because I’m not going oooh and aaah and writhing in passion, that doesn’t mean it’s not good; the women in those films are called porn actors for a reason. What you’re doing right now feels very nice, and I really like it. And I like other things too.”
And she began to guide him through the different ways she liked to receive oral sex. Applying his tongue to different locations, different paths of motion, and different speeds. Sucking. When and how to use his fingers as well. Lightness of touch, and where she liked pressure. She giggled when he got lost in her anatomy, and had to be guided to the right location, or when he confused her left and his left. Sometimes, she caressed his hair; at other times, she sipped her wine.
And through it all Jack was aware of several things.
He’d wondered, previously, whether he was doing it right, and why Emma didn’t always have an orgasm when he went down on her; now he was amazed she’d managed any at all. Not only had he been stumbling around in the dark, it was evidently only plain luck and determination that he’d managed to provide the stimulation she’d needed, for long enough for her to climax. Because the difference between, as Emma put it, “that’s really lovely, and I could happily let you do that to me for hours, but it wouldn’t make me come” and “left a bit, bit more, up slightly, yes, there. Mm, good. Now, a bit faster. Yes, and lean in a bit. Yes, that’s Oh Jesus, yes that’s the one. Yes, now that would make me come” was minuscule, and also, she said, very much depended on her mood at the time. It was so difficult to tell whether what he was doing was right. Or, at least, that it was right for right now.
But, as he knelt between her legs, and gained so much knowledge he wished he’d received years ago, he realised belatedly that the reverse was also true. Given the right mood, Jack could jerk himself off in under a minute from a standing start, as it were, and Emma could usually get him to come when she was masturbating him, but sometimes he’d be almost at tipping point, and she’d change her motion to something else and it was back to the start. He’d been wondering why she didn’t just “do it right”, but now he realised that she couldn’t tell what was right, unless he told her.