“An angle larger than 90 degrees, now… that’s an obtuse angle.” He pressed her legs open, out, out, wider. She gasped, wiggling, until finally she cried, “Ow, ow, ow, ok I got it, stop!”
“Good girl.” He smiled. “Now… you can understand Pythagorean’s theorem…”
She shook her head, already pouting. “David, no. There’s no way. I try and I try, but I just don’t get it.” She turned onto her belly and moving to get off the futon. “I think I’m just mathematically challenged.”
David watched her moodily cross the room, leaning back, a small smile playing at his lips. He started unbuckling his belt. Her head snapped toward him immediately. She heard that sound in her dreams sometimes, followed by the slow click of his zipper, the push of material, and-oh, yes, the freeing of his cock-which always made her ache with longing. She settled cross-armed against his dresser, and she knew he could see her reflected in the mirror, her bum propped on the edge. The sight of her leaning there made him visibly harder, and he reached down and tilted his cock toward her, an offering.
She smiled, biting her lip, and slipped to her knees. She was crawling toward him, grinning, unable to resist, and he knew it. She settled herself between his legs, watching his hand move steadily over his cock. He looked at her through half closed eyes, reaching his other hand to cup and fondle her breast, pulling gently at her nipple and making her sigh softly and arch her back.
She loved watching him, feeling the motion and urgency of him touching himself.
She leaned in to kiss the tip and he grabbed her head and pressed, seeking her throat, finding it. She gagged a little and he growled at the sound, easing up somewhat. It served to do little but make her more hungry for him, and she knelt above him to prop herself at a better angle to take him more deeply into her mouth.
He pulled her bottom around so he could spread her open with his fingers as she sucked him. She moaned, edging closer, and she knew that he was waiting, even though he must know how much she wanted his mouth, his tongue.
He waited, exploring from the edges to the center of her, letting his finger disappear slowly in and out. She wiggled and pressed back again, moaning around his cock. “Harder,” she begged. He gave her another finger, picked up the pace, and she moaned louder, “Ohhh David, yessss!”
He worked her faster, deeper, his fingers making a soft squelching sound against her flesh. She slid closer still, her whole demeanor begging for his tongue. Her mouth slowed on him, although her hand didn’t.
“Will you lick me?” She glanced back at him.
“Will you let me fuck you?”
She groaned, pressing her forehead to his thigh, shaking her head. “I can’t.”
“God, Catherine, you have the most beautiful little pussy.” His fingers moved deeper still, his thumb finding her aching clit. She shuddered. “I want you so much. I promise I won’t hurt you.”
“I can’t, I can’t,” she whispered, starting to disengage, moving away. His hands on her hips stopped her, pulling her back and centering her over him.
“I want to be inside of you.”
She whimpered. His fingers petted her, spreading her wetness, which was considerable, everywhere. “You love my fingers inside you… imagine how it would feel to have my prick here.” Her hand tightened on him at the thought and he moaned.
“David, please,” she begged.
“Ok.” He sighed. “I’ll tell you what.”
“What?”
His tongue found her then, expertly teasing her clit, and she sighed, and then started making soft little cries as he wrapped his arms around her hips, pulling her closer. She started moving against him, whispering, “Yes, yes,” again and again. She could feel it beginning to tighten, like something deeply coiled within her, edging closer to being unsprung.
“Please!” She was begging him now, his stiff cock in her hand all but forgotten.
Then his tongue teasingly slowed, and stopped. She groaned, glancing back at him, her eyes half closed and a little wild. He smiled slowly, his face full of her, and gently eased her down onto the futon. He kissed her, and she could taste herself in his mouth, pungent and a little musky. She was dizzy with wanting him, her hand seeking his cock without even looking, just wanting to feel the swell of it in her hand.
“Do me a favor?” He smiled. She looked at him quizzically. “In the bathroom. Top left drawer. K-Y jelly.” She cocked her head and frowned, but she obeyed him, curious. Sometimes they used it when she asked him to stroke himself for her until he came. It was one of her favorite things, she'd discovered, and she loved to watch, the surge and flow and buck and growl of him. The thought warmed her as she pawed through the drawer.
“It’s not here!” she called, still searching.
“Oh, wait, did I say top drawer? I think it’s in the bottom drawer,” he called back. Finally, there it was, behind the aloe vera gel and under an old, worn copy of Parabola.
“David?” She stood at the doorway, tube in hand, surprised at the empty futon.
“Up here!”
She glanced toward the ceiling. The loft. They didn’t go up there much. The loft had 12 foot ceilings, but there wasn’t a lot of room between ceiling and the bed. Whoever had built it liked close quarters, or had needed the space underneath. She walked to the loft and stopped, puzzled, where the ladder should be.
David peeked over the edge, still smiling that funny secret smile. “Coming up?”
“Yeah, where’s the ladder?” She waved the K-Y at him. He grinned.
“Mmmm god baby, I need that.” He rolled out a little so she could see him, holding his hard cock. She watched him for a moment, all hungry eyes. She could hear it, the sweet sound of skin on skin.
“Well then here…” She tossed it up, a good throw, and it landed on the other side of him. “Now put the ladder down.”
“Well…” David propped himself on his elbow, grinning. “Just one more thing.” She shook her head, rolling her eyes.
“Now what? Do you want me to get handcuffs, a blindfold, maybe some whipped cream? You’ve clearly got something planned!” She stood with her hands on her hips.
“If I ask you to, you’ll really get it?” he asked. She nodded, growing exasperated. “Ok, in my desk over there, get a piece of paper, a pencil, the calculator and the measuring tape. Top drawer.”
“Are you sure it’s the top drawer?” she asked, doing what he asked, finding them.
“Ok…now comes the hard part,” he admitted, still grinning. “See the X on the floor under you?” She stepped back, noticing for the first time a masking taped X on the carpet. The roll of masking tape was sitting on the floor. “That’s the point where the ladder meets the floor. It’s four feet out from the loft base, and the loft is 9 feet high. Tell me how long the ladder has to be for you to get up here.”
She stood there aghast, seriously considering throwing the tape measure at his head. “You have got to be kidding,” she said flatly. “What makes you think I’m going to do this?”
“You want me.” David said confidently, his hand still wrapped around his erection. “And you want this.”
“Not that much I don’t!” Cat hissed, turning toward the door.
“And I have your clothes,” David added, calling after her. Cat stopped, swearing. Even if she took some of his clothes to get out of the house, she knew she wouldn’t be able to explain their appearance-or her own clothes'
disappearance-to her curious parents. He had her, and he knew it.
“I hate you!” She sat cross legged on the futon.
“I know,” he said. “But I know you can figure this out. And now you have a really good incentive.” She glared at him. “Me,” he added, as if she hadn’t quite understood.