After-Hours Dare

The next day, there was a knock on my door. With fear in my chest, I asked, "Who is it?"

My dad's voice said, "Your study buddy is here again to work on your next assignment." He opened the door with a smile, while Jake loomed over his shoulder.

"You should feel very proud of your daughter, sir."

I winced, knowing my father would feel ashamed if he only knew what I had done.

"How's that, son?"

"Well, sir, she's made tremendous improvement."

I averted my eyes.

"During our little session yesterday, she did her best work yet. She broke through barriers that were holding her back. She gave it a tremendous effort, bared herself, and finished strong. You wouldn't believe how she opened up and took in everything I gave her. She deserves top marks."

"That's great to hear! Your partnership seems to be bearing fruit. Cindy, you just keep listening to whatever Jake tells you, and trying your best to do what he says. Now, I'll leave you two alone so you can get busy."

I smiled weakly as he closed the door.

"I'm proud of you, too, Cindy," Jake said, as he propped his phone up on my desk.

I looked up from the phone to his face. "You are?"

He nodded.

"That's not what I expected to hear after what happened between us yesterday." I glanced back at the phone. "I feel ashamed. I'm embarrassed by how I acted. I shouldn't have done those things. I've sinned and now I must pray for forgiveness. How will I ever face my fiancé again? What if my parents find out? How can I ever set my foot in church again? Oh, what have I done!?"

"Cindy, stop. You're rambling. Stop. Look at me."

I halted my diatribe, and looked up at him with tears forming in my eyes.

"Do your parents and your fiancé want you to do well in school?"

I sniffed and gave a barely perceptible nod.

"That's what you're doing. I meant what I said to your father. Yesterday's submission was your best yet. You're on the right track, but you still need a little more work..."

"You mean there were typos? It was very difficult to type accurately while we were...you know, doing it." I was almost as horrified by the idea of having mistakes as I was by my inappropriate actions.

"Well, you were a little distracted while you composed it," he grinned. "But for the first time, I was so caught up in your story that I didn't notice the errors until I re-read it a second time. The content is authentic. It's firsthand and first rate! The plot is entirely credible. And the descriptive vocabulary feels..." he paused, searching for the right phrase, "...fully immersive."

"Um, thank you," I whispered.

He was turning my mood around. The guilt was receding, slowly being replaced by relief at his approval.

"I appreciate you trying to make me feel better. It's helping. Why are you propping up your phone?"

He ignored my question and stepped close to me, making me nervous. "You're going to feel even better when I help you write the next chapter." He encircled my waist with his arms.

With nowhere to put my own arms, I awkwardly placed my hands on his biceps. His hard muscles distracted me from my nervousness, as I noticed how big and firm they were. "Weren't you content with what happened yesterday? Didn't I already give you everything you wanted?"

As I listened to my words, I wondered if I was asking him or asking myself. Maybe both.

"You know I was content yesterday. You wore my contentment all over your tits."

I blushed at the memory and at his crude language.

"But, today is a new day, and we need fresh material for the next chapter." He put his hands on my shoulders and turned my body so that I was facing the full-length mirror next to my desk. "

I want you to relax and enjoy this." He began to massage my shoulders. I was anxious and I knew he could feel the tension. He relaxed my muscles, until I closed my eyes and gave myself over to him.

"This feels good, Jake," I sighed. "Thank you. It's just what I needed. But we should stop. I shouldn't allow you to touch me. What we did yesterday was wrong and we need to end it before..."

"It's much too late for that. We're not going to stop; we're going to progress. And you're going to enjoy it more and more. Now, watch the reflection."

I looked at us in the mirror. Jake brushed back my hair, bent his head, and kissed my neck. His soft lips on my sensitive neck made me melt. Like a vampire draining my blood, I felt resistance leave my body. I moaned aloud.

He slowly began to pull the hem of my T-shirt up, revealing my belly button. "Keep watching."

I was still trying to form objections in my mind, but the woman in the mirror didn't reflect that hesitation. Her breath was shallow and her cheeks were flushed. She watched in fascination, as her torso came into view.

He paused as the fabric bunched up under the curve of her breasts.

"Tell me what you want me to do next." He looked me in the eyes via the mirror.

"I think I should tell you to stop, to let me go," I murmured. It didn't sound convincing, even to me.

"I asked you what you wanted--not what you thought. Your thoughts are contaminated by the archaic values of long-dead fanatics. Instead, tell me what your body is craving."

"My body craves your touch, but shouldn't I be writing? You said we would write."

"Good girl. Yes. We can do both. Keep your feet where they are, but lean over your desk and open your laptop."

I stretched my arms and opened it. "Begin writing the next chapter."

It was slightly awkward to bend forward to type, while watching what was happening in the mirror, but I did as he said, my eyes darting back and forth.

He inched the fabric of my shirt over the curve of my full, ripe breasts, revealing a plain white bra. When he pulled it up to past my cleavage, he cleared his throat. Attuned to his unspoken desires, I knew what he wanted without him voicing it. I lifted my typing hand and he pulled the sleeve off my arm. Next, I switched hands and he pulled the other sleeve free. Then he pulled the shirt over my head, loosening my ponytail in the process. He pulled the hair tie free and my hair fell over my shoulders. He grinned salaciously.

"Keep typing." His dark eyes stared at me through the reflection. "You told me you wanted to write. I'll provide you with fodder for your story."

I nodded and pecked at the keys.

He unhooked my bra, and I felt the weight of my breasts fall forward, dangling down like a beast in heat. He placed his hands on my shoulders, and turned me slightly, so that the screen of the laptop wouldn't block the view of my body. Satisfied that I could witness my own debauchery, he slid the straps off my shoulders. My bare boobs hung heavy and obscene, waiting for his touch.

"You are the author of this scene. Describe what you see," he insisted.

"Okay, but we should probably stop." I ignored myself and complied, despite my doubts, despite knowing he wouldn't stop, knowing that neither of us wanted him to stop.

He kissed my neck again. I closed my eyes for a moment to savor the touch of his lips upon my sensitive skin. He licked my earlobe, eliciting a shiver. When my eyelids fluttered open again, I was turned on beyond turning back. My breasts felt engorged, and looked heavy as they rose and fell on my chest with each inhalation and exhalation. The dusky areolas contrasted with the pale skin, untouched by the rays of the sun. They surrounded the large nipples, appearing like prominent bullseyes for whoever aimed at them. I saw in his dark eyes that they had already succeeded in focusing his attention on the targets. His hands slid roughly down my arms and landed on my belly. I gasped. His tongue licked the front of his teeth in anticipation and appreciation, like a predator that has already caught his prey. I watched as his hands slid up my torso, causing me to squirm, but I didn't try to break free. The woman in the reflection wanted this, wanted him to keep going, wanted all of it.

"Don't stop," he instructed.

'No, please don't stop. Keep going.' I typed as best I could as his fingertips reached the curve delineating my breasts from my belly, my flesh changing direction dramatically and enticingly. Flat, hard ribs turned into soft mounds of pert abundance. His hands explored the transition in the consistency of my flesh from sinewy abdominal muscles to soft, pliant globes. I sucked in my breath and held it as he cupped my weighty boobs. Then he squeezed, the ripe flesh squishing between his outstretched fingers. He groaned and I moaned. I was delighted at how much my body pleased him, and rolled my shoulders back to press more of my tits into his contracting grasp.

"Mmm. You clearly want this. Tell me how much you crave my hands on your body."

"Yes, I want it. I want you to touch me, please. Yes, your hands - all over my body."

My brain heard the woman in the mirror declare her desire for him and was horrified at her lasciviousness. 'Remember your virtue!' The girl tried to rally, but the woman wasn't listening anymore because his fingertips had found her nipples and were tenderly playing with them as she moaned. I closed my eyes and luxuriated in the sensation, unable to write for a glorious moment of bated breath. When he noticed that I had ceased to type, he pinched my erect flesh, simultaneously sending an electric shock to my groin and pain to my nipples. My eyes flew open.

"I said keep writing." He glared at me so intensely, it frightened me. I resumed typing, wishing I had free hands to massage my aching nipples and type at the same time.

"Satisfied that I was submitting to his demands, his hands slid down to my sweatpants and began to untie the thin string that held them over my hips. The clothing wasn't sexy, I thought, but the sweats were easy, and at that moment, that's what I wanted--ease. I wanted to give him speedy access so he can take what he wants and give me what I desire. When the string was untied, the fabric loosened around my waist. He gently slid it over the flare of my hips and the prominence of my bottom. He smiled as it fell to the floor around my ankles. His eyes took in my body, now clad only in plain, thin, white panties. My eyes followed his, as they traveled up my legs to my crotch.