Another paper, another orgasm

Another paper, another orgasm.

The first week of the semester is always a joke. Well, unless you get hit with a brand-new professor who is completely scatterbrained and has no flow in the course layout…at all. In my last semester of traditional classes, this is the last thing I need. Thankfully I have a great sounding board who listens to me vent about dumb due date patterns and last-minute changes to project requirements. As I move into week three, the course load and stress are starting to pile up. Queue the super supportive boyfriend (aka great sounding board) who is always willing to help in any way he can, which includes tension releasing orgasms during study breaks.

Tonight, I am working on my portion of a group paper on a topic I’ve written about at least fifty times. Influenza is a relevant infectious disease, but I wish I could write about something other than the top three respiratory infectious diseases for once. I guess that’s to be expected when you get to a specific level in your studies. After finishing the first paragraph on the biological background of influenza, I noticed Bryce’s attention shifted from the T.V. to me. We fit cozy on our couch where he is sitting upright to face the screen and I am laying across the couch with my back against the armrest, so my feet are up while I type and my fuzzy red blanket drapes over my legs.

With my feet on his lap, we already close before he starts lightly rubbing my legs and feet. It’s not unusual for him to caress my feet or legs while we are doing our own tasks, but the massages are quickly becoming more sensual. His hands gently drift to my inner thigh, where he begins to massage a bit harder. The way his fingers press into my skin make my thighs melt for his attentive and strong touch. Despite the delicious feeling of his touch, I keep my eyes down and continue to type about variants of the flu.

With a swift push, he spreads my legs apart so that my right leg is still on his lap, but my left foot is now touching the floor. Mindful of the computer on my lap, his movements are strong but careful as he continues to push the blanket up toward me to expose my lower half. I just started writing about fifteen minutes ago, so he knows I’m by no means done with my paper. As his fingers trace up higher to move the inner seam of my loose gray shorts, it’s obvious he already knows I’m not done. However, he continues to push two fingers up higher to shift the crotch seam aside. The gray Avia workout shorts are so short that the lips of my pussy and bottom of my ass cheeks already show before he even moves the seam. The comfy homework outfit makes for perfect access to my pussy that is now open before him.

Bryce asks, “Can we do the thing?” That’s all I needed to hear to know exactly where his mind is at. To play out a previously expressed fantasy of his that immediately sends tingles into my pussy. I nod, excited for the challenge.

Pushing my back up a little higher on the armrest of the couch, I bring my left leg onto the couch and pull it into a bent position while Bryce pauses the video he’s watching. With my right leg now bent, I spread my knees so he still has full access to see my pussy and I can place my computer against my raised thighs. Now I can still type comfortably while Bryce lowers himself between my spread thighs and covers himself by pulling the blanket back over my legs. While he continues positioning himself, I continue to write about the RNA polymerase of influenza replication. It’s at this moment that I am happy all over again for having a new laptop that is smaller and the keys clack louder when typing. Those will both come in handy right about now.

I’m about to start the second sentence of my second paragraph as his finger moves the hood over my clit back. Despite it being dark for him with the blanket covering him and my legs, the muscle memory guides him on exactly where to find the top of my slit without having to fumble around. I can feel his breath on my pussy, signaling to me how close his face is to it. That must be one of the most exhilarating feelings I get before he tastes me. A taunt of how close his pleasureful mouth is just before he takes his first taste. The tip of his tongue connects to the bundle of nerves with a gentle flick upward. Despite the electricity it sends through my pelvis, I keep quiet and continue typing. Not only typing, but also researching sources to add and generate citations for my research paper. A bold multitasker some might say.

“The original influenza virus was the H1N1 that caused the large pandemic of 1918…”

Quickly, Bryce finds the rhythm of tongue flicks on my exposed clit that drive me wild. Not only am I keeping quiet, but so is he. Mindful not to make noise, as if to not make himself known. To be nothing more than my sexual pleasure, pleasing his goddess silently and humbly. His tongue alternates between up and down motions, licks from side to side, and even circular rounds on my swollen clit. Most people need a long warm up before getting to such sensitive areas, but I prefer diving into the hardcore sensations. The tongue flicks and licking directly on my clit is what I consider a warmup because Bryce switches to more mind melting pleasures very quickly.

With the sensation of his face squeezed between my thighs, I continue to type and lean my computer on the top of his head now so I can spread my legs even wider. Not only is he my pleasure servant right now, but also my laptop stand. How fitting for the scenario at hand. Despite opening my legs more, I am conscious not to acknowledge Bryce or what he’s doing to me. I am using him for my pleasure, but he is there to serve me and my pussy. He doesn’t need to be acknowledged or spoken to. Instead of allowing my body to betray me, I overcompensate to not show him that I’m enjoying it. Even when he hits a perfect spot on my pussy and clit with his tongue, I continue to type and ignore him.

This need to serve me has him reeling for an orgasmic response from my body while I continue to focus on just my work. Even when he pushes the blanket off his head, I refuse to look at him. I just continue writing my research paper while Bryce licks my clit.

As his tongue increases speed on my puffy clit, the ferocity of the lashing has my pussy soaked. Small switches and shakes in my thighs pressed again his face start to give me away, but I still don’t pay Bryce any attention. Instead, I move onto paragraph three and add another two in-text citations to my paper.

Bryce’s tongue stops just momentarily for his fingers to reposition their pinch on the hood of my clit. Instead of continuing his beautiful rhythm that has my pussy throbbing, his mouth plunges onto my clit to begin sucking on it. The suction his lips create on my clit is deliciously rough and makes my hips thrust up onto his mouth. The smallest moans catch in my throat without my mouth allowing for them to fully escape. The increasing intensity of his sucking makes concentration difficult. My thoughts are becoming a bit less clear and my typing speed slows, but I refuse to give up. Typically, I would be pushing his face deeper into my pussy with my hands, pulling his hair, or even squeezing my thighs on his face. The pure desperation to fulfill his fantasy keeps me from doing any of those things. However, Bryce knows my body and my pussy too well. Even without direct reactions from me, he can sense the queues from my pussy.

I am starting on the next section of my paper when I feel his suction on my clit release and hear him lick his fingers. It gives me just enough time to create a header for “medical descriptions” before his next move. Having the computer propped on my bent legs again, I cannot see Bryce’s face. The laptop is a perfect divider because it forces me to work on something, to ignore him, while also creating a forced divider so I won’t accidentally look at him. Even the slightest acknowledgement through passing eye contact could risk breaking the fantasy. Refusing to acknowledge Bryce as anything more than my pussy’s servant, I welcome the laptop blocking him from my view. Even without seeing him, I know the licking of his fingers means he is preparing them to enter me.

As quickly as he removes his mouth from me, his fingers push into me without warning. The way he enters them confidently deep into my pussy pulls pleasure from my abdomen, but I still try to hide it. My focus is shifting from my paper to hiding my pleasure, but I force myself to keep writing. Opening up another new tab on the left side of my screen to join the other twelve sources that are open, I search “the original reservoir of influenza” while his fingers thrust into me harder and harder.

Oh god. This is exactly the inspiration I need to stay on task. I can’t stop typing or that will ruin the fun. At least the key clicks loud for the effect but fuck this feels too good. Am I supposed to stop myself from cumming too? No way.

My mind continues to unravel as the speed of his fingering continues. Bryce alternates between fingering me deep and curling his finger up hard into the perfect spot that covers my entire left side in goosebumps. He knows he has me close at this point. My typing slows and I even have to write some gibberish just to sell the point that I’m still focused on writing, even though I’m sure he can see through the fake typing. Partially for the fantasy, but also because I love making him work for it so hard.

I struggle to keep myself composed, but I have to make sure he knows he is here for my pleasure, not my praise. Giving a reaction, even as small as a moan, would be too much praise.

Bryce must know I’m climaxing when the switches between deep, rough fingering and hard finger curls change quicker and quicker. His pointer and middle finger work together to create the magical tension needed for my release. The walls of my pussy tighten around his two fingers, making him use the force of his entire arm to thrust into me. My pussy tightening so hard inevitably makes my hips rise from the couch ever so slightly.

With my noises still confined to throat caught moans, Bryce also stays silent as he delivers the final thrusts to push me over my edge. I ride out my tight orgasm on his fingers as silently as possible. The only indication I give toward his actions is lightly brushing my finger over his hand, our universal signal for him to stop. It’s so simple that it can be viewed as simply reaching down to brush a piece of lint off my leg. Otherwise, there are still no looks, no words exchanged, and definitely no eye contact. As easily as he pushed the seam from my crotch, he pushes them back in place. After sitting up, he presses play and continues watching his video on T.V. without a single word inquiring of the orgasm he just silently rushed through my body.

Following that same fashion, I adjust my legs into a comfy position back on his lap and continue typing away on the symptoms of influenza. Without any interaction we continue as though nothing took place.

Thus, fulfilling the fantasy of using him as my sex servant. To pleasure me without any recognition or praise. To allow him to simply be used as I continue about my day.

This could make the rest of the semester really fun.