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The well-tailored dark blue pinstriped suit didn’t seem to fit her personality.“Thank you, Gretchen.”“Thank you, Professor.”“You aren’t one of my students, thank god. Please call me Gretchen. Can I call you Catherine?”“That would be fine.”“There is a mini fridge in the corner. Help yourself; water, sandwiches and munchies. The AC isn’t the best, but we make do.”Cat took her tablet from her over the shoulder black leather case and I, my laptop from my much older beaten brown one. Gretchen dove right in the main topic right away with Cat taking notes at my side and I filled in a few of the blanks for our host while guiding her towards other solutions or at least better guesses on the rest.Two hours on the dot later a knock on the door interrupted our conversation. “Professor, lunch is here.”“Enter Charles.”An early-twenties, lanky, grad student entered pushing a cart. He stopped, almost knocking over the trays of food. “Mistress! You never told me that they were your guests?” he. She hadn’t thought he had, but a woman at the market had made some spiteful comments that ‘why would he fuck coal when he can fuck pearls’. “Tematha, you can start at the top, I shall start at the bottom” was what he said. He wasn’t one to be lost in flowery speeches. He intended to enjoy her, and intended she should enjoy it too, but descriptions of her perfect, jewel-like radiance were not part of his vocabulary. Tematha was kissing her lips, willingly or obediently, he didn’t know; he did know she was energetic though. He kissed the other lips and let his tongue find a way through the dark passages of her thighs and forest. She was solid, as befits a servant. Her thighs were muscle and hard, they weren’t thin and wobbly. Her arms were strong even though her hands had a sensitivity about them. Tematha found herself enveloped in Verisa’s arms and held to her large and impressive bosom. Below, August Ling found himself similarly held by her legs; he was sure he could get free if he.
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Somehow, she was vaguely aware that their cat – far behind them, sitting upon a widow sill of their small home – was watching their working with approval, as if granting her own feline blessing. The erotic dance increased in tempo, as did her passions. His hands had left her chest and now roamed her body freely, playing her like a musical instrument, even to her own ears, the sounds escaping her throat created a marvelous primal melody at mezzo forte. He played her so expertly that only when the melody rang out at fortissimo did the power of near-orgasm enter her consciousness, as he carefully maneuvered her toward the flat-topped boulder at the center of the circle, he was able to continue playing her at the same level of passion, never allowing her primal song to wane until she was bent over the boulder, gripping it tightly. His initial penetration was barely felt, it was the key which unlocked and released the pent-up climax created incrementally during the long evening. Her.

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