“All of the males’ instructors were women, and vice versa.”
“So what, you guys just met, started having sex, and learned through on-the-job training?”
He shook his head at me. “No. Each prospect is assigned a specific teacher who stays with them for that year. The next year you receive a new instructor, to whom you must first prove you have mastered the previous year’s studies before they will allow you to continue.” His face was earnest, serious.
“Then you can enter the new set of classes.”
“Yes. You can then add a new layer of knowledge on top of the old layer.”
A thought niggled my mind and I had to ask. “These women…were they prostitutes?” I’ve always been health conscious, and even though we were each required to have a full STD screen, I still wanted to know.
“I suspect some of them were that or geishas in their former lives, but we were never told. I do know they seemed to enjoy their jobs very much.” He grinned widely.
“Probably not as much as you men enjoyed being their pupils.”
“Let’s just say there was mutual admiration all around.” His smile grew wider.
I was so…jealous. Actually taking classes to become a great lover was something I would definitely pay good money for. “And I’m guessing you passed all your classes with As?”
“It was pass/fail, but I never had to do any makeup work to pass. I aced it the first time—always.” He winked seductively with hooded eyes.
Heat suffused my body that even the water couldn’t cool. My legs widened, allowing the jets to again pulse fully onto my clit. I brushed against his leg. I gasped, gripped the edge of the tub as electricity shot through me. I started to remove my hand when his cock kissed my palm and…he moaned.
I liked the sound.
I slid my hand back and forth, allowing the head of his cock to circle inside my palm. His breathing increased; his eyes closed. I lightly moved my hand lower, allowing the eddy of the water to guide my journey down his shaft. His cock jumped, pulsed; my palm felt the precum release.
Oh, yes, I do like playing with fire.
I circled the head with my thumb and index finger and tugged. Dubois groaned, spread his legs wider. I definitely wanted a repeat of that sound. “Is this a class you enjoyed a lot?”
“They didn’t have a class in th-this,” he stuttered as I enclosed his rod in my fist.
Oh? I might be able to teach this learned dog a trick? Emboldened now, I stood, maneuvered until I was half floating between his legs. The water allowed my fingers ample lubrication as I stroked slowly at first, then firmer and faster, twisting in opposite directions. Dubois’s response egged me on—his hips rose from the spa seat, began pushing into my closed fist, the head of his cock now surging above the water line.
I cupped his balls, massaged them slowly as I kept stroking, circling, and pumping. His cock puffed, stiffened into an unbendable steel rod. He bit his lips, but a cry escaped. I vised him, stroked him firmly while plucking at his head with my fingers. Though I didn’t need to, I spat on his exposed head, earning a growl from him.
He was close.
I choked his head vigorously. He squirmed and I could see his toes curling, but I kept the pressure on. This must have been the right action because in seconds, his body clenched. He began blubbering in French, and a wad of cum spurted out of his head, hitting me squarely between my breasts. I continued to milk him until no more cum cascaded from his rod.
Dubois lay back, breathing heavily, as I resumed my place beside him. He pulled me to him, allowing his fingers to glide slowly up and down my arm. “Dina?”
“Yes?”
“Are you sure you haven’t had classes in wifeship?”
A laugh burst from my throat. According to some of my lovers, I was as vanilla as they came. “I haven’t. Why?”
Dubois held me tighter. “Your past lovers were arses.”
The high compliment made me feel all warm and fuzzy. I snuggled closer to him. “Thank you, baby.”
“I’m not a predictor of the future, but I do believe our sex life together will be one wild ride. I can tell about these things.”
Same thing I was thinking.
We lay there in silent contentment as the shadows lengthened.
6
The butterflies danced and twittered in the soft breeze, their wings glinting in the sunlight. Delighted, I danced as they swirled around me, caught up in the beauty of the moment. They flew high then returned in a cloud, their feet alighting on my arms, my bare belly. I laughed as the brush of wings tickled my flesh until I was unable to stand it anymore. My hand moved downward to shoo them away and felt…skin?
My eyes flew open. Suddenly, I remembered. Dubois. My new husband. His lips touched my stomach again. I shifted as the tickling sensation returned. It intensified when his tongue poked out, swirling into my navel.
I groaned before clutching his head in my hands. “Stop. That tickles.”
“Um.” His head moved lower where he swirled his tongue just above the waistband of my bikini before nipping the tender flesh. His breath drifted over my exposed thighs in warm, rapid puffs. “What about here?”
My stomach was now doing flip-flops as his whiskers scratched the sensitized flesh. I held his head firmly. “It definitely tickles.”
Dubois grinned up at me. “That was my plan.” He pushed downward. I stopped him. He made an unhappy face. “Still tickles? And here I was thinking all that thrashing about was because I was arousing you.”
“Well, I’m sure in the classes they taught you the most likely positions to get someone aroused. However, I happen to be extremely ticklish all over. So I’m tickled right now, not aroused.”
He nodded. His hands moved into the spot where his whiskers scratched, moving in slow circles. My stomach contracted, then released involuntarily as the circle widened. He watched the play of my abdomen, a smile creeping onto his face.
“Better?”
“Much.”
Over and over his fingers dipped into my bush—just missing my clit—then back below my navel. I began a slow sizzle all over. His other hand rubbed up and down my thigh. My pussy began to leak; my legs shifted, widened slightly.
Dubois’s long tongue snaked out and swirled into my belly button. My breath held in my chest, legs began to tremble. Dubois kept up the pace, fingers circling, hand kneading, tongue licking until I thought I would scream from all the sensations flowing through me. My clit needed his touch, my nipples cried for his lips, my mouth needed his kiss.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I tugged him upward, slammed my mouth over his, tonguing him eagerly and vigorously. He met me twist for turn, indeed, pulled me atop him. I straddled
