"Absolutely...!" He could touch a whole lot more. And if she's going to make it sound like doing her a favour, then how can he say no? His hand moves from her ass down her thigh and back up under her skirt. The other finds its way up her hip toward her chest.
The implications of being only a boy should be left alone...
"Good." Everywhere he explores is plush, soft, rounded. From the tease of lace when he reaches under her skirt to Paloma assisting him with her obstructive bra, through which she feels nothing. Quick as a wink she has the hem of her shirt scrunched into a belt above her enormous tits. Surely his eyes have adjusted to see them, and her coy grin.
She could kill him with that grin alone. The sight of her breasts only makes matters worse. Not just her breasts but everything bared at once. If she wasn't already all too aware of his being a weenie, his fervent blush and catching of his breath should do it. Besides that, casting his eyes away as if she didn't take her clothes off so he could take a look.
Poor overwhelmed thing. She does have sufficient decency to realize how fast her bra cups ended up flipped down, and how it really may be too much at once. Paloma's grin dissolves by degrees of uncertainty.
Her fingers sneak to the waistband of his pants, circling and inching behind them to leave him time to protest. "Mister Jekyll, may I help you?"
"Would you, ah, like to help with anything?" He'd like it, but he's a disgusting man who inherently thinks with his dick! Not her, she's pure and good. Probably.
Her fingers aren't wrapped around his dick until he as good as gives a green light, because Paloma is pure of mind and body like he says. She isn't overeager. She hasn't forgotten to undo his pants.
(She isn't. She is. She did, and her hand can only tug so that some of him peeks out.)
"It's what I'm here for, yeah? Helping?" The hem of Paloma's shirt unfurls little by little to fall back over her breasts.
"In line!" He must be kidding, and she assumes he is. Paloma giggles until his premature touchdown startles her out of the amusement.
Several things: the rigidity of his cock hasn't softened, he looks like she caught him naked at a public barbecue: his warm come sticks to her palm and the underside of her wrist. A smaller amount made it to a breast.
Too horrified to speak for a moment, he can only gape at her with pleading eyes before finally stammering out apologies. "Oh, god, I'm sorry - I'm so sorry! It, it has, yes..."
Besides the wank he had in his car earlier in the week. Luckily he has a cloth handkerchief to offer.
Good for mopping the jizz off of her tit before the shirt catches over her nipples, leaving underboob still bared and heavy-seeming. Paloma deliberates and leaves the cloth atop the study table.
The choice not to remove his come from her hand must strike him odd until it dips into his waistband for another go; to her delight (vocalized in her throatiest chickle) he's hard and just as ready as he ever was. Her palm makes him slick, coating him in his own cooling filth. "You need more help."
He almost asks why she doesn't clean her hand, but it's soon evident. Leaning in for a kiss, he moans against Paloma's mouth.
But... Should he help her out too? Is she saying she doesn't want any such attention paid herself or just being nice? Then it would be rude not to. Tentative fingers slip under her panties.
She tuts regretfully and bats the questing fingers away. Tonight she contents herself to please with luxurious slowness, timing every squeeze and pull to an unmistakable rhythm. The blood magic to lend a brief facade of human workings doesn't have a place in their evening.
"Mm-mm. Just enjoy it... lie back?" Her thighs herd him to the table's edge.
Oh- yeah he kind of thought that might be the case. It makes him feel bad, but considering feeling badly basically turns him on, he can't really go about complaining. Not when it makes him want it all the more. He does as he's told, more or less incidentally because of her herding.
"Fine," she purrs, "I'm all fine." Wiggling between someone else's legs is rather a rarity for her. Something about Paloma's snatch acts like catnip for other people's faces. Just a magnet for it. Treating him to the luxury of a tight caress with no expended effort on his part feels like... generosity.
She allows her tits a nice rest on Jekyll's abdomen as her slick hand moves wildly. "This's for you."
But it makes him feel like a greedy slut! His face feels that magnetic pull.
Still, the weight of her chest helps in pushing him back and keeping him there, and he can't exactly complain. Nor does it sound like he wants to, with the way he moans and shivers under her touch. Even bucks toward her hand.
As favors go a handjob is perhaps the tamest she's performed. Twice she contemplates taking him into her mouth and twice she takes a rain check on the idea.
"Are you close?" He's heavier in hand than expected, and thicker, to her delighted anticipation for another night. The kiss she sighs into his hot mouth is restrained, hungry-- at least peckish. His cock rubs over her bared belly beneath the skirt.
"God, yes...!" He's almost sure he could have come again immediately after he did the first time. Well, if he wasn't achieving a doctorate in medical science. But no sooner has she asked and received a squeak of a response than he does, grabbing hold of an edge of the desk with one hand while the other seeks out her hand. Maybe he got a sloppy handy in the school library but he's still a romantic.
She lets him voice his pleasure without interference, licking a pitch of throat with a reedy whine of denied hunger. Her teeth remain blunted, sheathed, harmless. He's safe from her, where before she's tasted his vitae.
His warm hand clinging to hers shakes up the lazy smile Paloma wore at his come dripping from her bare stomach. It stutters. In the next moment she clutches him back.
At least he finally isn't hard anymore. A rare thing when she's around!
When he realises he's gotten her belly sticky, he sits up to search for his handkerchief...but it's already gone to cleaning come off of her... "I'll, ah, go get some napkins from the washroom!" He's very nearly too embarrassed to show his face to her, and certainly making eye contact would be too much right now. Maybe if he scuttles off for a moment and collects himself.
...But then, he does like holding her hand, letting go would be worse than having to stew in his sins.
He's eager to give reasons to leave and reluctant to actually do so. Utterly charmed, Paloma releases his softening dick and makes to stroke his cheek with wet, sticky skin. She remembers the problem in time.
"Oh." Her fingers hover... and trace the inside corner of his pretty mouth. "Would you wash me?"
"Of course!" Why would he ever leave her to take care of it herself? "Ah, would you come with me to the washroom, then?" Too bad it's just the sink and paper towels, he would wash her for real if he could. Any excuse to do so, really.
As for her finger, though, he can't help but wonder at the implication, and although he doesn't shy away from her or the mess, he feels the blush set in.
Paloma had read him correctly and pinned him for a dirty boy who likes some degradation. Of course; so does she.
Her finger follows his lower lip from crease to crease. "Do we need to go?" With great care she disentangles and resettles onto her heels. Lifting the hem of her skirt higher, the hand that was caressing Jekyll so intimately strokes across her navel.
"I- I suppose that isn't necessary, no." What about him gave it away? Being so uptight that it must either be a show or kinky to drag it through the dirt? Because both would be the answer there so she'd be doubly correct.
He kneels in front of her to find a better height to run his tongue over her belly from, and spares a look up to be sure it's what she intended, that he's not about to make her think he's weird, or deviant.
He is beautiful. A Toreador could stand and watch him for hours, gazing in return with a virginal anxiety. He's searching her face for approval.
Paloma is giddy with the novelty. His hair sifts between her fingers on their exploration of all things Henry Jekyll. "Please don't think of this as a punishment."
"No, not at all!" Why would licking his own spending off her belly be a punishment? He gets to touch her, it's a reward. Especially as it brings his face right beside her undies, which seem too fancy for a librarian. Out of her price range, unless it's a luxury she saves for...Or a gift. It occurs to him that he should have asked before if she's even available. But if she's willing to makeout with him and jerk him off, then she probably is...
"...Although I should apologise." He smiles, but certainly that apology is in it.
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The implications of being only a boy should be left alone...
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"Good." Everywhere he explores is plush, soft, rounded. From the tease of lace when he reaches under her skirt to Paloma assisting him with her obstructive bra, through which she feels nothing. Quick as a wink she has the hem of her shirt scrunched into a belt above her enormous tits. Surely his eyes have adjusted to see them, and her coy grin.
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Her fingers sneak to the waistband of his pants, circling and inching behind them to leave him time to protest. "Mister Jekyll, may I help you?"
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(She isn't. She is. She did, and her hand can only tug so that some of him peeks out.)
"It's what I'm here for, yeah? Helping?" The hem of Paloma's shirt unfurls little by little to fall back over her breasts.
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It's short-lived though, because he comes almost the moment she starts stroking, and there's no saving his look of mortification.
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Several things: the rigidity of his cock hasn't softened, he looks like she caught him naked at a public barbecue: his warm come sticks to her palm and the underside of her wrist. A smaller amount made it to a breast.
"Oh. You... has it been a while, sweetheart?"
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Besides the wank he had in his car earlier in the week. Luckily he has a cloth handkerchief to offer.
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The choice not to remove his come from her hand must strike him odd until it dips into his waistband for another go; to her delight (vocalized in her throatiest chickle) he's hard and just as ready as he ever was. Her palm makes him slick, coating him in his own cooling filth. "You need more help."
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But... Should he help her out too? Is she saying she doesn't want any such attention paid herself or just being nice? Then it would be rude not to. Tentative fingers slip under her panties.
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"Mm-mm. Just enjoy it... lie back?" Her thighs herd him to the table's edge.
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"Ah, but - what about you?"
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She allows her tits a nice rest on Jekyll's abdomen as her slick hand moves wildly. "This's for you."
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Still, the weight of her chest helps in pushing him back and keeping him there, and he can't exactly complain. Nor does it sound like he wants to, with the way he moans and shivers under her touch. Even bucks toward her hand.
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"Are you close?" He's heavier in hand than expected, and thicker, to her delighted anticipation for another night. The kiss she sighs into his hot mouth is restrained, hungry-- at least peckish. His cock rubs over her bared belly beneath the skirt.
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His warm hand clinging to hers shakes up the lazy smile Paloma wore at his come dripping from her bare stomach. It stutters. In the next moment she clutches him back.
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When he realises he's gotten her belly sticky, he sits up to search for his handkerchief...but it's already gone to cleaning come off of her... "I'll, ah, go get some napkins from the washroom!" He's very nearly too embarrassed to show his face to her, and certainly making eye contact would be too much right now. Maybe if he scuttles off for a moment and collects himself.
...But then, he does like holding her hand, letting go would be worse than having to stew in his sins.
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"Oh." Her fingers hover... and trace the inside corner of his pretty mouth. "Would you wash me?"
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As for her finger, though, he can't help but wonder at the implication, and although he doesn't shy away from her or the mess, he feels the blush set in.
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Her finger follows his lower lip from crease to crease. "Do we need to go?" With great care she disentangles and resettles onto her heels. Lifting the hem of her skirt higher, the hand that was caressing Jekyll so intimately strokes across her navel.
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He kneels in front of her to find a better height to run his tongue over her belly from, and spares a look up to be sure it's what she intended, that he's not about to make her think he's weird, or deviant.
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Paloma is giddy with the novelty. His hair sifts between her fingers on their exploration of all things Henry Jekyll. "Please don't think of this as a punishment."
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"...Although I should apologise." He smiles, but certainly that apology is in it.
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