You don't need to read The Houseboy, which introduces Teapot, but you're welcome to. This is a shortish one meant to get the ball re-rolling. I've already started part 2, and hope to have it posted in May.
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Although I had many adventures with Miss J both sexual and cultural, including travel abroad, I want to flash forward to a few years later and my next mistress. I do need to fill in at least one gap though, in case it makes you wonder.
Miss J paid for and made certain I received top training in cooking, household management and martial arts. The latter was so I could on occasion serve as her protector and bodyguard. More on that in a future installment, I promise.
I was in my early twenties and an MBA student in the business college at Bayard when Miss J relocated to London to take over an import-export business and attend to her duties within SWARM (the Secret World Alliance for the Advancement of Revolutionary Matriarchy).
In her compassion, Miss J freed me from any sexual exclusivity I owed her and urged me to find a younger mistress to serve. She reserved the right to call on my erotic service again sometime in the future. However, I did have some remaining responsibilities to the estate. I was to make sure the yard service kept the grounds maintained, 'put the house into mothballs' but keep an eye on it and generally provide security where I could. Of course, it had a state-of-the-art security system and two highly trained guard dogs that were great companions.
I despaired of finding a new mistress and resolved to bury myself in the MBA program. My academic workload almost demanded it anyway. My faculty advisor, Prof. Evelyn Stuyvesant, one day took me aside after a seminar. We retreated to her office to talk privately.
The professor, a member of SWARM, had been contacted by Miss J and was worried that I was lonely. Prof. Stuyvesant asked how I was doing. I assured her that I was OK. (I lied and did my best to reassure her).
"OK, that's good," she said. "I also need to ask you for a favor, an academic one."
"Sure, professor, what is it?"
She said, "I need you to help an otherwise promising student who needs some tutoring in statistics. You're such a math wiz and good communicator that I quickly though of you. I still wish you'd teach a section in my intro course."
I smiled.
"Well, I'll be glad to tutor her."
"Good, I'm asking you to do it gratis. She doesn't have much money, but she's very bright and promising, a dual major in fine arts and business. Her name is Kim Quinton."
"No problem. Just give her my contact information, and we'll set up a time and place."
We parted, and I made my way home for an evening of study and chores.
The next day, I got a text from Kim, and we agreed to meet in the main library after her last class.
Her appearance drew my eyes even before I realized it was her. She had merely informed me that she would be wearing a vintage Ramones t-shirt. Like Miss J, she had pale, milky skin. Unlike Miss J, she was petite, no more than five foot three inches in height. Her hair was jet black, and the right side of her head was shaved, giving her hairstyle a hip, lop-sidedness. The features of her face had a delicacy reminiscent of an Audrey Hepburn or young Winona Ryder.
Kim smiled when she saw me, approached the table and asked if I was Trevor Brooks.
"That's me," I smiled back.
"Great, do you want to stay here or should we go to a quiet room?"
I told her I already had scheduled one, but it would be occupied for another five minutes. She said she needed to use the rest room anyway and would meet me there.
What transpired would be pretty boring to detail here. Suffice it to say, that I helped her review the material, work through some problems and generally tried to explain things in different ways than her instructor that were still accurate. As the hour ran down, we drifted into general conversation about her course of study. Kim explained her double major as part backup plan to her desire to pursue a career as a multimedia artist and part complementary. She also was toying with the idea of one day owning a gallery.
That first time and during subsequent tutorials over the following weeks, we got to know each other. Her grades in the class improved, much to her relief. We even flirted some. Finals week was more harrowing for her. My MBA classes that semester were more about projects than any end-of-the-semester examinations, so my workload was tapering off as hers was intensifying. The library was too crammed those last two weeks, so I invited her out to the estate.
Kim and I spent almost two hours reviewing her statistics material and refreshing. At the end of two hours, she called time by saying her "brain was full." I told her I thought she was ready anyway, and she smiled.
Kim then raised her arms over her head and began waving them slowly as she stretched. Naturally, her grapefruit-sized breasts rose too and drew my gaze.
"Quit looking at my tits," she playfully scolded.
I blushed and muttered an apology.
Kim laughed and stood to continue her stretching.
"Fuck, I'm stiff. It's all this sitting and reading."
I suggested a back rub.
With a sarcastic, half smile, she asked, "Did you just invite me out here to seduce me?"
I replied, "No, I invited you out here to help you AND seduce you," a remark that elicited another laugh.
"Well, get over here bitch and give me a back rub."
We both laughed and I leaned over the back of the couch and began rubbing her upper back, shoulder and neck to a rave review from Kim. I felt her relax. I also had dimmed the lights before beginning.
She even began cooing.
"That feels wonderful. Maybe I could use a boink after all," she flirted.
"Oh, a man should earn that privilege first anyway. I wouldn't try to do that the first time unless you demanded it."
That seemed to puzzle her.
"So you would try to get into my pants the first time? What would you do, just get me to blow you like every other college guy? If you don't let them fuck you, they guilt you into that."
I could tell there was some bitterness there from past experience. Suddenly, I felt bad for all the frat boys and hipster douches she'd had to endure.
I said, "This is what I would do our first time."
I stopped rubbing her back and walked around the couch, kneeled and then reached up to slid her sweatpants and panties down. She already had slipped off her slip-ons.
"Hey, what the fuck!" she protested.
I looked at her pussy and saw a neatly trimmed but thick, dark triangle. Then, I looked her in the eyes.
Quietly, I said, "I want to lick you until you cum. I don't want to do anything you don't want though. I just want to make you happy. You don't have to reciprocate at all. In fact, I'd prefer that you don't. Would you like me to lick you, Kim?"
For a few seconds, she was silent and seemed a little confused, then in a breathy whisper Kim said, "Yes."
I smiled. That was all I needed to hear.
Knowing that she likely was surprised and not fully aroused yet, I took it slowly. Gently, I kissed her knees and thighs, gradually making my way higher. I would stop between kisses now and then and look up at her. Already, her eyes were smoldering when they were open and watching me. Her scent became stronger and more intoxicating. It had that musky, salty smell that I'd grown to love, to need. I was at least as hungry for her as she was to be served. By the time I reached her wonderful pussy, Kim was wet and pungent. Instead of licking at first, I nuzzled her nether regions and delivered light kisses. Kim's legs now were spread wider and she had shifted her position out further so she was slightly slumped, but her pussy was pushed forward. My access was perfect as I began to more actively worship between her legs.
Her scent and taste were different from Miss J's but equally mesmerizing. I felt myself slide into subspace, that serene yet aroused state that is bliss to a true submissive.
"No one has done that for me in almost a year," I heard her murmur, seemingly half to herself as much as to me.
What is wrong with some men? I asked myself. My motivation doubled to bring her pleasure. Application of my cunnilingus skills quickly returned to their excellent form. I had licked Miss J too many times and orally worshipped too many cunts for it not to be practically muscle memory for me. Every woman is a little bit different however.
That smooth wet skin of her pussy was a delight on my tongue. I salivated at her taste, too. I would be less than honest if I said it wasn't tart. It was, yet it almost had a wine-like flavor that was very appealing and curious to me. I'd encountered it before but even more than before it drew me deeper into her. My tongue lapped and drank her in, pushing further into the folds of her pussy, down her clit gently and finally to that delicious canal. The tip of my tongue dipped in and teased, urged on by Kim's moans.
Now, I was in church, breathing her incense and drinking from her cup. It was slow at first but with each lick my tongue went deeper and my lips pressed against her triangle. Carefully, I positioned my nose to tease and bump around but not on her clit, searching for that sweet spot that usually is nearby. I maintained that slow pace for several minutes. Kim was surprisingly still, savoring the sensations I gave her and only occasionally moving her legs or upper body. As I licked, I was attentive to her increasingly heavy breath and moans, learning where she was enjoying it most. My face was becoming sloppy with her juice, but I didn't care. I was wallowing and reveling in her. The more I drank of her, the more I wanted.
