#covsfics

The text from Ilya to Shane in the show Heated Rivalry that’s playing on the television in the cabin you and your wife are staying in for the weekend makes you suddenly overly aware of her sitting next to you on the bed. 

It’s been a lazy morning and once she had made the two of you breakfast, she had put on the show the two of you started the other day, just to kill time before your plans to go to a street market. 

There hadn’t been a lot of talking as you both watched the two hockey rivals’ relationship change from just a simple meet-up to fuck to something more. 

Your wife, Agatha Harkness, shifts, inching a hair closer to you. Shane texts Ilya back, “I don’t know, like twice?”, and she snorts. You sneak a glance at her. Her long dark hair is tossed back over her shoulders, trapped between her body and the pillow and her pale skin is soft against the white sheets. She’s still wearing the short purple nightgown and it makes you swallow hard. 

Her blue eyes meet yours and you see something light up inside them. Your heart skips a beat as her lips curve into a familiar smile and she tilts her body toward yours, putting her weight on one arm. 

“So he can come twice in an hour,” Agatha muses, her gaze tracing your body up and down. A spark of heat ignites in your stomach and you wait with bated breath for what’s coming next. “How many times do you think you could come?” 

Even though you were expecting something suggestive, the question still makes your brain short circuit for a moment. “I don’t know,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “You made me come six times once. That was a lot.” 

The memory of her fucking you and pushing you over the edge six times with her fingers and mouth and strap sends a tingle down your spine. 

“Do you want to see if we can beat that?” Agatha asks. “We have an hour before we have to get ready to go.”

Your heart skips a beat. “I mean…we can.” 

She smirks and reaches out a finger that traces along your collarbone up to your throat. You shiver. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip under the searing heat of her eyes and you nod, just in case, just so she knows that you want that more than anything. You want her more than anything. 

“Good girl,” she says, low and intense, and your core is already warm, a wetness already starting to pool in your underwear. She gets off the bed and watches you keenly and you fight the urge to squirm. “Get on your back in the center.” 

There’s no doubt in your mind that she’s going to pull out all the stops. She taps a finger to her lips, regarding you with predatory energy. But you’re exactly where you want to be. 

And then she pounces. 

Agatha’s hand is cold as she wraps her fingers around your wrist and pulls your arm up. There’s already handcuffs around the two banisters of the headboard, courtesy of your last night activities and she tightens the cuff around your right hand. 

“Is this okay?” she asks softly and you twist your wrist. It’s tight, but not too restrictive. 

“It’s good,” you answer, squeezing your legs together to quell the burning between them. It doesn’t work. She hums in satisfaction and quickly moves to the other side to cuff your other wrist. 

And then you watch as Agatha picks up the long piece of black fabric off the dresser and your breath hitches. It was something she had brought up a few weeks ago, but she hadn’t mentioned it again until she slyly pulled it out of her bag last night. 

The bed dips under her as she gets onto her knees to bend over. You automatically lift your head on the pillows and are rewarded by an endearing smile. 

“Good girl,” she purrs, smooth as silk. “You’re such a desperate slut.” 

All you can do is nod and she chuckles mockingly before holding the fabric over your eyes and tying it behind your eyes. The last thing you see before your vision gets cut off is her dilated pupils, the pink staining her cheeks and creeping down to her clavicle, and the rapid rise and fall of her chest. It’s a sight to behold and you’re almost sad that you can’t watch her fuck you. 

And now you don’t know what she’s going to do next. You feel the bed spring back into place and her footsteps gentle on the hardwood floor. You strain your ears for some hint—any hint—of what she has in store. 

“The timer is set for an hour. What should I use on you? How should I start?” She sounds far away now. 

It’s a rhetorical question, but you can’t help rasping, “Anything, mommy.” You can picture the way her lips curve at your obedient answer. Agatha loves when you submit for her, loves that you do it so easily. 

The fridge opens. Then closes. You flex your fingers and chew on your bottom lip. The silence seems to stretch on forever but then she finally climbs onto the bed and settles onto your lap. It’s comforting and you relax, tension seeping out of your body, already calmer now that she’s near. 

Her fingers tug at the hem of your shirt and then push it up your chest slowly, goosebumps following in the wake as your bare skin is exposed to the cold air. When it’s over your tits, Agatha pinches one of your nipples suddenly and you hiss, your hips bucking up. She makes a sound and it settles in your cunt, knowing that she’s affected too. 

Her nails dig into the skin between your boobs and then rake down to your belly button and you whimper at the tingling pain. 

Silence again and then a clicking noise. 

Psshhh. 

A gasp tears itself out of your mouth at the cold sensation on your chest. Whipped cream. She put whipped cream on your tits. 

Her tongue quickly follows and you almost whine at the way she licks up the cream and then nips at your skin. You shift your hips up again and she groans, unrestrained, caught off guard, but regains composure and does it again, on your other nipple this time. 

“Fuck,” you curse quietly and the vibrations of her breathless laugh reverbrate on your skin. You’re absolutely aching for her now and she’s barely done anything. 

Agatha pulls back and sprays it for longer, in some sort of pattern. You can feel it all over your chest when she’s done and then she rearranges herself so one of her thighs is pressed between yours, her knee against her clothed cunt. 

“You wanna know what it says?” she asks casually and you nod your head eagerly. You wish more than anything that you could see her on top of you, her mouth messy with whipped cream, and something written across your tits. “It says mine.” 

You involuntarily, urgently rock up against her knee, a pulsing ache in your clit now, and she clucks her tongue and grabs your throat. It steals the air from your lungs.  It’s light but you wonder if she can feel your heartbeat in your jugular. 

“Be a good girl and don’t make a sound while I clean you up,” she commands and you preemptively bite the inside of your cheek. 

Her hair tickles your skin as she bends down again and traces her tongue on the M. She punctuates it with a sharp bite, just above your nipple, and you moan. She nips all the way down the I and then drags her teeth along the N. You’re a panting mess at this point, trying desperately to grind on her knee but not getting what you need, and there’s a flap of loose skin inside your mouth from how hard you’re chewing on it to stop yourself from making a sound. 

There’s no helping the small noises escaping from your throat though; you can only hope she doesn’t hold them against you. 

You’re so lost in restraint that you barely even register the E getting licked up, but then she finally settles back and admires your shaking body. The coldness of the whipped cream is only making the heat in your cunt worse. You need her more than air. 

“Such a fucking mess for me, baby girl,” she coos. “You should see what a good slut you look like.”

“Please fuck me,” you beg, plainly and simply and she huffs out a laugh. Your walls clench and you try even harder to rub against her knee but she pulls back and you whine at the loss of stimulation. Even something is better than nothing. 

And then she gets off you and there’s the sound of her rummaging through something. You know without being able to see that it’s the bag of toys she brought. You run through a mental list of everything she packed—the blindfold, the cuffs, a handhold vibrator, candle wax, a vibrating strap, and a strap that can be filled with fake cum. 

It could be anything. 

There’s an overwhelming haze in your mind and it’s hard to think clearly. You’re almost floating outside your body and she hasn’t even properly touched you next. 

She settles back on top of you and the sound of your heavy breathing fills the air. There’s a flick and then a whoosh and a blast of heat above your chest. 

The lighter. 

The candle wax. 

It was something you had mentioned being interested in trying in a drunken conversation. You knew you liked the cold. But you wanted to see if your affinity for temperature play extended in the other direction. 

“Are you ready?” she asks and you nod so hard your neck hurts. You imagine the dark look in her eyes as she tips the candle to the side and watches the wax drip down. 

And then it splatters on your skin and a loud moan tears itself from your mouth. It burns at first but then fades quickly into something warm and lasting. 

“Holy fuck,” you groan. 

Another drop and your back arches off the bed. Two more in quick succession and your head is getting even foggier. You wince when one lands an inch away from your nipple. 

One lower, now on your stomach, and you wonder what the red wax looks like against your skin. You almost want her to take a picture, but you know when she takes off the blindfold when she’s done you’ll be able to see it. 

But still, the thought of her freezing in time you tied up like this, remnants of whipped cream and wax on your front, makes your clit pulse. 

“Do you like it?” she mumbles, so quietly you almost can’t hear it. Two more drops, between your tits. You jerk and the metal on the cuffs clinks against the bannister. 

“Yes,” you breathe and then sharply inhale when another drips close to your other nipple. It’s getting to be a lot and you can feel the puddle and the ache between your legs growing worse and worse. “I’m good—please, mommy, please I need you to fuck me.” 

Agatha stops immediately and the heat dies down a bit, at least in your sternum.

It’s fucking raging inside your cunt. 

She gets off you and you miss her weight but it’s hard to complain when she sucks on each nipple and then kisses her way down to right above the waistband of your shorts. 

“I can almost smell you,” she practically growls and your heart skips a beat at the hunger in her voice. Your stomach tenses as she grabs onto your shorts and slowly drags them down your legs. “You’ve fucking soaked through your underwear, sweetheart. Is someone a little needy?” 

“I need you so badly,” you whimper. “Please—Agatha—”

She digs her fingernails into your upper thigh to pull your legs apart. Your folds slowly peel apart with how wet they are and the cold air on your exposed clit makes you shiver. You know you’re not going to last very long at all—it’s only a matter of how many times she can make you come. 

“Beg for it,” she orders. It delights you to no end to hear the rawness of her voice, like she wants to fuck you as much as you want her to fuck you. 

Part of you wants to stay quiet, just for a moment longer, to deny her and make her beg. 

But in the end, your weeping cunt wins and desperation pours off your tongue. “Please—please, mommy, I need you, I need you to fuck me, please.” You’re almost sobbing with need. She keeps you waiting a second—

Buzz. 

You practically feel it in your bones. 

Agatha presses a vibrator against your clit, hard, and your back shoots off the bed, toes curling into the sheets. Your wrists pull subconsciously at the handcuffs as the sound that comes out of you is animalistic. 

“Oh, sweetheart, look at you dripping for mommy,” Agatha taunts cruelly and you squeeze your eyes shut even though you can’t see. You nod your head pathetically. “You’re not going to last long, are you? And then you’re going to come over and over and over again for me until you can’t take it anymore. Isn’t that right?” 

“Yes,” you sob, the intense pressure already building in your cunt. Your walls are clenching sporadically around nothing and your hips are bucking frantically. 

You feel her hair on your chest again and then she sucks a bite into your shoulder. You whimper and you’re already at the edge, there’s no use trying to hold back because after all that she’s put you through—

“Are you going to come for mommy, baby girl?” Agatha simpers. 

“Yes,” you gasp. 

She pulls the vibe away from you and you almost cry. “Did you ask for permission?” 

Fuck. “Can I please come, mommy? I need to so fucking bad.” Every single muscle in your body is tensed. 

You can almost hear her smirk. “Good girl. Come for me.” 

The vibe is pressed against your clit again and it’s not even ten seconds later that you fall over the edge and it’s one of the sweetest, most intense orgasms you’ve ever had. 

“That’s one,” Agatha says proudly as you try to catch your breath. The vibrator turns off and you hear it being placed on the nightstand beside you. 

But the relief doesn’t even have a chance to linger because two of her fingers enter you the second you come down from your high and the ache is back with a vengeance. 

She curls them and you make a strangled sound because of how deep she manages to hit inside you and then her thumb starts to rub at your clit and your head falls back against the pillow. It’s so fucking intense already but it’s so good. 

“Mommy, mommy, please,” you babble nonsensically, insanely, feverishly. Your body is on fire and you just need to come again. The pleasure is building fast, frying your nerves, and then she bends over you to suck on your nipple and you mewl. She hums against you, teeth scraping against the bud and then rolling it with her tongue while her finger copies the movements on your clit. 

Her thrusts are somehow getting faster and all the words spilling out of your mouth are blending into one long plea with her name repeated over and over because she’s all you know now. 

“Be a good slut and come for mommy again,” she says, sharply sucking one last time on your nipple with a wet pop. 

Agatha twists her fingers and shoves them far inside to stroke your g-spot while her thumb plays with your clit. You come, even stronger than the first time, and your eyes roll into the back of your head. 

Her movements inside you slow gently but your walls still clench around her, trying to keep her in. She stills, her fingers remain in you and your desire to be able to see her is so strong you can almost taste it. 

But you get being blindfolded because everything is so much more heightened. The trace of the fingertips of her other hand up your thigh. The soft kiss to your breast. The heavy thickness in the air while you wait for what she’s going to do next. 

“That’s two. How are you doing? What light are you?” 

It’s almost silly to you, in your delirious state, that she’s checking in after so few knowing that she’s going to keep pushing and pushing you until you can’t take anymore but it’s still so fucking sweet and that only makes you leak more around her fingers. 

“Green. So green. Please.” 

“Excellent,” she hums and slowly withdraws her fingers until they’re right at your entrance but then pushes in fast and hard. It forces the air out from your lungs and you almost choke. “Think you can take another finger?” 

You nod and she pulls out again, only to slide back into your wet and waiting cunt with three fingers. You barely even feel the extra stretch but you feel so much fuller when she curls them inside you. 

“Got to get you ready to take my cock,” Agatha huffs and you clench around her, a flash of heat darting up your spine. “So I can fuck you and then fill you up with my cum and then fuck it back into you so it sticks.” 

“Oh—fuck,” you moan loudly at the mention of the toy that’s perhaps both your favorites. The strap that lets her come inside you with lube. Her breeding kink had slipped out one of the first times she had fucked you, and since then, she made sure to incorporate it constantly when she found out you were more than okay with it. 

“I know you need my cum inside you, baby girl,” she says, ragged and hot, and you nod frantically in agreement. “You’re such a good cumslut for me.” 

You make a muffled sound that becomes vocal when she suddenly sucks on your clit. “Fuck!” 

Her tongue lashes against you while she fucks you with her three fingers skillfully, hitting every spot because she knows you so well, because you were made for her. 

Agatha alternates between sucking and licking and scraping her teeth against you and you think you can feel her eyes watching your face contort with pleasure. You again wish you could see her, as she’s between your legs and peering up at you. 

She moans against your cunt like she can’t get enough, like she’s a starving woman, and the pace of her fingers never falters. She’s fucking you right back to the edge, the pressure building right back in your stomach like it never left, and your toes curl back into the mattress, sounds falling out of your mouth. 

You’re right there and she slows down for a moment and you whine loudly because you don’t want her to stop—she can’t stop—and she chuckles, the vibrations against your clit making you jump, and she resumes her earlier pace. 

You come, cursing and saying her name like it’s a prayer, and she finally but quickly pulls back and sits back up. The bed dips and then the outside of her thigh is resting against the outside of yours and she lays a gentle hand on your hip. 

“That’s three,” she informs you, as if you needed the reminder. You can still feel the waves of all three of them rolling through your body. “Let’s see how long it’s been.” 

She moves again and you hear her tap her phone and her laughter is mocking. 

“Oh, baby girl, it’s only been seventeen minutes.” 

The realization sinks in and “Fuck,” you breathe. You’ve already come three times and there’s still forty-three minutes left. 

Forty-three minutes for her to make you come as many times as you can possibly take. 

“Let’s keep going, shall we?” she asks. She strokes your face and then pushes her fingers into your mouth and you can taste yourself on them. You moan and suck at them, cleaning them up for her the way she always likes you to. 

When Agatha pulls them out, she wipes your saliva on your tits and your body jerks. 

Her touch disappears completely and you’re on edge just waiting. 

The sound of buzzing fills the air again and your breath catches. But it’s different from the vibrator she used in the beginning—it’s duller, almost quieter. Your brow furrows but it suddenly makes sense when she presses the thick tip of the new toy against your clit—the vibrating strap. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, more to yourself, but Agatha of course hears it and chuckles lowly. She rubs it up and down your soaked slit, doing nothing more than just dipping the head inside and pulling it out to rub at your clit again. Your hips arch up to try to get it inside, but she holds steady on torturing you. The vibrations have you already almost on the edge. 

“You look so fucking good like this, tied up, blindfolded, ready to take my cock,” she rasps. “Can you say ‘I’m a good girl and I want to take mommy’s cock’?”

Even though there’s not a coherent thought in your head, nothing’s ever been easier to say. “I’m a good girl and I want to take mommy’s cock.” 

Agatha positions the tip at your entrance again and the vibrations echo through your entire pelvic area. You squirm, open-mouth panting with anticipation. 

“Look at you,” she says. “You’ve already come—how many times? Three? And you just want more. My greedy pet. But don’t worry.” 

The toy slides into you and your entire cunt is lit up with vibrations. You wail and buck up while your walls adjust to the size. 

“Mommy will give you everything you need,” Agatha reassures you. “I’ll give you my cock because that’s what you need, isn’t it? You need to be stretched open and fucked like a whore, don’t you? You need to be tied up and blindfolded completely at my mercy and used like the little toy you are, don’t you?” 

She thrusts hard with each word and your mouth drops open with no sound coming out. With how fast she’s fucking you, you know she’s just holding the toy with her hand. You’re completely blissed out now, you feel her all over your body, and you don’t think you have any control over any part of you. 

It’s all hers. 

“You’re such a good slut for me, baby girl. You take everything I give you so well. You’re taking my cock so well. You’re making mommy so proud.” 

The toy is so deep inside you that you feel the vibrations everywhere and each time it hits your g-spot you think you might black out from how good it feels. 

You think it’s everything you’ve ever needed until you suddenly feel her mouth suck on your clit while she somehow thrusts even faster and you think you must’ve died and gone to heaven. 

“Oh my god, oh my god, ohmygodohmygod,” you chant, slurring your words, but you wonder if you’re even saying anything. It might just be a slew of noises because your mouth and brain aren’t working properly. 

“Come for mommy again,” she murmurs against your clit and then gives it a hard lick. 

The tension inside you explodes but she just keeps fucking you hard and your hands strain against the cuffs again because it’s a lot, it might be too much, and you force out a quiet, “I already came.” 

Her laugh makes you clench around the toy despite your frenzied state. “Oh, I know. I want you to come again. Can you be a good girl and take it?” 

It’s hard to tell if the groan that comes out of your mouth is one of protest or acquiescence, but you nod anyway. “Yes, mommy.” You’re breathless and it’s hard to speak but you want to be good for her. 

To give you a little break, Agatha slows down until she’s fucking into you lazily, slowly. It helps you come down a bit and you feel her twisting it inside you, which makes you whimper. 

The toy has two balls at the base of it, which vibrate too, a fact you’re made aware of when she presses one of them against your clit. You gasp and shudder at the intensity. 

“Can you feel that?” she asks like she’s in awe, like it was an idea that popped into her head that she wanted to give a try. 

“Yes,” you moan, hips bucking involuntarily to get more of the stimulation even though you’re not sure if you can take it. 

But you will take it. 

You want to. 

“This’ll be five, baby girl,” she reminds you as she begins to pick up the pace. With each push of it, the balls bump against your clit and give you even more. “And then we’re one away from your record. We’re not even that far into the hour.” Her voice is sickly sweet. “Think you can make it to ten?” 

The question makes you keen loudly at just the thought of coming again, and then doubling it. 

“I—I don’t know,” you answer honestly, hips starting to rise to match her thrusts and take more of her cock. 

She tuts and pinches your nipple and you pull at the handcuffs again. You feel dizzy with how hard you’re breathing and the overwhelming sensation of everything and you think you’re going to need a break after this. 

“It’s okay, honey. Take as much as you can. I’ll give you everything you need.” 

This time, it’s quick and easy and only takes a few more pumps of the cock, coupled with direct stimulation on your clit. You're still not even fully recovered from the fourth before you come for a fifth time, moaning her name. 

You sink into the bed, completely spent, but the toy is still buried inside you, the base still positioned right against you. 

“Fuck, mommy, I can’t—” you whine. 

“Don’t move,” she warns and you want to cry. “Be good and keep my cock inside you.” 

It’s painful, at this point, to still be this much on the edge and have to clench every single muscle to obey because there’s no telling what she’ll do if you move. You wonder if you could come again from just her keeping the toy inside you. 

You don’t get the chance to find out though, because she takes pity on you and slowly pulls the toy out. You breathe a sigh of relief so deeply you feel it in your bones. 

It’s only a matter of time before she tries to fuck you again, but you can’t do it right now. Plus, you want something else. You need something else. “Sit on my face, please,” you beg, raw and unashamed. “Please, mommy, I need to taste you. I need you.” 

If it catches her off guard, she doesn’t say. “Oh, yeah?” It’s the way she’s still able to keep composure while you’re completely ruined that makes you both eager to mess her up and also even more turned on. 

“Yes, fuck,” you rasp and tilt your head back, tongue already sticking out. You hear her breath catch; you can see her in your mind regarding you, bottom lip between her teeth. 

“Okay,” she agrees and your mouth waters. 

It’s a little awkward for her to maneuver herself above you, especially with your arms pulled out in cuffs, but she manages it and you can smell her while she hovers over you. Musky, tangy, wet, hot. Heat is practically radiating from her cunt and even though you can’t see her, you can picture her above you, looking down at you with expectant eyes, so you pick your head up and close the distance. 

The instant your tongue glides through her folds—which are soaked—she gasps quietly and sinks down further. You imagine her still biting her lip, hands on the headboard for balance, while she watches you. 

You suck hard on her clit and she jerks and one of her hands buries itself in your hair, nails scratching against your head. You moan and her hips grind against your mouth at the sound. 

“Fuck, baby,” she moans, sounding slightly less composed. It urges you to double down and you slide your tongue inside her, feeling her clench around you. Wetness is seeping down your face, making you even more of a mess, but you couldn’t care less. It’s all for you. 

You mouth at her desperately and you want to know how many times she could come—you’d be more than fine to switch over to that right now. Her hips are rocking and her grip is tightening on your hair and it’s making you let out small whimpers into her that just have her moving more. 

“You’re making mommy feel so good, shit,” Agatha groans and pulls you up so you’re focusing right on her clit. You suck on it and her legs tighten around your ears. 

The need to touch her overwhelms you and you yank on the cuffs, but to no avail. All you can do is let her use you. 

She’s purposely muffling her sounds but you finally earn a yelp when you suck on her clit particularly hard. You do it again and she breathlessly chuckles, impressed by your boldness. 

“Do you want me to come all over your face?” she asks frenziedly, her movements becoming more frantic. “I’m gonna come, baby girl.” When you lick your tongue back inside her, you can feel her walls pulsing. You moan your answer into her cunt, too dazed out and drunk off her to even have the thought to deny her an orgasm. 

Agatha stiffens and freezes on top of you, her pussy clenching around you, and you say something that comes out garbled into her. You don’t even know what the words were, but you think she can feel what you mean. You want her to stay like that forever. 

But her fingers loosen on your hair and you now notice the ache from how hard she was pulling. You were too lost in her to even notice the sting. 

“God,” she breathes and climbs off of you. The air is cold now and you miss her immediately. Her hand splays out on your thigh and you tense slightly. She must’ve moved back down. 

She wants more. 

Her fingers dance across your thigh and then up between your legs and strokes up the length of your entrance, collecting your wetness. You’re sure you must’ve dripped onto the bed at this point. 

There’s a sucking noise and a jolt runs through you at the realization that her fingers with you are in her mouth. You pull at the cuffs again and she chuckles at your futile attempt. 

One finger suddenly fills you and you sharply inhale. 

“I think you’re ready for my cock now,” Agatha purrs and you feel a pang of heat inside you. This toy is bigger than the vibrating one, it’s the biggest one you both own, but you don’t think you’ll have any trouble taking it. 

And you’ll get her cum. 

There’s rustling around and then the uncapping of a bottle. A squeezing noise as she deposits the white lube into the syringe and then a pop. Your heartbeat picks up in anticipation. 

The tube that connects the syringe to the toy is touching your stomach but all thought of that vanishes when the tip of it is placed at your entrance. Her hands bend your legs at the knees and push them even wider. 

You whimper. 

Agatha pushes in and your mouth drops open. “Fuck.” Even with how wet you are, it’s still a stretch. 

She goes slowly, fucking just the tip in, and then back out, and then a little more in, and then out, all the way until it’s fully inside you. She stays like that for a moment, letting you get used to it. It’s thick and long but filling you in all the best ways. 

And then she starts to move and your back arches. 

It’s so deep inside you that it hits your special spot every time easily and it’s intense and so much but so, so good. Tears prick your eyes and you grind your hips up with every thrust like you’ll be able to get it even deeper. 

“Look at you, taking my cock like such a good slut,” Agatha croons. “You must really want my cum, don’t you?” 

You whine loudly and nod. You’re already building up to the edge. You’re not going to last much longer at all and she knows it. 

“Can you ask me nicely for it?” 

It takes you a moment to formulate the right words with all the fog in your brain. She’s made you go dumb. “Please, mommy, can I have your cum? I want you to breed me.” 

Her smile is almost audible and she starts fucking you harder. You let out a sob and your hips are moving of their own accord now. She rubs your clit with her other hand and you’re shocked by the noise that comes out of you. 

You don’t even recognize yourself. 

“Once you come for me for a sixth time, I’ll fill you up, baby,” she promises and you nod. “I’m gonna give you my cum and you’re going to take all of it. And if it leaks out, we’ll just have to fuck it back into you. Gonna breed you so well, honey, so well.” Her voice is low and nothing more than a murmur but you feel every word so deep in your core, almost as deep as the thrusts from the toy. 

“Mommy, fuck, gonna come,” you babble. You’re so fucking sensitive that every time she pushes the toy inside you you think you might combust but you’ve never felt this much pleasure. 

You’ve never felt this much. 

“Come for me,” Agatha orders and because you’ll do anything she tells you to, you listen. 

Euphoria runs through you and you might as well be on a different planet. Your legs shake and try to close around her as she fucks you through it and it’s almost a full minute before you’re able to somewhat relax. 

She waits until your legs open back up before pushing the syringe and you feel the slow stream of warm cum fill your cunt up. You gasp blissfully, for a moment completely filled to the brim. 

And then she pulls the toy out. 

Agatha’s breath hitches as she watches the cum leak out of you. You feel the copious load dripping out of your used cunt and you twitch. Her fingers spread your pussy lips so she can get a better look at it. 

“That’s so hot,” she whispers and you feel a hot flash. “But let's get it back inside you.”

Before you can even think, three fingers enter you. There’s no stretch now, you easily take them, and the sounds from your cunt are obscene. There’s a wet squelch each time she curls her fingers. 

“Can you hear that, baby?” Agatha asks with a light, airy tone. She sounds far away, like she’s also not completely here. Like she’s afflicted by the same dizzying haze that you are. 

“Yeah,” you say. Six orgasms. You’re not sure how much time has passed, how much time is left. 

But you don’t know how much more you can take. 

“Think you can fit four?” 

It takes you a moment to realize she’s talking about her fingers. “I’ve never had that many,” you tell her. She tsks and squeezes her pinkie in along with her three others and your jaw drops open. “Oh—god.”

It’s a whole new experience, even from the big toy she just used on you. They curl and rub against your g-spot and you think you’re going to cry from how good it feels. 

“After this,” Agatha says conversationally and you clench around her, “we’re going to go to that market and none of them are going to know how well you got fucked right before. How you got filled with my cum and then got it fucked right back into you because you’re just a needy slut, aren’t you?” 

You moan, tingles starting to run up your spine. You honestly can’t believe you’re still able to get close to orgasming again. 

“We should get a plug for you next time so I can come in you and then you can walk around with it all day. Every time you move you’ll feel it and remember how I filled you up like the cumslut you are. How I bred you.” 

Your head lolls to the side as your body gets itself to the edge. You have no control over anything anymore; she’s going to pull it out of you. “Oh my god,” you say weakly. 

“And right now, you’re going to come for me again, aren’t you? For the seventh time? With four of my fingers fucking you?” 

Maybe it’s the reminder of how many times it’s been, or of how stretched out you are with her, or all of it and even more, but your legs shake again, violently, and your body tenses, and even though it’s weak, you still crash and come around four of her fingers. 

“Holy fuck,” you breathe and she laughs. “Oh my god, I’m so sensitive. Can you just—” You don’t even know what you need. She pauses and you decide on: “Slowly.”

Agatha understands and slowly slides her fingers out of you. She lays her sticky hand on your thigh while you exhale heavily. You can feel more of her cum slipping out of you. 

“How’s it going?” she asks casually, like you haven’t just come seven times. You’d giggle deliriously but you think your head would hurt. 

“I’m okay,” you finally answer softly. 

She reaches down to strum at your clit and you twitch with a gasp. She presses a kiss to your boob and you feel her smile against your skin. “Think you can go again? Just one more time? I can be gentle.” 

“I don’t know,” you say and she circles your clit again. Your hips twitch and then she sucks on your nipple, and somehow, your cunt still aches. 

Agatha pulls back and takes her finger away. “Yes or no?”

You chew on your lip and weigh your options. “Yes.”

“Good girl,” she hums and resumes her previous actions of languidly spreading the mixture of your wetness and her cum over your clit and taking your nipple back into her mouth. 

It takes a little longer to build you up this time and everything inside you feels raw. But the sting of it adds a bit of pain to your pleasure—something you’ve always enjoyed. 

Your nipple pops free of Agatha’s mouth and she leans over to roll the other one with her tongue as she starts to press harder. She hums against your skin and it travels down the livewire from your nipple to your cunt and your hips buck up weakly. It’s so much. 

“Be a good girl and come for mommy one last time,” she says, voice rough, and you think that it’s hearing her like that that pushes you closer. 

“Mommy,” you gasp, because it’s the only thing you can say. It’s swelling inside you and you’re not sure that you can handle it. 

She nips at the underside of your tit. “You can do it, baby girl,” she urges and you squirm. “Go ahead.” 

“I’m going to come,” you tell her and she nips again, fingerpad putting more pressure on your clit while she circles it. 

“Don’t tell me—show me,” she murmurs. 

And, god…somehow you do. 

Your legs quake, completely spent with the effort, and trap her hand between them. She moans against you, muffled but showing her approval, and she keeps the finger going while you ride the feeling all the way through. 

But then it becomes too much. 

“I think I need to stop,” you say urgently, “I can’t take anymore.” It’s starting to hurt now, being this overstimulated.

“Okay, okay,” Agatha says calmly and immediately gets off you. “How do you feel now?” she asks while scrambling to uncuff you. She does your right wrist first and massages it while turning it over in her hands to examine it and then she does the same to her left. You still haven’t been able to move a muscle and you’re really not sure how standing is going to go. 

So you tell her that. 

Agatha helps you lift your head up so she can slide off the blindfold. The light makes you squint but then you’re able to get your first good look at her since she put the fabric on you, and it makes your clit weakly pulse. 

You’re sure you look absolutely ruined, but so does she. Her hair is mussed up and her eyes are the darkest you’ve ever seen and her lips are flushed. Her pale skin has a faint pink glow. You get lost in staring at her for a moment, but then she puts a hand on your back and helps you sit up. 

“Eight is a lot,” Agatha remarks as you slowly but surely scooch to the end of the bed. “Shane doesn’t have anything on you.” You laugh and it’s hoarse. 

She grabs her phone to stop the timer and she bites her lip, stifling her own laugh, as she shows you the screen. 

Twenty-three minutes left. 

All of that only took thirty-seven minutes. 

“Jesus,” you say and push yourself off the bed onto your feet. They feel like jelly but with Agatha’s assistance, you’re able to make it to the bathroom where she turns on the shower. You try to ignore the feeling of cum still leaking down the insides of your legs. 

“You know what this means?” she asks, a playful look on her face. You hum, too tired to speak. “I could definitely make you come ten times in a full hour.” 

Your legs almost give out. 

It’s halfway through the lunch period when your friend, Wanda, texts and asks what you’re doing tonight and if you want to go to a local bar with her. You’re sitting with your best friend Rio Vidal, a fellow math teacher, and one of the science teachers, Agatha Harkness.

You’ve only recently started talking to Agatha during a conference for STEM classes that you both went on about a week ago since your paths had never really crossed before, but you’ve had a crush on her since you’ve started working there.

During the conference, you found yourselves being drawn together, whether it was her sitting down next to you at the lunch table or you switching panels with someone else and ending up with her. She always seemed to hone in on you whenever someone else came up to talk to you. There was one night she even touched your arm to move you and you can still feel the heat from her fingers. 

However, she’s 48 and you’re only 24 and you work together so it’d be quite messy. Not that she would ever like you like that anyway.

At least that’s what you told Rio. Deep down, you still flushed every time Agatha looked at you since then and hoped it meant something.

Rio raises her eyebrow when she catches the look on your face as you read the text. She asks what’s wrong and you say that your friend wants you to go to a bar tonight. You don’t really like to go out, but you haven’t seen Wanda in awhile so you should. Agatha’s head swivels to you. 

“My friend wants me to go to Newk’s tonight…want to join?” you ask, looking at Rio, but hoping Agatha knows you’re really talking to her. It’s a joke, you’ll swear to yourself later. 

Rio snorts and Agatha says nothing. 

It was a half-hearted attempt and of course you couldn’t actually expect Agatha to show up because she’s twice your age and would never go to a bar with line-dancing and football games and pool tables.

So when you go to order drinks for you and Wanda and you catch a flash of dark hair and pale skin, your heart almost pounds out of your chest. The woman’s side profile is all you can see but then she turns her head to face the floor and holy fuck, it’s her.

The bartender puts down two drinks in front of you and you take a sip of yours, gathering courage. 

Wanda’s dancing and doesn’t even notice you making your way to the other side of the bar. Agatha doesn’t look at you until you’re right next to her, leaning against the table. She has the decency to look surprised. 

“What are you doing here…all alone?” you simper and her eyes trace over the jeans cut so high your ass is hanging out and the tiny blue crop top you’re wearing. She’s in jean pants and a blue flannel, hair down, and you want to drag her somewhere right now. She has a beer in front of her. 

She shrugs casually like it’s no big deal. “Wanted to get out of the house.”

You take a big gulp and taste how strong it is. “Do you come here often?”

All you get in reply is her lifting the bottle to her lips with a smirk. Agatha licks the droplets of liquid left around her mouth and you’re about to say something when Wanda waves at you from the floor. 

You mumble that you have to go and you feel Agatha’s eyes burning into your back. You can’t even pretend to hide the effort you put into swaying your hips. 

When you hand Wanda’s drink to her, you down the rest of yours and pull Wanda out to the floor. You don’t know any of the dances but you can feel the buzz coursing through your veins, both from the alcohol and Agatha. You make every move as slutty as you can and every time you spin around, you catch her looking at you. Watching you. Hopefully, wanting you. 

Wanda insists on going to get the next round, much to your reluctance, so you lean against the pony wall that encloses the dance floor. You turn around despite yourself to look at Agatha, whose lips are slightly parted.

The second drink is gone quickly and you don’t even bother telling Wanda where you’re going before walking back over to Agatha. Your inhibitions are slightly lowered now and you spin onto the stool next to her right as she tilts her body toward you—another thing you saw at the conference was how she always angled herself to be facing you even when she was supposed to be paying attention somewhere else—so your right thigh ends up pressed right against hers. She’s on her second beer. 

“How are you feeling?” she asks. 

“Really good,” you answer breathlessly and your eyes drop down to where your legs are touching and—

There’s a bulge. 

Agatha is hard. 

She shifts and you bite your lip. “How are you feeling?” you ask teasingly. 

“You might be a little drunk,” she says, but she knows you really aren’t. 

Agatha makes a noise when you lean forward, your palm sliding up her leg until it almost touches her dick, and you whisper, “Maybe a little tipsy at most, but I’ve been wanting to get on my knees and suck your cock since the conference.”  

She twitches and her fingers clamp around your wrist like she can’t decide if she wants to pull you in or push you away. “I’m twice your age. We work together.” 

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” you almost whine. Your heartbeat is pounding in your ears. “I just want to make you feel good.” 

Agatha actually groans at that. “Tell your friend you’re leaving.” 

In less than a minute, you’ve told Wanda that you’re not feeling well and have to go and Agatha has yanked you outside to where her car is parked at the far side of the grassy lot. There’s no one around. 

She grabs your chin and kisses you and there’s a faint taste of beer and her tongue is in your mouth and your mind is going blank except for Agatha. 

You step back and drop down to the ground and she settles a hand on your head and one on the car to steady herself. Her face is already red and she’s already panting. 

Your fingers fumble with her belt and zipper and then her cock is out and hard and red and wet and you waste no time in stroking your hand over her quickly. She hisses, “Baby, you gotta slow down, I’m not going to last long.” 

That sends a heat that you’ve never known down into your cunt and you eagerly take the head of her cock into your mouth and her hips jerk and she lets out a guttural sound. She’s already pulsing. Fuck, she wasn’t lying. 

“Oh, fuck, god, I can’t—” 

There’s something so satisfying in the way that she was trying to protest in the bar, but now she’s about to come in your mouth after barely two minutes. 

“Pleasepleaseplease,” she chants and her hand tightens in your hair and she stiffens and you feel her cock pulse once, twice, three times, and then her cum fills your mouth. 

She gives you just enough time to swallow before she pulls you up and kisses you hard and spins you around to press you against the car. 

“Get in the backseat,” she whispers and you move faster than before to scramble in. She follows and slams the door behind her and you’re both just looking at each other in the dark. 

Her cock is slowly hardening again as you take the first step by peeling your top off, revealing your hard nipples. She leans forward and sucks on one of them and your back arches. 

Her fingers swipe at your hips to move you onto her lap when her cock is fully hard again, which doesn’t take long at all. 

You can feel her cock, wet with cum and your saliva, pressing against your entrance and right before you’re about to sit down, she stops you. 

“This doesn’t mean anything,” she says, almost a plea. You know how it’ll look if it turns into more. If you do this again. What people will say if it gets out. 

You nod and sink down and both of you moan into each other’s mouths. 

But you also know this can’t be the last time because of how fucking good she feels inside you. 

Agatha lets herself into your apartment with the key you gave her. It’s dark inside, the clock on the oven the only light that lets her see anything. 

But she’s been here enough times to know her way around. 

Your request—your fantasy—had come as a bit of a surprise, but there was no denying that she was into it. 

“You want me to sneak into your home when you’re asleep and fuck you?” 

The look on your face, when Agatha had repeated it back to you, had gone straight to her cock. Your eyes had glazed over just the slightest and your lips parted. 

It almost made Agatha immediately ask, “When?”

You had smirked the little impish smirk you do when you want to tease, and said, “Surprise me.”

Agatha had only made it two days and she’s impressed she made it that long at all as she takes off her shoes in the corridor so she doesn’t make any noise sneaking down the hallway. Her heart hammers in her throat and she can feel her cock steadily growing harder with each step toward your bedroom door. 

It’s cracked open just an inch. 

An invitation. 

Agatha pushes it open just a smidge and it creaks softly. She freezes and waits for a moment to make sure you don’t move. 

You don’t. 

Her fingertips press the door just a little more open and she’s now able to see you under the covers in the glow of the moonlight streaming in through your blinds. You look peaceful and serene cocooned in your blanket, head resting soundly on two pillows. 

You’re already laying on your stomach. 

Waiting.

Ready. 

Agatha imagines you getting into bed and positioning yourself like this, hoping tonight would be the night. 

She creeps into the room now, feet delicately padding on the carpet, as she takes off her long sleeve shirt. Her cock is now fully erect at just the mere thought of what she’s about to do. She’s not wearing a bra and her nipples harden even more at the cool air on her. 

Pausing at the end of the bed, she shimmies her pants down her legs and steps out of them and palms her cock through her underwear. She has to bite her lip so she doesn’t make a noise. 

And then she inhales and exhales in time with your heavy breaths to calm herself down before slowly peeling the covers down your body and fuck—

You’re completely naked. 

Agatha’s cock twitches and she clenches her fists to regain control. She cannot come already. 

The bed dips as she climbs onto it and lays down next to you on her side so she can examine your sleeping features, but it just makes her ache more. 

So she reaches out a hand to gingerly touch your bare shoulder. You don’t react. You’ve always been a deep sleeper. 

She listens to you breathe, on alert for any sudden change, as her fingers skate up and down your skin for a moment. 

When she’s sure that she can do more, she shifts into a kneeling position, still next to you, and trails her hand over your back and down to your ass, rubbing and stroking as she goes. 

Goosebumps rise along the path she’s taking and you tremble and she pauses immediately. 

You let out a sigh and relax, sinking back into the pillows. 

Agatha has to readjust so she can have better access, and when she finally slides a hand between your legs to touch your cunt, her cock spurts out a drop of precum. 

You’re wet. 

Really wet. 

She spots the clear bottle of lube on the nightstand but there’s not much missing, which means that while some of it is the lube, some of it is just you. 

Agatha groans quietly to herself and then clamps a hand over her mouth. She doesn’t move for thirty seconds. 

Still no reaction. 

She nods, spurring herself on. 

Her cock twitches again as she slowly spreads your legs apart so she can touch you better and she thinks she sees your eyes move under your eyelids when she finds your clit and circles it three times. 

“What do you want me to do?” Agatha had asked you. 

“Whatever you want. Just try and make me come before you do.” 

Agatha’s other hand squeezes the head of her cock tightly, just to hold herself back, when two fingers easily slide into your cunt with a wet squelch. You feel heavenly, tightly wrapped around her, and she swears she feels your walls clench. 

She starts out slowly fucking you, just to make sure you won’t wake up, but when you still show no signs of stirring, she gets bolder. 

Her pace picks up and she fumbles but then manages to figure out how to rub at your clit with her thumb while fucking you with two fingers and she reaches around and under you so she can caress your boob and roll your nipple with her other hand. Your body jerks but you settle back down. 

Agatha is almost laying on top of you now and her rock-hard cock, while still covered in her underwear, is pressed against your ass and she can’t help but rut back and forth to get some sort of stimulation. It makes pressure build up in her core faster than she likes though, so she has to stop. 

You make a small noise and she feels you get wetter and Agatha doesn’t even care if you wake up now, she just needs to make you feel good. 

You like this. 

Agatha wonders if you’re dreaming of something or if you can feel it, but your body is reacting to her touch and it makes her cock harder, which she didn’t even think was possible. 

Her fingers are being gripped by your walls as she keeps on fucking you with them. Your hips are raising slightly, needy for her even in your sleep, desperate for more. 

She knows, without a doubt, that you’re getting close. 

Your breathing has gotten shallower and your fingers quiver and you’re so wet that Agatha can hear it every time she thrusts into you. 

And at the same time, Agatha’s cock has started pulsing and she can feel the wet spot on her boxers getting bigger. 

It takes a lot of restraint, but she stops. 

She’s pretty sure you’re still asleep as she grabs your hips and angles them so your ass is up in the air and then moves to kneel between your legs. 

“Want me to wear a condom?” It was a precaution when she asked you that; you’ve only been dating a few months and you weren’t on any sort of birth control. 

Her heart stopped when you bit your lip sheepishly and said, “I just got on the pill.” 

That in itself had been enough to almost make her push you down right then and there and fuck you. 

Agatha shoves down her underwear just enough for her cock to pop out and hit her stomach, precum splattering on her bare skin, and she grabs onto the base with a tight fist to position the tip of her red and leaking head at your cunt entrance. 

Even just the feeling of your wetness against her bare cock has her whimpering. 

Just to prove to herself that she can hold on a bit longer, she drags her cock up and down your slit and then rubs at your clit with the head. 

Her other hand clamps down on your hips and digs her nails in. Your breathing hasn’t changed. 

Agatha pushes in. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

Only the tip is inside but her head falls back and her eyes roll back in her head. 

Nothing she’s felt will ever be able to compare to the feeling of your warm, wet walls clenching around her cock and trying to get more of her. Your walls grip her and you make a small noise that sounds like a squeak and she has no choice but to press on. 

When she bottoms out inside you, she has to hold still because your cunt is pulsing around her cock and her cock is twitching inside you and she knows she’s not going to last long. Her hands grip your hips so hard they might bruise. 

You gasp. 

Agatha slowly drags her cock out until just the tip remains. 

She pushes back in. 

And she does it again and again until she listens to your breathing become uneven and with each thrust, she reaches a new level of ecstasy and she thinks she could die right here, right now, but it’s getting to be too much and while your cunt is spasming, she knows you haven’t come yet. 

But she’s too close. 

It takes all of her willpower to stop and the moment her cock is outside of your body, she grabs onto it and fists it tightly, begging herself not to come. 

Three fingers replace her cock and the feeling of your walls squeezing your digits from all sides is almost as good as it was around her dick. She holds herself but doesn’t stroke and thrusts her fingers hard and fast into you, a bead of sweat rolling down the side of her face from the restraint. 

She is fucking aching for you. 

You’re moaning now, still quietly but loud enough for her to hear with each thrust, but your eyes are still closed and you’re laying still. 

Until she presses on your clit and your whole body jerks. 

You’re close now. 

Really close, judging by the trembling in your legs. 

She almost hates to stop, but she’s desperate to get her cock back inside you—raw. Agatha doesn’t think she’ll ever get enough. 

Your cunt clamps down on her the moment she enters you again and Agatha’s teeth shoot down into her bottom lip instinctively. A sound still escapes. 

“Where do you want me to come?” 

“In me. Or on me. Anywhere. I just want to know you were there.” 

Agatha makes the most pathetic sound she’s ever heard and thrusts so deep she feels the spongy spot inside of you. 

You’re asleep and she’s the most frantic she’s ever been, humping into you like a dog. 

How you haven’t woken up yet, she won’t know. 

You stiffen and your walls convulse and clench and don’t let up, like they’re trying to milk her. 

Agatha almost loses it right then and there as you come around her cock. 

She could pull out and flip you over and come on your tits. On your face. On your ass. She likes the thought of you waking up to part of your skin sticky and covered. 

Or inside. 

And then, she hears you. It’s so quiet, that she thinks she might be imagining it, barely anything more than your mouth forming the word, “Agatha.” 

For the first time, she fills up your cunt with her cum. 

Agatha gasps loudly and collapses on top of you as she pathetically ruts inside you, cock pulsing and shooting out more and more strands of cum into you. You make a sound and your walls tighten again around her, like you’re desperate to take all of it. 

Will you know what happened in the morning? Will you remember it? 

Or will you only realize it when you wake up and stand up and feel her cum leaking down your inner thighs?

She feels another spurt of cum weakly leak into you. 

It takes almost a full minute before she fully softens and then she pulls out of you. Almost immediately, her white seed starts to pour out of your swollen cunt and she watches, transfixed, before gathering her load with two of her fingers and stuffing it back inside you. 

You can take it now, so you will. 

In an attempt to keep as much inside of you as possible, she rolls you onto your side. Your breathing has become more even. If you had woken up a bit, you’ve surely fallen back into your slumber. 

Agatha almost hates to leave now. She wants to see the look on your face when you wake up and feel the mess between your thighs. 

But she puts back on her clothes and sneaks out the door as quietly as she came in. 

You’re running, running from something, and it’s closing in on you. Looking back over your shoulder, a terrified look on your face, you trip and end up sprawling onto the ground. 

It’s about to get you. Your eyes widen in fear, a loud sound coming from the distance —

“And…cut! That’s a wrap!” With the shout from your director, your character of Samantha Wren, a girl haunted by a dark creature from her past that finally catches up to her, melts away and you push yourself off the set floor, brushing your hands on your torn pants. 

The scene you just shot is the cliffhanger ending to the film, The Figure in the Walls, where Samantha is sprinting through the woods after realizing what the monster is, trying to get away. It’s unclear if she does, which leaves some room for a sequel. 

The movie’s director, Agatha Harkness, steps out from behind the cameras and slow-claps, smirking at you. You make a beeline for her and she wraps an arm around your shoulders and steers you away from the set. A PA jogs over and hands you a cup of coffee and a bagel. You’ve been filming for the past five hours, doing scenes from earlier that weren’t as good and finishing up the movie sequence, and you’re starving. 

“You did so good, honey,” Agatha murmurs into your ear and presses a quick kiss to your temple. 

It’s not a secret on set that the two of you are married, you both just prefer to keep it professional for the most part, at least when other people can see you. 

You first met Agatha at the Golden Globes about two and a half years ago. You had never met, but were both nominated for separate projects: you for Best Supporting Actress in a Comedy, and her for Best Director. A mutual friend had introduced you to her during a commercial break, and you hit it off instantly. 

There was almost something magnetic between you, and it just kept pulling you to her all night long. You won for your category, and so did she, and the picture of you two with your Globes is framed above the fireplace mantle in your mansion. 

You’re beaming at the camera while Agatha is staring down your dress, trying to look inconspicuous. When you tease her about it, she says she was just looking at the trophy. 

It’s unclear if she means the Globe, or you. 

She had invited you to go to an afterparty with her and you had immediately agreed. It was a quiet, intimate sort of thing with an open bar, and she had brazenly flirted while the warmth from the alcohol settled pleasantly in your stomach. 

After a few hours and after you had been practically sitting in her lap for quite some time, she said that she should get going, but asked for your number. 

You had clasped her cheeks and pulled her into a hot kiss right there and promptly dragged her out the door into your car and back to your apartment. 

A year and a half later, she asked you to marry her as you were walking along the Santa Monica Pier. The sun was setting, purples and pinks reflecting off the ocean waves, and you had never felt so happy in your entire life. You bought a mansion in Beverly Hills together, and you’ve lived there ever since. 

When Agatha first signed onto direct The Figure in the Walls, your name had been already thrown around as for who would play the lead. You still don’t know if she pulled some strings, and there was obviously gossip that you had only gotten the role because your wife was directing, but Agatha assured you that once everyone saw your performance, there would be no doubt that you had earned every part of it. 

“Thank you,” you whisper to your wife. You can’t believe the movie is finally done, but your turn-around is quick. Tomorrow, you fly out to meet with an agent in New York about a new film franchise in the works. If you land the lead role, it would be absolutely huge for your career. 

You will be gone for a week, though, and you and Agatha have been looking forward to some time for just yourselves. You’re eager to get home and at least have tonight, but with the wrap party and the closing speeches, it’s going to be awhile before you’re able to. 

Some of the other cast members come over and mingle while you sip on a soda, but you can feel Agatha’s eyes on you the whole time. At one point, you give in and glance over to where she’s sitting — all alone in her director’s chair for some reason, but she’s facing you. 

She uncrosses her legs and slouches back, casually putting a hand on her right upper thigh. Agatha ever so slightly spreads the fabric of her dark gray pants and you can see — she’s half-hard. Just from watching you, just from the thought of finally getting some quality time. You’ve made it work with the busy schedule, always finding a half hour for a quick fuck every now and then, but it’s been too long since you’ve been able to take your time. There’s the unspoken promise that neither of you will be sleeping much tonight. 

Swallowing roughly and trying to fight back the heat creeping into your cheeks, you turn back to your co-stars and try to look like you’re listening. 

And then finally everyone starts to leave. With Agatha being the director, she waits until every single member of the cast and crew has gone while you sit and impatiently tap your foot. 

“You ready?” Agatha asks and you jump out of your seat, eagerly nodding, and she laughs. “Looking forward to something?” 

“I can’t wait for you to fuck me, mommy,” you answer matter-of-factly and it catches her off-guard for the slightest second. 

It’s not often you’re this bold and straight-forward without her prompting. And she fucking loves it. 

The car is already waiting outside — you called it while you were waiting for everyone to leave — and the air between the two of you crackles with electricity. The tension is thick, but neither of you move to disturb it, instead just choosing to let it build until you’re in the sanctity of your home. 

But your breathing quickens and you can feel your underwear getting gradually wetter, the anticipation steadily rising. When you look over at your wife, you can see her fully-hardened cock straining against the fabric of her tailored pants and her long fingers are digging into her thighs, making her veins pop. 

It’s about twenty minutes later of lingering looks between darkened eyes when the car pulls into the driveway of your house. 

Agatha barely thanks the driver before you’re both scrambling out of the car and up to your front door. 

The moment it’s closed, you’re shoved against the pillar next to it, Agatha’s mouth on yours in a bruising kiss. 

“Fuck,” you moan, her tongue hotly licking against yours. She grunts in agreement before grabbing your wrists and holding them over your head, thrusting her right leg between yours. You can feel her cock, can feel the heat radiating off it, and you throb against it and swiftly grind down. 

She groans into your mouth and angles her leg up higher and you can feel her dick pulse, which makes the ache inside you grow unbearable. Your kiss has become sloppy, a flurry of teeth and lips and tongue, and she pulls back to trail her mouth down your neck. You hiss when she sucks a bite and it makes your hips jerk involuntarily. 

“Agatha — mommy, please,” you whimper, your cunt absolutely dripping. All of your thoughts are being consumed by her right now, and you just need more. You need her fingers, her mouth, her cock inside you, you need her. 

Agatha chuckles breathlessly, planting an open-mouth kiss on your lips. “What do you need, honey?” 

It’s almost frustrating that she’s making you say it, like it isn’t the most obvious thing in the world how desperate you are for her. “Can we — upstairs?” Your head is spinning and it feels like you’re drunk with need. 

If it were any other time, she would make you repeat it and ask clearly. But she knows, she always knows, and there’s no time to waste. 

She lets go of one of your wrists but pulls you by the other to the staircase and then stops on the third stair to kiss you again, like she can’t possibly wait. She sucks on your tongue and you gasp. 

“Fuck, mommy’s going to miss you tomorrow,” she mutters and in the haze in your head, you feel a slight pang of sadness. Agatha would’ve come with you, but she has a meeting here that she can’t miss either. It’s tough to be apart, even for just a week. 

But then the sentimental moment is gone and her teeth sink into your bottom lip, her hand coming up to rest around your throat. She barely even squeezes but it does wonders — you clench around nothing, eyes glazing over, and you let out a strangled gasp. 

Agatha smirks and tugs you the rest of the way to your bedroom. Shoes are kicked off and she quickly helps you take off the shirt and pants you changed into after filming and then you rip open the silk button-down shirt she’s wearing, sending buttons flying everywhere. She pushes down her pants and underwear and a ragged gasp tears itself out of your mouth when you see her cock, hard and red and leaking. 

You let out a small moan and move closer to touch it, but she stops you. 

“Honey,” she says, a bit timidly, and concern washes over you like a bucket of cold water. 

“What’s wrong, is everything okay?” you ask. She looks around, biting her lip like she’s not sure how to phrase it. “Hey, whatever it is, you can tell me. Is it something bad?” 

Agatha shakes her head. “No, it’s just something I was thinking of. Something I wanted to see if you’d want to try, just because you’re going to be away for a bit.” A flash of heat bursts through you — usually you’re the one who brings up wanting to try new things in the bedroom, but now that it’s Agatha, fuck, you can’t wait. 

“Yeah?” you breathe. 

“I was wondering if you’d let me film you — us. While we have sex,” she says and your cunt throbs. You’d never thought of it, but you can see it in your mind now. You can imagine how hot it would be to watch yourself take her cock. “So when you’re gone and I get lonely, I can watch it back and remember what a good girl you are for me.”

The praise settles right into your stomach and now you can’t stop thinking about Agatha stroking her cock while watching the two of you have sex. 

“You want to, what, direct me in a porno?” you ask, partly as a joke, but there’s no missing the involuntary sound that slips out of her lips, no missing the darkening of her already hungry eyes. “Fuck. Okay.” 

She looks a little surprised at your easy agreement, but presses a chaste kiss to your lips, and then another one, and then leaves the room. You sit down on your bed, the excitement almost overwhelming, and try to slow your racing heart. 

It’s only a minute before Agatha comes back, holding the iPad that she uses for work sometimes, and a stand for it. Has she been preparing for this? The thought sears through your veins and you feel yourself getting even more wetter. 

Her cock seems to get harder if possible as she sets it up close to the bed and the moment she nods and steps back, you feel a new-found sense of confidence wash over you. 

You’ve always come alive in front of the cameras, you thrive under being watched, and it feels no different now, even if you’re not becoming a character. 

It’s exhilarating. And you’re going to do your best to put on a show. 

“Move to the center of the bed,” Agatha orders, still watching through the screen. You swallow roughly and obey — you’ve always found it incredibly sexy watching her command a scene with just her words, and now that she’s doing it in this context? 

Fuck. 

You lean back against the pillows and look at her, awaiting her next instruction. Agatha nods and her eyes rake over you appreciatively. “Spread your legs and touch yourself over your underwear.” 

Moaning softly, you widen your legs and plant your feet flat on the bed so your knees are bent. And then you cup your pussy and your lips part involuntarily when you feel how wet you are. The fabric is absolutely drenched and you can see from the look on Agatha’s face that she can tell too. 

You slowly start to trace the outline of your pussy lips through your panties, up and down over your slit, and then when you circle over your clit finally, your back arches off the bed and you sigh heavily. The pleasure is so much more acute now — is it because of the camera? Because you know that Agatha is going to fuck herself later to this?

“There you go, honey,” your wife says approvingly. There’s a wild look in her eyes and her hands are twitching like she’s dying to touch her cock. The tip is even more red now, and you can see beads of liquid collecting and dripping onto the floor. Your hips jolt when you press down harder on your clit. “Take your underwear off and tease your entrance — but don’t go inside just yet.” 

You have to peel your panties off your sopping wet pussy and you teasingly toss them over to her. She catches them and lets out a surprised groan when she actually feels them. 

And then she lifts them to her nose and breathes in the scent of your wetness and your clit pulses. You try to focus on her instructions and glide a finger through your folds, molten hot and dripping. You dip into your pussy and then withdraw. You repeat and whimper at how good you know it’s going to feel when she finally lets you fuck yourself. 

“Slide one finger in slowly,” she demands and your head drops back as you do, the stretch nowhere near enough but still feeling delicious. Your walls immediately clench down around it and you moan. 

When you look back at Agatha, your hips roll of their own accord — she’s started stroking her cock with your underwear. You can see how she’s glistening with your wetness and she thrusts every few times like she can’t control it. 

“Mommy, can you…” Pleasure swims in your mind when you curl your finger and it interrupts your thoughts for a second. “Want you to be in the video, too.” You want to watch it back and see her as well.

Agatha inhales sharply. “Yeah, okay, babygirl. Whatever you want.” And then she steps around the iPad and comes into view of the shot, standing near the side of the bed so you can see each other more clearly. 

Her cock bobs up and down and you time your thrusts inside you with each of her strokes so you can imagine it’s her inside you. 

“Put another finger in,” she rasps and starts to speed up, your underwear moving frictionlessly over her with how wet it is. 

The addition of a second finger makes you groan loudly and you can’t even tell if you’re trying to show off for the camera or not. Everything is so much more heightened now. 

She makes you fuck yourself like that for about ten minutes, every now and then telling you to fuck yourself faster, babygirl and slow down, sweetheart and fuck, honey, you look so fucking hot for mommy. 

You’re a complete mess now, absolutely ruined and babbling incoherently, soaking the sheets beneath you. Your orgasm has been steadily building this whole time and you know it won’t be much longer before you cum. 

Agatha is also close by the looks of it; she’s completely flushed, her chest and neck tinted the prettiest pink, and her cock is leaking even more, her hips moving more sporadically. The ache inside you isn’t going away — it’s only getting worse the more you look at her. 

“Mommy,” you whine, needing to feel your wife on you more than anything. “Please, please fuck me.” 

“I know, baby,” she pants. “Just a second, let mommy move the camera.” And god, it makes you throb when she grabs the stand and angles it perpendicularly to the bed. 

And then she climbs on the bed and situates herself between your open legs and leans over you so she can drag her cock through your soaked folds. The gasp she lets out drives you crazy and you keen when she rubs her tip against your clit. 

“Beg for mommy,” she says, hair falling down over her face as she bites her lip. She positions herself right at your opening. 

“I need you so bad, please fill me up, please fuck me, I need you so bad, mommy —” She pushes into you in one motion and your mouth drops open. Your walls immediately clamp down around her and she groans at the feeling. 

It’s exactly what you need and when she starts to move, soft sounds fall from your lips with every thrust. 

She twitches inside you when you pull her down for a quick kiss. “God, I can’t wait to watch this,” she grunts and it makes you clench. Her hips stutter. “You’re so good, such a good slut for me. Taking my cock like a superstar. Fuck, honey, I’m going to watch the video everyday, gonna figure out how to make it my home screen.” 

The thought of Agatha opening up her phone to immediately see you being fucked by her makes you moan gutteraly and she huffs out a laugh. “Mommy, please.” 

“Fuck, baby, you really like this, don’t you?” You nod your head quickly under her and her cock throbs inside you. You’re so fucking close. She feels so good inside you, her cock dragging deliciously against your walls, and hitting that spot inside you that she always does. 

Pleasure is rolling over your body in waves and you lift your hips to meet each of her thrusts. It’s never been this intense before and you can’t believe you never thought to try filming sex before. 

Agatha’s rhythm starts to falter inside you, she’s cursing, short of breath. She reaches between you to rub at your clit with two fingers and it makes you sob with how good it feels. 

“Agatha, I’m so close,” you whine, beg. She ruts into you urgently, like she’s about to cum but needs to make sure you get there too, and she scrapes her teeth against your collarbone with a sharp thrust and presses on your clit and you explode, your orgasm tearing through your body and absolutely blowing your mind. 

Your walls convulse around her and she stiffens, her breathing tightening, and then she lets out a long moan and you feel her pulse before her seed spreads through your cunt. You gasp at the warmth and Agatha collapses on top of you. 

She lays there until she starts to soften before pulling out. Her cum starts to trickle out of your swollen pussy and you grind against nothing at the sensation but Agatha quickly jumps off the bed and grabs the iPad off the camera. 

You gasp when you figure out what she’s doing — Agatha holds your legs open and holds the camera down close to your pussy. 

“Spread your folds,” she directs, but without any of the authority she usually has. You reach down and do as she asks, more of her cum oozing out as you do. She swears under your breath. “Make yourself messy.” 

You know what she means. You collect the wetness between your legs, both hers and your own, and start to stroke it all over your cunt. 

“Fuck, honey, just like that,” she says and you rub your clit again, your body jerking under your own touch. “Clean your fingers.” 

And then she lifts the camera to film you sucking your two cum-covered fingers into your mouth. You moan at the taste of both of you and Agatha looks like she might ravish you all over again. 

The iPad gets tossed somewhere else on the bed and she leans over to kiss you before crawling down your body and cleans out her cum from inside you with her tongue.

Agatha doesn’t stop until she’s made you cum three more times. 

When you wake up in the morning, there’s a pleasant soreness in between your legs and the sheets are still slightly damp. Light has started to stream in through the curtains on the large windows and you roll onto your side to find that it’s 8 am. 

You have to be at the airport in an hour. 

“Fuck,” you curse and jump out of bed, rushing around to get dressed and throw some clothes into a suitcase. With the end of the film, you haven’t had much time to get ready for this trip, and you are sorely regretting it now. 

Agatha stirs while you’re trying to find the black dress for the cocktail party you have to go to in New York and mumbles something. You pause and wait for her to repeat herself. “Why don’t you come back to bed?” she asks suggestively, picking her head up to watch you. 

“Babe, I have to be at the airport in an hour,” you say apologetically. “How do you still have energy after last night?” 

Agatha chuckles and gets out of bed, coming over to wrap her arms around your shoulders from behind. You can feel her semi-erection through your suit pants. “I just always want to fuck you,” she murmurs into your ear and you debate whether or not you have enough time. 

In the end, logic wins and you twist in her arms to give her a quick peck on the lips. “I’m sorry. When I get back I’ll make it up to you. Plus,” you say, eyebrows raising mischievously, “you have that video from last night.” The memory of making it heats through you — Agatha directing you on how to touch yourself. 

You will definitely need to revisit that in the future. 

But it does very little to quell Agatha’s lust and she grumbles as she goes to get dressed. “Maybe, when you get back, I’ll make you cockwarm me while we watch our little home movie and if you make one move, I won’t let you cum for a week.” 

The idea runs straight through you right into your cunt and you seriously debate saying fuck it to New York entirely. 

But an hour later, Agatha’s pulling up to the airport to drop you off and giving you a tight hug while she whispers in her ear how much she loves you. 

You miss her the second you walk into the terminal, but you try to focus on preparing for your trip. There’s a few dinners, meetings, and parties that you’re expected to attend, just to get to know the right people for the next project that you could potentially be in. You know the other actresses being considered will also be there, so you need to be on your A-game. 

And you’re able to focus for the entire plane ride, memorizing parts of the script they gave you, and when you land, you pull out your phone to text Agatha that you made it, only to find that she’s already messaged you a few times. 

I miss you already, honey. 

Hope you have a great time in NY! I know they’ll love you. 

I wish I didn’t have to be here for this stupid meeting. I’d have loved to be there with you. 

The first ones make you smile at how sweet your wife can be. But then the next couple are enough to reignite the fire in your stomach from earlier. 

I miss your pussy, babygirl. 

Can’t wait for you to come home so I can taste you. 

Fuck, baby, mommy is so hard for you. 

You’re too caught up in the messages to realize that your row is moving and the person in the middle seat taps your shoulder to get your attention. You startle and mutter an apology, hoping he didn’t accidentally see anything she sent you. 

As you’re getting checked into the hotel, you get another text from your wife and the second you open it, you have to slam your phone down on the receptionist’s desk. She gives you a weird look but you pretend not to see it. 

Watching the video — mommy loves watching her cum drip out of you. Fuck, honey. I’m going crazy. 

Your heart is pounding, blood rushing to your cheeks, and you quickly take your room key and hurry up to the room. You press the call button and put your phone on speaker so you can start unpacking. 

Agatha answers immediately. “Hey, sweetheart,” she says, the most casual you’ve ever heard, and you clench your jaw. 

“Agatha, what are you doing? I haven’t even been gone six hours. You’re going to kill the both of us!” 

Her low chuckle makes you squeeze your legs together involuntarily. “I’m actually all right, baby. Remember that fleshlight you got me as a gag gift last Christmas?” 

Fuck. “Agatha,” you say warningly. You have to be at a steakhouse in about thirty minutes — you don’t have time for her to get you all worked up. You were so distracted this morning you didn’t even bring any of your toys with you either. 

“Of course it’s not as good as the real thing,” she sighs, and you can hear a soft slapping noise on the other side. You feel dizzy with heat. 

“Are you…” you trail off, not even sure you could say the rest out loud. Could you pretend to be sick tonight? 

Agatha lets out a little moan and you’re sure it must be for show, just to rub it in. “Fucking this toy and pretending it’s your pussy?”

You can’t stop the gasp that escapes your lips and you have to sit down on the bed. “Fuck, mommy,” you whine and she laughs cruelly. 

“Don’t you have that dinner to get ready for?” she asks and with a sinking feeling in your stomach, you know what’s going to happen. You hum, almost wishing you would’ve lied. Agatha grunts, the slapping sound speeding up, and you have to close your eyes. “Well, I’ll leave you to it, then. Love you.” 

She hangs up before you can protest and you’re forced to get into the shower, the heat in your stomach burning more than the water, and your hand makes its way between your legs to furiously rub your clit. 

You cum in about three minutes. 

You can barely focus at dinner with the thought of her using a fleshlight, one that you got her as a joke nonetheless. Her hard thrusts into the toy, picturing your mouth or pussy. 

When you finally get back to the hotel, you’re absolutely exhausted. The travel, being teased by Agatha, and now that dinner where you had to pretend like your body wasn’t screaming for you to get on a plane and go home to your wife wiped you out, and you barely press send on a goodnight text to her before you’re passed out. 

The next few days pass in a blur with events jam-packed into your schedule and you hardly have any time to talk to Agatha. She’s good for the most part, with the occasional dirty text every now and then. 

But on your second-to-last day in New York, she starts to play a different game. 

You’re sightseeing, checking out the American Museum of Natural History, when your phone buzzes. It’s a video from Agatha. 

You don’t really think much and you click on it and your jaw drops as your entire body freezes. 

It starts out shaky and it takes a few moments for it to focus, Agatha clearly in the middle of something. And then it points down and you see Agatha fucking the fleshlight. 

Turn your phone off your brain screams. But it’s as if you’re stuck, your eyes glued to the screen to watch her thrust over and over into the silicone toy. She’s holding it with her left hand, her phone in her right, and her hips are driving her cock into the fake pussy hard. You can almost feel her cock inside you, as if the toy and you are connected. 

She’s going faster and you wish more than anything you weren’t out in public so you could turn up the volume and hear her moaning, hear if she’s saying anything. It cuts off right as she’s about to cum. You have no doubt that you will be very busy with the video once you get back to your room. 

And by the time you get back to the hotel, she’s sent you another one. Luckily, you don’t have anything for two hours, so you’re free to do whatever you want. 

You’re almost afraid to click on it, and you shimmy off your jeans and underwear preemptively. You’ve been worked up for so long and you’ve barely had a chance to touch yourself and you breathe a sigh of relief when your fingers press against your clit. 

Clicking on the new video, your pussy spasms when you realize what you’re watching. 

Agatha has the iPad set up on the table, the video of you two open and playing. It’s strange to see your own face contorted with pleasure on film while Agatha tells you how to touch yourself. 

And then in the lower half of the video she just sent is her, thrusting into the fleshlight again. 

“Fuck,” you whisper. She’s fucking the toy while watching you fuck yourself. You turn the volume all the way up so you don’t miss anything and her little grunts with each drive only turn you on more. 

Your wetness makes a squelching sound when you drag your fingers up and down through your folds and when you come back up to circle at your clit, there’s almost no friction. 

“God, babygirl, mommy can’t wait for you to come back,” Agatha groans and it makes your heart skip a beat. On the iPad, Agatha has slid her cock into you and you’re in awe at how hot it is watching yourself get fucked. 

It becomes quite clear to you that Agatha’s idea of having you cockwarm her while watching this video would not bode well for you. There is absolutely no way you’d be able to stay still, as evidenced by your squirming hips grinding against your hand right now. 

Agatha takes her cock out of the fleshlight, puts it down, and strokes her hand quickly over it and a flash of heat bolts through you when you see it glistening. And then she places the toy on the table and teases her tip against the opening, sliding it up and down, you keen and your back arches off the bed. 

All you’re doing is touching your clit a little. 

On the iPad, Agatha’s speeding up and you’re whimpering underneath her. In the video you just got, she starts to slowly push her cock back into the fleshlight. 

In your hotel room, you shove two fingers inside you, moaning at the stretch, and begin to thrust in time with Agatha, who is thrusting in time with the video you made. 

“Fuck, honey, I need your pussy,” she babbles and you curl your fingers just right, a moan slipping out of your mouth. “Can’t wait to fuck you when you come back, can’t wait to fill you up.” 

Her thrusts are becoming shallower into the toy, her sounds getting louder, and you’re right there with her. 

You’re determined not to cum before she does, even though it’s a video and you could speed it up to cum with her. But you don’t want to miss a thing. 

Turns out, you don’t have to wait too long, because when Agatha on the iPad moves the camera close to your pussy after she came inside you, her cum gushing out of you, that’s it for your wife. 

“You feel so good,” Agatha says on the video before letting out a long moan and thrusting roughly one more time into the fleshlight. She stiffens and grunts and then pulls her cock out and lowers her phone so you can see her cum still spurting out onto the lips of the fleshlight. 

That makes you cum almost immediately and you clamp a hand over your mouth so you don’t get any neighbors in the hotel wondering what you’re up to. 

The video ends shortly after that and leaves you gasping for breath on the bed. You type out a quick Can’t wait to get home tomorrow and hit send. Thankfully, your plane leaves in the morning so you’ll be home soon.

Agatha immediately sends you back a wink emoji and then an eggplant emoji, making you laugh. 

After the last dinner, you watch the video again and make yourself cum two more times. 

It’s been the longest week of your life, and when the agent for the franchise drops you off at the airport, you barely remember to shake her hand. 

“We’ll be in touch,” she says. “But between you and me, I think you have a very good shot of getting this part.” 

Even through the horny fog in your mind, you realize just how big of a deal this is and you can’t wait to tell Agatha. 

You call her while you’re waiting to board and tell her. 

“Honey, that is amazing,” she gushes and your heart swells. Agatha has been your number one cheerleader since you met. 

“You know I’d be spending a lot of time in New York. If you could barely last a week, imagine how hard that would be,” you joke. 

Agatha snorts. “I’d come visit you all the time. Or I’ll just quit my job and become your trophy wife.” 

The thought of the legendary director quitting her job for anyone makes you laugh. “Yeah, yeah. Got to get on the plane, Mrs. Harkness. I’ll see you in a few hours.” 

“I can’t wait, baby,” she says, her voice dropping an octave and making your stomach warm. 

The entire plane ride, you can’t stop thinking about Agatha — about her hands, her mouth, her legs, her cock. 

Would anyone notice if you pulled up that video again? Maybe you could go to the bathroom. With how you’re feeling right now, you wouldn’t need more than a few minutes. 

And it only gets worse when you finally land and a car is already waiting for you to take you back. Excitement vibrates under your skin as you get closer to your house and you have to fan yourself to calm down. You can already feel your underwear sticking to you uncomfortably — lacy purple lingerie you brought on the trip just so you could wear it home. 

When the car pulls into your driveway, you tip the driver and try to walk up to the door as slowly as possible, not wanting to seem too urgent. 

The front door opens right when you get there and your wife is standing there, two glasses of red wine in her hand, casual pants and a tank top on, hair in a loose ponytail. You’re not sure she’s ever looked so hot. 

“Hi,” you breathe, shutting the door behind you and leaning in for a quick kiss. Agatha deepens it and presses a glass into your hand and you take a long gulp. 

“How was the flight?” she asks, sipping on her own wine. You drop the suitcase in the foyer and walk into your living room before plopping down on the white couch. She follows and sits next to you, her thigh touching yours. 

Your heart is pumping so fast and you couldn’t care less about the flight because you’re finally here, with her. So you take her wine glass and put it on the coffee table with yours before climbing into her lap and kissing her roughly. 

She makes a slightly surprised “oomph” before her tongue is in your mouth, entangling with yours, her hands creeping under your shirt and stroking up and down the skin of your sides. Her fingers are cold and they make you gasp. 

“I missed you so much,” you murmur against her mouth and grind down hard on her rapidly growing bulge. She hisses and digs her fingernails into you. “You fucking tortured me.” 

She laughs breathlessly, tugging on your bottom lip with her teeth. “I thought the video would help. It just made it so much fucking worse,” she admits and your entire body heats up. “I was so lonely — so horny — fuck, baby.” She loses her train of thought when you kiss down her neck and nip. 

“I need your cock so bad,” you whimper, having thought of little else for the last twenty-four hours. You slide off her lap and onto the floor between her legs, your body moving faster than your mind, and you’re undoing her pants before either of you realize what you’re doing. 

You pull her cock out and lick up the length with your flattened tongue and the sound she makes, somewhere between a gasp and a groan, goes straight to your cunt. She slouches more onto the couch so it’s easier for you to start lathering your saliva all over her. Her hips thrust up every now and then, and when you take the tip in and hollow your cheeks out, her ass fully lifts off the couch. 

“God, honey, you suck mommy’s cock so well,” she whimpers and it spurs you on to go further down. There’s an ache in your stomach already and you can feel your wetness on your upper thighs. 

Agatha’s hand tangles in your hair, but just rests and lets you go at your own pace. You can feel her twitch against your tongue and you suck harder. 

“Baby, god, fuck — you’re so hot, mommy loves your mouth,” Agatha rambles and she throbs when her cock hits the back of your throat and you gag, tightening around her. She’s not going to last long, you can feel her pulsing and swelling, her cock growing heavier on your tongue. You think you could cum right now if you touched yourself. 

You look up at her through your eyelashes and she groans like she’s in pain and then you pull your mouth off her, gasping for breath, while strands of spit still connect your lips to her cock. “Use me, mommy,” you say hoarsely and her hips involuntarily jump. “Fuck my mouth.” 

This time, when you take her cock again, she thrusts her cock deep into your throat over and over. The only sounds in the room are you gagging and her moaning. 

“Fuck, honey, I’m going to cum,” she pants and you nod slightly before trying to say something around her cock. But the vibrations against her feel too good and she stiffens before spurts of her cum fill your mouth. She slows her thrusts while she pumps her seed down your throat and you take it all, groaning at the somewhat salty taste. 

She pulls out, cock soft, and slumps onto the couch and you wipe a strand of cum off your lip and suck it from your finger. You shift on your knees and she tracks the motion with her eyes, smirking wickedly. 

“I always forget how hot and bothered sucking my cock gets you,” she purrs and then jerks her head to the couch. “Take your clothes off and lay down.” 

You swallow roughly and get to your feet before teasing her by slowly taking your clothes off. Her fingers dig into the couch beneath her and her limp cock twitches just a bit when you reveal that you’re wearing her favorite lingerie. She’s always been able to recover relatively quickly and your mouth waters at the thought that, soon enough, you’ll have her inside you. 

Once you’re naked, you settle on your back, one leg up over the pillows and your other foot resting on the floor, baring your dripping cunt to her. The look in her eyes is positively ravenous and she tosses the hair that’s come loose from her hair tie over her shoulder before situating herself so that she’s on her knees in front of you. 

And then she leans down and runs her tongue through your folds — which are practically fused together with how wet you are — and you keen. 

“Mommy,” you gasp, back arching. She chuckles against you and the feeling makes you moan. “I need you, please.” 

She teases you a little, her tongue circling around your clit but never quite touching it, and your hips grind up to try to get just a little more stimulation. One of her hands trails up your body to pinch your nipple right as she sucks on your clit and you’ve never made such a high-pitched sound in your life. 

Your noise drags a strangled moan from her mouth and her hips jerk. She starts to devour you, her tongue lashing against your clit and then thrusting inside you as far as she can go. Her other hand digs into your thigh, holding it open and using it for leverage just the same. 

It takes you a little bit to notice what she’s doing — her hot mouth on your pussy has made your brain go completely fuzzy — but when you pick up on her flattened out body on the couch and her ass flexing in a steady rhythm, you clench violently around her tongue. 

Agatha is grinding her cock against the couch. Eating you out for three minutes has gotten her so hard that she’s desperately getting any stimulation that she can. 

Her fingers continue to tug and roll your nipple and her mouth is furiously lapping at your cunt and you can feel yourself getting so close. 

“Please, mommy, Agatha, I’m —” you whine and her hand on your leg removes itself before she quickly slides two fingers into you while she rubs her tongue against your clit. Your walls bear down immediately around her and she curls them up and presses deep inside you. It makes you sob and your hips move on their own accord to chase the orgasm that is about to wash over you. 

Agatha’s thrusts against the couch are getting more and more sloppy and she’s moaning against your cunt like she’s never been more content in her life. Your breathing becomes short and shallow and tingles spread through your entire body. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna—” You can’t even finish your sentence before she sucks roughly on your clit and sends you right over the edge. Your vision goes white for a second, completely overwhelmed with pleasure as she keeps fucking you through your orgasm. She doesn’t stop, and although you have no doubt you’d be able to cum again in no time at all, it’s been too long without her cock inside you. 

You tug at her hair weakly until she finally stops and looks up at you, her nose and the entire bottom half of her face absolutely coated with your wetness. Heat flares through your stomach and you almost shove her right back down between your legs. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” Agatha coos and you whimper at her sweet voice. “Do you need more? Do you need mommy’s cock?” 

When you nod eagerly, Agatha grins and crawls back up to her knees and you moan when you see her cock. It’s just as hard as it was before — maybe even harder? Is that possible? — and so red. It looks almost painful. 

She bends over you and slides her cock against your entrance, both of you letting out heavy sighs of relief. “Wait,” you choke out, and she stops. You need to feel her deeper. 

You turn over from your position on your back and get on your knees and elbows so that your ass is straight up in the air. Agatha sharply inhales and her hands cup your asscheeks before giving each one a little spank simultaneously. 

Agatha drags her cock through your folds and then circles your clit with it, the feeling of her skin against yours making you keen. 

And then she pushes into you, your mouth dropping open in a silent moan. Agatha mews once she bottoms out and holds still for a second, savoring the feeling of your walls milking her. 

She starts to move, not even giving you a chance to adjust before setting a fast pace, her hips making a sound every time they slap against your ass. She’s filling you up so good, hitting a spot so deep inside you that makes you gasp each time, and your head drops to rest on your elbows while you start to push back against her thrusts. 

Her pace stutters when you clench around her and she grabs onto your hips so tightly that your chest warms at the possibility of having bruises so you can remember just how good she fucked you. She practically slams you back and forth on her cock and there are no other thoughts in your head, no other words you can say, besides “Mommy!” 

“I know, babygirl,” she rasps. “You’re taking my cock so well — fuck, I think this pussy was made for me. You were made for mommy’s cock, weren’t you?” 

“Yes, god, yes, I was,” you pant, letting her completely use you. It’s like she’s just fucking her fleshlight and, god, that shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does. 

She spanks your ass again and the familiar feeling of your orgasm rises steadily in your stomach. You can feel Agatha’s cock throbbing inside you with each thrust, can hear her groans become less restrained as she loses composure for the second time, and you need more. 

Your hand snakes down between your body and couch to rub at your clit and your walls instantly clench around Agatha. 

“Fuck, babygirl, mommy’s about to cum,” she gasps and it only drives you closer. 

You press on your clit while her drives become short and fast, effectively knocking the wind out of you every time. “Cum inside me, mommy, want you to breed me,” you breathe and she falters for a second, a loud, guttural moan tearing from her lips, before recovering and fucking you even harder. 

“Yeah, honey, mommy’s gonna breed you,” she babbles in agreement, an urgency you usually don’t hear from her lacing her tone. When you fuck, she usually does cum inside you anyway, but there’s something about asking her to breed you that turns you on beyond words. Seems like it has a similar effect on her too. 

Tears gather in your eyes as she keeps thrusting into you and you’re not even aware that you’re cumming before your body spasms and jerks around her, and you keep frantically rubbing your clit to prolong the feeling spreading through you. 

Your pussy convulses around her and she stills, grunting lowly, and then her cock stutters a few times inside you before pulsing and you whimper at the feeling of her cum spreading through you, and fuck, you’re so full. 

Agatha stays inside you for a few moments, both of you enjoying the feeling, before pulling out. You curse under your breath when her cum oozes out of you in globs and Agatha runs and grabs a towel to clean you up. 

You swear when she rubs the towel over your pussy, she brushes against your clit on purpose, and it makes you wince. You’re already sensitive from your two explosive orgasms and you don’t know if you could take anymore. 

She helps you stand and the two of you walk up the stairs together, whispering sweet nothings and exchanging soft kisses, and then once you get to your room, Agatha turns on the shower while you sit on the edge of the tub and wait for it to warm up. 

“I think next time you leave, I should come with you no matter what so I can fuck you every night for the rest of our lives,” she jokes and you laugh. 

“Why did we even make that sex tape then?” you tease. 

Her eyebrows wiggle teasingly and she comes closer to you and tugs you off the tub. “I seem to remember you liking that quite a bit. Plus, now when I’m at work and I get bored, I can just pull out my phone and watch what a good slut you are for me.” 

Despite you being completely worn out, there’s no ignoring the heat that runs through when she says that. “God, you’re insatiable,” you say, mockingly dropping your jaw, and she chuckles before kissing your lips. 

And then she opens the door to the shower for you both to get in and sinks to her knees in front of you. You gasp. 

“You love it,” she says before licking through your swollen pussy and you have to lean back against the wall. 

God forbid they give you more than two seconds after graduating college to figure out the rest of your life. All you know is that you want to have a free summer so you can do whatever you want, whenever you want, with no responsibilities or school or work to worry about. You’re owed at least that. 

You plaster a smile onto your face. “I’m going to probably take a small break, maybe a gap year, and then apply for my Masters.” 

A lie, or maybe not. You don't know yet.

It’s a distant relative you’re talking to, a cousin a few times removed that you haven’t seen in a few years, but for your grad party, your parents pulled out all the stops and invited as many people as they could. It’s a party at their house and guests have been trickling in and out for the past two hours. 

Only one more hour of The Question to go. 

“Don’t take too long in between,” your cousin advises solemnly. “Super hard to get that motivation back.” 

You nod. “That’s what everyone says.” 

There’s people hovering in your periphery, just waiting to talk to you. You told your parents you didn’t want a big thing but of course, this was more about showing their daughter off to everyone rather than actually giving you the small get-together you actually asked for. 

All you want is a break. 

Or someone interesting for you to talk to. 

As if on cue, the front door opens and in walks Agnes O’Connor, one of your mom’s best friends. She’s a detective and you’ve had the hots for her ever since she pulled you over your sophomore year of college for not coming to a complete stop at a stop sign. She had ultimately turned you down after you had flirted for a bit—you could tell she was thinking about it, at least—but she didn’t give you a ticket. A good sign.

That's actually how she met your mom, after you had exaggerated just a little when you told your parents about getting pulled over and your mom had flown into the station in a rage, hellbent on finding the woman who had “accosted” her darling daughter. 

Agnes had explained what really happened—although she left out the flirting; another good sign—and for some reason, that’s what made them click. 

You watch her look around the crowd of people and you lock eyes. She raises a brow and you wink. 

Just because she turned you down the first time, and the second time, and all the other times you’ve tried, doesn’t mean you stop. She’s fun to tease, even if you know it’s probably not going anywhere ever. Plus you see the heat in her eyes, the way she checks you out when she thinks you're not looking. She wants you just as bad, she just has a harder time admitting it to herself.

Agnes walks over into the kitchen where platters of subs, chicken nuggets, and fruit are laid out and she picks up a plate. Her long, dark hair is tied back and she’s wearing a royal-blue checkered shirt with navy pants and black boots. Your vision is glued to the subtle swaying of her ass in those pants that fit her just right and someone says something to you that you completely miss. 

She grabs a sandwich and spoons some watermelon onto her plate and then takes a beer. You feel hope rising in your chest that she’ll come over and save you, but much to your chagrin, she walks over and finds your mom. They strike up a conversation and you’re left having to answer The Question again. 

This time, you tell them that you’re going to try to find a job and the couple says, “Good luck.” You know what that means—you’re not finding a good job right out of college and you better get your ass back in school. 

All of your friends are outside, actually having a good time. You long to join them, but your mom will kill you if you disappear into the backyard, or anywhere. You’ve thought about making a break to your room a few times, but she always stares you down like she knows exactly what you’re thinking and she’s just daring you to try. 

But then Agnes touches your mom’s arm, whispers something in her ear, and walks right past you into the sitting room at the front of the house. It has doors and she’ll be the only one in there. 

“Will you excuse me?” you say to the person you’re talking to now—a neighbor of your parents, maybe a friend of your dad’s—and avoid your mom’s eye contact as you follow Agnes into the room. 

Just as you suspected, it’s only Agnes, and she’s sitting on the gray couch against the wall, right in the middle. Her legs are spread just a bit, the plate of half-eaten food on the end table next to her, and her beer in hand. 

“Thanks for coming, Agnes,” you say as you close the door behind you. She smirks and rakes her eyes over the crop top and definitely too-short jean shorts you’re wearing. “Were you expecting someone in here?” 

She gives you a crooked, wry smile. “Just wanted a little break from the festivities.” It’s not a definitive “yes, I wanted you to follow me,” but you can read between the lines. 

You grin and cross the room in a few long strides and slide right onto her lap sideways, so your thighs are perpendicular on top of hers. You steal the beer bottle and take a swig. 

“Congrats, kid,” she says in a gruff voice and she shifts beneath you. Her lashes are long and you’re so close you think you could count them. Her blue eyes are deep and full of something. You can see her pupils expanding. 

“Aren’t you going to ask me what I’m doing after graduation?” you simper and hand the bottle back to her. 

She huffs and takes it and ignores your fingers blatantly brushing against hers. “Figured you’ve been drowning in that question.” 

You shrug with a coy smile playing on your lips. “I’d happily answer anything you ask.” 

Agnes shifts again and you bite your lip. There’s a hardness—or at least a semi-hardness—in her pants that’s now pressing into your thigh. 

Her cock. 

The outline has been visible before and it makes your head foggy and your cunt wet. You’re not sure when the last time you came not thinking about it was. 

You push your leg further into her cock and she grimaces, but she doesn’t pull away. You can hear people outside talking and you can’t remember if you locked the door. You’re friendly with Agnes in front of others—albeit, not sit-on-her-lap friendly—so it wouldn’t be super damning if someone were to walk in right now, but you don’t want to be interrupted. 

“Did you get me a gift?” you ask teasingly, but there’s no mistaking the heat in your voice. 

Agnes takes a deep breath and she takes a sip of beer before resting the bottle on your thigh. It’s cold and your chest flares. “There’s a card on the gift table. Wrote in it that you shouldn't roll through stop signs.” 

“If it gets you to pull me over again, Agnes, I’d do anything,” you say sweetly and she rolls her eyes fondly. As much as she puts up a front, you know she secretly likes you like this. “But I know something else you can give me.” You wink, just so she knows exactly what you mean, and she scoffs. 

“I’m best friends with your mom and you’re like twenty-five years younger than me,” Agnes points out, as if you can’t feel her erection right now. 

“So?” you breathe, pushing your leg harder against her cock and she presses the bottle harder into your leg with a glare. “Don’t act like that doesn’t turn you on. I can feel you.”  

Agnes grits her teeth. The lines on her face are hardened and you want to drag your tongue over them. “You need to go back out to your party, kid. Your parents will be mad.” But her resolve is weakening, you can tell. 

“Please, Agnes?” you say, giving her puppy-dog eyes. She refuses to look at you so you get out of her lap and sink to your knees on the white carpet in front of her. 

Now she does look at you and there’s no denying the heat in her pupils. You put your hands on her knees and drag them up her thighs until your right hand is right below her bulge. 

“Let me give you what you need,” you plead, taking a chance and laying your fingers over her length. She jolts and bites her lip. 

It’s her, in the end, that unbuckles her belt and unzips her pants for you. She doesn’t take them off, just opens them enough for you to eagerly reach into her boxers and wrap your fingers around her. 

She groans quietly when you pull her out and you’re surprised she made it this long without fucking you if this is the reaction you have on her. Her cock is standing tall in the air, rigid and leaking, and blue veins stretch from the base to right under the head. 

“Oh, fuck,” you whisper and it’s echoed by her when you start slowly moving your hand up and down her length. You collect the liquid beading at the top to reduce the friction and it works because Agnes’s head drops back onto the couch and her eyes flutter shut from just your hand. 

“I shouldn’t fucking want you this bad,” she spits out, almost as if she’s angry at herself for it, and you chuckle sweetly before rubbing your thumb over her tip. Her hips jerk up. “Your mom would kill me.” 

It should be a turnoff, her mentioning your mother, but something about the forbidden nature of this—and Agnes bringing it up as you're stroking her cock—makes your cunt ache even more. 

“What would she say if she knew you fucked her daughter?” you ask and twist your wrist so she can’t answer the question. She clamps a hand over her mouth because if she makes a loud sound, your mom will know. 

“I don’t fucking care right now,” Agnes growls and a thrill runs through you. She’s leaking copious amounts of precum right now and it’s getting all over your hand and the only thing you want to do is taste her. 

She watches your mouth get closer to her cock and her breathing becomes short and shallow like she can’t actually believe what you’re about to do. 

Your tongue darts out to flick the head and Agnes gasps. You smile up at her and then enclose your lips around her before sucking gently. She moans and it’s muffled by her hand as she struggles to keep eye contact. 

Her hand buries into your hair when you start to move further down her cock, always bobbing back up to give yourself a break and some time, and her fingers tighten but never push. She’s being gentle, even though you can feel the restraint in her thighs. 

One of your hands strokes the bottom half of her cock while you mouth at the top part, dragging your tongue filthily over the tip and tasting the salty precum. You moan softly around her and she screws her eyes shut at the vibrations. 

Agnes is having a really hard time staying quiet and you’re loving every second of it. You almost want her to make noise just so you can know how much you’re affecting her, but her cock is twitching and pulsing and throbbing on your tongue, so you have a good idea. 

There’s an ocean between your legs and you’re a bit worried you’ve soaked through your underwear and shorts. Your entire body is humming with energy and you’ve never felt so alive, even when you take Agnes’s cock all the way down and you feel it hitting the back of your throat. You gag and spit flies out of your mouth and gets on your chin and the bottom of her flannel, but she just whimpers lowly and tugs at your hair as encouragement. 

Her hips thrust up, pushing her cock over and over into your mouth, and more precum is dripping onto your tongue, which you rub on the underside of her length. Her legs spasm and she sharply inhales. 

“Fuck, you’re good at this,” she pants and you chuckle as much as you can with her cock in your mouth, which only makes her whine more. You lose yourself in sucking on her, closing your eyes and getting more enthusiastic with your movements, and you think she’s about to come very soon. 

You open your eyes and look up at her through your hooded lashes and she groans at how you look with her dick in your mouth. The only sounds in the room are her quiet but heavy breathing and your slurping sounds and you wish you were able to hear her falling apart for you properly. 

Maybe next time. 

Your throat is raw but your clit is aching and if you don’t get some relief soon, you’re not sure what will happen. And you have to go back out to your party after this. 

That’s enough for you to pull back with a pop and it takes a moment for the strands connecting your swollen lips to her wet and messy cock to break. You stand up while she watches you, too dazed out with pleasure to ask what you’re doing, and shimmy off your shorts. 

Agnes’s cock lurches forward and spills precum on her shirt when she sees the purple underwear you have on underneath. Can she see how wet they are from there? You can certainly feel it. 

“Do you have—”

She knows what you’re asking for before you finish and she reaches into her back pocket and pulls out a gold, square packet. 

You smirk. “Do you always come over to my house with a condom or were you just feeling lucky today?” 

Agnes doesn’t answer; she just tears the wrapper open with her teeth and rolls it onto her cock. You ache for her, you long to feel her inside you, so the moment the condom is on, you’re straddling her lap again, only this time, facing her. 

Her tongue pokes between her teeth as she reaches down between you to pull your panties to the side and then position her cock at your entrance. Even the slight pressure brings you pleasure and you can only imagine what she’ll feel like inside you. 

You move down slowly, pausing after the tip slides inside to adjust to the girth—she’s big, bigger than you realized even when you were sucking her off. Her head drops back again and your forehead falls onto her shoulder, your mouth open-breathing against her flannel as you take her in. Your walls stretch to accommodate and it burns in the best way and you whimper when you feel her finally all inside you. There’s a feeling you’ve never felt before in your stomach, almost like you have to pee, because of how deep her cock is. 

“Fuck, Agnes,” you whine into her shirt and her hands grip onto your hips to hold you still. You can feel her pulsing and she’s holding her breath like she’s afraid to let too much out. 

When you pull back, you see her bottom lip is sucked in between her teeth and the vein in her forehead is throbbing. There’s a pink tint to her cheeks. She’s never looked so hot to you right now. 

“You feel so fucking good,” she groans, voice rough as gravel, and it sends tingles down your spine; you unconsciously clench around her. “Your cunt is so tight. So fucking wet.” 

You nod, not able to put how good she’s filling you into words, and you need to start moving. 

Her fingers dig into your hips when you lift yourself back up, putting your hands around her shoulders to stabilize yourself, and you feel her cock drag against every groove inside your pussy. It’s delicious and mind-blowing and this is the best thing you ever could’ve gotten. 

What are your plans for after graduation? 

Agnes. 

Both of your mouths drop open when you start to slide back down her cock and your warm, wet walls are once again wrapped around her. 

“We really shouldn’t be doing this,” Agnes says sternly, but thrusts her hips up so she hits even deeper inside you and that’s the message you choose to listen to.

She gasps when you grind on her and then swirl your hips around and it feels like her cock is swelling inside you. 

Her nails scrape against your skin and you stop going slow because both of you need this so insanely much right now. You start riding her, fast and hard and determined, and she bucks up to meet you each time. 

It’s getting harder to stay silent and you reach down to tug at her left hand and pull it up and around your throat. Her eyes flash, her breath catches, and her rhythm stutters and you’re worried for a second that you’ve gone too far, but her fingers tighten around you, not too much, but just enough to make your thoughts blur. 

The light pressure makes your gasps more breathy, but they’re definitely quieter and Agnes’s lip starts to bleed from how hard she’s biting it while watching you move up and down. You arch your back on the way up and her hand still on your hip claws at you. 

Your walls are clenching furiously, spasming and convulsing around her, and you can feel her pulsing inside of you, too. 

“Agnes, fuck,” you moan and her fingers on your throat tighten, making your vision swim for a second. It only makes you wetter and you can feel the slickness on your inner thighs from the mess leaking out of you. Her pants are going to be soaked. 

She nods frantically, cheeks a bright red now, and you never break eye contact. It’s strangely intimate, but you know how long both of you have been waiting for this. 

If only she had let you blow her for rolling through the stop sign the first time you met her. It could’ve been two years of her cock inside you. 

But in some ways, the wait just makes it better. 

The pressure in your stomach is building and it’s getting harder to keep moving up and down on her and she’s feeling it too, based on how sloppy her thrusts have become. Your breaths intermingle and your forehead is resting against hers, sweat mixing, and you’re so fucking close. 

“Agnes, I’m going to—fuck—I’m gonna come,” you pant out and she laughs breathlessly and the hand on your hip moves down and effortlessly finds your clit. You clench around her with a steel grip and you crash your lips against hers without even thinking so you don’t moan loudly. She groans into your mouth and then her tongue is sliding against your tongue and you momentarily forget that you’re supposed to be riding her. 

Her hand tightens around your throat and you keen into her mouth, clenching, and she keeps rubbing your clit and you’re so close, you’re so fucking close—

“Come for me,” she growls and nips at your bottom lip, drives her hips up, squeezes your throat, and presses hard on your clit. 

That’s all it takes and she swallows all of your moans even though a few escape as you fall apart for her, but you can’t find it in yourself to care that someone outside this room at the party—your party—could come barging in and see you coming all over your mom’s best friend’s cock. Your mind goes blank and your vision goes white and for a moment, the only thing that exists is Agnes. 

She hasn’t come yet and she takes her hand away from your throat, letting air finally rush in unrestricted, and paws at your hips with a desperate look in her eyes. 

“Your mouth,” she whispers like she’s hurt and you quickly get off her, the emptiness gaping in your cunt now, and sink to your knees. 

Agnes rips off the condom and her cock is weeping precum and it looks angry and painful with how red it is. 

She grabs your hair preemptively before you envelope her tip with your mouth and hollow out your cheeks. She lets out a strangled groan, both of you apparently past the point of caring if you get caught, and she throbs on your tongue. 

Agnes pumps her cock in hard and fast and you gag but relax your throat so she can use you however she wants. Her face contorts with pleasure; she’s close, you can see and feel it. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna come in your mouth,” she gasps and you nod eagerly, sucking and licking and swallowing around her thick length that’s making your jaw ache. You feel tears gather in your eyes and you’re not sure how you’re going to hide your ruined state from the partygoers. “And you’re going to be a good girl and swallow all of it, aren’t you?” 

“Yes,” you garble around her cock. 

Her hips jerk and the vein in her forehead throbs furiously and then she thrusts up one last time, stiffens, and lets out a slow groan, idly moving her hips while she pumps a load of cum into your mouth. It’s salty and hot and you make a muffled sound as more strands keep shooting out. 

You swallow all of it the best you can and Agnes nods approvingly. You can feel some of it leaking out of the corners of your mouth and you hope that none of it is dripping onto your shirt. 

“Fuck, you’re good,” Agnes says despite herself and you hold her cock in your mouth as she softens and then she slides out, fully limp. The praise settles warmly in your cunt.

She leans forward to wipe off the excess cum and holds out her finger to you. You suck her off it and she bites her lip at the feeling. Her spent cock gives a little twitch and you wonder if you’ll get her back in here before the party is over. 

You’re willing to bet that you will. 

Agnes stands up and you scooch back on your knees to give her some space. She tucks her cock back into her boxers and zips her pants before fixing the buckle. Her booted foot slides your jean shorts back over to you and she holds out a hand. 

You reluctantly take it and she pulls you up. You fix your underwear and then put your shorts back on while evaluating Agnes’s pants. There’s a few wet spots, but someone would have to look closely to see them with how dark the fabric is. 

Agnes looks at you and barks out a laugh. “You look well-fucked.” 

And of course, you smirk. 

When you both rejoin the party, no one notices that you came out of the sitting room together, looking significantly more disheveled than before. Thankfully, there was an incident with the dessert that your mom had to take care of, so she didn’t have the chance to send out a search group for you. 

Agnes crumples her plate up and slips the condom in between the folds and throws it away, all physical evidence of your tryst gone. 

You’re pulled into a group of relatives, who are all so excited for you and can’t wait to hear about what you’re going to do next. 

You feel someone’s eyes on you and you look across the room to find Agnes staring at you. You give her a wicked smirk and she raises her bottle of beer. 

A silent toast. 

It’s going to be a fun summer. 

“What’s wrong?” your roommate, Wanda, asks you. The two of you are the top witches at the Academy of Dark Arts, and yet, neither of you has a strong suit in potions. 

And of course, the Potions teacher, Agatha Harkness, is the hardest teacher you have. 

“This is impossible. How am I supposed to remember that, for the Wolfsbane Potion, you have to stir three times counterclockwise, say this incantation, and then stir four times clockwise, all while making sure I’m continuously pouring in Dragon’s Blood?” Your head hurts just from reading it from the book. 

Wanda snorts. “Agatha doesn’t expect it to be perfect.”

You give her a look. You both know that’s a lie. Agatha is the teacher that makes you redo written homework assignments if you leave too much space between the words. 

The Academy of Dark Arts was a home for witches like you and Wanda: witches that did not have a coven, or even a family. The Academy was supposed to teach girls to harness and understand their powers. 

You have been here the longest, ever since you were twelve. You are almost twenty now. You had always put off taking Potions until you could no longer avoid it, mainly just because of how hard everyone else said it was. You had briefly interacted with Professor Harkness before the class, passing her in the corridors or making eye contact at meals. 

And maybe, just maybe, you had developed a bit of a crush on her once you were in her class. 

Who could blame you, though? She was the definition of perfection, with the way power just exuded from her, and the way her long, dark hair tumbled down to her lower back, and her piercing blue eyes that you suspected could see right into your soul. 

But your little infatuation was not what you needed right now – no, right now, you need to study. 

“I just don’t know anything,” you groan, dropping your head into your hands. “I can’t even read my notes.” Agatha often went so fast in class that you had no other option than to just scribble down everything you thought she said as quickly as you could. 

And now you just had pages of illegible chicken scratch. 

“She’s probably still in the green house, why not just go ask her for help,” Wanda says noncommittally, too engrossed in sketching a picture. How she is so calm with this test hanging over the both of you, you have no idea. 

But you nod. That’s a good idea. You can go see Agatha, ask her to clarify a few things, and then stay up all night cramming ingredients and directions into your brain. 

“I’ll be right back,” you promise, and then scoop up your book and your notes. 

You pass by some younger witches in the hallway and you give them a tight-lipped smile. Wanda was really your only friend at the Academy, the other girls too boy-crazy or too self-absorbed for you to really connect with them. 

Other than those girls, though, the Academy is quiet. No sign of any of your other teachers, and you’re sure they’re either in their private quarters or still grading papers in their classrooms. 

You have to leave the main house of the Academy to get to the greenhouse, where Potions takes place. The cold November air stings your cheeks and makes your eyes water, but luckily, it’s a short walk. 

“Hello, Professor Harkness?” you say timidly, knocking on the door as you push it open. She’s sitting at a stool, cutting plants with a sharp knife. Her hair flowing down her back and she's wearing a tight white button-down shirt on that’s tucked into high-waisted purple pants, and a long, navy coat.

She glances up and smiles when she sees it’s you. “Y/n, what can I do for you?” 

“Oh, I just wanted to come see if you could help me clear some things up for the test tomorrow,” you say, a little flustered by how good she looks. 

“Sure thing, hon. First, I need your help. Hand me those powders from over there?” She points the knife over to the counter by the sink and you oblige, grabbing the four vials and putting them down next to her. She picks each one up and examines the label closely. “Ah, shoot. Sorry, dear, could you find the jar with the powdered root of asphodel? It should be in the pantry somewhere. I thought I took it out, but I guess I forgot.” 

“Yeah, of course.” You repeat the powder name in your head a few times so you don’t forget it and then go search for it. 

You finally spot it on the fourth shelf, sitting in the middle of some other jars, and you reach up on your tip-toes to grab it. As you’re pulling down the correct jar, you accidentally knock it into another and it falls to the floor next to you. 

“Shit!” you mutter, immediately crouching down to assess the damage. The jar of some unknown powder has broken and its contents are spilled everywhere. Without even thinking, you start to sweep the powder into your hands so you can try to put it back in the bottom half of the jar that’s still intact. 

You didn’t even notice Agatha coming over after she heard the noise. “Everything okay – don’t touch any of that!” she exclaims, seeing the bottle that broke on the floor.

You drop the mound of powder in your hands and whirl around, eyes wide open. 

“What is it?” you ask, afraid of the answer, but she doesn’t give you one, instead opting to pull you by the sleeve over to the sink. 

“Wash your hands now,” she demands and stands there watching you scrub your skin until it’s red. “How do you feel?” 

“I feel fine,” you say, but as you say that, you notice something. There’s an unmistakable heat growing in your stomach. And it only gets worse when Agatha places a hand against your forehead. You lean into the touch and have to forcibly bite your tongue so you don’t moan. 

She looks you up and down and you can feel yourself getting hotter. You’re sure your cheeks are flushed. 

You’ve never felt this way before. 

“Um, just out of curiosity, what was that powder?” you ask, wetness pooling between your thighs. The ache between your legs is becoming hard to ignore. 

Agatha meets your eyes. “It’s called sex pollen.” Your heart skips a beat. “I honestly forgot it was back there. I came across some a few decades ago and wanted to study it.”

You swallow hard. “So if someone gets some of it in their system, do they just need to touch…” You feel yourself blushing, not quite believing you’re asking Agatha Harkness if masturbation is the key to get this heat inside you to die down. 

She smirks. “You can’t get it out of your system by yourself.”

Well, fuck. “There’s no other way?” 

“Where would the fun in that be?” She winks playfully, and you wonder if she’s ever used it, or used it on someone else. “But you said you feel fine so you shouldn’t have to worry about it.”

“Right,” you reply shakily. Her fingers brush a strand of hair out of her face and you literally clench at the sight of them. You feel so empty, so needy, so desperate for her. 

“You said you had some questions for the test tomorrow?” She takes the root of asphodel that you had forgotten you were holding and beckons you back over to where she’s working. She pats the stool next to you and you sit, the pressure on your clit making you jump. 

You just have to make it through this, go back to your room, and then drag Wanda out with you to a club or something so you can get fucked. 

The only problem is, you’re not sure you can wait that long. Your hips have started squirming on the stool beneath you and you can’t control it. 

“Um, so,” you start, opening up the textbook to the Wolfsbane Potion you were studying earlier. “The directions for this potion are–”

You’re cut off by her putting her hand on top of yours and you literally whimper at the contact. You stiffen and see her turn her full body towards you, taking in the slight sheen of sweat on your forehead, your darkened eyes, the way your hips are moving on the seat. 

“Oh, you poor baby,” she taunts. 

You give up the pretense of being unaffected by the pollen. “Professor, I’m so…I need…please…I think the pollen...” 

She laughs. “Yes, dear, I think the pollen got into your system. Do you have anyone who can take care of you?” 

You blush at the implication of Agatha asking if you have a fuck buddy and then shake your head pathetically. “I was gonna go out with Wanda and try to find someone,” you mumble. “I’ve never…” You trail off, not wanting your incredibly hot professor to hear you say out loud that you’re a virgin. 

“Honey, you can’t have your first time with a random person from a bar,” she tuts. “Plus, sex pollen amplifies feelings you already have. Getting fucked by a random person won’t help as much as by a person you already want.”

“I don’t know what else to do,” you whine. “Can you…will you…please?” You can tell the pollen is affecting your ability to think straight because there is no way you just asked your centuries-old professor to fuck you. You’re about ready to run out of the room and die of embarrassment when she grins. 

“You want me to help you?” 

Your breath catches. “Professor, please, please, I need it. I need you. I just feel so…hot.” 

“I’ll say,” she says appreciatively, this time letting her eyes wander over you slowly. “Are you sure? I don’t want you regretting this when the pollen wears off.” 

You shake your head. “I won’t. I’m sure. I want you so bad. I have for a while. And you said it has to be someone you already want.” 

Her eyes darken. “Get on the table.” 

You’ve never moved so fast in your life. She takes your shirt off and throws it somewhere else in the room, and then her hands are cupping your breasts and her mouth is on yours. 

You moan hungrily into her hot mouth, feeling her tongue against yours. Your hands tangle in her hair, pulling it gently, and she groans into your mouth. Agatha quickly undoes the clasp of your bra and finds your nipples, tugging at them. She kisses down your neck and your fingers leave her hair to hike up your skirt. 

“So eager for me,” she whispers against your clavicle. You gasp when she bites down. 

“Please, professor, touch me.” 

“I am touching you,” she teases, fingertips lightly skimming down your stomach. You tense at the touch as she gets lower. 

Your moan is downright pornographic when she first slides her hand into your underwear, sliding through your folds. She makes a sound as well. 

“Fuck, baby, you’re soaked,” she says. 

“All for you,” you say weakly, hips grinding up and down against her fingers. She’s yet to touch your clit, but you fear the second she does, you’ll cum. 

“My dirty girl.” Agatha finally pushes her middle finger into you and you clench down immediately, needing more. She easily finds the spot that makes you squeal, and her thumb brushes against your clit. “Do you think you can take another finger?” 

“Oh my god, yes,” you enthusiastically agree and she slides in her ring finger as well. It’s a bit of a stretch but you’ve never felt better. 

“Your cunt feels so good around me,” Agatha says, grabbing your chin with her other hand so you meet her eyes. “So wet, so warm. I want to stay here forever. You can’t get enough of my fingers, can you?” 

“No, Professor, I love your fingers,” you babble, right on the edge. She knows it too. 

“Be a good girl and come for mommy,” she whispers right into your ear, her hot breath warm, and the name, coupled with the way she twists her fingers and roughly strokes your clit, sends you climaxing. 

“Fuckkkk,” you moan, your nails digging into her shoulders. She fucks you through the aftershocks of your orgasm and then slowly pulls her fingers, which are drenched, out of you. You can’t help but feel empty and the heat inside you isn’t completely gone. 

Before you can say anything, she slides her wet fingers into your mouth and you lazily lap at your juices. She bites her lip at the feeling. 

“How are you feeling now, baby girl?” 

Her fingers leave your mouth with a pop. “Better but I still think I need more.” 

Her eyebrow raises playfully. “My fingers weren’t enough to quell your thirst?” 

You shake your head, feeling a little embarrassed. 

“I think I know something that might help.” She waves her hand and a poof of purple smoke appears. You’re not quite sure what she did, but she gives you a wicked grin and unzips her pants, pulling out a purple strap-on. 

Your mouth falls open. 

She grabs a hold of the base and starts to stroke herself, groaning. 

“Wait, can you-” 

She looks up at you. “Feel it?” She nods. “I wanna feel you clench around my cock. Wanna fill you up.” 

You let out a small gasp. “Mommy, please, I need your cock.” 

She steps back over to you and runs a hand up your slit, collecting your wetness, which she then rubs on her cock. “You’re plenty wet already, but why don’t you get on your knees and show me how much of a good girl you can be.” 

She doesn’t have to tell you twice. You practically fall to the ground in front of her, ignoring the sharp pain in your knees. You look up at her, awaiting instruction, and she bites her lip softly at the sight of you. 

She puts a hand on your head and pushes you closer. “Put a hand around the base and then run your tongue up and down the length.” 

You do as you’re told and you delight in the loud moan that tears from her mouth. Her hand just rests on your head as you then experimentally suck the tip of her cock between your lips. 

“Good girl,” she says gruffly, and her praise drives you to test the waters and go down further. You bob your head on her dick, never breaking eye contact. “Fuck, baby, your mouth is so hot.” 

Meanwhile, the need inside you is growing so much you can barely fight the urge to slip a hand up your skirt. But you don’t. You figure Agatha won’t like that, and also, you want to focus all your attention on making her feel good. 

“Such a dirty slut on her knees for mommy. So desperate for this cock,” she says and you groan around the strap-on, making her hands tighten in your hair. She pulls you back and a string of saliva connects your lips to her. “Get up.” 

Once you’re standing in front of her, she flips you around and bends your front over the table so she’s standing behind you. She pushes your skirt up and traces your pussy with her cock, sliding it up your slit to your clit and then back. You’re grinding against her, trying to get some stimulation. 

“Are you ready?” Agatha asks. 

“Yes,” you answer, voice hoarse with anticipation. You feel her line the tip up with your hole and then slowly start to push in. 

Both of you moan. She is so big but the stretch is exactly what you need. Once she bottoms out, she holds still for a second, letting you adjust to her size. 

“You take my cock so well.” And then she’s pulling out and thrusting back in, picking up speed and intensity. You lift a leg up so she’s able to get deeper and you can feel her hips stutter. “You pretend to be so innocent but look at how desperate you are for me. Just a little slut, needing me to fill her up.” 

“Yes, just a slut for you, mommy.” 

Her nails dig into your hip and her other hand comes down to rub your clit. You clench around her. 

“You’re so tight, so hot, you feel so good squeezing my dick,” Agatha murmurs, saying the filthiest things right into your ear. You’re so close and it’s only been a few minutes of her pounding into you. 

“I’m gonna cum,” you whimper. Her hand leaves your clit and you gasp. 

“Not yet, baby, wait for mommy. Do you want me to fill you up?” 

“Want you to fill me up, mommy, wanna feel you dripping out of me,” you babble. 

“Oh shit, baby, gonna cum in you. Cum for me,” she says, and you do. This orgasm is even more intense than the one before and you feel her give you one last hard thrust before warmth spreads through your cunt. She stills for just a second and then gingerly pulls out. You can feel her cum dripping out of your hole and down your leg and it almost makes you cum again. 

Agatha turns you around and spreads your legs so she can watch it better. She takes two fingers and lazily smears her cum mixed with yours all over your pussy lips. She raises her fingers to your lips and you eagerly taste both of your juices, moaning around them. 

“Do you feel better now?” she asks, a playful glint in her eyes. 

You sigh dramatically. “For now. But who’s to say I won’t get into more sex pollen some other time?”

“Another round, please!” Rio motions to the bartender. He sets down four more tequila shots and one is shoved into your hand. 

“Think you can get to 21?” Wanda jokes and the thought of 20 more shots makes you want to gag. 

“I might puke after this one,” you say and your friends laugh. You were never a partier in high school or college, always preferring to curl up on the couch and watch a movie. You’d only had some sips of alcohol a few times, but you had never been drunk. 

“You deserve this!” Nat shouts in your ear. “Harkness has been working you to the bone!” 

You shrug and wave your hand dismissively, suddenly uncomfortable. Agatha Harkness is your History of Witchcraft professor at Westview University. She’s known around campus for being cold to everyone and rarely giving out A’s. She expected nothing short of excellence and would not put up with excuses. Everyone was terrified of her. 

Everyone except for you. 

Something about the older woman captivated you. You were obsessed with meeting her standards, dreaming of the day she would look at you with pride. You poured over your books for her class, rereading every sentence you wrote thrice, just to try to impress her. It had taken your friends days of begging to convince you to come celebrate your birthday with them because you had a paper for Agatha’s class due in a week and you were already worried about it. 

“I don’t know how you’re surviving,” Wanda says. “I had her last semester and got a C in the class. Third highest grade. She’s the worst.” 

“She’s not that bad,” you defend, not quite sure why. Something about Agatha getting so much hate for pushing her students rubs you the wrong way. 

“Yeah she is,” Rio joins in. “I heard that she’s a real witch.”

You roll your eyes. “Can we please stop talking about her? I thought you guys brought me here to get away from school.” You take the shot that’s still in your hand and it goes down smoother this time. 

“Yes, there we go!” Rio whoops. 

Two more shots later and your head has gone completely fuzzy. You feel as if you are floating on air and everything around you is happening in slow motion. You get off your stool and immediately stumble, Wanda catching you with her arms. 

“I think I’m a little drunk,” you tell her. She laughs like it’s the funniest thing you’ve ever heard. 

“No shit, y/n, you don’t have to yell!” 

You didn’t even realize you had. “We should probably go back to the dorms!” You look around to see Nat chatting with some girl and Rio throwing darts at the board in the corner. 

“Not yet,” Wanda says, picking up her rum and coke. You’re not sure how she’s still drinking after she also did four tequila shots. “I’ll get you some water.” She signals to the bartender and you squeeze your eyes shut, willing your vision to go back to normal. 

When you open them, you see dark hair in the corner. Is that–? You shift so you can get a better look and feel sorely disappointed when you realize the person is not Agatha. Why are you disappointed? The thought echoes in your head for a second, and then is replaced by a sudden urge to see your professor. 

“Drink this,” Wanda orders, pressing a glass of ice water into your hand, but you’re too busy scrolling through your phone. You know she put her number on the syllabus somewhere and you are too far gone to think that this might be a bad idea. 

You feel a thrill run through you when you find it. You read the number over and over, like you’re afraid it’s going to change somehow. 

“I’ll be back,” you slur to Wanda and then step out the side door into the alley. You type the number into your phone and your finger hesitates over the call button. You know you shouldn’t. But fuck it. You press the button and lift the phone to your ear. 

It rings. And then rings again. You’re about to hang up to spare yourself the rejection when the call connects. 

“Hello?” It’s actually her. 

Your breath catches in your throat and you stand up straighter. “Professor Harkness?” 

“Y/n? Is that you?” 

“Yeah.” Shit, this was a bad idea. Even with your head still swimming, you know that. You can’t just hang up though. 

“Why are you calling me at 10:30 on a Saturday night?” 

“Um,” you say, trying to think of something. You’re definitely going to have to drop her class after this. You’ll never be able to face her ever again. “It’s my birthday?” You offer lamely. 

Agatha scoffs. “Happy birthday. Can I help you with something?”

“Oh, no, Professor, I just wanted – we’re at a bar – I thought you were – and just wanted to say hi,” you ramble, knowing you’re not making any sense, and you can almost hear her smirk through the phone. 

“Y/n, are you drunk right now?” Her voice perks up and it sounds like she’s finally interested. 

“No!” you protest. “Well, maybe a little. But I’m 21 now!” 

“What bar are you at?” 

“Jimmy’s.” It’s a local dive bar that is a popular place for Westview students to hang out at. 

“I’ll be there in ten. Wait out front.” There’s a click and then she’s gone. You stare at your phone, dumbfounded. Is Agatha coming to pick you up? Why?

You walk back into the bar and order a Dirty Shirley. The call had sobered you up a bit and if you had already drunk-called your professor, why not get even more hammered. Wanda comes back over to you and giggles when she sees the new drink in your hand. 

“Alright, time to party!” she exclaims. You pick up on the fact that she’s a little drunk as well. You stand up, vision blurring for a second. 

“I actually called an uber,” you lie, even through your hazy mind knowing that your professor coming to pick you up might sound strange to them.

Wanda pouts and then throws her arms around you. “Happy birthday,” she says into your ear and your arms tighten around her. 

“Thank you,” you breathe back. You’re close with Rio and Nat as well, but they don’t have the same bond you and Wanda do. You pull back and then go say goodbye to your other friends. 

The wind outside does very little to sober you up and you shiver from the coldness. You’re wearing a purple crop-top and a black mini-skirt, something Nat had found buried deep in your closet. You watch the time on your phone, heartbeat picking up as it gets closer to ten minutes since Agatha had hung up on you. 

And then right on the dot, a slick black Range Rover pulls into the parking lot, and you immediately know it’s her. The car stops right in front of you, the passenger window rolling down, and your breath catches. 

It’s Professor Harkness, clad in a maroon suit, wavy hair falling over her shoulders. 

“Do you need me to open the door for you, too, princess?” Agatha says, sarcasm dripping over the words, when you haven’t moved. You shake your head, partly to answer and partly to clear the fog. You settle into the seat, not missing the way Agatha’s eyes rake over your skimpily clothed body.

“You didn’t have to come get me,” you mutter, putting real effort into not slurring your words. 

She glances at you and sees you struggling with your seatbelt. She reaches over and you freeze at her close proximity. Her breath is hot against your cheek and her fingers brush your stomach as she takes the seat belt from your hand and buckles it for you. “Thought I would spare the other people you drunk-called,” she says. 

Embarrassment runs through you. “You were the only one,” you say meekly, picking at a scab on your hand. You dare to peek at her, only to find her smirking, one eyebrow quirked. 

“Oh?”

“I shouldn’t have called.” This time, it’s harder to keep your words from running together. “We were talking about you and then I thought I saw you and I just wanted to see you.” You need to stop talking, now. 

Agatha hums. “Did you, now?” She tucks a piece of hair behind her ears as she shifts the car into drive and you watch her fingers. 

“You’re really hot,” you blurt out and then clamp a hand over your mouth. Fuck. 

Instead of pulling over and making you get out, like you thought she would, Agatha simply reaches over and pats your leg. “And you’re really drunk, sweetheart.” 

The pet name makes you swoon inwardly. “Not that drunk,” you say unconvincingly. “I only had one…two…” You trail off, attempting to count the number of drinks on your fingers. Agatha stifles a chuckle. 

“Is this your first time drinking?” She asks, amused. 

“No, but it is my first time drinking this much,” you admit. “My friends dragged me out since it’s my birthday. I was going to work on the essay for your class.” 

“You were going to spend your 21st birthday doing school work?” 

“Your essay’s due in a week. I wanted to make sure I-it was good enough for you.” 

She notices your slip of tongue and her smirk sends heat down low in your stomach. “You’re always good for me. Your essays are some of the best I’ve ever read.” 

Your heart skips a beat and your face flushes. “I have a B in your class.” 

“You have an 88 in my class. That’s the highest I’ve had in years. Can’t make it too easy,” she says with a wink. 

“You could make it just a little easier,” you grumble, the alcohol clearly getting rid of any inhibitions. 

“You keep doing what you’re doing, sweetheart, and it’ll go up, I promise. I’m very impressed with the work you’ve been turning in.”

A hot flash runs through you. “Just wanna be your good girl.” And if it wasn’t clear how you feel about her now, it sure is. But she doesn’t look disgusted or creeped out, only intrigued. 

She finally stops the car and you peer out the window, expecting to see your dorm. You haven’t been paying attention to where she’s been driving at all, and you’re quite surprised to see you’ve arrived at a two-story house in a cute, suburban neighborhood. 

“This isn’t where I live,” you say dumbly. 

“No, it’s not,” she agrees, getting out of the car and walking over to help you. You stumble up the steps to the front door, Agatha’s tight grip on your shoulder keeping you upright. You can feel her fingers playing with the ends of your hair. 

She unlocks the front door just as a wave of nausea hits you. “Oh, god,” you say weakly, holding a hand in front of your mouth. Agatha doesn’t even seem phased; she leads you to a bathroom in the hall and leaves, only to re-enter with a glass of water moments later. You gulp it down and feel better. 

“You okay?” she asks softly, stroking your cheek, eyes tracing up and down your face. You’ve never seen this side of her and you really like it. 

“I think so. Thank you again,” you murmur and you realize that you’ve been staring at her mouth. 

“Anything for my favorite student.” 

And then, because you’re apparently determined to fuck everything up even more, you lean in and press your lips to hers. Agatha stands still for a second before you pull back, horrified with yourself. 

“Professor, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to–” 

She draws you back in for a longer kiss this time, tongue licking into your mouth. You let out a long moan and she breaks away. 

“You’re drunk,” she tells you again.

You clasp the lapels of her blazer. “I know. But I want you.” 

She softly pries your fingers off her suit and smiles. “You need to sleep. And then we can talk about this in the morning.” 

You pout and she runs her thumb over your bottom lip, slightly pulling it down. You suck her finger into your mouth, delighting in the way her eyes darken. She steps back.

“Let’s go. You can sleep in the guest room. I’ll find you some pajamas and toiletries.” Her hand on the small of your back guides you up the stairs and to the room on the right. The guest room is simple but cozy and you immediately go to the bed and flop onto it. “Don’t fall asleep yet,” Agatha warns and then leaves the room. 

She comes back in a few minutes, an old shirt and sweatpants in one hand and a toothbrush and toothpaste in the other. She pats your legs in an effort to get you up but you can barely move, suddenly weighed down by all the drinks. 

“Come on, hon,” Agatha says and helps you stand up. You don’t move as she works to take your shirt and skirt off, your cheeks and upper chest flushing red. You try to cover yourself and she smirks. 

“M’sorry,” you mumble. 

“Don’t be. I’m enjoying the view.” You stare at her longingly, silently begging her to fuck you right there and then, but she helps you step into the sweatpants and pull the shirt over your head. She watches you brush your teeth and moves the covers so you can get into bed. “Do you need anything else?” 

Your hand grabs hers. “Just you,” you try again hopefully, but she chuckles and wrenches free of your grip. 

“Good night, birthday girl,” she whispers and leans down to press a kiss to your forehead. And then she turns off the lights and leaves the room.

You fall asleep immediately. 

***

Sunlight streams through the blinds, waking you up. It takes you a minute to get your bearings and then the events of last night come back to you. 

The bar. Four shots of tequila and half a Dirty Shirley. Calling Agatha and her coming to pick you up and taking you to her house. Kissing her in the downstairs bathroom. Shit. 

You groan, head pounding. You see a container of Advil and a glass of water on the nightstand beside you. You take two Advil and drain the glass, heart warming at the thought of Agatha taking such good care of you. 

And then you remember that your relationship with her will forever be complicated by your actions. 

You solemnly brush your teeth and pull back on the clothes you wore to the bar last night, neatly folding Agatha’s pajamas and placing them on the bed. You hope she hasn’t woken up yet so you can sneak out without her having to tell you how inappropriate you behaved last night. 

No such luck. The second you get downstairs, Agatha perks up from where she’s typing on her laptop on the couch.

“Good morning, darling,” she purrs, shutting her computer. You gulp, taking her outfit in. She’s wearing a robe that ends mid-thigh and the neckline drops low. 

“Hey,” you say casually, trying to hide how much you’re internally freaking out. 

“Do you want something for breakfast? I can cook you something.” She stands up and walks to the kitchen and you follow like a lost puppy. You involuntarily lick your lips at the way her hips are swaying. 

“What are my options?” Your voice is raspy, still feeling hungover. She glances back at you and her eyes dart up and down your body. 

“I can make eggs. Bacon. I think I have pancake mix in the pantry. What would you like?” 

You’re a little confused that she hasn’t scolded you yet. And then you remember something else. She kissed you. 

You swallow hard. Whatever else you may have done last night that you can’t remember, she doesn’t hate you for it. She might even want you back. 

“Are you on the menu?” It comes out before you can even realize what you’re saying. 

Agatha freezes and turns around. You shift your weight nervously, but then you see her pupils blown out. Her eyes are so dark you can barely see any blue. “What?” She asks carefully.

“You kissed me last night,” you say, a little breathless. You have absolutely no idea where this confidence is coming from. “You wouldn’t do anything else cause I was drunk. But I’m not drunk now.” 

She steps toward you and roughly grasps your hair. She tilts your head back, exposing your neck just a tad. “No, you’re not.” She regards you for a second. “You know you’re not going to get extra credit for trying to sleep with your professor.” 

You laugh. “That’s not why I’m doing this.” 

She smirks. “Good.” And then she licks a hot stripe up your neck and bites down, sucking a mark on your skin. You gasp loudly and tangle your hands into her hair. 

“Professor,” you moan and you drag her into a filthy kiss. She backs you up until your thighs hit the table so she lifts you up onto it. Your legs wrap around her to pull her closer. Agatha pushes up your crop-top and kneads your breast, thumb stroking your nipple, never once breaking your kiss.

Her hand creeps under your skirt and cups your mound over your underwear. Your hips jump on their own at the stimulation. 

“Please,” you beg. Her lips curl into a smile. 

“What do you want?” Her fingers have pushed your underwear to the side and have started lazily stroking through your folds, spreading your wetness. 

“You,” is all you can say before she sinks a finger into your hole. 

“Like this?” She asks innocently, thrusting hard. 

“Yes,” you pant, quickly untying her robe so you can touch her. She’s completely naked underneath and you lean down so you can take a nipple into your mouth. 

“That’s perfect, baby,” she sighs, setting a relentless pace with her fingers after she slips another one in you. “Is this what you hoped would happen when you called me last night?”

“I’ve been hoping for this since the first day of the semester,” you answer, and she falters for a second, thrown off by your honesty. 

She pulls out of you and panic runs through you, terrified that you said the wrong thing. But she just pushes you down so your back is resting on the table and she pulls out one of the chairs from the table. 

“What are you–” Before you can finish your sentence, she leans forward and sucks your clit into her mouth. Your back arches off the table, hands rushing down to hold her in place. “Fuck, Professor!” 

She devours your pussy like she’s a starving woman, pulling all sorts of loud noises from you. 

“Oh my god, I’m gonna cum,” you chant, hips grinding on her face, trying to get the last bit of stimulation you need to send you over the edge. She knows what you need and presses her fingers inside you, curling them just right and gives your clit a hard last lick. You cum harder than you ever have before, her name on your lips like a prayer. She helps you ride through the aftershocks and then trails kisses up your body until she can kiss your mouth. 

“How was that?” she asks after you pull away to catch your breath. 

“That was probably the best birthday present I’ve ever gotten,” you say, which cracks both of you up. “But I’m not finished.” 

Her eyebrow quirks up and she smirks. “Oh?” You stand up, putting your hands on her hips and flipping her around so she’s leaning against the table. 

You sink to your knees in front of you, not even bothering with a chair. You slowly push her robe up so it bunches at her waist. “Can I return the favor?”