by Louisa Bacio
Thankfully, things got better the more they practiced, and that summer and the years after, they practiced a lot.
* * *
“Penny for your thoughts?” Mario asked under his breath. Next to him, Lara had grown still, and her body stiffened the more Lucy talked about erogenous zones.
“Not any you’d like to revisit, Romeo,” she said, eyeing him up and down.
Even that little bit of attention and teasing put him on edge. The visual of the two instructors who were a couple demonstrating physical interaction didn’t help any either. Mandi sat between Reed’s legs. He slipped her sweater off and ran his fingers along her bare arms. She leaned against him, her head tilted to the side, and he kissed her slender neck.
Each touch was filled with love. Reed wanted to pleasure his mate. That’s all Mario wanted too. Well, that and the support and love of a partner. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, and he chased away the chill. His grandmother would say a ghost was walking over his grave, an old wives’ tale. He didn’t need anyone to tell him that he was afraid of fucking this situation up.
The status quo was hopeless. After being away from her for so long, Mario couldn’t control his body or his thoughts. Lara’s curves called to him. He imagined Ms. Lucy and Lara lying together in bed, limbs entwined, Lucy’s fingers plunging into Lara’s pussy until she moaned prettily against her lover’s ear. He knew all her sighs of pleasure. The feel of her breath on his chest.
Clenching his fists, he pushed away the fantasies. He stared at a black-and-white image of a horse on the wall until his eyes blurred, then he refocused on this moment. No use pining over what might have been or what could happen. If he had any hope of righting his life, he needed to convince Lara he was the better partner.
At the front of the class, Lucy picked up a large brass bell and rang it. All conversations stopped.
“Thanks for your attention,” she said. “If we’re done with the chitchat, it’s time to get on with our lessons for the day.”
She instructed all the partners to sit on the pillows—the larger person in the back, and the smaller partner tucked between their legs and leaning on their chest, mirroring Reed and Mandi.
Such a hardship—to have the love of my life back in my arms.
Clarissa looked at him and blinked demurely. Long eyelashes fanned across her cheeks. Without hesitation, Mario plopped down on the mat and spread his legs. He patted the empty space between them.
“Come here, little girl.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, like that’s sexy.”
He shrugged and lifted his palms. “What? I’m just following the professor’s orders. You are supposed to snuggle right here.”
He would have sworn she cast the nastiest look at Ms. Lucy, but why? He was only doing what he was told to do… under the guidelines stipulated by Ms. Lucy.
The key to winning back Clarissa was to remind her of all the good times they’d had together and what she was missing. Right now, that was the first step.
“As if I’ve never done this before.” With a heavy sigh, she plopped between his legs and reclined. There was no hiding his cock digging a rivet through her lower rib cage. She lifted her head to smile at him before reaching behind and shifting his cock to the other side. The persistent bugger popped right back up again.
Sure, that shit might work on college students, but no way in hell was she getting away with it.
Mario lopped a hand down, resting it on her inner thigh and sliding her dress up. Against him, her pulse rate picked up.
“How have you dealt without this?” he asked.
“I did my best not to think about it,” she explained. “Some days it was harder than others.”
She sighed, and her body settled further against him. Beneath his palm, even through her clothes, her body felt warm.
“I’ve missed you,” he said, breathing in her scent. “Can’t we work on this? Just give me a little bit of time.”
“Got room for one more?”
Lucy stood next to them, and Mario’s heart lodged in the base of his throat.
“Sure,” Lara said, patting Mario’s knee. “Let’s scoot over.”
The instructor maneuvered to the floor and removed her black leather boots. Lara moved between Mario and Lucy, and cold replaced where her body had been between his legs. He tamped down the jealousy and grinned.
It felt like all eyes were on them. He looked around, and several people averted their gaze.
“So, how’s this going to work?” he asked.
“Why don’t we all share one thing that we know the other likes?” Lucy replied. “For instance, I know it makes Clarissa hot when I nibble on her inner thigh.”
The air thickened and the room closed in on Mario. Beside him, Lara’s cheeks turned a deep red.
“Lucy, is this necessary?” she asked, continuing to stare down at her hands.
“It’s what everyone else is doing. We just have one more person in our group,” she said.
“Fine. I can play along.” Mario closed his eyes for a moment, focusing on an intimate memory of sliding into Lara’s warmth. With purpose, he gazed into Lucy’s eyes. “She loves it when I plunge my cock into her and tease her opening, playing a naughty peekaboo.”
“Touché, Mr. Cavallo,” Lucy said. “Touché.”
Chapter Seven
Even though she knew it wasn’t a good idea, Lucy couldn’t help pushing Mario. In her mind, she’d known the actions would boomerang back on her—just not as quickly as they had.
Joining the groups had been tricky, but there wasn’t any other way to get in on the action—the actual hands-on interplay. She was used to running the show, not being one of the participants. But situations changed and people adapted in order to survive all the time. So did she.
At the end of the class, Lucy returned to the front and tried not to stress about what the others thought of her actions. It didn’t matter. She ran the university, and they were the students. Her personal life shouldn’t interest them, but she knew it did. If she was going to actively participate, it was going to be impossible not to have overlap.
“Thank you to everyone for your involvement this morning. Next, please follow the schedules you were given for the remainder of the day, and we’ll see you back tomorrow.”
The room emptied, and Lucy consulted with Mandi and Reed. On a regular day, she might drop into each class and see how it was doing. Today, she chose to be on the same rotation with Clarissa and Mario.
“You two are good with the schedule?” she asked.
Mandi laid her hand on Lucy’s arm. “Are you doing all right? I know you have a lot going on.” Her eyes flicked toward where Mario stood. “Anything we can do?”
Lucy kept it together. “Everything’s fine. We have a few challenges but nothing I can’t handle. Much better than our students being kidnapped. If it’s not one thing, it’s another, right?”
“You don’t need to brush it off,” Reed countered. He rubbed Mandi’s lower back, as if he needed to be touching her in some way at all times. “Unexpected happenings are stressful no matter what the situation. Just know you have our support.”
“I appreciate it,” Lucy said. “Now, if you don’t mind, I need to get to the art class.”
Mandi brought her hand up to her mouth, covering a snicker. “Good luck with that.”
With the room empty, all the energy had been sucked out too. Despite her strong words, Lucy didn’t feel as confident. Knowing the interaction in the art class may be more casual and she’d have to be comfortable, Lucy ducked into a bathroom to change. As her bustier and leather pants came off, she felt as though she was removing protective armor. She opened the duffle bag and looked at the contents. Was she really going to do this?
Yes. She stepped into the leggings—still black, of course—a simple red bra and an oversized, white. button-up shirt, which she tied at the waist. Now she could sit on the floor and do whatever was necessary without getting p
aint—edible or not—on her clothes and worrying about it. Last, she put on a pair of wedge sandals. She wouldn’t stoop to flip-flops. After stashing the bag, she headed to the art studio. Without her usual attire, she might as well be naked.
Clarissa gave her a reassuring smile as she walked in. The room featured the traditional supplies one would imagine in an art room, such as easels and desks, but the oversized pillows were strewn on the floor here too. A pit formed in the base of Lucy’s belly. On a few occasions in the past, she’d used Antoinella as an example for discipline. The Italian instructor wouldn’t remember being singled out, would she? Turnabout was fair play.
Clarissa chatted with Mario, planning out a special dinner for that evening. Lucy hadn’t known he was a chef. That meant that he was good with his hands. Then again, she couldn’t picture him in any sort of trade—only in bed with Clarissa, or his Lara. That she readily imagined.
“Good afternoon, class!” Toni strode into the room full of energy. She’d pulled her hair back into a ponytail and wore an apron over her clothes. “How is everyone doing today?”
A chorus of “good” replied. Lucy reclined on a pillow. She’d kicked her shoes off. Sitting on the floor in her wedges just wasn’t practical.
Toni laid out the dynamics of the class and explained a few of the lesson plans. Not once did she make eye contact with Lucy, and as time passed, the fear dissipated. It was silly for her to worry about something that wouldn’t come to pass.
With great showmanship, Toni unrolled a canvas full of paintbrushes and one by one laid them out like a surgeon would his operating tools.
“You have a set at your desks,” she said. “Bring them out, and note how each brush possesses a different length and texture. Run the bristles over your hand and feel the variance.”
Murmurs broke out across the class as the students began testing out the paintbrushes. Clarissa took out their set and rubbed the bristles along Mario’s arm.
“I can barely feel it,” he said. “You can do better than that.”
Give it to me, and I’ll rub it where you’d feel it.
“For the next part of our lesson, I need a volunteer,” Toni said.
Lucy averted her eyes from with the Italian professor. But it was as if Toni had zeroed her sights even tighter. “Ah, Ms. Lucy. I’m sure you are willing to help me out. Can you please join me up here?”
She wanted to say no. She taught the importance of saying no if you really didn’t want to do something. But, in this instance, she knew it was only fair. She swallowed her protests and went to the front of the class.
As a student, the view up here was much different. She wiped her clammy hands on her pants.
“Thanks for volunteering,” Toni said, placing her hand on Lucy’s arm.
“I didn’t.”
“Awww, well, in any case, you’re here now, and I know you’re a good sport.” The woman gave her a mischievous smile, and there was a damn sparkle in her eyes. She was most certainly up to something. Toni rubbed her palms together. “What brings you to the class as a participant rather than an instructor or an observer?”
Why didn’t she just cut to the bone instantly? The truth, or a semblance of it, was always the best.
“As most of you learned in our opening session, I’ll be joining my partner Clarissa and her, err, special friend Mario in the classes.” What the hell? “Special friend”? Where did that come from? “Most of the time, I’ll stay in my role as instructor, but for this class…” She gestured toward where the twosome sat. “I thought it best to be in the audience.”
“And we’ll let you get back out there in a few minutes. First, let’s look at what these wonderful brushes can do. If you will…”
Toni gestured toward a chair she’d pulled out and faced the classroom. Lucy sat down, feet crossed at the ankles and arms folded over her chest.
“Tsk-tsk. Does she look relaxed to you?” Toni asked.
The question made Lucy tense even more. It couldn’t be this easy—sitting in a chair.
“Nooooo,” the class said in unison. Lucy threw daggered stares at a few individuals. She’d remember who they were and make them pay later on.
“Now if you can remove your shirt, please.”
Yep. There you go. Button by button, Lucy undid the shirt and shrugged out of the material.
“Oooh, nice bra. I see you go by the trick of wearing red under a white shirt and it doesn’t show.” She turned toward the class. “For those who haven’t heard of it, it’s true! It works. And now if you’d take off the bra.” She waved one of the paintbrushes as a sort of magic wand to indicate the offending article of clothing.
Lucy opened her mouth to protest, and Toni arched an eyebrow as if to say, “Well, are you going to argue?” Nope. She’d be a good student, and there went the undergarment. Arms automatically crossed over her now-bare chest, and she forced them down to her sides.
“Very nice. I’m sure you’ve been told on many occasions that you have lovely breasts,” Toni said.
“There haven’t been any complaints.”
A few people snickered. Lucy was making a mental list, and Toni was going to be at the top of it.
Toni held up a large brush with a fan-shaped head. “Class, now if you’ll follow my lead. One of you needs to strip down, and the other will be the art-tist.” The way she said “artist” was stretched out, with an emphasis on “tist.”
Sounds of shuffling filled the room, and Lucy looked around Toni to her two partners. Of course, it was Clarissa who was removing the clothing and Mario looking all too interested at the prospects. Clarissa didn’t have the largest breasts in the room, but she made up for them in perkiness. Lucy loved the gorgeous mounds that fit perfectly into her hands. A few men actually shucked their pants and underwear. Predictable.
“Pick up your brushes and sweep them across your partner’s nipples, or other body part, like this…”
A light sensation tickled her nipples, and Lucy shuddered. “Like that, do you?” Toni asked. “Just wait.”
“Try out the various brushes, testing which ones seem to get the most reaction. Gauge your partner’s breathing. Does it quicken?”
A few more strokes and goose bumps also broke out on Lucy’s arms. The feeling was like a gentle whisper. Enticing but also maddening.
Toni put down the brush and picked up another with a short, flat head. “How about this one?”
The bristles were thicker, sharper. She flicked the instrument back and forth, quickly, bringing Lucy’s nipples to a raging hardness in a matter of moments.
“Ah, yes, you like that one,” Toni said. She leaned against Lucy, breathing against her ear. “Of course you like it rough.”
At the word rough, wetness spread between Lucy’s legs and an ache began in her core. She’d never had the pleasure of pleasure with Toni, but right now, she imagined it quite clearly.
Toni wouldn’t paint between the lines but followed the flow of inspiration. The creative nature she used to make art and as a sort of therapist in the classroom also easily transformed to the bedroom. Couples could use what they learned in the classroom in their own bedrooms. As they made eye contact, that sparkle returned. She briefly wondered about the instructor’s private life. Lucy knew she had a few trysts with students but no one special of her own.
“If you like, you can put your shirt back on and return to your group,” she said.
Lucy didn’t bother with her bra but slid into the blouse and pulled it shut. Despite the trepidation she’d experienced earlier, art class might turn out to be more pleasurable than she’d anticipated.
Chapter Eight
What male didn’t like the prospect of getting laid and earning a grade for it! So far despite the name of Sex University, there had been no sex—for Mario at least. Instead, the experiences challenged him, and at times he imagined the paper being returned with a glowing red F: Failure, flunkey, fucker.
After a week, he wasn’t any closer to bri
nging Clarissa home. Hell, he even thought of her by the new name. He hung his head, eyes closed, not bothering to struggle against the binds on his wrists. He wanted. He lusted. And he had no idea how to obtain everything for the future.
“Someone’s thinking way too much,” Lucy said close by.
The schoolmistress stood in front of him. His adversary and so much more. Coming from an Italian family, he had strict notions of the role of women and men within society. Lucy turned that thinking upside down.
With her, he no longer had control. Clarissa didn’t listen to him. It wasn’t that he believed he should rule a woman. Instead, it was a mutually beneficial relationship. When he was in a position such as this one, he’d prefer Lucy to drop to her knees and suck his cock.
At the thought, the aforementioned appendage sprang to attention.
“Well, someone looks happy to see me,” Lucy said, giving him the barest whisper of a touch with her fingertips.
He wanted her to grip him. Squeeze him. He needed release, yet she only teased.
Determination bore down, and he held Lucy’s gaze, fighting her will with his own.
“Awww, what’s the matter? Don’t you want to play?”
“I’m done playing with you,” he said. This time, he yanked against the ropes, feeling the burn on the tender skin of his wrists. “I don’t see the point in all of this.”
Moving in closer, so her body was mere inches from his, Lucy whispered in his ear. “That’s because you’re not ready to give it up yet. I don’t think you’ve actually learned anything. If you did, all of this would be so much more pleasurable. For all of us.”
Her body heat radiated across the chasm between them, and the hairs on his body stood at attention, straining for her touch. She parted her legs, straddling his cock so it cinched between her cleft. It stroked the leather pants, and she squeezed. Lord. He swore his eyes must be rolling up in his head. It felt so damn good.