Still holding her rib cage in his large hands, he began to slide her torso ever so slightly back and forth, so just the tips of her br**sts were rubbing up against the velvet fabric on the bed. He thought about turning her over and taking her tits into his mouth and sucking them, nipping them until she was crying out again, and he barely kept his own needs reined in. But what kind of teacher would he be if he changed the lesson plan mid-way just because his c**k was about to explode in his pants?

He heard her whimper again and he knew she had fallen ever so slightly back down to earth from her explosive orgasm, so he leaned forward and whispered again in her ear, “You’re going to come again, sweetheart. Any minute now, you’re going to feel the way the velvet caresses your rock-hard ni**les. You’re going to realize that your br**sts are the center of everything.”

She started to say, “Charlie, I,” but he cut her off saying, “Shh. I don’t want you to talk to me. I want you to feel.”

He wrapped his left forearm around her waist, while still rocking her br**sts gently side to side on the velvet comforter, and ran the fingers of his right hand down from the bottom of her rib cage, down along her flat stomach, which convulsed as he lightly touched her skin, to the top of her mound.

“Uh uh uh, Candy,” he admonished her when she strained to move her clit closer to his finger. “What did I tell you?”

“My br**sts,” she gasped.

He smiled and moved his fingers down a millimeter. “That’s right. If you keep doing what I want, I’ll keep doing what you want.”

A small sob left her throat, and he knew she was close, so close that if he so much as touched the tip of her clit with his fingertip she’d explode again in his hand. He moved his left arm slightly. He was still holding her torso suspended from the bed, but now every time he slid her body to the left side on the velvet her breast slipped into his palm.

“Charlie!” she moaned and again he had to fight the urge to rip his jeans off and split her wide open with his cock.

He kept his palm open at first, so that all she felt on her nipple was the callused skin of his open palm. “Are you focusing on your br**sts and only your br**sts right now?” he asked her in a low voice.

He saw her nod her head and rewarded her by moving his right hand another millimeter towards her clit. Even though he was no further than the top of her slit, her juices were soaking his hand, so he rubbed his fingers around in circles on the slick skin of her well-waxed mound.

As he slid her left breast into his palm again, he held her still and pinched her nipple between his fingers, rubbing it between his thumb and middle finger. At the same time he plunged his hand down into her wet, hot cunt and ground one finger and then two and then the tip of a third into her.

She screamed “Charlie!” and the muscles of her pu**y clenched as they tried to hold his fingers hostage.

When she was still so far gone, still so entranced by the waves of pleasure washing over her, he took advantage of her pliability and effortlessly rolled her over onto her back.

Looking at her luscious br**sts for the first time, he gasped at her perfection, at her beauty in the candle-light, surrounded by the deep hues of the silk, satins, and velvet furnishings.

Her br**sts were lush melons and he knew immediately that they were entirely real, with no silicone added. Having felt one of them in the palm of his hand, he knew how deliciously heavy they were. His mouth watered as he anticipated tasting them.

Don’t get ahead of yourself, Charlie, he warned himself. He had to stay on track with his lesson plan. All in good time, he told himself. All in good time.

Candace’s eyes were just starting to open and she was trying to refocus them on his face, when he slipped a length of richly patterned silk fabric off of the bedpost. He quickly grabbed her right wrist and tied one end of the cloth around it and the other end about the bedpost. He slid yet another length of fabric around her left wrist and tied that one up as well.

“You’re such a good student we’re moving straight to lesson two.”

Her eyebrows scrunched down in an unspoken question as he splayed her legs and tied up both her ankles to the nearest bedpost.

“Varying positions is lesson two.”

He tied the final bow on her left ankle, then gave into the losing battle, letting himself lap once at her very wet, well worked vagina, with his tongue.

She tried to buck up into his mouth, but he had tied her just tight enough that she couldn’t move more than an inch or two off of the bed.

He took one of the thin pillows from the headboard and slid it underneath her perfect ass.

Breathing hard, he said in a low voice, “I just want to look at you for a few moments before we take this any further.”

* * *

Candace’s head was spinning. She had definitely surprised herself when she decided to take off her clothes during the lesson. But after coming three times in rapid succession with a virtual stranger, in his guest bedroom, during her mentoring session, she was more than surprised.

She was stupefied.

She was flabbergasted.

And damn it, she was still horny as hell. Hornier than she’d ever been her entire life. And this was how she felt after three, count ‘em, three, mind-blowing, soul-shaking orgasms.

Candace could hardly believe it when the first “Big O” had rocked through her. During a decade of lackluster sex, she had never, ever had an orgasm with a man in the room. She couldn’t believe how quickly she responded to the barest touch from Charlie’s tongue, from his finger inside her swollen labia.

And then again with his muscular thigh between her legs.

And then again with one of his hands on her br**sts and one between her legs.

Oh god, she thought to herself, he must think I am a total slut. Just like that other woman with the huge fake tits who wanted him to be her mentor.

She looked down at herself and realized he had tied her to his bed. I’m no better than that bitch from the conference. And now he knows. But worse than having her hero know what a slut she was, was that she now knew what a slut she was.

Suddenly wanting to be as far away from her embarrassment as possible, far away from Charlie’s probing fingers, from his tongue and his all-seeing, all-knowing eyes, she laughed nervously and said, “Charlie, I feel like I’m all spread out for you like you’re Jesus and I’m The Last Supper.”

He was still kneeling between her legs, clothed in his Levis and light blue striped shirt, and she could see where her come had stained the fabric near his wrists and along his right thigh.