Lost Student, Found Desire

The honeymoon faded, and Michael returned to his garage, while I plunged back into my studies, funded now by my parents’ generosity. It felt strange, this sudden loss of their support, a stark reminder of how reliant I'd been. The pressure of school and the anxieties of self-sufficiency settled heavily on my shoulders. Stress, as always, fueled an unexpected surge of desire. Intellectually, I knew the arousal was a coping mechanism, a desperate attempt to distract myself from the mounting pressures, but the physical reality was undeniable. Michael, engrossed in his work, had ignored my texts all morning, so I decided to take matters into my own hands.

I slipped into a simple white spaghetti-strap tank top and white lace panties, a deliberate choice for the mission ahead. The pouring rain outside seemed fitting, the darkness offering a semblance of concealment. A long, dark raincoat completed the ensemble, concealing my youthful curves as I made my way to the bus stop. The rental house was a few miles from Michael’s shop, a new neighborhood where I still felt a prickle of unease, despite my growing familiarity.

The bus ride was unsettling. The few passengers were uniformly grim, each glance feeling like a silent judgment. As I disembarked at the next stop, choosing to walk the final blocks, the sensation of being watched intensified, a phantom presence clinging to my heels. Reaching Michael’s shop, the brass bells of the entrance jangled as I pushed open the door, the sound swallowed by the bustling workshop.

There, leaning against a workbench, wiping grease from his hands with a shop towel, was Michael. Without hesitation, I rushed towards him, pressing my body against his, a desperate plea for comfort and connection. He wrapped his arms around me, a familiar warmth seeping into my chilled bones.

“I’m so stressed, baby, with school stuff and then trying to get here to see you,” I confessed, my voice trembling slightly.

“You must be very stressed to come down here alone,” he observed, his gaze thoughtful. He was aware of my reservations about this new neighborhood, a lingering fear that even the friendly faces couldn't fully dispel. (Thankfully, as I grew more accustomed to the locals, I shed this apprehension and adopted a more cautious approach to personal safety.)

I looked up at him, my eyes wide and pleading, injecting a touch of playful seduction into my expression. With a deliberate movement, I squeezed his cock through his jeans, a silent signal of my intentions. He shifted slightly, a flicker of anticipation in his eyes.

“I’m very, very stressed,” I moaned, shoving him back into the bathroom and against the wall. Then, with a swift turn, I backed away, pulling off my coat. The dampness clinging to the fabric revealed the delicate curve of my breasts and the icy peaks of my nipples. The sight of my exposed skin clearly had an effect, a slow smile spreading across Michael’s face.

I stepped closer, locking eyes with him, holding his gaze with a captivating intensity. With a confident hand, I pulled his t-shirt up over his head, then unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, carefully maneuvering them over his muscular thighs and down to his knees before freeing his cock. Now, holding his erect member in my hand, I began stroking it with deliberate pleasure. My free hand pulled his head down, drawing him into a passionate kiss. I leaned in, licking and sucking at his lips in a frenzied, almost primal way, a sensation both exhilarating and slightly naughty. The shared pleasure was palpable, igniting a spark between us.

As I intensified my ministrations, expertly manipulating his cock, Michael leaned back against the wall, a low groan escaping his lips. The sounds of his arousal fueled my own desire, pushing me to explore the boundaries of our connection. My pumping fingers closed over his head, collecting the accumulating pre-cum before gliding effortlessly down his shaft.

“Mmmmm, I love this cock,” I whispered, squatting on my haunches and holding his erect member against my cheek as if embracing it. “I can never get enough of it.” Then, opening my mouth in a wide, desperate O, I slowly pulled him into my own lips, initiating a wild, uninhibited kiss.

As I sucked and jacked him off, Michael moaned, “Yes, baby. Oooohhh, yes… suck it.” His words were a potent stimulus, driving me further into the depths of ecstasy. But Michael knew I wasn't just there for a quickie. There was something more, a deeper need that only a prolonged, intimate encounter could satisfy.

Michael grabbed my hands, pulling me to my feet before shoving me against the wall. He then yanked my panties off my hips, sending them tumbling to the floor. Without hesitation, I wrapped my legs around his waist, clinging to him for support. He spun, pushing me against the wall with increasing force, leaving me breathless and utterly consumed by sensation. His passionate lips met mine as he slid his cock into my pussy, thrusting deep into my waiting flesh.

My eyes widened, my breath catching in my throat. I squealed, a primal sound of pure pleasure. As Michael’s hard-working hands released their grip on my bare ass one at a time, he hooked each arm under my knees. Then, he began to move, each stroke a concerted effort of hips and arms, one pushing, the other pulling me relentlessly forward to meet his thrusts. Every time our groins connected, it forced another involuntary gasp from my lungs, a testament to the intensity of our encounter. My hand remained wrapped around the back of his neck, but the other slipped down between us, attacking the aching clit exposed by the spread of my thighs.

By the time I gushed my lady-cum all over his magnificent member, Michael was dripping with sweat, his body trembling with both pleasure and exhaustion. He pulled me off the wall, and I clung to him, feeling dizzy and weightless. As he lifted and dropped my hips on his cock, I lost all sense of self, succumbing to the overwhelming sensation. The rhythmic thrusts, the heat, the smell, the sheer abandon of the moment – it was all too much.

Finally, Michael exploded into me, sending a torrent of hot semen deep into my waiting cavity. We gurgled and moaned, our bodies intertwined, lost in a shared ecstasy. Michael wobbled, struggling to maintain his balance, but I held on tight, begging him to continue, to push beyond the limits of pleasure.

As we panted and laughed, a wave of relaxation washed over me, soothing the anxieties that had plagued me all day. The stress began to melt away, replaced by a profound sense of contentment. Looking up at Michael, his face flushed and glistening with sweat, I knew that he felt it too. It was better, infinitely better, than I could have ever imagined.

“Better?” he asked, his voice hoarse with exertion.

I nodded, unable to speak, my body still trembling from the intensity of our encounter. “All better,” I finally managed to whisper, my voice filled with relief and gratitude. The lingering warmth of his touch, the memory of his powerful thrusts, served as a reminder of the connection we shared, a beacon of hope in the midst of my turbulent life. The shop visit had been more than just a distraction; it had been a lifeline, a moment of pure, unadulterated pleasure that had renewed my spirit and restored my sense of self.

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