She said a lot of things to me this morning. She told me I needed to be tougher. She said that I give in too easily. That I was too nice; too polite, even. She even told me I can never think of the right words quickly enough. And she made it totally clear that unless I am a bit harder and faster there was no way I would get the research grant unless I was, well, to put it bluntly: not me. She also said that my ideas are excellent. That I am a good grafter. That no-one is as thorough as me. No-one is such a strong and supportive team member. And no-one deserves the research grant more than me. And, finally, that no-one believes in me as she does. “He is exhausted. He over did it last night. He was reading through his sources until the earlier hours. He would not stop no matter how much I urged him to turn it and get some sleep. Then he was up early to get to the university with plenty of time in hand. He must be shattered; it was a tough morning. When we got back he went to take a shower but he didn’t even finish getting undressed. Here he is at three in the afternoon fast asleep. But to his credit he really went for it. I have never seen him speak as clearly and confidently. I have never seen him so strong, so assertive and so much in control. And I have never seen him so happy when they called him back at the end and said the grant was his. He’s been with me for a year or so. It was our anniversary last month. We went out for a meal. It was lovely. We came back afterwards and made love in such a tender, gentle way. Just as we always do. It was beautiful and it was caring and he asked what I wanted each step of the way, always checking that he was doing what worked for me. He kept asking me where I wanted to be touched. It was so… him. So us. But it wasn’t exactly hot. It wasn’t edgy. He is always too keen to oblige and do just what I want. It’s always me who kicks things off and it would be good if once, just once, he took the lead.” She had dressed for the occasion. I noticed that before we had left the flat. She’d put on stockings and that ivory lace slip which she knows is one of my favourites If I am honest, it is just a bit tight for her amazing breasts, but I have never dared tell her. But I like it when it is pulled tight across her bust and you can just make out her nipples underneath. And she looks so good in it at the moment with her tan. She likes to lie out in the sun. I remember that holiday last year – that was when we met – when I talked to her on the beach. She was topless. I just had to strike up a conversation with her. That took a heck of a lot of guts for someone like me. I think my prick showed its appreciation just a bit too much through my trunks when we were chatting. She’s got an even more extensive tan now: our balcony is not really overlooked. She had tucked her arm through mine as we walked to the university. She doesn’t usually do that. We normally hold hands. She didn’t talk much either. She is normally such a chatterbox. Perhaps she was giving me a bit of head room – she knew how nervous I was. I have to be totally honest, and this really is an objective assessment – she did look bloody hot and I felt so good when we walked into the lecture theatre, her heels announcing confidently her presence. I noticed a couple of the panel follow her with their eyes as she took a seat near the front. “He’s going to be aroused, by getting aroused. I am going to wake him up in the most deliciously erotic way I can devise. He deserves a treat. So I climb on the bed gently, hoping he’ll stay sleeping. Straddling him I begin to rub my bare pussy up and down his underwear in the hope of enticing his manhood into an erection. I love it when he is hard. He has the most fantastic penis: far longer and thicker than you would have thought for such a gentle, humble guy. It’s far bigger than any of my previous lovers. To be honest, when I saw it for the first time after we came back from the beach in France I thought – I can’t take that, it’s too big! He might be big, but he is also very gentle. He always checks with me every move we make when we have sex. I think he is aware just how big he is. If we change position there’s always an: ‘Is this OK?’ He’s sweet like that. And he never brags at all about the size of his dick. When I did at a party once, he went bright red and got really cross with me. Her warmth wakes me. I had drifted off, but here she was on top of me, rubbing her pussy against my crotch. I don’t think she is wearing any knickers, I am sure I can feel her lips through my underwear. I really want to make love to her. I want to fucking celebrate. I did it. I did what she said. I was bold, assertive, in control. I got the bloody grant! And now I want her in a way, like never before. I want to fuck her just a touch harder and just a touch faster.

by SARA Shawqy time to read: <1 min
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