Aftercare and escalation

Miranda knelt there, panting to catch her breath. She had taken several thick spurts of Peter's chemically-enhanced load straight down her throat, and the rest of it coated her face and hoodie -- the very same hoodie that Peter had accidentally used as a cumrag just yesterday. With each gasping inhale, she took lungfuls of mind-altering pheromones in. With each pump of her heart, the chemicals were circulating around her bloodstream.

As the semen was absorbed into her body, her dependence and need for more of Peter's cum was deepening.

Peter was still as turned on as he'd ever been in his whole life. There was something so...taboo about seeing this perfect Korean-American coed, normally so put-together, made messy and sticky and violated...by him. By his cock.

It wasn't the red haze that had possessed Peter to shove his TA's perfect face down his shaft ("I can't believe I did that," he thought), but there was a deep, thrumming need in him to keep burying his cock in something wet, warm, and willing. He was still a shy, awkward nerd -- but some primal **** was arising in him, and that need gave him confidence.

"Miranda," he said. "That was incredible. I want more."

She looked up at him, in a bit of surprise, as if she had forgotten that he was still there. Wordlessly, still kneeling, she looked up at him, and they locked eyes. The eye contact was so intense, but Peter somehow held her gaze, and nodded his head slightly, as if motioning to his hard cock, gently bobbing up and down in the library's AC. After a few moments, she bit her lower lip, and nodded back.

Sighing with satisfaction, as if going in for a second bite of chocolate cake, she opened her abused mouth and gently took the head of Peter's cock into her warm, wet mouth. Whereas the first blowjob was aggressive, both of them trying to get Peter to cum as fast as possible, this was half foreplay, half aftercare. Her tongue traced gentle circles around his sensitive, swollen cockhead, as her lips slowly bobbed around the first couple inches, and used her fingertips to trace lines with long, gentle strokes up and down the rest of Peter's impressive member.

This was another new sensation to Peter. He felt as if he could stay like this forever, just slowly getting harder and harder, without ever climaxing. He adjusted his position slightly, leaning back so he could get a better view of his fantasy-girl gently worshipping his cock.

Miranda interpreted this a little differently and paused, looking up at him. "Is this okay?" she asked. "I don't know that I can handle another session like the last one."

Peter, flabbergasted -- she was asking him if this incredible, loving blowjob was...okay? was at a loss for reply.

Miranda, weirdly anxious to please, interpreted his silence as displeasure, and quickly kept talking, all while maintaining her gentle stroking on his shift. "Okay, um, do you want to fuck me? I mean, you're clean, right? I'm on the pill but I don't have any condoms on me."

"What am I doing?" she thought to herself. "I definitely was not going to fuck him, just a quick blowjob. I mean this cock is ridiculous, it's probably going to hurt just getting inside of me. But, shit, look how hard he is, I can't leave him like this. Mmm, I hope he shoots a nice fat load into my pussy, then I can walk around all day with his creampie in me. Whoa, where did that come from? Oh, God, he still hasn't replied, he thinks I'm a slut."

"I'm, I'm not a slut," she stammered out, getting more nervous. "I just..."

Peter finally found his words. "I would love to fuck you, Miranda," he said, weirdly confident. This was all moving very fast, but...it felt right, somehow. Miranda should ask to be fucked by him.

Immediately, Miranda's face lit up, and she stood up and started taking off her clothes, starting with that cornflower blue hoodie. Then, her tank top -- she hadn't put on a bra, and her perfectly round, C-cup tits came into view. Miranda had a bikini tan, and the paleness of her breasts next to her California-Asian tan made them seem even more innocent and intimate. They were capped by small, crimson nipples that begged to be nibbled on.

They were the first pair of breasts that Peter had ever seen in real life, but he had little time to soak it in as Miranda proceeded to shuck off her morning sweatpants and panties in one smooth motion. She hopped onto the table in the little library study room, then turned to face Peter, spreading her legs.

There, before him, was the most glorious little shaved pussy, better than anything he'd ever seen in porn. Pink lips at the end of long, tanned legs, ending in just a tiny pale bikini tan. Miranda had her left hand supporting herself on the table, and her right hand was tracing small circles on her clit. Under the fluorescent lights of the room, he could see the glistening reflection of her pussyjuice all over her labia, fingers, and upper thigh.

Miranda's increasingly cum-addled mind had been slowly losing its grip over the last few minutes. Now, she was again just addressing Peter's glorious cock. "I'm ready, you don't need to do anything, just...fuck me, please," Miranda confessed to it. "Look how wet I am, I don't know why I got so turned on blowing you but I'm so, so wet. You're so thick that I'm not sure you'll fit, but I think I'm wet enough. Please. Fuck me. Please, please, fill me up, I need it. Fill me up like I've never been stuffed before."

Wordlessly, Peter stepped forward and instinctively lined up his rock-hard dick at the entrance of her pussy.