Going further

Emily tilted her head, her fingers still brushing the unmistakable hardness beneath his damp slacks. "Am I holding what I think I am?" she whispered, her voice dripping with faux innocence despite the wicked gleam in her eyes. Her thumb traced the outline slowly, watching the way his breath stuttered. "Principal Lee... are you *teaching* me something right now?"

John's grip on her wrist tightened, his pulse rabbiting against her skin. "Emily—" His voice came out ragged, strained.

"I've never... you know," she continued, biting her lower lip as her free hand drifted toward his belt buckle. Her fingers fumbled slightly—inexperience showing—but determination burned in her gaze. "Maybe you could show me what to do with it?" The click of his belt unfastening was obscenely loud in the quiet library.

Emily’s fingers curled around John’s cock with a tentative grip, her pulse hammering in her throat as she explored the unfamiliar weight of him. The heat of his skin against her palm sent a jolt of electricity straight to her core, her own arousal slick between her thighs. She bit her lip, glancing up at him through her lashes as she gave an experimental stroke—slow, unsure, her thumb brushing over the head with deliberate curiosity.

“Is this… right?” she whispered, her voice breathy with feigned innocence. John’s sharp inhale and the way his hips jerked involuntarily told her everything she needed to know. His fingers dug into the armrests of his chair, knuckles white, as if holding himself back from grabbing her.

Emily tightened her grip slightly, relishing the way his breath hitched. She stroked him again, this time with more confidence, her thumb circling the tip to spread the bead of moisture she found there. The salty-slick texture made her own body clench in response, her panties dampening further. She couldn’t believe she was doing this—*was allowed* to do this—and the thrill of it made her bold.

John’s jaw clenched, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. “Emily,” he ground out, his voice rough, “we—we shouldn’t—”

She cut him off with another slow stroke, her fingers gliding easily now, her own arousal fueling her movements. “But I’m learning,” she murmured, her tone dripping with faux sweetness. Her thumb traced the vein along the underside, fascinated by the way he twitched in her hand. “Isn’t that what you’re here for? To… teach me?”

Emily’s breath hitched as she guided John’s hand between her thighs, pressing his palm against the damp fabric of her panties. "Please," she whispered, her voice trembling with need. "Show me how—how it feels." Her fingers tightened around his cock as she stroked him slowly, her thumb circling the head with deliberate pressure. The slick heat of her arousal soaked through the lace, branding his skin even through the barrier.

John’s fingers twitched against her, his resolve crumbling as she rocked into his touch with a whimper. "Emily, God—" His protest died in his throat when she bit her lip and arched against him, her hips chasing the friction of his hand.

"Just touch me," she begged, her strokes on him growing bolder, her wrist twisting just the way she'd seen in those late-night videos she wasn’t supposed to watch. "I’ve never—I don’t know what to do."

John groaned, his fingers slipping beneath the soaked lace to find her bare, swollen flesh. The moment his fingertips brushed her clit, Emily gasped, her back bowing off the chair. "Oh—*fuck*—" Her grip on him faltered for half a second before she redoubled her efforts, stroking him in time with the circles he drew against her.

The library’s silence magnified every wet sound—the slick slide of her fingers on his cock, the obscene squelch as his thumb delved lower, teasing her entrance. Emily’s thighs trembled, her breath coming in ragged pants. "Yes, right there—*please*—" She was close, so close, the coil in her stomach tightening with every brush of his fingers.