3. Learning is Always a Painful Process [FF]

[Part 1](https://old.reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/i19kdz/1_ignorance_brings_chaos_not_knowledge_or_the/)

[Part 2](https://old.reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/i1qyla/2_how_i_learned_to_stop_worrying_and_love_getting/)

Things didn’t exactly end happily—if they ended at all, or if indeed there was anything to end—between me and Lucy, but for a couple of months we carried on in much the same vein. Though we never showed any affection in public, everybody knew we were fucking: Lucy’s flatmates heard me pleading and whining, my own flatmates saw Lucy stalk in and out of the building and wanted to know just what I saw in that sulky bitch, and one of our lecturers once alluded to us as a couple. I thought this would drive Lucy insane, but she didn’t seem to care.

For whatever reason, I went on craving Lucy’s approval, doing her bidding, becoming a little unhealthily dependent on those small scraps of tenderness she offered me. I came to trust that, whatever Lucy wanted to subject me to, I would begin to like it sooner or later, and that the worst I would have to endure was her ‘told you so’ expression. I wasn’t really sure what I anticipated the most: it might have been the orgasms, which surged through me like electricity, lighting up my nerves to the tips of my fingers and toes and which, in all of my nineteen years, I had never realised could be so powerful; it might, though, have been the flashes of affection which broke occasionally through her icy exterior, the aloof kisses, the careful stroking of my hair, the overt words of approval like ‘good girl’, ‘that’s nice’ and ‘don’t stop’. In a twist that will surprise nobody, I only came to realise how much she longed for the same from me once it was already too late to do anything about it.

While of course I could never get away with claiming that the division of labour was equal, things were by no means one-sided. Though at the time I would have blushed and swatted away the accusation, with hindsight I’m sure that I was able to gently expand the horizons of Lucy’s pleasure, too. More often than not I would just go down on her, as she lay back on her soft and perfumed sheets or my scratchy ones, looking up at the ceiling as though she was bored until, with a precision I became able to pinpoint, her breath would become ragged and start to give way to helpless, high-pitched moans, which she would try to stifle. I always loved the way she tasted; whether she was freshly-showered, fruity and sweet or, when we went straight back to hers or mine after a day of lectures, had that strong, sticky-sweaty pussy taste, it always gave way to something which tasted of pure Lucy, and I would lick and suck her until I knew I would wake up with an ache in the root of my tongue which hurt when I swallowed coffee in the morning.

Given how sturdy Lucy’s defences were, it wasn’t surprising that some of our most intimate moments came at unlikely times, or just completely by surprise. Once, Lucy had had a blazing argument with one of our lecturers, an oldish blazer-wearing sort who hadn’t chosen his words particularly carefully. Perhaps I ought to have joined the fray, but in fact I just watched in awe as Lucy took him to task; not wanting to lose face, Professor Whatever-his-name-was had made some pointed and personal comment about Lucy’s performance in class, or her grades or something, and succeeding in rattling her icy exterior. She had been as quiet and as surly as usual for the rest of the seminar, and hadn’t said a word to me as, together, we walked the ten minutes back to her room. I think I even made a foolish attempt to reach for her hand, and she had jerked it away.

I didn’t know quite what to expect. Lucy was often (alright, always) prickly and sour, but I had never really seen her angry. Wondering if this was the right thing to do, I even tried to take my leave of her as we approached her building.

‘I should probably just go back to mine,’ I said, or something like that.

‘No,’ she said, with a shake of her head, and that was that.

I didn’t know if Lucy was planning to take out her anger on me, somehow. I wondered briefly if she wanted to hurt me, but I decided that this wouldn’t make much sense. For all that Lucy could be an uncompromising and demanding partner, she never seemed to take any joy in my pain; if I told her something hurt, she would stop, or continue more gently, or at least offer some reassurance.

Things remained unusual once we got inside; so often, Lucy would take off her clothes and slip into bed the moment we got back to her room, or at the very least she’d take off her jeans, if she was wearing them, and sit in her knickers and a t-shirt on the bed and start monologuing about something I was too slow-witted to understand. This time, she sat on the cheap, plasticky swivel chair next to her desk, turned it to put her feet on the bed, and seemed to be contemplating them, fixing her own sock-clad toes with a hard stare. I had no idea what to do or why I was there, so I sat cross-legged on the bed and tried not to stare at her. She had her hair in a messy bun—like every English undergrad girl seemed to, at the time—and she let it down to spill around her face and onto her shoulders. She was, I think, wearing a long-sleeved shirt with horizontal stripes which hugged the curves of her upper body tightly, her tits aggressively distorting the stripes.

‘I’m sorry, Lucy,’ I remember saying.

‘You didn’t do anything,’ she said, which I thought was revealing since I wasn’t exactly apologising for having done something, but she sounded sincere.

A moment or two later she leaned forward to root around in the drawer by her bed, and she took out the black rabbit vibe that, a few weeks ago, she had used to fuck me in the ass. To be honest, I had thought several times that I wanted her to do this again, but something in my shy teenaged self kept me from asking her to, so I settled for her fingers or, once, my own, as she watched, amused, having squeezed lube onto them and told me what to do.

I wondered what Lucy had planned this time. It didn’t take long to realise that whatever it was didn’t involve me. She unbuttoned her jeans and pulled them down as far as her knees. Shifting forward on her chair, tilting her hips a little, she put her feet back up on the bed, and slipped the toy down between her legs.

‘Lucy…’ I said. ‘If you want, I can…’

‘You can watch,’ she said.

So I did; I watched her intently, and it felt strange to see Lucy move through the stages of her arousal when I wasn’t touching her. In fact, I became very aware of my hands, and I didn’t know what to do with them as I was watching her. Eventually I leaned back on them and looked mainly at her face—the fabric of her jeans was mostly in the way of her cunt, but I could tell roughly what she was doing by the movement of her hands. She applied the quiet vibrations of the toy to her clit at first, moving it in gentle circles as her eyes closed. I was relieved to see that she had that same bored look as when I was the one trying to give her pleasure; in just the same way, her mask gradually fell. It began with her eyes, which were closed to begin with but which began to screw up more tightly, slightly creasing the space between her eyebrows. Next came her mouth, which twitched a little at the corners, flashing with hints of a smile and a grimace at the same time.

She shifted the position of her arm, and I heard the tiny, wet sound of the vibrator slipping into her; as it entered her for the first time, Lucy’s mouth opened into something like a gasp, and I could see that she was already working hard to keep quiet. I really wanted to kiss her, and so I slipped my hands under my bum to remind myself to keep from reaching for her. I wondered if maybe I should start touching myself too, but something in the way Lucy told me to watch implied that she wanted my full attention. I felt myself getting wet all the same.

I could tell that Lucy had settled the upper part of the vibrator against her clit. She began taking slow, regular breaths, tensing her face involuntarily, occasionally biting her bottom lip. She pushed down on the handle to reach her g-spot, and she grabbed at the fabric of her top with her free hand.

I felt a strange pride in the fact that, when Lucy had an orgasm, she didn’t make as much noise as she did when I was the one responsible. She just took a few deep, shuddering breaths in rapid succession until she held the last one, screwing up her eyes tightly, her legs shaking a little bit as she clenched her thighs together around her wrist. She dropped the toy roughly on the floor between her legs and collapsed back into the chair, her eyes still closed, her breathing deep and steady. She pulled her jeans the rest of the way down, and dropped them with her socks and panties on the floor.

‘You can lick me now, if you want,’ she said.

‘Yes, please,’ I told her. I moved her clothes and her vibrator to the side and sat, cross-legged and subservient, between her thighs. Her lips and her inner thighs shone wetly, and I carefully licked every drop from her; I looked up and caught her looking down at me, something very close to pleasure in her eyes, then focused again on her cunt. I licked, slowly and thoroughly, over and around her tiny, pink asshole. I carefully licked the little space between her ass and the opening of her pussy. I took each of her wet, dark pink inner lips into my mouth, one after the other, and as I sucked gently on them Lucy moaned. I kissed the soft skin on the inside of each of her thighs with lingering care, then kissed the mound of her pubic bone before I sucked, gently, on the hood of her clit.

Lucy’s hands grasped at her shirt, her boobs, her hair. At one point, she extended one hand downward toward me, perhaps as though to run it through my hair or to grasp the back of my neck, but she stopped, changed her mind at the last moment, and probably thought I didn’t notice.

I took deep breaths of the smell of her. I wanted, for some reason, to pull her shirt up and cover her stomach with kisses, but I didn’t. I settled instead into a rhythm of soft, wet, roundish strokes of my tongue over her clit, and felt her soak my bottom lip and my chin as she moaned.

‘You’re going to make me come, Lottie,’ she said, and I moaned, too, into the warmth of her cunt. My fingers, which had been gently caressing the outsides of her thighs, now grasped them firmly. Before long Lucy was coming again, this time allowing herself one long, breathy, high-pitched moan. I sat back from her and watched the slow trickle of spit and her own wetness run out of her, and she reached forward to brush my hair out of my face before, again, she leaned back in her chair and breathed, slowly and meditatively.

‘Take your clothes off now,’ she said, without opening her eyes.

Happy to obey her as always, I took off my clothes and dropped them in a pile by the bed. I lay back, arranged the pillows underneath my neck, and waited for Lucy to join me.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/i2b6bb/3_learning_is_always_a_painful_process_ff