The Right Programming Language - Sex Stories

The Right Programming Language

... feels like an eternity, but when he pulls into a parking spot, a quick glance at the car display tells me that we arrived in only seven minutes.Seven minutes of heaven or of hell? I think.

Mark guides me into his home and offers me a drink. I gratefully request water, which I chug down after he hands it to me. He watches me drain the glass.

“All right, that’s enough. Come with me.”

I follow him docilely to his bedroom. He has books lining the walls and strewn on his nightstand. The four poster bed snags my attention. It has a metal frame with intricate patterns weaved into the headboard. The bedsheets are blue.

On his pillow is a single book with the words “Introduction to the Theory of Computation” on the cover. I swallow and eye it.

Mark follows my gaze.

“You read it before?” He walks to the bed and picks up the book. I shake my head.

“Open it,“ he commands in a firm voice, handing it to me.

I take it from him and gingerly crack the spine open. The chapter headings swim before me, and I feel heady. The first chapter is numbered at zero rather than one, which makes me absurdly happy.

“You like looking at that, don’t you?” he breaks through my reverie.

I try to nod, but he forces me to use my voice with a sharp command. So I respond with, “Yes, I like it. I like the numbers, and the code… the structure. The structure makes me feel…”

“Peaceful?” He supplies.

“Yes. How did you…?”

“I know how happy you get when you make your ...

... bullet-pointed lists. You sigh, like you are perfectly content. Your brain…. You fascinate me.”

He takes the book back from me and sets it aside.

“I’m not going to beat around the bush anymore, Jane,” he remarks.

I watch him.

“I want you. I want your body. I want to touch you.” He pauses before requesting, “May I?”

“Yes. Please.” I answer immediately.

At last, he reaches for me, and I collapse into his arms. We both let out moans of satisfaction as our lips meet. We kiss for endless moments, and his hands end up on either side of my head, holding my skull in place. I love the firm feel of his fingers tilting my head to just the right angle.

But after a while, it is no longer enough. I want to touch him, get closer to him.

I start trying to get my fingers under his shirt.

Mark groans and shoves me until my back hits the wall. His movements and expressions make my pussy fill with moisture. I moan helplessly at his manhandling.

“Take this off,“ he says, pulling at my dress. I eagerly pull it over my head, revealing my black bra and underwear.

“Oh my god,” he swears.

He takes a step back to just look at me. I fight the urge to cover myself.

“I’m going to touch you now,” he says, giving me a chance to back out. When I say nothing, he yanks my bra cups down and squeezes my breasts roughly.

“Fuck!” I yelp.

“Oh Jane, yes, these are fucking…. I’m going to own these. I’m going to own you, Jane. You know that? I won’t take no for an answer. You are mine ...