All Things Come... Vol. 2 Ch. 01

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'Well, they're going to split into two decent groups easily enough,' I said as Elena and I waited for a table for lunch. 'The two older guys and the youngest girl are a little weaker than the others, so they can go together, and the other four will be OK more or less. The commercial attaché, Magda, is less confident than the other three. Do you think I could have her for an extra hour a day for the first month to bring her along a little faster?' Elena made a note in her enormous diary.

'That shouldn't be a problem. I'll tell you if she has any meetings that clash. Evenings would be better if any of them need extra time. It's hard enough freeing them up for half a day each, every day, and I'll be the one picking up the slack. It's going to be hell.' I made sympathetic noises.

'If you need a place to retreat use the pension. No-one will think of looking for you there, and there's a phone and everything.' She smiled.

'And I'll be conveniently placed for therapy too. I feel pretty good today, so it might not be such a bad idea. And you're the sort of guy who'd understand if I said thanks but no thanks.'

'I'll quote you: Thank God for an adult.' We grinned at each other and my cock stirred. I hoped she wouldn't say no thanks too often..

'I'll tell Magda to come tonight,' she said. 'You can start with her as soon as possible, and the rest on Monday. We might as well get our money's worth out of you.'

Sure. I'll prepare some stuff for her this afternoon and material for the groups at the weekend. Can I use the Embassy photocopier?'

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'Wouldn't it be better to put me in the other group?' asked Magda hesitantly. 'I'm not really as good as you think...'

'You're better than them,' I told her, 'and don't let anyone persuade you differently. I've got no trouble understanding you. All we need to do is think about how to make it more automatic. We'll have a drink and chat about it a little.' She sat nervously at the table and held the glass of wine I'd given her as if it were her only defense. I sat opposite her and tried to reach out for the block that I knew must be there.

She was dark haired and slim, pale skinned and nervous, with small breasts and narrow hips. Elena had told me that she was twenty six but she looked like a teenager. She was qualified to the eyebrows and beyond in Business Administration and God only knew what else, but for some reason she didn't trust herself.

'Tell me a little about yourself, Magda: I want you to get used to having normal conversations in English. Some of your problem is nerves and wondering if you're going to make a terrible mistake any minute.' She began to speak and I let my mind filter the words automatically while I probed for the real reason for her shyness. There was unease radiating from her, and somehow it was connected with me: no, not me, but what I represented. Suddenly I saw what was bothering her.

'Magda, are you the only woman in the meetings and things that you have to go to?' she stared at me as if I was Marvo the Magician.

'How do you know?'

'And has somebody in the meetings been teasing you about your English, or deliberately being critical, or using difficult vocabulary or complex constructions to upset you?' That did it. The floodgates opened and tears began to flow down her cheeks. I let her weep for a couple of minutes and then got up to fetch some tissues. When I handed them to her she grasped a handful blindly, pressing them to her eyes, and cried harder than ever.

'Come on, love,' I said gently, 'this isn't going to get us anywhere. If that's what's been happening it'll be easy to fix. Come and sit comfortably and tell me about it and we'll work out how to stop him.' I took her arm and led her through to my room, settling her in one armchair and sinking gratefully into the other. Curiosity got the better of her and she wiped her eyes and looked round. I sat quietly and waited for her to look at me. Finally her eyes met mine.

'Now tell me what he's saying.'

It was the usual hateful story. Someone who resented her youth and intelligence was picking away at her shyness and sensitivity, laughing at her tiny errors, suggesting that she wasn't up to the job, hinting that skinny little girls were no good in bed or out of it. She shook slightly as she told me, and her face was a portrait of misery. I knew that for her it was the most important thing in the world at that moment, and if I tried to make light of it she'd lose her motivation to learn for ever.

'So what we've got to do is find a way to put the bastard down in the short term and get you back to believing in yourself so you can do your job properly. Once that's sorted we'll work on the English and when you've got it right we'll prepare a big public put down that you can practice before you hit him with it. I love giving guys like that a good smacking. You promise to work at it and I'll promise to make sure you do it. Deal?' I put my hand out and after a tiny pause she took it and shook. When she didn't let go I looked up at her and was just in time to see the tears start flowing again before she launched herself at me and buried her head in my chest. Her slender arms twisted round me and I felt her sobbing silently. My shirt began to feel very wet. I sent out you-can-trust-kind-Uncle-Luke vibes and patted her back gently.

'Don't worry about me telling anyone about this,' I promised. 'We'll run it as a parallel project: there's no need to bother anyone else with the details.' She pulled back a little and looked at me.

'Can I tell you something?' Her voice was soft but her face looked determined.

'Go ahead.'

'The real reason that he's harassing me is because I said no when he asked me out. He's not my type. I mean, even if he was nice he wouldn't be my type, but what he's doing is revenge really.'

'That figures. I've met people like that. What is your type, if it's not a rude question?' She wriggled gently and I felt her slight weight rubbing against my groin.

'You're more my type. You don't laugh at me, and you're a bit older, and you listen and you're helpful without treating me like a little girl. People always do that because I look younger than I am.' Suddenly she was all grown up. 'I'm going to say thank you like an adult,' she went on, 'and to seal our bargain too.' She slipped off my lap and knelt on the floor in front of me, putting her chin on my knees. 'Close your eyes, Luke.' I closed my eyes obediently, my heart beginning to beat faster.

I felt her hands opening the fly of my chinos and then warm fingers wrapping round my thickening shaft. She eased me out of the slit in my boxers and a soft tongue lapped at my cockhead. I was hardening and lengthening with every breath and her hands closed round the base of my prick and squeezed it gently. Then her lips slid over my glans and the thrill of first contact washed over me. I half opened my eyes in time to see her shuffling forward and dipping her head to take in more of me. All I could see was the top of her dark head moving gently as her tongue swirled over and round me and her lips held me firmly, squeezing gently just under the flange of my cockhead. Bolts of lust flickered along the length of my shaft and left droplets of glowing energy that pooled into my balls, filling them with tingling anticipation. One hand slipped under me and cupped my balls gently, and with the other she began to pump me in time with her tongue strokes.

She was slow and thorough, and my cock was jerking as she coaxed my straining erection to new force. I began to thrust involuntarily and she raised her head slightly, relaxing her throat and letting me fuck her mouth. With every stroke she slid the tip of her tongue over the sensitive knot of nerves in my frenum and I felt my awareness settling at the base of my prick. My balls swelled and began to draw up and her hand massaged them gently and she increased the pressure of her lips. Then her finger snaked round and pressed upwards into the delicate gap between my ass and my scrotum, pushing the engorged vein against the bottom of my prostate and I lurched over the edge. With a muffled grunt I fountained into her mouth and felt her throat working smoothly as she swallowed my seed, milking me gently and forcing the last drops from me. My body relaxed and she held me gently between her lips, not moving as I softened. Then I felt her tongue licking me clean. She tucked my flaccid cock back into my boxers and zipped up my chinos.

'You can open your eyes now,' she said. There was a hint of a smile in her voice.

'I was peeping anyway.' I confessed as she leaned back and looked up at me. The smile widened.

'Of course you were,' she said, 'and if you'd said you weren't I'd have called you a liar.' I leaned forward and raised her from her knees.

'You didn't have to do that,' I told her, 'but thank you. Wonderful and completely unexpected. What made you decide to do it?' She climbed onto my lap again and snuggled like a little girl.

'Because I wanted to, and because you're kind and gentle and you understood everything so well. You tasted wonderful.' I realized, not for the first time, that however many women you meet, the next one will always surprise you.

'One day you can tell me why speaking English in public makes you so nervous but giving a near stranger an outstanding blow job doesn't even raise a blush.' Now she did blush.

'Maybe I'm a bit too concerned about being seen as a grown up. I'm a bit screwed up in that area. But I did enjoy it. Your cock's so warm and hard.' I shook my head, too flabbergasted to reply, and she stood up.

'I feel better about the classes and everything now, but it's probably time I went. I've got a ton of stuff to do before tomorrow.' I nodded.

'Go on, then. Same time tomorrow, and we'll try to concentrate on speaking not swallowing.' She leaned forward and kissed me lightly.

'Tomorrow, then. Goodnight, teacher.'

I lay back in my chair and marveled at it all. Twenty-four hours ago I'd been telling myself that I'd have to stay positive and take care not to fall into a rut. Now it looked as if I was going to be providing English and therapy and confidence seminars in equal proportions.

It's better to be born lucky than rich.