The day after she allowed me an orgasm, Ms. J had me wear the butt plug to the library. As previously, she said it was to keep me from getting the wrong idea of our relationship.

“Hormones are powerful,” she said. “They make you do stupid things.” She was referring to my horny carelessness that ended up with her having a broken leg and my being in her service.

Objectively, there was no way anyone would know I had it in me. But I couldn’t help feeling the chief librarian’s eyes on me as I went about my research work. When I crouched to retrieve a volume from a low shelf, it pressed into my prostate making me tingle. When I reached to a high shelf, I worried that if I farted it would shoot out and down my pant leg to clatter on the floor. When I walked, the anal stimulation made me feel more alive.

“It will keep you aware of your situation,” Ms. J had said, and it did. The full feeling it gave me was a constant reminder; I liked being reminded. It was only for a day because she didn’t want it to lose its impact by constant use.

I wondered how Ms. J knew so well how to control me. We had settled into a routine and things seemed to be going well in her project.

“Let me in,” said the text message that woke me up in the middle of the night. As I put on a robe, I couldn’t fathom why Ms. J would have come downstairs instead of summoning me. I opened my door to an empty corridor and heard knocking on the exterior door. It was Jane.

I hadn’t received a text from anyone but Ms. J in weeks, so I hadn’t noticed who sent it. I opened the door to let my sopping wet friend in and followed her into my apartment.

I hardly had time to close the door before Jane began taking her wet clothes off. Jane and I had had a lot of casual sex over the past few years, so it was not unusual for her to be naked in my apartment.

Still trying to clear the sleep from my head, I realized she had been mumbling, apparently drunk and upset about something. By the time I returned from my bedroom with a towel and a robe for her, she stood completely nude.

In the subdued light, she looked as good as ever, perky breasts with nipples pointy from the cold rather than excitement. Her gentle curves were fun to rub up against, so I was glad she liked food and drink too much to drop the ten pounds she always talked about wanting to lose.

I hugged the robe around her to warm her as she applied the towel to her dripping blond hair. Only after she plopped on the couch was there enough light on her face to see that something was wrong. Her red eyes and smeared makeup were caused by more than the rain she had walked through.

I wrapped my arm around her to comfort her, smelling the alcohol that helped fuel whatever drama was in progress.

“I’m sorry I haven’t talked to you in a while,” Jane began. I realized I hadn’t talked to her since I broke Ms. J’s leg. My life had changed in a lot of ways. “I met a guy, and I didn’t want him thinking I had a boyfriend.”

“I’ve been busy, too,” I said, not ready to reveal anything about what was really going on in my life. She looked like she might start crying, so I prompted her to try to hold off the tears.

“What’s going on?” I asked sympathetically.

“I caught him with someone else,” she sobbed. “I showed up to surprise him with some sexy lingerie, and there was a woman in his apartment!” I glanced at the undergarments she had draped over a chair to dry; they were lacier than her usual, and there were stockings and a garter (why do men find that sexy?) rather than pantyhose.

Dropping in on people unexpectedly never leads to something good, I thought. The present situation included.

“Well, sweetie, you’re drunk and it’s the middle of a rainy night, so you can stay here tonight. If your clothes aren’t dry in the morning, you can use the dryer,” I said, standing and urging her to her feet. Even if I had thought more about it at the time, I don’t think I had any alternative. We had shared a bed so many times; it was just the natural thing to do as I led her into the bedroom. She stopped in the bathroom on the way, so I was naked under the sheets before she joined me.

Her body was warm, soft and genuine. We spooned as I shut off the light, stroked her gently until she was asleep, and nodded off myself.

I was awakened by her sucking my cock. As much of a fantasy as that is, in practice it is disorienting, especially when your foggy brain is trying to separate dream from reality, remember what happened last night, and deduce why and by whom you are being fellated.

“Good morning,” I said, reaching to her disheveled blonde locks.

Her reply was mumbled with a mouthful of my dick. She had me almost hard, and as I looked down to see the round hills of her ass swaying in the background, she decided I was ready for her.

Her familiar silhouette rose over me as she straddled me before I could react. Jane’s gold-tinged Scandinavian skin confirmed she was a natural blonde. My hands instinctively went to her breasts as she pressed the split of her vulva against my penis. I wasn’t as hard and she wasn’t as wet as she wanted, but as her warm flesh slid up and down my length, both issues were addressed.

We sighed in unison as our bodies became reacquainted. I had seen Jane with mussed hair and makeup many times, so my eyes saw through the disorder and perceived only her sweet face. We had played this scene before.

When she was satisfied with our mutual state of arousal, she lifted herself up and, without needing to use her hands, aligned her opening with the tip of my cock and leaned back onto it.

Suddenly an alarm went off in my brain. Ms. J! There was no time to think about how I got where I was or what the implications were. I just knew I had to extricate myself.

Jane was enjoying herself—and so was I—as she slowly rode my cock, in no rush as warmth spread through our bodies. I couldn’t let it continue, but I didn’t know how to stop it. I couldn’t just toss her off me.

I was already in trouble, but if I climaxed, it would be much worse. The only thing I could think to do was to fake an orgasm. Luckily, my awareness of my peril set back my libido, so as Jane became more excited, I was able to keep my cool. I just hoped I wouldn’t lose my erection as her movements increased in intensity.

I couldn’t keep up the charade long enough for her to orgasm, so when the time seemed right, I began to groan and squirm.

“Oh, no! Oh, shit!” I exclaimed, grabbing her ass and gasping, giving an award-winning performance. I took a deep breath. Her grinning face didn’t show any sign that she suspected anything.

“I’m sorry,” I whined. “I guess it’s been too long and you turn me on so much.” It’s easier to lie when you tell the truth.

To distract her, I pulled her down on top of me and rolled onto her, sliding down and out of her cunt. I kissed my way down her body and soon had my face buried in her warm wet folds. She acted as if everything was normal or at least not abnormal.

I took my time licking and nibbling and sucking all over her smooth pussy. My left hand did double duty on her breasts while my right explored her vagina. I knew her likes and dislikes and how she responded, so I played her like a well-tuned guitar, mixing high notes and low notes, taking her through a few choruses and a long solo before building to the final verse.

Fortunately, my face was buried between her legs when I heard her loud cries of ecstasy as I sucked her clit and my fingers corkscrewed her opening. Jane would have been puzzled by the sudden look of horror I surely showed when I realized Ms. J could certainly hear her. I was able to calm down in the guise of letting her enjoy her orgasm before I lifted my face from that delicious stew.

Glancing at the clock, it was no act when I said, “I’m sorry, Jane darling, but I have an early meeting today, so I can’t stay.”

I hopped up and gave her a taste of herself from my lips before heading to the shower. I tried to think of how I could hurry Jane on her way but was relieved when I emerged from the bathroom to see her putting on her still somewhat damp dress and shoes.

“A real walk of shame,” she said, giving me a fashion turn in her wrinkled dress, holding her bra, panties, stockings, and garter in a ball, her hair and makeup completing the comical look.

“I’ll get going,” she said, stuffing her undergarments in her purse. “I have to work today, too. It’ll take my mind off things.”

She gave me a big hug and a kiss. “Thanks,” she said, the word and her eyes conveying the depth of her emotion. “Oh,” her face brightened, “and thanks for this morning! I definitely owe you one. You sure know how to make a girl forget her troubles.”

As I watched her walk out the door, I knew mine had just started.

I had a half-hour before Ms. J would usually summon me. I rushed to be ready and was glad when I got the text at the regular time. Knowing I had to tell her, in the few minutes I waited for the message I decided how.

Stepping into her apartment, my eyes were on the floor. I did not want her to think that I had waited until I saw the expression on her face before I spoke.

“Ms. J, I apologize for speaking out of turn, but I must confess something to you,” I blurted out. It was a violation of protocol, but one that paled in comparison to what I had done with Jane.

“Are you confessing because you know that I know what you have done?” she demanded. In fact, I didn’t know what she knew. Maybe she slept through the noise we made, or maybe it wasn’t as easy to hear us as I feared.

“No, Ms. J,” I said the honest truth. “I knew I would tell you immediately. I know I cannot hide things from you, so it would be foolish to try.”

“So tell me what you have to confess,” she ordered.

I told her about how Jane came to arrive at my apartment and provided a brief summary of our history. I didn’t know what her opinion would be of what I did up to the point where we fell asleep, but I did not think that I had violated Ms. J’s trust.

As I explained how Jane woke me and how it evolved into sex, I wasn’t sure exactly when I crossed the line, but I definitely ended up on the wrong side of it.

“I should have stopped her as soon as I realized she was sucking me,” I admitted. “It is true that I didn’t want to upset her, but I cannot deny the pleasure she gave me. When she mounted me, I decided to fake an orgasm as a way to stop it.”

“Hmpf,” she snorted, sounding skeptical.

“I continued as if I had prematurely ejaculated, giving her an orgasm with my mouth. I enjoyed that as well,” I conceded.

Ms. J drank her coffee in silence, giving me time to wonder if she believed me. Did she hear my fake orgasm? Did she think I had a real one? Adding more information to the story would certainly lead her to believe I was lying. It was better to stick to the simple facts.

When she finished, she got up and went to her computer. She said nothing, so I could only wait for her judgment or to be dismissed. She made a phone call I couldn’t completely follow, but it was something about tomorrow and she gave them my name.

She worked for another few minutes, then printed out a page and brought it to me.

“I understand but do not excuse what happened and how it happened,” she said. “You should have found a way to help your friend,” that last word laced with sarcasm, “that did not put you at risk for violating the rules.”

“As your punishment,” she started and I steeled myself. “You will eat nothing for forty-eight hours that is until this time the day after tomorrow. Water and coffee only. Be sure to drink water so you don’t get dehydrated and pass out.”

She handed me the piece of paper and continued, “So you understand hunger a little better, you will also spend tomorrow working at Saint Anthony’s. Report to that address at 6:30 AM, and you will stay until they close for the evening. You will do whatever tasks they assign you. If given a choice, you will volunteer for the most difficult or unpleasant jobs.”

She continued, “Today you will work in the library until closing. Since you won’t be working there tomorrow, you will have extended hours until you make up for the day.” She concluded, “Assuming I get a glowing report from the food bank and you complete your fast, I will consider the matter closed.”

Ms. J’s eyes fixed on me as she spoke slowly, “You will find a way to avoid such transgressions in the future.” She hobbled back to her desk and began typing. After a bit, as an afterthought, she sighed and dismissed me with a wave over her shoulder.

The long day at the library was nothing special. I had skipped meals before, so coffee kept my energy up until the closing bell. My stomach growled when I got home, but I spent some time on my software job to distract myself. I went to bed early to be up before dawn so I could be at Saint Anthony’s on time.

The manager of the food bank was a nun. Her black habit seemed adjusted for her current activities; less flowing, and with sleeves above the wrist, it would be less likely to get in the way. The veil and collar were smaller than traditional, allowing her to turn her head and eye me skeptically as I approached.

I’m sure she thought I was another bleeding heart that was looking to shed some guilt without being particularly useful. “I’m Sister Joan of Arc,” she said when I gave her my name. “Call me Sister Joan.”

“You won’t be handling any food today, at least none that will be consumed since you’re not certified,” she had given this speech before, disabusing volunteers of the idea that they would be cooking or serving. “But there are plenty of things to do.”

Short, calm, but clearly in charge, she set the regular and irregular volunteers to their tasks. She reminded me of Ms. J, and I almost called her Sister J more than once. Whether taking out the garbage or cleaning the bathroom, I knew who I was doing it for. It dawned on me that Ms. J might volunteer here regularly and that was another thing I had taken away from her.

When they closed the doors after lunch, the other volunteers lined up for their own bowls of soup and bread. My mouth watered at the aroma. When Sister Joan welcomed me to join them, I told her I was fasting. Familiar with the religious practice, she gave me a puzzled look, probably wondering if I was motivated by piety or some pseudo-scientific fad.

Working efficiently and meticulously, I kept busy. While scrubbing pans, I watched Sister Joan at her computer. Again she reminded me of Ms. J; my glucose-deprived brain wondered if she was just as hairy under her habit and might even have red toenails.

As each hour passed, it was harder and harder to focus on my tasks. Feeling bloated and edgy from too much coffee, I was tired, sweaty, dirty, and hungry. I had been on my feet most of the time I had been there, not a typical day for a software developer.

Sister Joan seemed surprised that I was still there when it was time to turn off the lights and lock up. “Thank you, Mr. Fenner,” she said, smiling. “You are welcome back anytime. If you get a food certificate, you may be able to do some of the less-unpleasant work.”

Perhaps I was light-headed from lack of food, but it seemed to me Ms. J spoke to me from inside that habit, and I shivered with pride.

“I’m happy I could help and didn’t mind doing whatever was needed,” I said.

After a long, hot shower, I was ready for bed. My stomach had given up growling and settled into a continual nagging, interrupting my thoughts. I reminded myself that every hour was another hour closer to regaining Ms. J’s trust, although I didn’t know if that would be days or weeks or months. Exhaustion finally overcame hunger and I fell asleep.

Until I arrived with her cappuccino in the morning, I had only thoughts of the banana waiting for me in my apartment when the forty-eight hour period was over. Those were derailed when I saw Ms. J in her usual chair, but wearing the bright red quilted robe I had not seen since that first night. I could not suppress the erection that the memory of that night inspired. Her red toenails were visible on her bare feet.

“Sister Joan of Arc said you did a good job,” Ms. J said, sipping her coffee. “The time has also expired, so I consider the punishment completed. You may resume your regular eating and other activities.” I breathed a sigh of relief. She continued, “There is another matter that was raised by your misconduct.”

My starved mind struggled to guess what.

“This,” she said, looking at her boot, with her voice implying not just the object, but the injury and the whole situation, “has denied me some activities that I will not speak of. However, those activities provided me with relief and respite that I now realize I have been missing. Seeing no alternative at this point, I am forced to use you to try to compensate for that loss.”

Rising to her feet, she used the walker to hobble to the bedroom. I followed. Standing next to her bed, she removed the robe; she wore nothing underneath. Watching my eyes take in her body, she defied me to judge her. I had seen much of it before, but that was different. Now she wanted me to see her.

Without the baggy clothes, she seemed smaller than the five feet two inches I estimated. She was not skinny, but her round ass and shapely legs were firm. Her full breasts were the exception, hanging and swaying as she moved. I recalled their softness.

The thick, dark hair that cloaked her genitals was echoed under her arms. Even with her arms down, tufts peeked out. Although less visible from my distance, I knew the fine black hair that covered her from the waist down certainly coated her arms as well. My survey was completed in the few seconds as she maneuvered herself and the boot onto the bed.

“Remove all your clothes,” she said. “Put them on that chair.” She watched my body emerge but gave no sign of approval or disapproval.

My penis had stiffened at the sight of Ms. J naked, and it stood straight out when released from my boxers. I noticed her hands idly roaming her chest and thighs.

“Turn around, slowly,” she said. I felt self-conscious under her gaze. My body was not much to brag about, but not much to complain about either. “I will have to use my imagination,” she said as I completed my rotation. “There’s no way not to see you.” The hint of disgust on that last word was loud in my ears; as deserved as it was, it still hurt.

“Do you think you can make me squeal like her?” Her query was a taunt. I guess that settled the question of whether or not she had heard Jane. “Don’t expect it,” she said, “I’m not as vocal as your friend. But you have made me climax before; let’s see if you can do it again.”

She spread her right leg and leaned back on her pillows. The opportunity—and the challenge—before me was daunting. Unlike before, when she had been using a dildo and vibrator before I arrived on the scene, she was unexcited and seemingly skeptical.

Looking for a way to start, I decided her toenails could be the key. The fact that she polished them despite hiding them from the world suggested there might be something there. Handicapped by the boot, I knelt on the bed to kiss her right foot. Gently holding it in my hands, I massaged it firmly, not wanting to tickle her.

Cradling her heel with my left hand, my right roamed over and around, my thumb pressed into her arch. Dragging my lips over her foot, I descended to kiss the tips of her toes. The kiss of her big toe became a suck as I drew it between my lips. I felt a tremor, but she did not pull away as my tongue swirled around it. I continued down the line to her delicate pinky. Her foot was familiar from the pedicures, but this was a different kind of exploration.

Rubbing her ankle and calf with my hands gave her more freedom to move her foot; she rubbed it over my face, confirming she was enjoying the caresses. I continued, finding more spots and ways to kiss, lick, rub and caress her small foot. Glancing upward, I could see Ms. J’s hands moving over her chest, so I decided it was time to move on.

Kissing and massaging, I traveled up her leg. When I passed her knee, I could access both thighs, so I switched to her left side. Drawing nearer to her crotch, my hands detoured, bypassing it to stroke her belly. My mouth just barely brushed her bush as I exhaled hot breath on my way over it. The way her body tensed, I knew the tease had some effect.

I wanted to suck her breasts but her hands were busy with them. As I stroked as high as her belly, my mouth kissed the periphery of her nether forest. Inhaling to create warm breath, I gathered a whiff of her excitement but gave her only indirect touches on her hair and the warmth of my exhalation.

Ms. J bent her right leg up, inviting me closer. Slowly, I lowered my face into her fluffy fur. Still not reaching her skin, I rubbed my lips and cheeks in her dark pubic cloud. She sighed when my mouth finally made firm contact with her mound.

I nuzzled her flesh and finally brought my fingers into the area. The damp hair below showed her developing arousal. Parting her vulva with a gentle finger, I stroked the length of it. With no doubt of her interest, I moved my mouth to her pussy.

Using my tongue where my finger had been, I licked upward in long strokes, noting her twitch as I crossed her apex. My fingers spread her hairy outer labia; my lips sought her smooth inner pair. Licking and sucking them brought out her first real moan. I continued to draw others, edging my mouth higher while my fingers zeroed in on her opening.

My middle finger swirled her entry before a second finger joined. Pushing inward, I began to fuck her with my fingers. My mouth had reached where her two lips emerged, and the tip of my tongue searched for her sensitive nub. Her sharp gasp told me I had made contact, but it was perhaps too much. I circled the area, letting her swollen flesh transmit the caresses to her clit.

Her urgency grew, and Ms. J could no longer keep her thigh open. Engulfed by her earthy aroma, her meaty taste, her tickly hair, her slick flesh, I would have stayed for hours, but her desire would not permit it. Her fingers grasped for my head and told me it was time.

Remembering the touch that had triggered Jane, I added a third finger to Ms. J’s vagina, widening it with a fucking motion. My lips returned to her clitoris, sucking to draw it forth as my fingers did the corkscrew motion.

The sound I heard was more of a cry than a moan, unlike any sound I had heard from Ms. J. What it lacked in volume compared to Jane, it made up in intensity. My twisting fingers knew the cause by the sudden tightness. I maintained my action as the vocalizations and squirming continued and slowed, finally stopping when her voice trailed off.

I lapped and kissed and nuzzled more broadly as Ms. J enjoyed the aftermath. She relaxed and said nothing for several minutes, and I was happy to persist. If my mistake with Jane had led to me being where I was right then, the punishment was a small price to pay.

Eventually, the hunger in my stomach would reassert itself. Right then, I was completely sated with Ms. J.