Touching Her Good Place update (Patreon)

He smiled down at her, his worn face only inches from hers. He had reason to smile. He could sense the prickle of energy through Eleanor’s body, the rush of wetness at her core. It came as a welcome surprise to him. The woman he’d set out to seduce had managed to arouse herself almost entirely without him. All he had to do was take advantage of what she was doing to herself.

“Muroe, please.” Eleanor pushed at his broad shoulders. “You’re too heavy. I can’t get up with you holding me down.”

She wanted to play games. Pretend she wasn’t turned on by his closeness, on the verge of giving in to him. Alright, he would play with her. Muroe lowered his face to hers and kissed Eleanor, driving his tongue deep into her mouth.

“UMPHH!” Eleanor vocalized, impossible to tell whether it was a protest or just a sound of surprise while his lips were muffling hers.

Eleanor didn’t quite know herself. Even seconds later, she was still asking herself what was happening. This man was kissing her hungrily, lustfully, working his tongue against hers. She was supposed to be mentoring him; it wasn’t right. Yet all of her was responding to him with heat and excitement. Her starved pussy felt exquisitely wet under his bulging cock, like two magnets, only the layers of clothes in the way keeping them from coming together.

Muroe kept the kiss going, not allowing her to move. She felt his hand creeping up her leg, underneath her skirt, approaching her groin. Her sex flared with eagerness, but everything other than her burning physical urges told her this had to stop.

Eleanor wrenched her mouth off of his. “Jesus, Muroe!” she gasped. “Stop! Let me up! I’m your teacher! This isn’t right!”

“I’m pretty sure we both already know all the important things,” Muroe said serenely. “We both know how good this’ll feel. Let’s get on with it. It is feeling good to you, isn’t it?”

Eleanor gawked at him. She lusted for him, wanting his superb young body, but she wasn’t prepared for fantasy to leap into reality. No way was she going to make love to a total stranger, just because he was hot and her clit wanted it. The idea was insane. She might’ve done it once, but she was more evolved now, a better person. She’d had Chidi, her soulmate, and after him, she couldn’t go back to having her brains fucked out by some hot, domineering cocksman who just wanted to use her body as a cum dumpster.

Could she?

“It doesn’t feel good,” Eleanor lied coolly. “You’re heavy and you’re wrinkling my dress and you need to let me up right now.”

Muroe grinned wickedly. “You’re lying,” he taunted her. “What kind of enlightened mentor has to lie about her pussy?”

“I’m not lying!” Eleanor insisted petulantly. “This is just… the fashion on Earth since you died. Everyone wears wet panties in the 21stcentury. It’s chic!”

Muroe pursed his lips and blew a stream of air into her face, Eleanor shuddering as her arousal somehow increased. Muroe gave her a mocking smile while the tremors rolled through her body. “You’re turned on by having me on top of you. I can prove it.”

He jammed his right hand up under her dress to touch the soaked crotch-band of her panties. Eleanor blushed like kindling being lit. She felt ashamed to have Muroe touching the ample evidence of her lust, but her very embarrassment turned her on more. Muroe rubbed at her groin, her juice-soaked panties, and Eleanor couldn’t help but moan aloud no matter how degrading it felt.

Fuck, she missed being degraded.

“N-no, Muroe,” she breathed. “Stop that. I won’t fuck you. I’m supposed to guide you to spiritual enlightenment, you jerk!”

“What’s better enlightenment than a sated body?” Muroe challenged her. “A filling meal. A heady drink. A hard fuck. Maybe I’m a barbarian, but you’re not off somewhere enjoying your enlightenment. You’re here and I can feel you about to come right in my hand. You want it—let me give it to you. I want it—let me have it. I know how to treat a hot little cunt like yours. Not that it’d take much. It feels like you haven’t had a good climax in a century.”

Eleanor couldn’t believe her ears. He sounded absolutely certain—so sure and confident that she was halfway to believing in him, no matter how it violated her sense of self. She’d had plenty of good climaxes with Chidi, plenty of foreplay. He respected the hell out of her, loved her. So what if she’d had to think about Tahani sometimes, or that sex literally couldn’t be unsatisfying in the Good Place? That didn’t mean she was some kind of whore who needed to be demeaned and used before she could get off.

Muroe kept rubbing at her sex, playing with her clit and teasing her swollen labia. He was making her almost unbearably turned on. So much so that it scared Eleanor and that, more than the thought of fucking her student or being unfaithful to Chidi’s memory, got her to put her foot down.

“Just stop it, Muroe,” she said desperately. “The answer is no. Now let go of me!”

Muroe studied her flushed face. The arousal was still there, true, but her expression was set with sincere determination. If he pushed her too far, it’d go from seduction to rape, and he’d put himself out of reach of ever having her. He would change her mind, win her over, but not with force.

“Alright, alright,” he said lightly. “You’re not interested. Let me make it up to you.”

To Eleanor’s relief, he picked himself up off her, kneeling alongside her supine body instead of covering it. Eleanor took a deep breath. Then, before she knew what was happening, Muroe’s hands were under her skirt, grabbing her panties, and hauling them off her legs.

“Muroe, what the hell!” she cried.

She felt the cool, dank air of the basement suddenly on her naked slit and blushed hotly. Eleanor clapped her hands between her thighs, covering herself up as best she could when she felt so exposed, she should have an NC-17 tattoo.

“Holy shit, Muroe, what was that?” she gasped.

“I got your panties wet. I thought I should take them off for you. I’ll go get you some new ones.”

“NO! No. Just give those back to me.”

“But you were lying about wearing wet panties, weren’t you? People don’t really wear them as a fashion statement. You were just turned on.”

“Yes, I was—“ Eleanor began.

“You didn’t like it. You’d prefer it if your panties were dry.”

“No. I mean, yes…”

“So we should get rid of your old, wet panties and find you some new ones that aren’t wet,” Muroe said innocently. “Doesn’t that make sense?”

“Yes, I suppose, but you can’t just—“

“What made you so wet anyway?” Muroe asked. “Women get wet when they want to have sex, don’t they? You said you don’t want to have sex. So why are you so wet?”

“It’s… it’s complicated…”

“You want me to be nice to you, don’t you?”

“Yes, but not that nice.”

Muroe smiled knowingly. “There were some women like that in my time. They didn’t like being treated nicely. Some of them were even princesses, but they didn’t like being treated like princesses.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about!”

“They liked being treated like whores.”