Chapter Text
Sensei had lost all the hair on his body other than the ones that comprised his thin, attractive eyebrows.
This is most likely the reason why sensei was hesitant to let me inside his pants. (the last time we had a "make out session" led to some very pleasant touching but sensei suddenly jerked back when I reached his crotch, laughing nervously and saying that we should go to sleep. I ended up very frustrated that night)
He finally confided in me after I swore the utmost secrecy that; he was ashamed of being hairless....down there as well. My arm vents opened to release steam.
After much reassurance that I wouldn't mind, that of course, I love all of sensei and his lack of pubic hair doesn't dim my lust for him nor do I think any less of him for his lack of manly body hair (this statement was shortened to twenty words), he reluctantly gave me consent to finally, finally lay hands on his intimate places.
I love the smooth glide of my metal fingers caressing soft flesh, I feel myself becoming addicted to it; even daydreaming of stroking my sensei there, down between his hairless thighs and over his cute little pucker that would make sensei, the strongest man in the world, shake like a leaf in the wind from want.
I yearn for this so badly I almost walk into a pole on our walk back from the grocery store.
These thoughts are dangerous, I must work on being more aware in public, and absolutely not think about sensei... or his taught, muscular thighs and back.... or his butt....
........damn.
The next time I am allowed to touch sensei, I tell him my thoughts from earlier that day. I say it plainly in his ear as I jerk sensei off in front of the TV, reclined comfortable in my lap as I reach around to stroke him, chin propped on his shoulder. I watch the contrast of my metal arm lay across sensei's hot feverish skin, slide slick and firm over his turgid blushing flesh.
I tell him how much I've been waiting in anticipation for this, of how I dreamed of touching sensei and making him feel good just like this, wringing beautiful moans and sounds from his lips and--
Sensei turns red as a tomato and comes on the spot.
I add "dirty talk" onto my mental list of sensei's likes.
.
.
.
Sensei refuses to look at me the next morning over breakfast. He seems upset about something, and refuses to tell me what's bothering him.... Hopefully he'll feel better soon.
After all, today there's a 30% sale on fruits and bananas.