Provocation

Yizhuo stretches in the passenger seat. That sigh—you know that sigh.

"Manager-nim." Sweet voice. Fake as fuck. "I was thinking about you on the way home."

You keep your eyes on the road. "Yeah?"

"Mm." She shifts. Skirt riding up her thighs, and she knows you noticed. "Must be lonely. Going home to that empty apartment again."

Your grip tightens on the wheel. Empty apartment. You had her bent over your kitchen counter yesterday morning, made her late to practice because she couldn't stop cumming on your cock. But sure. Empty.

"Real thoughtful of you."

Another sigh. Heavier. "When's the last time you even had sex? Like, good sex?"

She sounds so very genuine. So worried. Like she gives a shit about your fictional dry spell instead of the fact that your cum was dripping down her thighs two days ago.

"It must be frustrating," she continues. "Being alone like that."

Your cock twitches. She knows exactly what she's doing, and fuck her, it works every time. Those big concerned eyes, that worried little pout—meanwhile she's probably, no, DEFINITELY wet thinking about where this is going.

"I'm fine."

"Are you though?" Leaning forward now. Her top shifts and you catch cleavage. Absolutely not a coincidence. "I read this article about men who don't get regular sex. They get irritable. Unfocused. Their performance suffers."

Performance. That word just hanging there between you.

Your knuckles go white on the wheel. You don't respond.

"Nothing to say?" She settles back. That little bounce that makes her tits move just right. "I just worry, you know? Some of the other managers seem so... relaxed. Confident. Like Manager Kim—I heard he's seeing someone regularly."

Manager Kim. That smug asshole. Meanwhile according to Yizhuo, you're jerking off alone like some teenager. If he only knew you had her screaming your name last Thursday, makeup running down her face.

"Good for him."

"Right? Physical release is so important for men. That outlet, that—" She actually purrs it. "—pleasure. Not just..." Her fist jerks in the air. So crude. Deliberate.

Jesus Christ.

"Thanks for the concern."

"I'm serious!" Turning in her seat now. Full attention on you, and her skirt's high enough you can see lace. The same panties you pulled aside with your teeth two days ago. "It's not healthy going so long without companionship. Maybe I should set you up? I know some sweet girls who might like an older guy."

Older guy. Fuck her sideways. You're barely older than she is.

"I can handle my own dating life."

"But you're not!" Her voice kicks up, filled with artificial worry. "When's the last time you even tried? Actually talked to a woman, flirted, made her feel desired?"

Her hand lands on your arm. Light touch. Innocent. Except it shoots straight to your dick because she knows what her touch does to you.

"I prefer quality over quantity."

She laughs. Bright and mean. "Quality? You can't have quality if you don't have anything at all. And from what I can see..."

Her eyes drop to your lap. To where your cock is straining against your pants.

"...you're definitely not getting anything."

The car swerves. Just slightly. Her hand shoots to your thigh to steady herself—landing way too close to your erection.

"Careful!" Fake concern. Her thumb strokes across your pants. Could be played off as an accident. It isn't. "See? You're so pent up it's affecting everything."

"I'm fine, Yizhuo."

"Are you sure? Your body's telling a different story." Her hand stays on your thigh. Burning through the fabric. "Poor thing. Must be so hard acting normal when you're this needy. This desperate."

Desperate.

Your cock pulses and she definitely feels it.

"Maybe I could help." Her fingers trace patterns on your thigh. "I know some techniques. Things I've learned from more experienced partners."

More experienced partners. She's really laying it on thick now. Like her previous hookups ever made her squirt the way you do. Never made her beg until her voice gave out.

"Very generous."

"I mean it! I could teach you things. What women really want, how to touch them properly..." Her voice goes breathy. Fingers moving higher. "I've been with men who really know what they're doing. The kind who make you come so hard you forget your own name."

"You think I need a lesson?"

"Oh, I'm sure you have the basics." Patronizing. Sweet. Makes you want to bend her over the hood right here in traffic. "But there's more to it than just putting it in and hoping for the best. Technique matters. Stamina. Understanding a woman's body..."

She shifts again and—fuck. Her panties are wet. Dark patch spreading across the lace. The little hypocrite is getting herself turned on talking about your supposed inexperience.

"For instance." Still going, completely oblivious that you've noticed. "Most men don't realize the clit has over 8,000 nerve endings. They think they can just rub roughly and expect results. But it takes finesse. Patience..."

Her breathing picks up. Nipples hard under her top.

This is insane. Getting wet from her own story about teaching you to fuck. While her body proves how well you already know.

"Fascinating."

"Right? And oral sex—God, most men are terrible at it. No rhythm, no understanding. I've had to fake it so many times." She sighs, thighs pressing together. "But the good ones... they can make you cum with just their tongue. Make you shake and cry and beg."

Last Thursday. She’s talking about last Thursday. You kept her on edge for an hour before letting her cum so hard she nearly blacked out. She's describing this shit like it's some fantasy she's never had.

"Sounds nice."

"It is." Pure sin in her smile now. Pretense gone. "Just last week, actually. This guy I've been seeing... God. He knows exactly how to touch me, what I need. Fucks me so good I can barely walk the next day."