On Friday nights, most people would probably find an exciting way to spend their time. They might go out, to a party or just to socialize with their friends, or they might stay in, renting a movie or just sharing the evening in each others company. In almost every household imaginable, there’s a host of exciting things to do as the weekend approaches.

Except this one.

“I told you, I have to study!”

Twilight swats your arm away like she’s shooing a particularly obnoxious fly. To be fair, the whiny wheedling noises you make when you want her attention are probably bothersome at times, but you’re still not deserving of being treated entirely like a bug.

“I’m serious! I have midterms coming up on Monday, and if I don’t spend every second getting ready, I might not get top marks this year!”

—How many courses are you even taking, anyway?

Twilight rolls her eyes and adjusts her reading glasses, her free hand wrapped around her waist as her eyes narrow in a disapproving glare.

“How many times have I told you? The only way they’d let me take a triple major was if I finished all my first and second year requirements in the first semester, so that’s what I’m doing.”

As conditioned as you are to Twilight’s overachieving nature, even that seems like a bit much.

—But we haven’t spent a weekend together in forever! You’re always studying...

“We spent plenty of time together last weekend, if I recall.” Twilight turns from you as she speaks, walking swiftly down the hall towards her study room. You follow her, matching her pace like a desperate puppy. Twilight pauses as she reaches the study doorway and turns with an abrupt swivel, stopping you in your tracks.

“Do you not remember that either?”

You shake your head, caught up more in the moment of the coming weekend then recalling exactly what it was you and Twilight did last week. Come to think of it, was that the weekend...

Twilight rolls her eyes and puts her hands on her hips.

“Last weekend was you ruined my favorite skirt... and I didn’t get any studying done afterwards.”

Oh. That’s right.

The last weekend, the two of you spent enough time in bed that it was hard to tell when the weekend was over. There was no sun, no daybreak, no world outside, or even the clock to tell you when to stop. Just clothes at first that were in the way, that tiny little frilly skirt that Twilight wears to school, and afterwards, sweat, bedsheets on the floor, and...

“So don’t even think of playing that card. I need to get my studying done this weekend. No buts.”

—But—

Twilight turns from you with a ‘hmph’ and takes a seat at her desk, which is piled high with textbooks. The floor of the room is covered in them as well, giant mounds of expensive volumes like landmines; only because, if you happen to stumble into one, Twilight’s glare might as well be the fuse to an explosion if she finds out you’ve damaged them.

Within seconds, you feel like you’ve already vanished. Twilight’s glasses are on and she’s face first into her book, pen in her hand, scribbling pages of her chicken-scratch handwriting for notes. Concentrating so hard she’s chewing her bottom lip in that way she does. Her posture pushing her arms in, her chest together underneath her white blouse, and wearing the replacement skirt you bought her that’s probably even shorter...

Damnit.

You don’t want to be selfish. After all, Twilight’s right: you did spend all of last weekend ravishing her in every conceivable fashion. It’s not like that was out of obligation—if her testimony was any indication, she enjoyed it more than you did. But unlike you, Twilight has a startling ability to turn off her sex drive when other things take priority. If it was you set on studying, and Twilight sidled up to you with that mischievous look on her face and a quick flip up of her skirt to show you how badly she wanted you... well, you’d at least go into your Monday exams with a clear head, anyway.

As Twilight stares deeply into her textbook, you make your way to the doorway. You can’t help but stand for a moment against the wooden frame though, watching Twilight from behind, so intent on her work it’s like the rest of the world doesn’t exist. Even though, through the back of her flimsy antique wooden chair, you can see her skirt shuffling on her seat, threatening to grant you just a glimpse of what’s underneath.

Well, you may as well give her some encouragement.

Your steps on the ground don’t even seem to reach her ears until you’re within arms reach, at which point you lean in close and nuzzle the side of her face with yours and put one hand on her opposite shoulder.

Her eyes don’t leave the paper, nor does her hand leave her pen.

—Good luck with your studying, sweetheart.

“Mhm.”

Her voice barely even manages to sound distracted. You rub against her face a few more times and get a soft almost-return for your troubles, which you meet with a kiss on the cheek.

Even though she’s still scouring through her textbook, you catch a flicker of a smile on Twilight’s lips.

—If you feel like taking a break, you know where to get me, okay?

Twilight nods, but says nothing.

—I’ve heard that it’s actually bad to cram like this, actually.

As you speak, you move away from Twilight’s face and begin to massage her shoulder with your left hand, pressing down into the softness of her skin beneath her blouse. You feel a slight relax of her tense muscles as your fingers work, though she still doesn’t speak. You join your left hand with your right on her other shoulder and begin to rub in earnest.

“Mhmm...”

More relaxed. She’s too concentrated to melt completely, but Twilight at least lets out some sign of approval. It’s a combination between a sigh and that noise you love so much when she’s...

As you work your fingers, you lean in closer to Twilight again. You breathe cooly onto the back of her neck with your lips inches away from her skin, smelling the scent of her hair and sighing.

Twilight doesn’t seem to notice your proximity at all. She’s still relaxed from your rubbing, but her eyes are flittering over her textbook like they’re running an alphabetical marathon.

Even from just the scent of her, you can feel yourself getting...

It’s the skirt more than anything, really. Wearing an outfit like that should be illegal.

—You know..

You begin to speak against your better judgement, leaning in closer still. Your lips find Twilight’s ear, touching ever-so-slightly against her earlobe, and breathing, still breathing softly against her skin.

—I’ve heard that the best way to prepare for an exam is to relax. Study for a bit, then sit back and let the information soak in. Find something to take your mind off it for a while—

Twilight pulls her head away from your and swivels in her chair. Your fingers find air where her shoulders were, and instead of her soft skin against your mouth, you get an eyeful of a glare behind her glasses.

“Are you serious? After I just reminded you of last weekend?”

The heat that was bubbling inside you in an attempt to solicit Twilight’s attention turns quickly from excitement to embarrassment. You feel a hot flush creep across your cheeks.

—Well... I was serious, though. I have heard that... about exams, I mean. I’m just trying to help you prepare...

Twilight’s stare softens your blabber into submission. She reminds you of an angry, sexy library when she has those glasses on.

“Really?” she says with a sarcastic ire strong enough to weld steel.

—Alright, fine. I admit it: I’m just horny.

Twilight rolls her eyes and puffs a breath of air out between her teeth.

—I can’t help it though!

You reach forward and take hold of Twilight’s free hand, gripping it tightly in yours. Whether out of sympathy, or surprise, her expression softens slightly.

—You’re just so sexy... you know what that outfit does to me. And I thought... well, I dunno. I guess I did think a bit about you. I know when I’m stressed out I appreciate someone helping me relax.

“By fucking?” Twilight raises an eyebrow.

—Well... sometimes.

“Right.” With a motion too quick for you to respond, Twilight pulls her hand free and crosses her arms. After a few seconds, she uncrosses them with a sigh.

“Alright. Listen... as misguided as that might be, I can tell your heart’s in the right place. And I’m very flattered that you can’t contain yourself around me for even a day—

—Hour.

Twilight rolls her eyes again, but accompanies the look with a giggle.

“Alright, an hour then. It’s very sweet, and it makes me feel very sexy. But I’m not kidding around when I say I need to study. This is super, super serious stuff, and I need to ace these exams. After this week is over and all my tests are out of a way, then we can ‘relax’ as much as you want, okay?”

She’s right. You know she’s right. But that doesn’t make you want it any less, or her.

—Alright... I’m sorry. I know this is important to you.

Twilight smiles and reaches out a hand, which you take to feel her squeeze your palm softly again.

“Of course it is. But so are you. I promise, when I’m done studying, we’ll make last weekend look like an old lady’s knitting club, okay?”

The expression on your face must be something of a sudden shock, because it’s enough to make Twilight giggle. She’s so adorable when she laughs like that.

—Okay.

Another squeeze of your palm and Twilight withdraws her hand.

“Thank you. Now, if you don’t mind, I do need to concentrate on this text.” With the air finally softened, Twilight turns back to her books and switches into study mode in an instant, her right hand in her notebook and her eyes glued to the page. Her hair hanging over her face on one side, her eyes hidden underneath her glasses, and her skirt against the chair, a hand’s lift away from the smoothness of her skin, and...

You clear your throat. You can feel the words on your tongue, though you know you’re going to regret letting them out the moment after you do it. But you have to ask, if there’s even a snowflake’s chance in hell.

—So... does that mean we can’t... just once before you study?

Twilight stops her notes and lifts her head from her textbook. She doesn’t turn to you right away, which might mean she’s just too paralyzed by incredulity to muster a response. Sure enough, she takes her glasses off with her free hand after a minute, and turns around to you slowly, her mouth almost hanging open.

“Are you serious?”

—I just thought I’d ask! I mean, I understand, I do, and I wanna respect your... well, you in general, I guess. But I can’t be around you for this long, and rub my face on yours and smell the smell of you and almost taste you on my lips and see you in that outfit without getting... kinda... antsy.

“I can’t believe you.”

—I’m sorry! Look, forget I brought it up. I’ll leave you to your studying now.

With the remains at your attempt of salvage shattered, you turn to leave again, already thinking in your head what you’re going to do for the remainder of the weekend besides pining over the unattainable jewel studying in the next room over.

But something stops you. You go to take a step and find yourself held in place—not wholly, but like you’re caught on something. You turn around to find the impediment to your exit, only to see a slender finger curved through your back belt-loop.

“Alright. Take ‘em off.”

—What?

It takes you a few seconds to realize Twilight is attached to the finger holding you there, let alone to process the thing she’s just told you to do. Your brain addles over the order before it parses it into clarity.

—You mean my—

“Yes, dummy, your pants. What else would I mean?”

—But I thought you said—

“I did. But you’re not the only one who knows what it feels like to be antsy. I’m just sensible enough to put it aside when something important comes up.”

Now it’s your turn to stare open mouthed. Twilight shifts her eyes upwards and sighs again.

“Come on, off.”

You comply without further hesitation, scrambling to undo your zipper and remove your jeans shortly thereafter. You take off your pants and boxers in one motion, though your socks prove a subsequent struggle. After only a few seconds though, you’re half naked in Twilight’s study room. You look to her. She looks back at you with a sort of amused half-grin.

—Aren’t you gonna...

You trail off, leaving the particulars of your question open enough to intuit. Twilight shakes her head.

“Nope. I have to study.”

Confusion.

—What? But I thought you just said—

“I did. I’m gonna help you so I can spend the rest of the weekend studying without you pestering me every few minutes.”

—But aren’t we gonna—

“Uh-unh. Get over here.” Twilight gestures to her side with her left hand, pointing to a spot beside her chair opposite her notebook.

You imagine another request for clarity might just end in an interruption, so you do as you're told, stepping forward until you’re at Twilight’s side. You feel a little embarrassed being the only one in the room without clothes, let alone in such a nice room, with bookcases and antique furniture and stacks of literature all over the—

Hand. Twilight’s hand.

You look down with wide-open eyes as Twilight takes your hardness into her hand. Her movement is a little unsure, as she’s operating with her off-hand, but her touch feels as heavenly as ever: soft, delicate, and just commanding enough to make more than one part of you stand at attention.

As she runs her fingers up and down your shaft, she turns in her seat, back to her textbook.

And begins to stroke.

You’re not sure what to make of the situation. On one hand, you’re getting... well, exactly that. Twilight’s the only girl you’ve ever imagined requesting a handjob from, mostly because she’s so damn good at it. You’d rather do a lot more with her in most cases, but when you’re not up to much else, you’ve never had someone’s technique make you wonder how you, with a lifetime of experience on yourself, can’t manage to measure up.

But on the other hand... Twilight’s not really paying you any attention. She’s studying while she jerks you off.

So why does it feel so good?

The thing that makes Twilight wonderful at this is her technique. Aside from the softness of her touch, which is there, always, the peach-tender gentleness of her skin that you want to kiss and drink in like a sweet nectar, and the nimbleness of her fingers, tracing in soft strokes up and down as the rest of her hand moves—it’s the way she does it that’s so amazing though. She starts out just light enough, just like she’s doing now, barely touching your cock as she runs her hand along it. It’s like she’s touching you with the air at first, slowly, agonizingly slowly moving her palm back and forth, giving you just enough of a sensation to make you buck your hips forward for more.

When you start to get used to it, she changes it up. Never gives you a chance to get bored. As soon as you’re accustomed to the feather-light caress, her hand tightens, and you feel the friction of her skin, still so smooth, rubbing faster than a minute ago, up and down your dick. Every few seconds she’ll move her hand with a sudden force, and slam down at the base of your cock, wrapping her hand tightly, squeezing, so hard that you can feel your balls twitch before she’s even properly started. Just the right amount of pressure, making you groan like she’s riding on top of you instead of just using her hand.

—Fuck... you’re so good at that.

Stating the obvious is a bit cliche, but you need to tell her something, even though left alone, your groaning might be enough.

“Mhm-hmm.” Twilight doesn’t even look up from her book. Her hand moves with a deliberate articulation, swiveling her palm over your head when she reaches the height of her stroke, massaging her soft skin along your shaft, lightly touching her fingertips against your balls when her hand moves all the way back down, feeling them twitch and holding there as you thrust against her grip.

Her right hand moves at the same time, scribbling sentences from ledger to ledger.

Being this close to her is maddening. You can practically taste her from an arm’s reach away, taste the scent of her hair still on the air, like old library and lavender bubble-bath, and the sweetness of her kiss when she giggles and meets your lips with hers and falls forward, letting you swirl with her into nakedness and togetherness.

Against your better judgement, you lean closer as Twilight holds her hand in place, and inhale deeply, drinking in the smell of her from less than a foot away. You lean in and let your nose touch the top of her head, feel her hair against your face, the same smell that she leaves on your pillow when you share the night.

Her hand moves up again, slightly faster, turning into quick strokes on your dick, so hard you barely feel a give as she pulls up and down.

This isn’t fair.

—Twilight, that feels amazing, but can’t you—

“No. I’m studying. If you’re gonna complain then you’re not gonna get anything.”

Damnit. Even if it was just to kiss her, to taste the back of her neck, to leave little nibbles on her shoulder and underneath her chin, or to blow the breeze of your enjoyment into her ear, letting her hear how good it feels when she touches you like that...

You need more.

—Well... what if you didn’t have to do anything else?

Twilight raises and eyebrow and looks at you out of the corner of her eye, but quickly looks back to her textbook, her hand still stroking. You groan again as she slams down emphatically out of nowhere, her palm making an obscene smack against your pelvis, her fingers clenching in an attempt to milk you of an early climax. You hold back, though with considerable difficulty.

“Meaning...?

—Can you... can you just take your shirt off?

Twilight huffs and rolls her eyes, holding her hand still half-way down your cock.

“Oh, come on. Really?”

—Please! I just want to see you. It’s crazy to be this close to you and not be able to touch you or kiss you or look at you... just your shirt and bra, please, and I promise I’ll finish quick and you can get rid of me.

The hand on your dick holds steady for a few seconds. Twilight stares blankly forward, as though she’s doing math in her head.

After a few seconds, she sighs again. Her hand leaves your dick, and your face falls.

But her other hand comes together with her first, and you watch her undo the buttons of her translucent white blouse until it’s almost completely off. She tucks her hands behind her back and pinches the clasp of her lilac bra, then leans forward and meets it with her hands, letting it fall off her chest.

When she pulls it away, she gives you a full view of her pert, perky tits.

“There. Happy?”

—I’m always happy when I’m around you. This is just a special treat.

Another eyeroll. But you caught the smile that preceded it.

“You promised, remember,” Twilight says, returning her free hand to your dick. You groan the second her fingers touch you. Your eyes stay locked firmly to her bare breasts; though you’d pick a dozen things as her best feature before her boobs, it’s not for any deficiency on her part. The rest of her is just too amazing for her chest to edge out—and she does have a nice chest. You’d guess large C-cup, which you wouldn’t need to guess if you’d bothered to pay attention when she told you after asking last time. All you need to know is that they’re just enough to be a handful, and right now, they look amazing.

As Twilight jerks you, her boobs bounce slightly, just enough to make you feel a tingle run through your body, centered between your legs and threatening to push you over the edge just from a look at her tits.

Of course, you were lying about being content. If anything, this is only more maddening—being so close to your half-naked girlfriend, her beautiful, soft, supple breasts in the open air, just asking for your attention. So close you could just slide your hand over her shoulder and—

“Stop. You said you were just going to look.”

—Sorry, sorry. Can’t help it.

You have enough to sense to pull your hand back promptly, letting it rest on Twilight’s shoulder again. You got to feel just for a second, just a tiny touch on your fingertips of her skin...

“Are you getting close? My arm is starting to get sore.”

It’s not a complaint you’re used to hearing—usually you find it easy to get off with barely a minimum of effort during Twilight’s handjobs. And you don’t feel like you’ve taken particularly long. Although... that’s normally with her good hand, and not at such an awkward angle.

Looking at her breasts and feeling her fingers is fantastic, but you’re not quite there yet.

—Sort of.

Twilight purses her lips and removes her hand for a moment, turning her wrist in circles with a pained look on her face.

“Well, if you could hurry up, that would be great.”

—You don’t think asking me to cum in a few minutes is a little unreasonable when you’re just sitting their nonchalantly jerking me off while you study?

Without batting an eyelash, Twilight lowers her hand, wrapping her fingers around your cock again. She smirks at you.

“Nope. In fact, I bet you like it more.”

Your mouth falls slightly open as Twilight’s jerking picks up speed again, her hand flying up and down on your cock. You can feel the first dribble of precum leak out of your head, and Twilight notices it too. She pauses at the top of her next stroke to run her palm over your tip, coating her skin in the clear liquid of your pre before returning to her stroking.

All the while, studying.

You’re not sure if she’s right or not—but even if you were, you don’t think you’d admit it.

Maybe there is something about the way she’s doing it. The way the motion of her arm is secondary to everything else she’s concentrating on. The way she’s made you strip half-naked, waggling your erection in her face like a poor puppy in need of attention, asking with your eyes and your insistence for her to touch you, please, just to coax you to getting off one time, and then you’ll leave her alone.

The way she reluctantly let her breasts free from her shirt, letting them sit in plain view, an inch away from your fingertips, so soft and perky you can just imagine squeezing them and rolling her nipples between your fingers as she touches you, like you can imagine lowering your mouth to them and sucking softly at her flesh as she strokes you.

Maybe there is something about it.

But as much as you might be able to appreciate the abstract way Twilight is getting you off, you can’t keep your hand still anymore. There could be a guillotine blade poised above your arm and you still wouldn’t be able to keep your touch from her breasts when they’re that close.

In one quick movement, before you lose your nerve, you slide your hand down over her shoulder again, this time all the way onto her breast. You can feel the perky bump of her nipple at the center of your hand, and the texture of her skin around it, the perfect tautness for you to squeeze, which you do.

Not even a sound. Twilight just keeps jerking.

You paw at her breast as sensuously as you can manage in the approaching onset of your climax. You can feel it closer now, closer than you could a minute ago. Can feel it coming as her hand rubs roughly over your dick, as the base of her palm presses against your balls on every other downstroke, and as she lets you fondle her, playing with her perfect tits, rubbing them and imagining what you’d like to do to them if you weren’t stuck standing like a helpless dummy in need of her to get you off.

You’re starting to feel...

—Twi, can you...

She turns her head to you for a moment, slowing her stroking.

“Hmm?”

—Can you spit? Into your hand? I’m really close, and it would feel just a bit better if you...

Twilight lifts her hand and screws up her mouth without bothering for you to finish your sentence. She spits crudely, audibly, and returns her now moist touch without waiting a beat. Immediately, the rough friction of her insistent strokes is replaced by a softened caress, and you can feel the tingle brewing in your balls. You squeeze down extra hard on her breast, pinching her nipple between your fingers. You feel a jolt run through your own body, like it’s her that’s touching you there instead—but she says nothing.

As you begin to open your mouth to give some semblance of a warning, you hear the thump of a pen onto Twilight’s notebook, followed by another hand—her right hand, cupping your balls. But her expression doesn’t change. Her face is still in her textbook.

—Oh, fuck, Twi, I’m gonna cum...

You’re not sure, but you think her see her keep her glance half over her shoulder as she turns to you.

“Go ahead,” she says.

Her turning gives you sight of her chest as a perfect target, and you point your dick forward, between her breasts as she jerks you into the last seconds of trembling before your orgasm arrives. The way she squeezes your balls as the dam inside you breaks makes your groan louder than normal, almost girlish sounding as the first strand of semen shoots out of the tip of your cock and paints a line up Twilight’s exposed stomach and tits. She looks down appraisingly at the white goo leading almost all the way up to her chin, but lifts her head back up just as quickly and continues her stroking; constant, consistent, and aided by the gentle tickle of her fingers on your nuts.

You grunt again as the second and third shots spray out, hitting more of Twilight’s tits than anywhere else, though the third one goes high enough to get a bit in her hair. She bites her lip and looks sideways in a mildly agitated fashion, but you don’t see a glare or real disdain. She keeps her course as your fourth spray of cum goes from the bottom of her neck down to her right nipple, followed by the fifth, which dribbles into her hand and all over her fingers. She strokes for a few more seconds, still pressing her palm into your balls, milking out the last few drops before pulling her hand away.

She wipes her hand a few times on her stomach before turning around. Less than five seconds after she’s squeezed the last of your jizz out of your twitching cock.

“There,” she says, picking up her pen in the same breath. “Now go find something to do until the weekend’s over, okay?”

She doesn’t even bother to clean the cum off her chest. Fuck.

You’re still rock hard as you turn to the door, stopping to collect the pants, socks and underwear you left on the floor. A tiny dribble of leftover cum drops from the head of your cock onto the carpet, thankfully missing the stacks of valuable books in-between.

If Twilight thought that would make you want her less, she was sorely mistaken. But, you made a promise, which means a weekend spent attending to yourself instead of Twilight. You lean on the doorway for a quick sigh before finally exiting the study room, going with your word and leaving Twilight with her books.

You’ll keep your promise, as hard as it might be to be within a hundred miles of her and keep your hands to yourself.

But boy, is she in for it next weekend.