Cuckolding The Married Man Ch. 3 [part 3 of 4]
By: DG Hear (email@example.com)
Cuckolding The Married Man Ch.03 by DG Hear
If you haven't read the previous chapters you may want to before reading this one. It could go in many different categories.
The trial begins:
As the trial began emotions were high. I didn't want my family there. Not because of me, I didn't want them to hear what their mother had done, the sexual acts that made her a slut, the things she did with those men. It made me look like a wimp, a cuckold. I didn't want my family thinking of either of us in this way.
I called Mary. When she answered the phone and said, "Hello," I paused. In fact she had to say it twice, "Hello, hello."
I said, "Mary, this is Dan."
She said, "Dan, oh, my God, how I miss you."
I said, "Mary, I'm calling about the trial. It begins tomorrow."
She said, "I know, Dan, we'll be there. What is it, Dan? What's the matter?"
I said, "Our family, our sons and our daughters. I don't want them there."
She said, "Dan, our children are all grown up now. They are adults or soon will be. This is a real world we live in and unfortunately we all make mistakes."
I said, "But, Mary, I don't want them to hear what you did."
She said, "It's too late for that, Dan."
I said, "What do you mean?"
"Everyone we know is talking about it. I messed up big time, Dan. I just can't believe I did what I did. I can't change it, Dan, I wish it never happened but it did. I had all the kids over the other day when Bud was home from college. I told them, Dan, I told them what an idiot I was and how it now is affecting our lives.
"I wanted them to hear it from me, Dan, not from a stranger in a court room. When I finished telling them, I could see the hate in their eyes. They didn't hate me, Dan but they did hate what I had done.
"Dan, we're a family, a very close tight knit family. We are all going to be there for you. They were there for me and now we are going to be there for you. We will make it through, Dan, we will make it through as a family."
I didn't know what to say. I know I was crying.
Mary then said, "Please forgive me, Dan, if it is at all possible."
I just said, "I don't know Mary, I don't know if I have forgiveness left in me anymore" and then hung up.
The prosecution had the police give a detailed report on what they found after the 911 call. I didn't know if it helped us or hurt us. They did say that I had said my wife was raped. But they also reported that my wife invited the men in. Not a real good start.
Ralph was the first to speak. He was an arrogant s.o.b. He stated how Mary encouraged him to be with her. He said she initiated the discussions with him and Jim, how she invited him over and how she wanted him so badly. All he did was build up his ego to the jury.
He wasn't coming across as a victim. He stated pretty much what everyone already knew. It's been in the papers for a couple of months now even though the jury wasn't suppose to see it. On cross examination he was asked if he raped Mary.
He said, "Hell, no, she wanted me. I never raped any woman in my life." He was then asked at any point if she said "no" to him? He said he didn't recall her ever saying no. Then he was asked if she ever said "stop" and he said, "No woman ever asks me to stop once I get started."
He did say that they should throw the book at me for what I did to him, that he was doing me a favor and I jumped him behind his back and then beat him. He said I should be thrown in prison.
He was lucky that I didn't jump up and beat the shit out of him right there in the courthouse.
My family was taking it pretty well. I know it was rough on them. I felt good that they were holding their mother close. Even though she started it all, she didn't deserve to go through all this. Other than this situation, she would have to be considered a really good person and mother.
Then Jim took the stand. He told pretty much the same story as Ralph. He did say that white women just kind of want his black. . . and started to say cock but thought about it and said penis. He was asked if he raped Mary.
He said, "Hell, no, we hardly even got started when that white pervert" (here he pointed to me) came in and started busting things up. He got crazy, so I grabbed my pants and headed out of there. Then he came after me and shot me in the ass. I couldn't believe it. We are invited over there and then get shot and beat up."
He said, "That man" (again referring to me) "needs to be put away where he can't hurt people. He's a crazy man, going around shooting people."
On cross examination Bob asked Jim, "At any time, did Mary say ?wait, Dan's not here yet'?"
Jim said, "She might have. I don't remember."
"At any time, did Mary say ?stop' or ?no'?"
Jim, being the idiot he is, said, "Women tell me that kind of stuff all the time. They don't mean it." The women on the jury didn't look very happy with Jim's testimony.
Then Bob asked a couple of great questions. He looked at Jim and asked, "Jim, are you married?
Jim looked around and said, "Kind of."
Bob asked, "What does ?kind of' mean?"
Jim said, "Me and my wife are separated."
Bob asked, "How long have you been separated?"
He said, "Two months."
Bob asked, "Is it because of this case?"
Jim said, "Yeah! She said if I ever cheated on her again she would divorce me."
"So, Jim, you've done this before?"
He said, "I can't help it if women want me."
"One more question, Jim, if this situation was reversed and you came home and found two men in your bedroom with your wife, what would you think?"
Jim said loudly, "My wife ain't no slut. She wouldn't do that."
Again Bob said, "Jim, you're under oath. You walk into your bedroom and two men have your wife pinned down. What would you do?"
Jim became enraged and said, "I'd kill the mother fuckers."
Then all hell broke loose. People all started talking, the judge kept banging his gavel and they had to calm Jim down. The judge kept yelling, "Order in the court, order in the court." The judge called a ten minute recess to calm things down.
After their testimony, Ralph and Jim left the courthouse.
After things calmed down and were looking a little better for me, they called June to the stand. She had talked to Mary and told her that she got a subpoena. She did tell Mary she didn't want to hurt her or Dan but had to tell the truth. Mary told June that this was a situation that she herself created and that they would get through it.
The prosecutor asked June if she was with Mary on Thursday, the day before the shooting.
She said, "I was."
"In your own words, what were the two of you doing?"
She said, "Mary wanted to surprise her husband for his 50th birthday by helping him fill a fantasy."
"What was this fantasy?"
June looked down and said, "Three way with another man or Dan could just watch, whatever he wanted to do. It was his birthday."
The prosecutor asked, "Would you repeat that please?"
June said, "Mary wanted to surprise her husband with a three way with another man." There were noises again in the courtroom.
The judge banged his gavel. "Order in the court," he commanded. It became quite.
"Did she tell you this?"
"Yes, she did."
"What did you think at that point?"
"I thought, ?Wow! I can't believe a husband would want this. Let you have another man while he was present.'"
"What did the two of you do then?"
"That's when I introduced her to Ralph."
"Did you know Ralph well?"
She looked up and in the back of the courtroom she saw Roger sitting there. He was just staring at her and her at him. She was nervous and hesitant.
The prosecutor repeated his question. "Did you know Ralph very well? Were you close to him?"
June was thinking back to the affair she had. The one that caused her divorce. It was with Ralph. It just started out as a fling, a quick roll in the hay. He came on to her on a girls' night out. She had an argument with Roger earlier that day and decided to get even with him. She couldn't even remember what the argument was about. She was pretty drunk at the time and Ralph seemed like a nice guy. He started dancing and flirting with her and before she knew it, he had her back at his apartment.
They had raw sex, she liked it, It was different from the ho hum sex with Roger. She fucked him and loved it. It was naughty sex, she didn't love this man. Hell, she didn't really like him all that much. But he gave her the raw sex she desired. She felt remorse about doing this to Roger. She really did love him but he wasn't rough enough. Maybe rough isn't the right word. He wasn't aggressive enough in the bedroom. So, after the first time with Ralph, she felt she got even with Roger.
The only problem was, when she got home, Roger was there, he saw the bite marks on her tits, the cum in her panties. He turned around and walked out on her. He didn't even wait for an explanation. He didn't even know who the man was, not till now.
She said, "Yes, I knew Ralph pretty well." At that point she looked up and saw Roger leave the courtroom. She didn't know whether to be nervous or happy that he left. "We've been together a couple of times."
"What happened after you introduced Mary to Ralph?"
"He introduced us to Jim? We all sat in a booth and talked."
"What did you talk about?"
"About Mary wanting to surprise her husband."
I could see Mary with tears in her eyes when this was said. The kids were holding her hands very tightly. I watched as some of the jury members glanced over at her also.
"Then what happened?"
"We went over to Ralph's apartment."
"They told Mary that they wanted a taste of what they were getting the next day."
"Did they get that taste?"
Even June had tears in her eyes and said, "Yes, they did. They fondled her some and had oral sex."
On cross examination, Bob only asked a few questions. "June, were you there Friday when these men came to Mary's house?"
She answered, "No, I wasn't."
"So you don't know if Mary was raped or not?"
She answered, "No, I don't."
"How long have you known Mary?"
She answered, "Over 35 years. We go way back."
"In all these years you got to know Mary pretty well, haven't you?"
She said, "Yes."
"After knowing her for more then 35 years, would you consider her a slut?" The noise grew in the courtroom, banging of the gavel from the judge, objections from the prosecution. Mary was crying with her family. Even I became outraged but Bob was able to calm me down.
After things quieted down the prosecution gave it's objection on June's opinion on what a slut is. Then Bob said to the judge, "Sir, no one in this courtroom other than Mary's family know her better than this woman." He then read the definition of a slut from the dictionary. "Using this definition I would like to ask her the question once again."
The Judge said he would allow it.
Bob look at June and said, "Using the definition I have read to you and knowing Mary for all these years - you are under oath - would you consider Mary to be a slut?"
The room became totally quiet. June looked back at Mary and then over to Dan and then replied, "Absolutely NOT! She is the kindest, nicest person I have ever met." Then she added, "With God as my witness!"
Bob said, "No more questions for this witness."
The prosecution rested. They weren't allowed to have Mary testify against her husband so things were looking a little brighter. The Judge recessed till after lunch. Then Bob would have to prove that Dan was protecting his family. He did beat up a man and shot another that were invited by his wife to their house. Bob knew he still had his work cut out for him.
"Well," I thought, "I guess this is it. I better look pretty convincing. My life and future depends on it."
Bob said, "Our chances are better than they were. But so far all we have really proved is that Mary made a mistake and is a nice person. The jury probably felt for her somewhat but we haven't proved that Mary was raped."
Ralph and Jim didn't do much for themselves but they were beaten and shot and I did it and now I needed to prove why.
Bob called me to the stand. He asked me about my marriage.
I said, "Up to this incident, it was as good as any marriage out there. I had a wonderful faithful wife. Four children that I couldn't be more proud of. We really had a good life, a really good life. People would always say how wonderful and close our family was. Kind of like the perfect marriage."
Bob said, "What happened on that Friday night?"
I looked over at Mary and then explained how she said she had a special present for me and not to come home till 9:00pm. I was excited all day long wondering what Mary had planned. I left the bowling alley about 8:30pm and went ahead and drove home. I know I was a little early but I was excited.
"What happened when you entered the house."
I walked up to the bedroom and opened the door and froze.
"Why did you freeze?"
"There on the bed was my wife stripped naked and those men were raping her." I broke down and started crying. Bob handed me a Kleenex.
"Then what happened?"
"Then all of a sudden I just sprang loose, jumped right into the white guy knocking him onto the floor." I didn't mention he was in my wife at the time. "I started beating him as hard as I could. He was raping my wife. I was a crazed man. I hit and hit this guy till he was a bloody mess on the floor, maybe even unconscious. Then I turned to the black guy and reached for him as he grabbed his pants and headed for the door. I yelled at my wife to call 911 now! She was hysterically yelling and screaming while she dialed the number."
I had to stop for a few seconds to control my breathing.
Bob said, "Take your time."
I continued, "I reached in the night stand and grabbed my pistol and went after the black dude. I told him ?stop or I'll shoot.' He was headed down the stairs going for the door when I shot him. He almost made it to the door." I didn't want to tell them he made it out the door and I pulled him back in. "I aimed to maim him even though I wanted to kill him for what he was doing to my wife."
"Then the police showed up and arrested me. All I was doing was protecting my family."
"Did you know about visitors or anyone else being at the house?"
No, I just thought it would be Mary waiting for me. I was shocked at what I'd seen. They were raping her. What was I suppose to do? If I had to do it all over again, I'd do the same thing." I don't know if that was the right thing to say or not but it was the truth.
"No more questions."
The prosecutor got up and asked, "Do you have fantasies?"
I said, "Of course, most people have them."
"Do you have fantasies about three ways?"
I said, "Not any more."
He said, "Let me rephrase that. Before the incident did you have fantasies about three way sex?"
I said, "Yes but I never wanted to act out my fantasies."
"So you never really wanted to be cuckolded or have a three way with your wife and another man?"
I said, "Never!"
"They why did your wife think you did?"
I said, "I don't know but she was mistaken."
"So you don't now or ever wanted to have a three way or be a cuckold, is that correct?" He was getting under my skin.
So I said, "Yes, that is correct. May I explain?"
He thought he got me so he let me explain.
I looked at Mary and at the men on the jury while I spoke.
I said, "Why would a man, any man, tell their wife to go find another man? Make sure he is big and handsome. Make sure he is a good lover, much better than me. Make sure his penis is much larger than mine. Then I want you to have oral sex with him till he cums in your mouth. Then I want him to do oral sex on you, much better than I could ever do.
"When you are done having oral sex, I want you to take him in your vagina. Make him give you as many orgasms as you can handle. When you're done, let him take you up the ass where I've never been. During this affair, kiss him passionately, hug him, let him rub your breasts better than I ever could . Let him massage your nipples. And, while you are doing this, I will be sitting over in the corner, masturbating, waiting for him to leave, just so I can suck his juices out of your pussy."
"What kind of a sorry ass husband would I be if I did that?"
The courtroom broke out in some talk and in the background even laughter. The prosecutor was somewhat stunned that he had left that door open.
"So you didn't know anything about this planned surprise?" He was trying to cover his goof.
One more time I said, "I came home, found two men in my bedroom molesting my wife and took action." Then I surprised the prosecutor by asking him what he would have done in the same situation?
He looked at me with contempt and said, "I'm not on trial for attempted murder."
I looked up and said, "I shouldn't be either."
While the prosecutor was trying to recover, Bob and I talked for a few minutes. He said it looked pretty good but we really didn't prove she was raped. They could believe me or believe the three witnesses. The jury was sure that Mary invited them over. Bob said that it's still kind of a 50-50 shot.
Then he was tapped on the shoulder and was handed a note. It was from Mary and said she wanted to testify for the defense. Bob asked for a 10 minute recess to confer with a witness and the Judge allowed it.
Bob went back to talk to Mary. He explained that if she testified for the defense then the prosecution could also ask her questions and they would be much rougher.
Mary was a determined women. She said, "Bob, I always tell the truth and I believe the jury will see that in me. I didn't know I was raped at the time but I know it now. Please let me testify for my husband."
Bob came back to talk to me. I told him I didn't want Mary to be put through this. He said she wants to testify and I truly believe when the jury hears her testimony, you will have a much better chance of getting off.
I looked at Bob, then back at Mary. I could see her lips moving. She was saying, "Please, please let me help you." With tears in my eyes, I said, "Okay.".
Mary went to the witness stand. The prosecutor was shocked to see her getting ready to testify. He wondered what we were thinking; we fought to keep her off the stand and now were calling her as a witness.
Bob asked Mary her name and so on, then asked her to tell us in her own words what happened the night of the shooting.
She stated that she had invited the two men over to take part in sexual acts with her and her husband. But they were supposed to wait for him to come home and they didn't. She had purchased a special nightie for her husband to see her in. She then said that the two men forced themselves on her ripping off her nightie and forced her into the bedroom where they began taking advantage of her.
"At any time did you tell them to stop?"
Mary answered, "I told them to stop and wait for Dan right from the start."
"What did they say?"
"They said I invited them over at 8:30, it's not their fault my wimp of a husband isn't here. They pushed and clawed at me and I kept telling them to stop, please stop but they wouldn't. They pinned me down on the bed and then they raped me. I kept saying ?no', stop, it's not suppose to be like this but they didn't listen.
"Then I looked up and saw Dan come through the bedroom door. He pulled the men off me and fought back. I don't know what would have happened if he had not showed up early. Thank God he was there."
"Why didn't you tell this to the police?"
"I was confused. I didn't know the law. I thought it was all my fault since I invited them in. I was also very shook up at the time and was worried about my husband. When I did realize I was raped, the prosecutor told me it was too late to file charges. I should have done that when it happened."
Now it was the prosecutor's turn to ask questions. He said, "You set this all up, didn't you, Mary?"
"I'm not sure what you mean. I did ask the men over on Friday."
"You wanted to have sex with them, didn't you, Mary?"
"No, I wanted Dan to be there. It was for both of us."
"Sure, that's why you met them on Thursday and had sexual relations with them. You weren't waiting for your husband then."
"I was confused. I was thinking about Friday . . . "
"That's why you had oral sex with them."
"No, that's not right. This was for Dan and me together."
"We are suppose to believe you did this for Dan?"
"Come on, Mary, we're not that stupid. You did it for yourself, didn't you?"
"No. Yes. Maybe, I'm not sure. . . ."
"You wanted it, Mary, admit it."
"No! That's not true. It was for Dan. It was for his birthday."
"You invited these two men into your bed because you wanted to have sex with them."
"No! You're confusing me. . . . "
"They were giving you the sex you wanted. weren't they, Mary?"
"No! No! They forced me, I said no!. . . . "
"Come on, Mary, they never forced you, did they?"
"Yes, they did. I didn't want it like this. They ripped off my clothes and raped me."
"Sure, Mary, You invited them over as your guest and they raped you."
"You asked for it, Mary, didn't you. . ."
"No! They ripped off my clothes and raped me," then she started crying.
Then from the back of the court room came a voice yelling, "Stop! Stop yelling at my mother. What kind of a man are you?" Then there came another voice yelling, "Leave our Mother alone, you Bastard, just leave her alone."
Everyone looked to the back of the courtroom and there were my two sons, standing up for their mother. I couldn't have been more proud of them.
The judge beat the gavel yelling, "Order in my court, order in my court." Then he looked at my two sons and told the bailiff to remove them from the court room. But not before the jury had a good look at them trying to protect their mother.
Mary had tears in her eyes as well as half the courtroom.
After order was restored to the courtroom, the prosecutor asked, "What kind of a family are you?"
Mary said, "We are the. . . ."
The prosecutor said, "That wasn't a question."
Mary looked at the judge and said, "Judge, he asked that question in this court. I would like to have a chance to respond to it."
The judge said, "Permission granted."
Mary said, "We are the type of family that loves one another. We do all we can to protect our family from harm.. We stay together through good times and bad times, through thick and thin, through health and sickness. We are a loving family."
The prosecutor started in again saying, "They never ripped your clothes off and raped you, did they, Mary? You were a willing participant, were you not?"
With tears in her eyes Mary said, very calmly, "They ripped my nightie off me and tore it to shreds, then they forced me into the bedroom and tried to have their way with me but thank God my husband showed up."
"Sure, Mary, and what proof do you have of that?" he asked, grinning at her.
Mary reached into her purse and pulled out her black nightie which was torn and ripped into pieces. The courtroom went stone quiet. Then Mary said, "Is this proof enough?"
The prosecutor said, "That hasn't been admitted as evidence. You can't show that."
Then Bob jumped up and said, "Judge, it's a crucial piece of evidence that we didn't know still existed. I would like to admit it as defense exhibit #1."
The judge let it be admitted since the prosecutor asked Mary what evidence she had.
The prosecutor said, "How do we know that's the nightie you've been talking about?
Mary said, "You asked me for it, I produced it, that's all I can do. My husband saved me from being raped any further and that's the God's truth."
The prosecutor thought it better to stop his examination.
The prosecutor gave his closing statements, mainly saying that I beat up and shot two innocent invited guests at my house without getting the facts first. I was like a "shoot first ask questions later" type personality. I shouldn't be on the streets. They should put away people like me. He continued with a lot more bull shit. He ended by saying I should be found guilty of assault with intent to kill. I should be found guilty as charged. I was glad when he finally finished.
Now it was Bobs turn. He looked at me and said, "He is an innocent man. Think about what he saw when he entered the room. His wife being molested. He took action to stop it. Why would he think otherwise? She is a good wife, loving mother. She wasn't a slut or a whore. She didn't run around on him. Why would he believe otherwise?"
"Mary made a mistake asking these men in. She was waiting for her husband when they started taking advantage of her. They didn't wait for him. If they would have waited, none of this would have ever happened. He would have stopped them on the spot. He's a good man. They went ahead and started to take her against her will, they started raping her. Thank God, Dan got home early. Too bad he wasn't earlier.
"She told them, ?No, wait' but they didn't listen to her. Members of the jury, when she said No! Wait! Stop! Don't! and they didn't listen to her, that was rape! Did you all hear me. They raped her!
"She didn't tell all that to the police because she figured since she let them in, it was all her fault. She wasn't a lawyer and they never got her one so she didn't know it wasn't her fault till she gave us her deposition. Then it was too late to file against her rapists. It would have been too hard to prove at that point since the police questioning was so incomplete."
"My client, her husband Dan did whatever it took to protect his wife and family. He beat up and shot the men raping his wife. Do you think he ought to go to jail for doing what he thought was right? If not then you have to come back with a verdict of ?Not Guilty!"
Chapter 4 ?The Conclusion' will be submitted tomorrow. Please look for it. Comments are welcome and appreciated DG Hear
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Monday, September 13, 2010
Temptation So Sweet
By: Nikki Sin (firstname.lastname@example.org)
Temptation So Sweet By Nikki Sin
Brenda sat at her desk desperately trying to pay attention to the lesson but damn Professor Westmore was so distracting. Every time she saw him around the campus she wanted to strip and jump his bones. She squirmed in her seat and tore her gaze away from his broad back, doing her best to take notes on what was being written on the black board. "So the rate of change of velocity is the slope of the tangent line on a v-t graph, got that everyone?" The class around her murmured, everyone was uncomfortable. The summer had not even started yet but the heat was definitely suffocating. Even though the AC was on full blast it still didn't cool down the entire room. "So who can tell me what velocity is?" professor Westmore asked. No-one rose their hand, "come on people, the faster we get through this, the faster we can leave", frustration was evident on his handsome face. Brenda raised her hand "Yes Brenda?" "Velocity is the rate of change in position, which is the slope of the tangent line on an x-t graph." "Excellent, thank you Brenda, and on that note, you will continue to read chapter 4 continuing to chapters 5 and 6, answering the questions at the end of each".
The class groaned in unison, it was Friday after all and the last thing anyone wanted was a ton of physics homework to do over the weekend. As Brenda rose from her seat daydreaming about being bent over the desk by Professor Westmore she heard him call her name. "Brenda, Brenda" she turned to look at him at the front of the class "Yes, sir" she replied "Would you come here please, I need to discuss something with you". Brenda watched as her classmates filed out of the room leaving her alone with Professor Westmore. She walked down the steps trying to look as disappointed as she could while her heart did a wild dance in her chest. "Yes professor" she said when she stood in front of him. Her gaze wandered over his body taking him in. He was tall, no less than 6'4", he had wavy brown hair that fell to his shoulders, stormy grey eyes, sweet delectable cherry lips that just begged to be kissed and nibbled on. How she longed to put her hands on his shoulders, rise up on her tip-toes and kiss those lips. His shoulders were broad and looked oh so strong. His shirt fit him just a little snug, just like the black jeans they were tucked into, letting her know his body was very fit underneath. "Ah Brenda, you've taken to this class so well, and I'm forming a physics group of which I would like you to be a member". Oh great she thought, another way to become ostracized from her friends, a lot of whom didn't even get the basic concepts of physics, much less understand that she actually liked the subject. Professor Westmore didn't seem to notice her hesitance and went right on "Yes the group would be meeting at my house on Saturday evenings" ...everything else faded... Did he say the group would be meeting at his place? "So what do you say Brenda?" without a second thought she agreed "Great, so the first meeting is tomorrow and here is the address." Professor Westmore handed her a business card with his home address on it. She slipped it into her back pocket and practically glided out of the classroom.
Brenda was glad her feet remembered the way because she had no idea how she ended back up in her dorm room. Her roommate Sarah was no where to be found, probably hanging out with one of her many fuck buddies. Unfortunately for her, she had been roomed with the whore of the campus. Brenda had nothing against sex, she loved it herself. What she did have a problem with was the number of different men Sarah would spread her legs for. Married, single, attached, they all seemed to make no difference for Sarah; "As long as he's packing" Sarah would say. She recalled an instance where she had woken up in the middle of the night to Sarah's moans. Devon, the big black quarterback on the football team had Sarah's long white legs over his shoulders and he was pile driving into her as hard as he could. Brenda had never considered herself a voyeur in any capacity but she couldn't turn away. She was mesmerized by it. It wasn't so much what they were doing that caught her attention but for the first time she realized just how attracted she was to the color contrast. Devon's black skin against Sarah's white flesh, it was such a turn on. Just thinking about it again made her wet. Dropping her bag on the floor she decided to take a walk around the campus. If anything could be said for going to school so far out in the boonies, it's that the campus was beautiful. Pennsylvania had never been much of a lure for her but she had to admit the springs, summers and falls were awesome out here. Changing out of her skirt and blouse she donned some shorts, a t-shirt and her hiking boots. The campus itself was nestled on acres of woods and there were plenty of hiking trails. Snatching her mp3 player from her dresser she was out the door.
As she walked she thought about the next day, Saturday. She wondered how many other people were in the group. She hadn't heard him ask anyone else about it. Maybe they were from his other classes. Well whatever, it didn't really matter, all that mattered was that she would be in his home. Maybe she could learn a thing or two from Sarah and seduce him into bed. Yes...yes...she knew it was wrong, him being her teacher and all, but wasn't it more wrong to let such a scrumptious man get away. Light slowly faded from the day as Brenda made her way back to her dorm room. As she rounded the corner to her building she came across David, Matt, Susan and Jack. Instantly they swarmed her, babbling about going to the only club in town and wanting her to go with them. Brenda thought about all the work she needed to do, but what the hell, she wouldn't be able to get any work done if Sarah was fucking anyway. With a nod of acceptance she ran up to her room to get ready. She opted for her tiny leopard print dress, the one that hugged her figure, accentuating her large 38DD breasts, slim waist and full round ass. Besides, it went great with her complexion, making her caramel skin just glow. Showing off her 5 foot 8 inch frame to it's best advantage. Combing out her wavy black hair, she did a quick turn in the mirror. A saucy black vixen stared back at her, perfect, hey.... Nerds can be sexy too, she laughed to herself. Eat your heart out Beyonce. As she reached for the door Sarah walked in with a guy Brenda didn't know, the ring evident on his left hand as Sarah led him to her bed. Brenda nodded a quick hi and was out the door. Outside she jumped into Matt's car and they took off for the club.
All night, she danced with guy after guy, grinding her luscious body up against them, feeling their cocks swell against her ass. She went out of her way to flaunt her tits and ass, even doing a little number with Susan that had Matt, David and Jack panting. But what she really wanted was to be doing her dance for Professor Westmore. She envisioned every man she danced with as him, feeling his hands on her waist as she shook her ass and leaned back on his hard cock, feeling him wanting more and barely restraining himself with her body so close. She danced until she couldn't dance anymore, until the club closed and dawn was on the horizon. Matt drove them back to campus and even tried getting her to invite him up. But Matt was a friend and she didn't want to ruin their friendship by sleeping with him, no matter how horny she was. Brenda didn't even bother to change out of her clothes. She was out like a light the minute her head hit the pillow.
Her alarm buzzed loudly at 3pm, startling Brenda awake. Reaching out she knocked over the clock, hoping to shut it up, which didn't work at all. Sitting up at the edge of the bed, she reached out and picked the clock up off the floor, turning off the alarm. The time flashed red in her face. What!!! It was already 3 o' clock in the afternoon, where the hell had the day gone. She was sure she hadn't been sleeping that long. Brenda got up and headed for the shower. She had to be at the professor's house in 2 hours, which gave her time to get cleaned up, pick out a decent outfit and get something to eat, if she was lucky. It was 10 minutes after 5 when she arrived at his door. She double checked the address on the business card and rang the bell. Standing there she was both nervous and excited at the same time. Brenda caught a glimpse of herself in the glass at the sides of the door, she had to admit, she looked hot. She had taken the time to blow-dry her hair straight and the effect was worth it. Her smooth black hair hung around her face, framing it just right, accentuating her almond shaped eyes and her full lips. The outfit she had chosen helped too. The white blouse was buttoned just right so if she moved in certain ways she would flash the tops of her black lace bra and the pleated cheerleader skirt was short enough to show off her toned legs, but not short enough to be considered slutty. Although if the breeze happened to blow a certain way her black lace panties would definitely be on display. Maybe she would give Professor Westmore a flash anyway; she thought wickedly, the vixen in her nodding its head.
She was yanked from her daydream as the door opened and there stood her version of lust incarnate, Professor Westmore, barefooted and dressed in blue jeans and a t-shirt. His biceps on full display. Showing great restraint when all she wanted to do was pounce on him, rip his clothes off and have her way with him until he couldn't walk, Brenda smiled and said cheerfully "Hi Professor Westmore". He smiled back at her, that drop dead gorgeous smile that made her weak in the knees "Brenda, so glad you could make it, and call me Dean, we're not in school so we can dispense with titles." Dean ushered her through the house and out unto the patio in the back where she was greeted by 5 other school mates she only knew in passing. They introduced themselves and the meeting began. The discussion was engaging to say the least, ranging from general physics to quantum physics and laser theory. The time just sped by and before they knew it, it was almost 11 o'clock at night. Dean, seeming very pleased with himself concluded the meeting by setting up an agenda for them to follow for the next meeting. The group began filing out. It seemed that everyone else lived nearby and Brenda was the only one who was actually housed on campus. As Dean closed the door behind the group he turned to her "I'm sorry, I didn't realize we would be this late but you are more than welcome to stay here for the night, catching a taxi at this hour, well let's just say you'd be standing out there all night. I have an extra guest bedroom down the hall". Brenda nodded her head "Well I guess I should at least help you clean up"
Together they brought in the cups and plates from the patio. Occasionally bumping shoulders as they both tried to go through the door or touching hands as they reached for the same plate or cup. Finally when everything was inside Dean closed the back door and went to the sink. He rinsed the dinnerware and placed them on the counter so that she could load them into the dishwasher. He finished before her and moved to sit at the kitchen table. Brenda continued to load the dishwasher, not noticing that Dean was staring at her. As she leaned over to close the dishwasher she heard Dean take in a sharp breath. Turning around to see what was wrong she realized that he was no longer sitting at the table but standing directly behind her. He looked at her with heat in his eyes, and his voice was deep when he said "I saw you last night". "You saw me?" Brenda asked. She was confused "when did you see me?" Dean backed her up against the counter and put his hands on either side of her. "I saw you being a little cock-tease at the club". The black vixen in Brenda rose to the surface. So he had seen her, grinding and gyrating on the dance floor. She wondered if her antics had aroused him. Brenda gave him a sultry look "I wasn't being a tease; they just weren't the one I wanted to fuck". "And who do you want to fuck Brenda?" he asked as he lifted her on to the counter. "You...... you're the one I want to fuck" she breathed into his ear.
Dean kissed her hard, grabbing a handful of her hair as he pressed his lips against hers. Forcing her mouth open and thrusting his tongue inside. He pressed his body up against her. She could feel the bulge of his cock pressing against her cunt. Knowing that they were separated by only a few pieces of cloth made Brenda grind her pussy against that growing hardness she desperately wanted to feel him inside of her. Dean dropped to his knees and practically ripped her panties down. He buried his tongue into her already dripping snatch. Brenda let go and became the wanton little slut she always wanted to be deep down inside. "Oooooohhhhh, oh yeah baby, eat that sweet black pussy" she held onto the back of his head as she spread her legs wider. Dean took that as an invitation to spread her outer pussy lips and shoved his tongue as far into her cunt as he could go. Lapping up all her sweet pussy juice. He inserted two fingers into her and expertly began stroking the sweet spot right behind the clit. Brenda's body began to shake "Yeah......uh huh, just like that baby, just like that.......uhhhhhh yeeeaaaaahhhhh you're gonna make me cum" she squealed as the orgasm ripped through her.
The orgasm was barely over when her white stallion yanked her off of the counter and turned her around. Palms down on the counter she could feel him rubbing her cock against her wet slit. When had he taken off his pants, she thought. But did she really care, hell no. All she wanted was to feel him inside her, and that's exactly what she got. Even as wet as she was, Dean was still too large to shove himself into her, so he had to work it in. Slowly gyrating his hips as her pussy opened up to accommodate him. Dean groaned as he imbedded his rock hard cock into her cunt. He loved the feel of her pussy contracting and holding him. Damn, she was so tight. All he wanted was to shove all of him inside her, make her scream his name. Brenda gasped at the sensation. "Oh god" she moaned "you're so big......give it to me.....give it all to me..... I want all of you inside me". She could feel him going deeper and deeper, deeper than anyone had ever been. Her pussy felt so full and yet he still went deeper. When his balls finally rested against her clit she could feel him all the way up past her belly button. He waited, allowing her to adjust to his size, then he pulled out slowly..... slowly.....until only the head remained embedded in her cunt. Dean pulled all the way out, feeling her pussy tighten up even more to keep him inside of her. Rubbing her cock up and down her opening he watched as she back up. Knowing that she wanted him inside of her so badly made his cock even harder. He inserted only the head of his cock and waited. Brenda wiggled her ass, trying to get him to move. She moved back and he backed away, teasing her with only the head of his massive cock inside her.
"Please" she begged, and it was all he needed. In a swift penetrating motion, he buried his cock deep inside her. She cried out at the feel of him penetrating her, she reached out but there was nothing to grasp but air. Again he pulled out and shoved himself back into her as hard and as fast as he could. She was so wet liquid was running down her thighs, lubricating her tight opening for him to work on. Dean's started a rhythm driving himself into her, harder and harder. Holding her ass cheeks in his palms and spreading them wide so he could have a good view of his massive cock splitting open her pussy. It felt so good tears were streaming down Brenda's face. "Ooooooooo yeah daddy, fuck me, fuck your hot little slut" she urged him on "shove that big white cock into my sweet little black cunt, stretch it out baby". Dean's paced picked up. He kicked her legs wider, so he could shove himself even deeper inside of her. Then he really began fucking her. He screams were music to his ears "Yeah, you like that don't you, you little slut, you like me fucking you with this big hard white cock.....you feel that....." He hooked her legs over his forearms and picked her up off the floor.
Brenda screamed and moaned "Oh god, oh Dean..... yes...yes...yes...don't stop....oh please......don't stop". Looking down he could see his cock had a slight blood tinge to it. Wow, he was fucking her so hard she was showing color and just that thought made him explode. Shoving his cock as deep as it could go he pumped her full of his hot sticky cum. The feel of Dean shoving himself so deep made Brenda cum, she clutched onto the counter top and felt the explosion deep in her stomach, the feeling quickly traveled though her blood stream like lightening making her shake and tremble. With his cock still inside her, he let go of her legs and pulled her body into him, holding her tight. His breath on the side of her neck made her pussy tighten up even more around his cock. She moaned as he planted kisses along the side of her neck and face.
"I've wanted to do that for such a long time" Dean confessed. "So what stopped you?" she asked. "I guess I figured you wouldn't want to get involved with a teacher, I mean technically I'm not supposed to get involved with a student" Brenda thought about that, it was the same argument she had used with herself "so what made you go for it now?" she asked. Dean grinned at her "well I just couldn't help it, especially when you bent over and your lace panties were on full display". Taking her hand Dean led Brenda to the bedroom. He laid her on the soft satin sheets and stared down at her. "Damn you're a good fuck". "I'm even better the second and third times around" she replied. "Really, well we'll just have to see about that, won't we" he said as he leaned over her spreading her legs. Slowly he slid his cock back into her. Sighing, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down to her. Brushing her lips over his lightly before kissing him passionately. "I won't be as quick this time" he said, and that was just fine by her. Sometime around 4am they fell asleep with him still buried deep inside her. Morning came but it wasn't the sun that woke Brenda out of her sleep, it was Dean slipping his cock into her for the fifth time in less that 12 hours. "You're insatiable" she smiled up at him "and you're so very accommodating" he replied. "Well I can't think of a better way to start the day" she said as his lips claimed hers. Brenda closed her eyes and drifted away on a cloud of pure bliss.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
The Scarlet Parcel
By: Bradley Stoke (email@example.com)
A pair of blue-tits was fighting each other for exclusive access to the peanut holder Heather had just attached to the bird table. A female pheasant's dull brown feathers twitched under a bush as it waited for Heather to return to the cottage kitchen. Then it could peck at the seeds scattered liberally at the foot of the rotting bird table
Heather smiled. She pushed open the door to the kitchen where her daughter, Paula, was stirring a bowl of Coco Pops with a spoon.
"Is the pheasant there?" Paula asked.
"Yes," said Heather, as she poured herself a cup of coffee from the jug. "Not the boy pheasant, though. One of his girlfriends."
"Oh!" said Paula, disappointed. "I like the boy pheasant best. He's pretty!"
Heather sat next to her daughter by the kitchen table. Over the sound of The Fimbles on the television, whose morning adventures occasionally attracted Paula's attention, Heather could hear the reassuring sound of lambs bleating in the field that abutted the cottage garden. She loved her cottage and everything about it. The garden she tended when she had the time. The view over the fields to the distant copse and farmhouse. The birdsong that greeted her every morning as she drew the curtains to her bedroom. It might be an expensive luxury. The mortgage was easily the most expensive thing she had to budget for. But she didn't begrudge it at all.
If there was any consolation resulting from her separation from Roger, it was the agreement that she keep the cottage (even if she was burdened with the mortgage). And, of course, Paula. It wasn't as if Heather could have either Roger's job at the Insurance Company or the girlfriend he'd left her for. Nevertheless, she sometimes wished Roger showed more interest in his daughter other than the child subsistence payments, the rare phone call and the birthday presents.
"What are you doing in school today, Polly?" Heather asked, as she sipped her black coffee. "Are you doing sums?"
"Oh Mummy!" Paula laughed. "We do sums every day. And reading."
"What are you reading at the moment?"
Paula pulled a book out of her school bag with illustrations in bright primary colours of animals with smiling faces. Heather took it from her hand and turned the pages languidly. She was putting it back in her daughter's bag when she noticed the cover of Paula's copy book had words scrawled over it. She pulled it out and read them to herself.
"Who wrote these words?" she asked, keeping her voice as calm as she could.
"Why did she do that?"
"She said that's what you are, Mummy."
Heather tore the cover off the copy book, crumpled it up and threw it in the kitchen fliptop bin.
"Why did you do that, Mummy?"
"Because they were bad words that Debbie wrote. Do you know what they mean?"
"Didn't Debbie tell you?"
"She did, but I didn't understand. I don't think she really knows either. Is it something grownups do?"
Heather bit her lip. "If your teacher, Mrs Ridley, asks why the cover's missing, tell her I tore it off. And if she wants to know more, she can talk to me. Do you understand, Polly?"
"Yes, Mummy," said Paula, who was already losing interest in the exchange and whose attention was wandering back to children's morning television.
Heather smiled indulgently and patted her daughter lovingly on her head.
"I love you, Polly," she said, as she so often did.
"I know, Mummy!" said Paula.
Why did Heather feel the need to tell her daughter that? Wasn't it obvious to everyone? Perhaps she did so because it needed to be said the more urgently when there was no father around to share the burden of childcare. Perhaps she just felt that in some ways she was less the perfect mother than she'd like to be.
When breakfast was finished, Heather took her daughter hand-in-hand out the cottage door, down the path to the village lane and past other cottages to the school bus stop. She regarded with regret the neighbouring cottages she was no longer welcome to visit as she was when Roger was living with her, even though he was more often away than at home. Heather felt a residual bitterness. It wasn't, after all, her fault that Roger took off with another woman, but she was the one being punished for it.
She saw Mrs Butterfield and her two young children, one a boy and the other a girl, dawdling ahead of them as the boy sorted out some toys in his satchel. Mrs Butterfield raised her head and looked at Heather and her daughter with obvious alarm. She then pointedly hurried her children over onto the other side of the road so Heather could overtake them without there being the need to greet each other.
Heather tried to catch Mrs Butterfield's eyes as they passed in the hope that she could make a conciliatory nod. In many ways they were very similar people. They were both young mothers in their late twenties, whose children went to the same village primary school, and they wore similar clothes of sweater, slacks and trainers. But Mrs Butterfield had the benefit of a Mr Butterfield who let her fulfil her role as a modern middle-class housewife without the need to work while her children were still young.
"Do you play with Bobby and Lucy at school, Polly?" she asked her daughter, nodding towards Mrs Butterfield's two children.
"I used to, Mummy," said Paula, squeezing her mother's hand. "But they don't want to play with me any more. And anyway I'm best friends with Amandip and Mustapha. And with Sveta in Painting and Drawing."
Heather nodded. She was pleased that there were still pupils who got on with her daughter, but, as someone whose own childhood had been as ordinary as it could be, it sometimes pained her that her daughter was forced to make friends with children on the ethnic margins of country life.
Heather and Paula lined up near the stone bus shelter with all the other parents and their children, but were notable for their relative isolation. No parents and no children came up to chat with them, to ask how they were, whether Paula had her MMR jab or if Heather might consider helping out on a stall at the next village fund-raiser. In fact, the parents, all mothers up to the age of forty, were intent on avoiding eye-contact at all costs, taking advantage of the need to fuss with their children to ensure that they need never look directly at the mother and daughter standing in the shade of the picturesque cherry tree. The children were equally complicit, although Heather was comforted that none of them were old enough to do so from genuine malice. It was worse with the older children, whose school bus was parked further along the country lane. They sometimes took pride in their rudeness. Especially Judy Evans, whose mother had once been one of Heather's closest friends in the village.
Heather waved at Paula as the bus pulled off to take her and the other village children to the school in Upper Dumbledean. Paula was the only child sitting by herself on a bus that was already more than half full since picking up children from the neighbouring villages of Winstone and Cressington.
It was a fine sunny day, so Heather was rather looking forward to her morning stroll across the fields to the petrol station shop, which was the nearest place she could go to buy groceries and a newspaper. But she couldn't dawdle. She needed to be back at the cottage before the postman arrived. She was expecting a parcel and she didn't want the hassle of having to drive fifteen miles to the nearest sorting office if she missed the delivery.
Heather often considered this brief hour between seeing Paula off to school and returning home as the only part of the day when she could truly be herself. She loved the walk over the fields, past the grazing sheep and cattle, past the copse where she sometimes saw deer, and over the stiles. Even the few words exchanged with the staff at the petrol station, who mostly lived miles away from her village, were a source of inestimable pleasure to her.
"It's a lovely day, isn't it?" remarked Betty, as Heather knew she was called from the label on her blouse.
"Perfect!" Heather replied with a grin as she picked up the blue plastic bag of magazines, milk, biscuits and a newspaper.
She strode out of the petrol station, slightly regretting that her excursion was more than halfway over, but she needed to get back in good time. And she wanted to be ready for when Gerry came round. He said he'd be there this morning, depending on his appointments, of course, and he didn't normally disappoint. Heather's heart jumped slightly as she remembered her morning caller. At least Gerry loved her, as he was so keen on telling her; although Heather knew he was far too sensible to abandon his wife and teenage children for her.
Heather got back to the cottage only just in time. She could see the postman's red van parked outside the village hall, under the notice-board with its announcements of flower shows and jamborees. She widened her step, hoping to be at the cottage before the postman.
"Oh, hi there, Mrs Printon," greeted the postman who was coming towards her. Heather didn't wish to correct him about her marital status, though had she and Roger got married perhaps she'd have got a better deal from their separation. "I popped a card through your door, but seeing as you're here, you might as well have your parcel."
He handed Heather a shapeless package that crinkled with plastic, cloth and paper. She almost snatched it from him. "Where do I sign?"
"Here," said the postman, proffering a form. "Another scarlet parcel. The packaging these days!"
"Indeed," said Heather, who was annoyed that the parcel couldn't have been plain manilla. What would the postman think? He'd almost certainly noticed the sending address and drawn his own conclusions. However, Bill was a good sort. He never passed judgement and, in any case, Heather was sure he delivered far more incriminating parcels than one in scarlet from a coquettishly ambiguous internet address.
Heather rushed into the cottage, sat down in the kitchen and pulled apart from the parcel. Yes, it was from Scarlet Dream and did contain the lingerie she'd ordered off the internet at attractively low prices with special discounts for regular customers. It was lacy, deep red, and revealing in exactly the right places. It also accentuated her medium-sized bosom. Gerry would be pleased.
Heather gazed out the kitchen window. Paula would be happy if she were here now. The male pheasant was pecking at the seeds she'd left out, surrounded by his harem of plain brown female pheasants. Small birds flew back and forth to the peanut holder, perching just long enough to peck free a few crumbs before flapping off to the bush where they waited for their next turn.
It was only after reading the newspaper over another cup of coffee that Heather decided to try out her new purchases. She'd never been bothered with things like this when Roger lived with her. Perhaps it might have made a difference if she had. Gerry liked the texture and look of erotic lingerie, though Heather wasn't sure if she were a man she might not prefer total nudity. It wasn't as if men ever dressed in such things. Well, not normally. Although since Roger left she'd learnt that what was apparently normal and what men actually got up to were not necessarily the same things.
Heather spun around on the stiletto heels that seemed most appropriate when you wore Scarlet Dream's lingerie. It was a perfect fit. She was still a very good-looking woman, as Gerry always reminded her (and Roger very rarely did). The evidence of the caesarean section was almost completely invisible. Her waist was trim as a result of all the exercise and, of course, her twice-weekly step aerobics classes in nearby Eastchurch. Her breasts may not be huge, but they were pert and apple shaped. She now trimmed her crotch, another thing she never did when Roger lived with her. It looked better like that in Scarlet Dream panties and, anyway, Gerry appreciated it.
Heather sat on the double bed that was a legacy of her near-married past and idly flicked through the woman's magazine she'd bought at the petrol station. It was all about film stars, fashion hints and, of greatest fascination to Heather, articles about finding, keeping and pleasing boyfriends and lovers. There was a world outside represented in these magazines, a long way from country villages and domestic drudgery, where a girl could go out for the night, dance the night away, and return home with the man of her dreams. And this man was someone who, with a little patience and the benefit of having read articles in magazines like this, would be nothing but putty in the hands of a modern Ms. Before long, it would be roses, wedding bells, a sporty Audi TT, and one of those diamonds that were featured in those decidedly erotic advertisements.
Suddenly, Heather heard the familiar squawk of a startled pheasant followed by the low buzz of his wings. She jumped to her feet and looked out of the window to see Gerry's Mazda parked in front of the cottage. He was early! She watched as he got out of the driver's door, opened the rear door to retrieve the jacket of his suit he'd hung up, and, with a swift manoeuvre copied from The West Wing, slipped it over his shoulders. Heather hurried down the stairs to the front door. She composed herself, still wearing only her scarlet lingerie, while Gerry hovered over the front door bell. It wouldn't do to be too hasty in opening the door, but on the other hand she didn't want to antagonise her neighbours more by leaving Gerry on the doorstep for too long.
At last, after counting to ten after Gerry first rang the doorbell and breathing slowly and deeply to compose herself and her nerves, Heather opened the door. She hoped that no neighbour could glimpse her in the underwear she wore specifically for Gerry's benefit.
"My gosh, Heather! You needn't have!" Gerry exclaimed when he saw her in her lace and silk outfit.
"For you, my love, nothing is too much," said Heather with a broad smile. "Come in! Come in! You're a bit earlier than you said. Do you want a cup of coffee?"
Gerry nodded. "It's been a long drive from Worcester," he said. "But I might just have clinched the deal. A coffee would do me the world of good!"
As he entered the cottage, he kissed Heather shyly on the cheek and followed her to the kitchen. He sat down on a stool and glanced at a photograph of Paula.
"Your daughter's at school today?" he asked with a kindly smile.
Heather nodded as she poured a cup of coffee, put in the milk and three sugars that Gerry liked, and handed it to him. "It's not the school holidays, as you know."
"No, of course not. I'd know if my two girls were off school," he laughed.
Heather leant against the washing machine, her long legs stockinged from her high-heeled shoes to the top of her thigh, and a bright square of Spring sun shining on her bare midriff. She sipped her coffee and studied Gerry with trepidation. Although she'd known him for well over a year and had got to know him very intimately indeed, perhaps more so than his wife or colleagues, she knew there were huge parts of him that were barred from her forever. He was a very ordinary looking man in many ways. Only just in his forties, filling out around the waist, and with a hair-line that was receding quite noticeably.
He took a tissue out of his pocket and wiped a sliver of sweat off his forehead.
"It's very hot driving, you know," he said apologetically.
Heather smiled. "Especially all that way! Was the motorway bad?"
As Gerry proceeded to give an account of his drive from Worcester and the tortuous A and B roads he'd navigated, Heather gathered her wits about her. Gerry always perspired when he visited. Heather knew that it was more his nerves than the temperature. He was worried about his wife discovering that he was seeing someone else, even someone who lived so far away. And he also felt very guilty. What would his daughters think?
When Heather had judged that both she and Gerry were sufficiently relaxed, she strode seductively across the kitchen, one impossibly long leg in front of the other, and smiled as Gerry became visibly more aroused by her presence. And it wasn't just that he perspired the more heavily: sweat trickling down his high temple and onto his reddened cheeks. He was getting more excited in another area that in a sense mattered much more.
She placed a hand on the front of his trousers. His penis was rock hard and a splendid seven inches of manhood it was too. He flinched slightly as Heather squeezed his testicles through the loose fabric of his trousers and the boxer shorts she knew he wore underneath. She kissed him tenderly on the forehead, which smelt quite distinctively of some Indian curry he'd no doubt been feasting on the night before.
"You seem ready for action," Heather remarked.
"It's your outfit!" Gerry protested. "You know how much I like silk and lace. And red as well! I love you, you know. No one else understands me so well."
Heather had heard his protestations of love many times before, but words were worthless with a family in tow. She pretended not to hear him, although it sometimes occurred to her that although Gerry was a sales rep and all that often implied, he probably wasn't that bad a father. And one who would probably get on quite well with Paula.
"Shush!" said Heather, placing a finger gently but firmly on Gerry's lips. "You probably don't have much time. Shall we go upstairs and make as much of the time we've got together as we can?"
"Yes. Yes, of course," said Gerry, taking off his jacket in preparation. He then folded it over his shoulder and loosened his tie as he followed Heather up the familiar staircase to her well-lit bedroom at the top of the stairs.
Heather was aware that the disrobing was often the most awkward part of her meetings with Gerry, so she put especial effort into making the ceremony as erotic and natural as possible. Thankfully, she didn't have to remove any of her own clothes. The split crotch of the panties ensured that this was not necessary, though she usually liked to throw them to one side at some point or other. She was able to concentrate her attention on Gerry's shirt, trousers and underpants. She was unhurried and sensual as she spread her fingers open on his hair-tangled stomach and eased his boxer shorts down his upper thighs, kissing his erect penis as she did so.
Soon he was naked and on his back on the bed, while Heather returned her mouth to his penis, not only her lips, but also her tongue and teeth, busy at keeping his penis erect, while her fingers, with their sensibly manicured nails, ensured that it didn't spend itself too soon in the process. The advice given in the women's magazines about suppressing premature ejaculation had proven their worth many times over, although nothing was as good as actual practice.
Gerry was well blessed. His penis was straight and stiff, no kink in it and the skin pulled off the glans completely and easily. His testicles were like eggs in size and shape, much like those in the fridge, but much more tender. Gerry would gasp whenever Heather squeezed them, but as he expected her to do it she did this every time. Just as she would also take each testicle into her mouth, closing her lips around it, while her hand continued to grip his penis, and run her tongue through the long scrotum hairs and over the strange tubes that would channel his seed to his member. But not yet. And not while he was still unprotected.
It was a very explicitly illustrated book that Heather managed to trace on the internet that taught her the skill she had now perfected of taking a condom out of its wrapper, putting it onto her partly opened mouth where she kept it in place by sucking the rubber in, and then with her mouth, sliding the condom down the length of Gerry's erect penis, using a single hand to secure it in place. Heather had learnt that there were different size condoms appropriate for different men, and that Gerry required a very average sized condom for a good fit. She wondered whether there actually were many men who required the larger sized condoms, but she had learnt that there was certainly a need for the smaller models. A good fit was a necessity and any looseness was very dangerous indeed.
Once protected, Gerry could now enter her. For reasons of comfort more than anything else, Heather slipped off her lacy red panties and dropped them to the floor. Gerry had once complained that a condom made him less sensitive and wondered whether he could make love without it, but Heather was very strict on such matters. Whatever his protestations of love, what would they be worth if something unpleasant or unexpected happened as a result of their conjoining?
Although very different in most other ways, Gerry was much like Roger in his lovemaking. He preferred making love from the front so that he could look down at Heather's face beneath his outstretched supporting arms. He liked to thrust in slowly and steadily at first, pulling his penis almost free from her vagina and then plunging it deep inside again. He liked to gradually build up his thrusts into a faster and more urgent rhythm, which was Heather's cue to vent forth those urgent whimpering gasps for which she was so grateful there were no party walls between her and her neighbours' cottages.
Heather wasn't sure that she was actually faking it. She certainly faked the orgasm, but then she did that with Roger as well. Orgasms came rarely for her and most often when she was pleasuring herself. The cries of ecstasy and joy, however, that signified orgasm had become such a routine part of her lovemaking, Heather wondered whether they had just become something as natural as the thrusts she found herself reciprocating without ever planning to do so.
Another feature Gerry had in common with Roger was his love of anal intercourse, but this was a privilege Heather rarely granted. It was something best kept for special occasions. She worried about it ever since she read that article in Cosmopolitan about the long-term health risks of too frequent penetration. Perhaps if Gerry were less well-endowed and the risk less great, she might have thought differently.
So when Gerry's finger probed her anus from behind, his penis thrusting vigorously at the front, Heather let the finger enter as far as the second joint, but squeezed her buttocks tight to make further penetration impossibly difficult. She then orchestrated her thrusts and her ecstatic cries to the climax she could see Gerry was pretty much on the verge of achieving.
As he did with his own grunts and gasps. And like all men, the moment of release was fairly obvious, although his penis didn't automatically collapse after releasing semen into the condom's nipple.
Afterwards, Heather and Gerry lay together on the sweat-sodden sheets, soon to be changed, Gerry's arm around Heather's shoulders, while the sales rep talked about his wife, his daughters, and the deal he was hoping to close in Shrewsbury. This was different to Roger, who'd normally doze after they'd made love, but then Gerry would soon have to get back into his Mazda and onto the road again.
Heather kissed Gerry quite tenderly on the cheek before she opened the front door to the cottage to let him out. He made his usual protestations that he'd be back as soon as he could and that he loved her.
"Well, just ring when you can," said Heather with a smile.
"I will. I will. It's been... it's been wonderful seeing you again. I can hardly wait till next time!"
Heather wandered to the living room to watch Gerry drive off in his Mazda. She still wore her scarlet outfit with the panties back on, but she'd soon change into something else. It carried rather too obviously the smell of recent sex.
Heather returned to the kitchen and looked out at the garden where a goldfinch was perched on the bird table and a host of sparrows were pecking at the seeds on the ground. No pheasants this time.
She looked at the notes in her hand. As always, Gerry had been more generous than he needed to be. And even though they'd not had anal sex, he insisted on paying for it. Heather put the money in a jar in the kitchen and glanced at her desk diary. Three more appointments this afternoon: two regulars and a new one. As always, it was the new one she was most anxious about, but Phil and Jeremy would be just as demanding as Gerry.
Heather sipped her coffee. She'd have to change the sheets and put on a fresh outfit, perhaps a black or a white number from Scarlet Dream's catalogue. And then back to work.
Heather glanced at the school photograph of her daughter in the frame by the kitchen window. She sighed.
Oh, the sacrifices the single working mother has to make!
Letter of Recommendation [part 1 of 2]
By: enjoyable20 (firstname.lastname@example.org)
It was a cold February day, I had been in school nearly a month, and I hadn't had any in weeks. I don't know if it was because school was keeping me busy or if I just hadn't made any connections at all. All I knew is that my pussy was craving some major attention. Its not that I'm bad looking from what I've been told. I have a small frame and I'm five foot three, weighing only 115lbs. I have c-cup bra size, brown hair shoulder length and brown eyes. Some said I looked to much like a good girl. I didn't like wearing too provocative clothing. Something about revealing myself to everyone took out the fun to revealing myself while in bed. The only man, I seem to feel attracted to was my English teacher. I'd be finishing college in may and I was planning to enter university in the following fall. I needed to get a letter of recommendation, so I had set up a meeting with Jacob. (English Teacher)
He had got us, use to calling him by his first name because his last name composed itself of about thirty letters. He was quite a man, not married, no kids but very dedicated to his work. Although I was having difficulty not letting my mind wander in his class, if he happened to bend over, or be leaning next to me explaining something, he smelled wonderful too. He would walk in the room, this sweet masculine order following, and I could melt right there. I was going to see him this minute hoping he would write my letter of recommendation or write it right away, I was kind of last minute.
I knocked on his office door and waited while I heard him come open the door. "Amy, Oh I forgot our little meeting!" he muttered. His office was a mess, it was obvious he was looking for something. "Would you prefer I come back later?" I asked although just looking at him, with his unbutton shirt was causing me to moisten. He looked great today, he was wearing blue jeans and a black shirt with buttons. He was tall at 6 feet and he had this amazing brown hair that hung and waved back and forth, his smile was contagious and I imagined it, tugging and licking my breast. "Don't be ridiculous!" he said, motioning to take a seat, where he had just cleared off all the paperwork. "You're here about your letter of recommendation?" he said taking a seat across his seat.
"Yeah, have you had the chance to write it?" I asked. "Yeah, sure did." He said handing me it folded. "I want you to read it before I seal it" he said. I opened it up and started to read. Once I was done, I folded it up and looked at Jacob. "It's perfect" I said smiling. "Of course it is" he said getting up. "Amy, I was wondering if I could show you something" he said. "Sure what is it?" I asked not knowing what he has asking me. "I have a copy of your last Short story, and I was wondering why you wrote it" he said handing me my short story. "I thought you'd enjoy it" I said, my heart pounding. The short story was about a man and woman, who meet randomly and end up having a wild night. "It was very good." He said, he was close and I could smell his sweet masculine odor. "Do you have any more, it was so good, you should try to get it published." He said. "Thank you, I had not thought of it. I do have a few more, would you like to read them?" I asked him. "As soon as you can get them to me" he said smiling. I had the feeling he had like them more than a piece of literature. "Do you know what inspires me to write them?" I asked him to see what he would say. "I don't know" he said taking a seat behind his desk. I got up and went around his desk, and then close to his ear, I whispered into his ear "You get me really really hot" I said and then added "like now, like before, like everyday."
He didn't need anymore encouragement, his hands groped my ass, pulling me closer into an embrace, his lips were hot and wet, and his tongue melted with mine, it was warm and sensual. I couldn't believe this was happening. I was now, over him, while he continued to sit in his chair. His hands roamed my ass and my back. I pulled away and removed my white t-shirt, his hands instantly cupped my breasts and I feel his breath go short as he snapped my bra open, his eyes grew wide, as he got a look at my nipples for the first time. His lips went to sucking and biting them instantly, I felt his cock grow hard against my thigh.
He felt so good; I leaned back against his strong hands holding me. He got up lifting me onto his desk. He removed my pants, revealing my pink thong, and he seemed to be very please. He removed my thong, and then began stoking with his hands my thigh, and then proceeded to lick them as well. His tongue was warm, and created shivers down my back, I felt myself quiver under his touch. His tongue was getting closer to my now drenched pussy, I spread my legs wider, as his tongue brushed up against the lips of my pussy, I moaned, making him go at me, faster, he entered a finger in my tight pussy while he licked my pussy, and then entered a second, I felt an orgasm come, and then I felt my juices pour out into his face, he licked my clean, and then I heard his unzip his jeans, I got up and kissed him, tasting my juices in his mouth.
I pushed him to his chair, while his pants were at his ankles. He looked so good; I freed his cock from his briefs gasping at his good at least 8 inches. His head was smooth and I couldn't take it anymore, I brought my mouth to his cock and sucked and then began rubbing my hand up and down his shaft, and with the other massaging his balls, his eyes closed as he enjoyed the sensations I was creating him. Soon, he pulled me away and I got onto his lap. I guided his warm cock into my wet cunt, and let it enter. It glided right in and I let it rest there for a minute and then began rocking my pelvis against his. We kissed as his hands played with my tits.
I had never done it on top and I lost myself in the sensations it was creating on my pussy. His cock rocked inside my pussy rubbing against the walls of my vagina. He pulled me up to the desk and began fucking me, harder and harder. I didn't have to tell him, he was taking real good of me. His balls slapped my ass, as I felt myself on the border of an orgasm, I felt his tense up as well and then almost at the same time our juices became a different mixture. We continued to lay against each other for some time against his desk, kissing and letting him play with my nipples. I loved the way he had a way with nipples I had never seen them as hard, he jerked and tugged on them, then bringing his mouth he bit it hard and soon, I felt more cum down my legs. He looked pleased with himself. We made out for a long time, but we had moved to this rug in the front of his office, the floor was hard, but I didn't care at all. Fucking Jacob had a been a three year fantasy. "I've wanted that for a long time!" I said. "That story had me hard as rock, and then I couldn't get you out of my head." We continued kissing for a while and soon, He was hard again, this time, I asked him "Have you done someone from behind?"
He smiled and nodded he did. He got the picture and he began lubing my tight asshole. He brought his cock to my tiny hole and soon, pushed little by little until his whole cock filled my ass. I felt full, He hands groped my tits as they hung down, I was on my knees. Soon he began taking it out and then shoving it back in, I couldn't control what I was feeling, soon his hand, held my stomach so that even if my knees were weak, he could continue fucking my tight ass. I felt his tense up and shoot a load of his cum into my ass, it oozed out and then my legs gave out, and suddenly I was very tired. We woke up a couple hours later, wrapped in each other's arms, covered in cum. We laughed and we started kissing again, it was passed 6pm and there was no noise coming from anywhere in the college.
I didn't want to go anywhere, but he got up and started getting dress. He smiled at me, while I continued to lie there all sprawled out on his carpet. I slowly got up and began dressing, and then he pulled my close and began kissing me once more. He took a pen and paper and wrote his address and told me to meet him there. It was going to be a very good weekend from what I could tell.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
By: Exakta66 (Exakta66@Optonline.net)
I can still remember the first time I set eyes on Sandra. I was a scruffy young man of twenty. She was a very sexy girl of 22. She came up to me as I was trying to kick start my somewhat temperamental Norton 750 Commando motorcycle. She said something about liking bikes. That was all I needed to hear. A hot looking brunette with big brown eyes in a pair of tight fitting jeans coming up to me and telling me she likes bikes. My life took a turn for the better in a heartbeat. It was as if I won the life lottery. We started dating. Concerts, bars and trips to the Jersey shore became the norm. I loved it. She loved it. Everything seemed perfect that summer of 1981.
Sandra had a real effect on one young man. Before I met Sandra I had never seemed to find the time for a real girlfriend type relationship. Oh, there were girls. But before Sandra my idea of a long-term relationship was anything over three hours. My motorcycle and my drinking buddies seemed to be the center of my life. But after meeting Sandra things changed. I actually put on a clean shirt when we went out. I started to really care about my appearance. A pair of jeans without holes was no longer considered getting 'dressed up'. People noticed the change. There was one less guy at the bar drinking beer every night. My buddies missed me, but I didn't care. They would just have to get on without me. I would rather be with Sandra.
Sandra and I seemed to really hit it off in more ways than one. There was rarely a lull in the conversation. We liked the same music, we liked the same food and we liked each other. Make that loved each other. One area where that came through was in the bedroom. We couldn't seem to take our hands off each other. As the months wore on and the weather got colder, our love only seemed to heat up. We soon got our first apartment together and our first official business together as a couple was to christen every room in the place. If you know what I mean.
In the meantime I got a real job as a manager trainee at a local firm. My prospects seemed good. I was soon wearing a suit and tie to work. Our social events centered around places other than the local bar. It became obvious we were meant to be together, so it was no surprise when Sandra answered 'yes' to the question 'will you marry me?'
Our wedding day was a joyous occasion to say the least. It was almost three years to the day since Sandra and I met. I was 23 and Sandra was 25. Our parents were all there and actually seemed proud of us. Everyone wished us the best for our future. Our future seemed so bright I had to wear shades. Sandra looked ravishing in her wedding gown and long train. It seemed the first page in fairy tale marriage.
Our honeymoon in Hawaii seems like only yesterday. I can still recall the way Sandra looked in her bikini on the beach with her perfect golden tan. Her figure made her look like she stepped out of a Playboy magazine. Those firm breasts and perky nipples straining against her bikini top practically brought tears to my eyes. Her firm thighs and the way the sun danced off the strands of her long dark hair made my crotch bulge as I sat on the beach blanket admiring my good fortune.
Surely I was the luckiest man alive, ever. No man ever had it so good, and she was proud to be the one who made me feel that way. When we made love on our honeymoon, we were like two long time dance partners. Our every move intertwined with perfect grace and timing that only the closest of lovers could achieve. We came as one, and our embrace afterwards would surely last a lifetime.
When we returned home, reality soon set in. It was back to work for me and the job was keeping me working long hours. Sandra missed her period and it was no surprise when she found out she was pregnant with our first son, Austin. It was a joyous time and our love only seemed to get stronger.
Sandra liked to exercise and it was not long after giving birth to Austin that she was able to regain her perfect figure. Less than a year later she was pregnant again, this time with our daughter, Brielle. It was decided that it best that Sandra quit her job and become a full time mom. Sandra was always a very active woman so this was a bit of a change. She soon adjusted. Sandra soon gave birth to our daughter.
This time she did not lose the weight so easy. Neither one of us seemed to mind. Sandra did not get out as much since she quit working and I was too busy with the job to really notice or care. I was working long hours and Sandra was busy with two young children. It was soon decided we needed a real house for our growing family and Sandra found a nice place with a fenced in yard with the help of a friend of hers in the real estate business. We moved our new family in with little fanfare. Neither one of us seemed to even think about christening the place this time. I was back to work the next day and she was back to baby formula and Sesame Street.
When the kids got a little older and started school, it was decided that Sandra would take a part time clerical position at the local hospital to keep her busy during the day. By now I was middle management and would often travel. When I returned home it was nice to see Sandra but I was always so exhausted from traveling and climbing the corporate ladder and she was so exhausted from work and caring for two kids that when we kissed at night we were soon in a deep sleep. I couldn't tell you the last time we made love. Neither of us seemed to care.
By the time the kids were in high school I was a successful manager at my job. Just in my early 40's, I now had a corner office and my own secretary. Barbara was a sweet young girl whom I had picked from the secretary pool. She had long dark hair and a perfect figure that reminded me so much of Sandra in the early days of our relationship.
I could not help but notice her as she bent over the copier and the open file cabinet drawer. Her blouse crept up revealing the small of her back and her butt was perfect, just the way Sandra's was nearly twenty years earlier. Her perfect round breasts and perky nipples strained her tight blouse, just like Sandra years earlier. I often started to drift into erotic daydreams about Barbara, but I would stop myself. I reminded myself I was a married man. I was always faithful to Sandra. My wife and family would always come first. I worked long hours to give my family the best and nothing would ever come in the way of that. But, I had to admit, Barbara sure looked good.
A few years later something seemed to change in Sandra. As she got into her late 40's she started going through her changes. She started getting hot flashes and had odd feelings. Mysteriously, to me at least, she seemed to regain her interest in sex. In a fairly big way. Her doctor told her this is normal for some women. I was not ready for it.
The kids by now had just started college. I was still working quite a bit but not as late as I once was. We no longer needed a sitter when we wanted to go out. Sandra wanted to enjoy this new found time and I agreed. We started going out more than we had since we were single. We went out to dinner at least twice a week and the movies every weekend. I had no problem with this. What I was not ready for was Sandra's renewed sex drive.
One night we came home from the movies and settled in front of the TV. Sandra started playing with my hair and giving me kisses. It felt real good. We held hands and each other, making out like we have not done in years. She grabbed my hand and led me to the bedroom playfully. We started to undress each other with a zeal not encountered since our dating days. Then reality set in. I had not really looked at my wife naked in some time. I mean really looked. She had changed over the years and not for the better. Those once perky breasts now sagged. Those tight thighs were now wrinkled. I was no longer turned on by the sight of my wife naked and I was horrified by the thought.
I started to think. What was wrong with me? It had to be me, right? She was still the same woman I had married nearly 25 years ago. So what she had gained a lot of weight and her body suffered the effects of age and gravity. She had bore my two children. What more could I have asked of one human being? I was no longer the young stud I once was either. I felt so ashamed. I turned away.
"What's wrong?" Sandra asked in a concerned voice.
"Ah, nothing baby." I was lying through my teeth to my own wife, "Just been working too hard."
We went to bed early that night and Sandra cuddled with me. Monday morning I returned to work and immersed myself in my job more than usual. The week seemed to pass quickly. Barbara was her perky young self. I tried not to notice. I had other things on my mind.
"Can I get you anything, Mr. Walters?"
"No Barbara, I'm fine."
Lying to my wife and now my secretary.
The weekend came and Sandra and I had a wonderful dinner at a new French restaurant in the next town. The meal was wonderful and the ambiance superb. We shared a wonderful bottle of wine the wine steward had recommended. We stopped for coffee afterwards at a small cafe we used to frequent in our younger days. It was a wonderful evening. We went home in great spirits and got into more comfortable clothes and sat in front of the TV in the family room.
Once again, it seemed history repeated itself as Sandra started to run her fingers through my hair. She stroked my forearms and massaged my body. She led me into the bedroom by my hand. I couldn't resist my own wife. This is the woman I had married and said vows to nearly 25 years ago.
We got onto the bed and undressed each other. Slowly we took turns removing each other's clothing. As sensual as her touch was, I just was not getting aroused. My mind started to wander from the woman I loved so much. I started to think about my secretary Barbara. As I removed Sandra's blouse and bra, I imagined it was Barbara. I imagined those fifty-year-old sagging breasts were the perky breasts of my 25-year-old secretary.
My God, what am I doing?
As I removed Sandra's sweat pants I imagined those flabby thighs were the perfect tight thighs of my secretary. God, please forgive me. I imagined that big butt of my wife was the perfect butt of Barbara. I felt so guilty I wanted God to strike me now, but something happened. I became extremely aroused.
I kissed my wife passionately imagining it was Barbara. I fondled my wife's breasts all the time imagining they belonged to my secretary. I went down on my wife imagining my head was surrounded by the perfect thighs of Barbara. My wife writhed in ecstasy as I worked my tongue into what I imagined was a 25-year-old tight mound of womanhood. My stiff cock tickled what I imagined Barbara's pussy to look like and as I thrust it in, I imagined my secretary spread out on my bed, her perky nipples reaching for the sky.
As I continued my thrusting, I imagined those perfect round breasts shaking in my face. I felt like screaming 'Cum on Barbara!' but I had enough good sense left. I screwed my wife like a teenager doing it to a girl for the first time, and in a sense it was the first time for me. The first time I made love to Barbara in my mind.
When it was over Sandra and I embraced on the bed for a long time. Neither of us spoke for some time.
"You were amazing honey," she cooed, "Just like the old days. Wow."
Wow, I thought.
I got up and went into the kitchen. I poured myself a glass of Wild Turkey and sat there in silence with the lights off. Sandra came into the kitchen about ten minutes later.
"What's going on with my stud of a husband?" she said jokingly.
"Oh nothing," I answered, "just thinking about how good it felt to make love to my wife."
She just looked at me lovingly and smiled. I just looked back at her and raised my glass.
"Cheers," I said.
She just smiled and giggled.
A lover eats Kath's pussy THROUGH her panties!!
By: KathHal (LawyersInc@aol.com)
Cunnilingus through Kath's panties
By college age, I presume that most of us had experienced the delicious thrill of oral sex, and learned how good it could feel to have a man's tongue and lips (or a woman's, for that matter) at play on one's pussy. So I shan't bore you with an account of what everyone has done as a matter of course.
But an ESMail chum mentioned in passing over the weekend that he enjoyed talking about panties. Just a mention, to be sure, and I have not taken the time to run down any of his postings. But his remark set me to thinking about a great bit of fun I had in the fall semester of my junior year in college.
I was flattered and overjoyed when Dr. ______ (the Prof hereafter) hired me as a grader/gofer. He made plain that I would be doing "scut work," but the chance to work around a scholar with a national reputation excited me. So, too, did the prospect of spending time with a man who, although 27 years my senior (I was barely 20) was nonetheless a very appealing male.
The Prof had a second office in his home about two miles from campus, high in the hills, with a to-die-for view that seemed to stretch for miles. Here is where I was to work.
The first few times I came out, I carefully wore Ms. Serious Coed clothes - essentially, a starched white blouse, a blue skirt, a lighter blue blazer, and heels and hose. I was somewhat taken aback to find that his out-of-class garbs was most informal: shorts, a polo shirt, either barefoot or running shoes without socks. In fact, the first time he answered the door, I wondered whether I had come to the wrong house! He looked so "out of uniform."
After a couple of days, the Prof said, "Kath, you dress very nicely, and I know that you are going out of your way to look professional. I also know that you must be going home and changing from your regular class clothes, because you were wearing something entirely different this morning. I just want to let you know that if you wish to ?dress down,' it would be fine with me."
That he felt comfortable talking to me so candidly impressed me. And in fact, going to my apartment to change clothes was a bother. So thereafter I came directly to the Prof's house from class, wearing my everyday stuff, which was, I assure you, far less formal.
The more relaxed I felt around the Prof, the more relaxed my garb. That autumn was especially hot (record highs, as I recall) and one day I said, "Oh, the heck with it!" and I brought along a pair of shorts and a Polo shirt, and I went into one of the back bedrooms and changed before starting my work.
The Prof made no comment, but the way he looked at me suggested he liked what he saw. My body was finishing the transition from girl/teen to woman, and if I say so myself (hey, no false modesty here, guys!) I looked darned good - 37C boobs, a waist 12 inches smaller, and a 34 inch bottom, which was tight. I had let my hair go to shoulder-length. And my face was "pretty" enough that I had several sound-outs about modeling for clothing ads for a local department store. (No, thanks, study came first; I was serious about obtaining a good education.)
So, let's move things along to what you REALLY want to read about, OK? I just wanted to set the stage.
I felt a strong physical attraction to the Prof from the very beginning, and just looking across the office at him sent all sorts of erotic thoughts tumbling through my head. I knew that he was reputed to be quite an "academic Lothario," with women faculty members and other females falling all over him. I could see why.
The man exuded sexuality, and without making any effort to do so. Several afternoons I had to sneak off to the john and dab my pussy dry with tissue lest I soak through my shorts. And, yes, I fucked him "by proxy" when I screwed various boy friends, and he was my jill-off fantasy when I masturbated.
Yet he made no overt move towards me - not even a brush-kiss of my cheek, or a pat on the shoulder. I could sense that his eyes often roamed over my body, and that he admired my breasts. I seldom wore a bra once I shifted to Polo shirts, and I knew good and darned wells that my nipples signaled their erection through the fabric. And, egotist that I am (I plead guilty) I was pleased that he liked what he saw well enough to keep looking at me.
The last Friday afternoon of November. The Prof answered the phone, listened, and said, "Let me go to the other room, I will be right back." From time to time he would take presumably personal calls in private, and I thought nothing of it.
He came back a few minutes later frowning. I could not help but notice his expression, and I blurted, "Is everything OK, Dr. ____? You look....." Oh, hell, girl, none of your business. Shut up. I did, and went back to my work.
"As a matter of fact, Kath, everything is NOT OK. I just had the weekend shot out from under me, and I am irked. Irked? No, I am MAD!" The Prof did not volunteer further information; he returned to what he was doing. But after a few minutes he said, "Kath, I know it's not five o'clock yet [my quitting time] but since I am the boss, I set the hours. What say we break off for the day? Would you have time to sit out back and have a glass of wine with me?"
I was surprised, for this was the first time that the Prof had spoken to me in other than a work context. The request pleased me, and so I said "yes, that would be fine." He told me to go on out onto the patio, that he would grab a bottle of wine and be right out.
Right away, fantasy took hold of me. Wow, but I would love to fuck the Prof out on the patio! Is the invitation to have a drink a prelude to seduction? I felt my pussy dampening.
There were chaise lounges around the pool outside, and I trailed my foot into the water, sex very much on my mind. I was glad that I had chosen a pair of rather loose shorts that day; they fell away from my upper thighs enough to show more flesh than usual. I tugged the hem of my Polo shirt out of the shorts.
The Prof, with two glasses and a chilled bottle of white wine. We clinked our glasses in a toast. Small talk as we sat on facing chaise lounges. How I liked school. What I did other than classes (tennis whiz through prep school, and how hard it had been to stop playing competitively so that I could concentrate on classes).
"And the guys are all over you, I bet?" He asked with a smile.
I smiled right back. "Oh, one or two," I said, "but nothing I would call serious..." True. I was fucking one guy regularly, but he was a tool of sexual convenience rather than a love. Masturbation, while fun, takes a girl only so far, and especially when you have become accustomed to being dicked on a regular basis, as I had since age 16. (I did NOT pass on this info to the Prof, to be sure.)
More small talk, a comment on my tan. Yes, I was a beach lover, and earlier in the semester, gal pals and I drove down to Southern California several weeks to San Onofre State Park. I let that one hang in the air. Surely he (and every other California adult) knew that San O had the best clothing-optional beach in the West.
"Oh, yeah, great beach," he said. "I used to go there frequently years ago....Now, of course, I have this patio, so I can catch all the sun out here that I need, without the drive."
He was unbuttoning his shirt as he spoke. "OK with you if I catch a few rays right now?" He paused a beat then resumed, without waiting for me to answer.
Hmmmm. Nice bod, Prof! Muscular, with a few gray hairs mixed with the black on his chest. Flat tummy, which suggested that he kept himself fit.
And all I could contribute was the dumbest, most inane statement I think I've made in my entire life. "You men have it made," I said. "You can go topless anytime you wish. Whereas...."
"Whereas women can't?" the Prof said, laughing. "Kath, out here you can do anything you darned well please. If you'd like to go topless and get some sun, I will close my eyes while you take off your shirt." He put his hands over his face. "Go ahead, I won't watch..."
His suggestion was so audacious that I had to giggle. And with no further thought I tugged the Polo shirt over my head, clutched it to my bosom for a fleeting protective gesture, and then tossed it over onto a chair. "Done," I said, "and the sun feels good already!"
The Prof put down his hands and looked over at me. "I kept my part of the bargain," he said. "I closed my eyes while you took it off, but I made no promises about afterwards...."
So what? I put my hands behind my head and locked my fingers, feeling my breasts rise on my chest. And yes, he looked directly at my bare boobs. "Nature was very good to you, young lady," he said. "You have a smashing body. And I am glad that you are proud of it."
I drained my glass of wine and held it out for a refill. I had an idea where we were going, and I wanted something to tone me down a bit and let me relax. He had taken the first step by suggesting that I take off my top. Now it was my time to raise the ante, or just to sit there like a dolt.
I stood and trailed my toe in the pool. "Surprisingly warm for late November," I said. "So different from back East. By now, my parents would have had the cover on our pool for months...."
"I think we are good here for a few more weeks," the Prof said. "But who knows? Would you like to take a fast dip, just on the off-chance that this is the last opportunity?"
Hmmmm. Getting in the pool meant getting out of my clothes, and I was not going to be gauche enough to raise the issue of swim suits. But if I got into the pool with this man....
"Close your eyes again, Dr. ____, while I get out of these shorts," I said, standing up as I spoke. "Then join me in the water?"
Once again, his hands over his eyes. I stepped out of my shorts. I started to pull down my panties. No, Kath, not that far, if he wants to fuck you, he can take care of that. SPLASH! A flat dive into the luke-warm pool, and oh but it felt good!
The Prof arose. He stood facing me as I cavorted in the water. And I did not cover my eyes with my hand as he wiggled out of his shorts. No underwear, to be sure, only a very nice cock, long and fat, my eye estimating seven inches, swollen but by no means erect. He stood there for a few seconds, as if inviting me to look at his genitals. I did, to be sure, and I liked what I saw.
SPLASH! Into the pool he came, going under the water and making a playful grab for my lower legs. I put my hand atop his head and shoved him down. Play time. He surfaced spurting water and laughing.
"Ah, the joys of academic life!" he said. "It goes without saying, Kath, that this is between us. I don't think the dean of women would approve of a dirty old professor luring a sweet young thing into the pool naked."
"It didn't take a lot of luring," I replied. "And besides, I'm not naked. I still have on my panties!"
"Huh?" he said, and dove under the water, and his head was suddenly right next to my groin. He surfaced again, laughing. "My, my, what a modest little girl. Maybe I should get out and put on my shorts?" He was joking, and I gave him a mock frown and splashed water on his face. He splashed back.
And suddenly we were two kids at play in the water, grappling, trying to shove one another under. His hands and arms were all over my breasts and naked torso - incidental touching, to be sure, but exciting nonetheless.
In due course we were in the shallow end of the pool. The Prof grabbed me under the knees and guided me towards the bank and lifted me up and sat me on the side of the pool.
One glance told me what I already knew: my pussy was clearly visible through the sodden fabric. My pubic hair was so fair, so fine, that it did not begin to conceal the deep cleft between my labia.
No need now for words. The Prof lifted my legs over his shoulders, the better to expose my pussy. His face was only inches from my groin as he did a thorough visual examination of me. My excitement was such that I was literally gasping.
Thumbs high on my inner thighs, as if determined to part me even further. A mouth moving to the V of my groin. A tongue flickering out and roaming up and down the length of my cunnie. A groan from me, my fingers moving down so that I could push the fabric aside.
No, no. His hands shoving my fingers away. His open mouth now on my cunt, fabric and Kath-flesh alike gripped between his lips, tongue pushing around in the vicinity of my swollen clittie.
Now, to be sure, over the years, I had felt more than a few mouths pleasuring my pussy, both men and an occasional gal pal who liked bi play. But what the Prof was doing to me was entirely different: he was eating my pussy THROUGH my panties, and I could only deduct that there was enough of my "taste" on the fabric, however wet they were from the pool, to excite him.
I put my hands on his head and pulled him tighter into my groin. I closed my legs around his head. Teeth gently nipped at my labia. I started having climaxes - what I termed "popcorn cums" that go on interminably as I work up to a major orgasm.
Candidly, I was a whimpering, simpering mess of a woman, so deliriously happy at what was happening to my pussy that I wanted the joy to continue forever. And having all this take place while I was still clad in panties added a touch of ....naughtiness?...that made the cunnilingus all the more enjoyable.
I had thought briefly of ignoring the Prof's wish and going ahead and shoving my panties aside so that I could feel his mouth against my naked pussy. No, no, this was much better, and I simply surrendered. And in due course, I had an orgasm that most likely showed up on the Richter measurement things over across the Bay.
He got out of the pool. He helped me stand up - oh, god, what a case of post-orgasmic limber-legs, I could barely stand! He knelt, and only now did he slowly slid my panties off my hips and down my legs. He tossed them away. He put his face up against my pussy and kissed and licked my slit, his hands locked on my bottom to keep me upright.
Up, our mouths locking in our first kiss, the tart taste of my pussy on his lips. "Kath, my dear, I am going to take you inside and fuck you. Does that appeal to you?"
I reached down and found a rock hard cock. I stroked it. "Yes," I said. "Take me inside and fuck me. I would like that very much!"