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In Chapter one our heroine, Kate, a successful business woman turning 60, has asked herself a troubling question. Is she a slut? Thus began a series of chapters in which she describes to her husband Henry (her fourth husband) her life beginning with her late teen years and her sexual activities at each stage. The portion in italics in each story is her recollection of some memorable sexual experience from her past. In this chapter she tells how she met and seduced the first of her husbands.
“Hmm. That sounds like a most unusual literature class you were taking,” my husband, Henry said as I signed the check for our brunch.
I looked up at him and thought for a moment. “Yeah, I guess it was. For years I just thought of the whole thing as a rather strange affair I had with a professor and his wife, but eventually I was able to think about how much I learned beyond the subject of sex.”
Henry gave me a quizzical look, his head tipped to one side, asking implicitly but clearly, “What else had I learned from those perverts besides sex?”
“Okay, I learned a lot about sex from the Professor and Halilli,” I said laughing. “My God, those were my first experiences with lesbian sex, threesomes, anal sex (a skinny dick like the Professor’s is the right way to start), mutual masturbation, dominance and submission, the use of sex toys, and, oh God a host of other perversions. Their imagination was not only perverse, but unlimited. But, believe it or not, those sessions out by his pool and in his office taught me skills about analyzing an author’s work that I still use today. Sure, you can do the same thing with Dickens or Melville, but it is so much easier to bring yourself to read and think about the material if it is pornographic.
“I guess it helped,” I continued, “that the Professor had such an extensive collection of Victorian porn. The books he gave me to read weren’t necessarily typical. Just like today, most of what was written in the genre was purely prurient with no underlying story or moral. But the ones that the Professor gave me to read had some substance that you could focus on once you got past the sex.”
“I see and how did you get past the sex to focus on the ‘literary merit’?” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“I’ll leave that to your nasty imagination.”
“Hmm,” he said. “That’s a pretty thought.”
It was noisy on the street, so we dropped the subject as we walked back to our loft. As we stood alone in the industrial style lift taking us up, I felt his hand begin to fondle my ass. “Didn’t get enough last night?” I asked.
“It’s your stories.”
“Make you jealous?”
“No, just randy.”
“Good. Want to hear another while I sit on your cock?”
“Yes,” he responded eagerly. “Do you have more about the Professor and Halili?”
“Oh, there’s lots more about them. I screwed the Professor on a nearly weekly basis for the rest of that quarter and on a more random basis for the rest of the time I was studying at Cal, and Halili was my occasional lesbian lover throughout that period.”
“Always with the Professor in attendance?”
Sometimes, and sometimes not. I was never sure whether he understood the extent of my relationship with Halili. Of course, he’s dead now, so I guess it doesn’t matter.”
“What about Halili? What’s she doing these days?”
“I don’t know. She eventually got a Masters degree in English and the last time I saw her, she was teaching freshman English at a junior college in the South Bay—some place in San Jose, I think. You know though, she is enough older than me that she is likely retired someplace by now.”
“No longer seducing coeds, you think?”
“Who knows? She was pretty randy.”
Changing the subject slightly, I said, “I have another story I was thinking about that I want to tell you. . . but first I want to fuck.” As I spoke I reached down and stroked his rapidly hardening cock through his trousers. He opened the lift door and we went straight to the bed.
Three-quarters of an hour later, we were sitting naked at our kitchen table, feeling very satisfied as we sipped freshly brewed coffee.
“So what was this other story you were going to tell me?” Henry asked.
“Oh yes. I was, wasn’t I. Someone with a very hard cock distracted me, but now I think I can focus on it. It goes like this:
It was a warm early fall day in my senior year at Cal. I had just finished a not-so-satisfying session with the Professor (I took a “Special Projects” class from him all three quarters of my Senior Year). It was one of those sessions when Halili didn’t show up, and all the Professor wanted to do was talk literature. He was odd about that. Some days he was randy as hell, and other days you would have thought his libido had died. Believe me, it is hard as hell to spend two hours deconstructing pornographic novels and not kartal escort bayan get any following the discussion.
Anyhow, I was walking across the campus back to where I had parked my car. Just in front of the law school there is a small grove of trees. When I was a child and my mother was working at the University I spent a good deal of time climbing in the very same trees. They were perfect for climbing.
As I approached I noticed a guy stretched out on the lawn beneath the trees, reading a thick tome I assumed was a law book. I had seen this guy near the law school several times before. He was gorgeous. His medium brown hair was thick and long with a soft wave and a shine to it that women spend fortunes trying to recreate for themselves; and he was just born with it, the lucky bastard. His face was clean-shaven with even features and dark brown eyes. God, those eyes. They could look straight into your soul. His build was what you would call slight—perhaps five-ten and lean, narrow at both the hips and shoulders. I later learned that notwithstanding his slight build, the muscles under his clothing were hard and chiseled.
Each time I had seen him, he had caused me to pause and take a second look. When he had caught me looking a couple of days earlier, he had smiled, as if to say, “caught you looking, and I know what you’re thinking.” But then he had turned and gone on his way.
This was a guy I definitely wanted to meet and, as I said, I was randy from my just completed, or perhaps incomplete, session with the Professor, so my willingness to do the unreasonable in an effort to meet this guy was way up there.
Instead of simply walking on by or walking up to him and saying hello, my randy brain came up with a more extreme approach. I walked quickly into a shadowed area alongside the law school and then pulled my short skirt up, yanked my panties down to my knees and kicked them off (I never did get that pair of panties back, but that was neither the first, nor the last, pair of panties I have lost to lust). I hadn’t worn a bra to my session with the Professor, so that left me with only two garments, a T-shirt and a very short skirt.
Now that I was appropriately attired, I walked down to the grove of trees, a pornographic novel loaned me by the Professor tucked under my arm. As I walked up to the trees, my target, whom I later learned was named Howard, looked up, but I ignored him, and he smoothly returned his attention to his law book. I hadn’t climbed in these trees for several years, but I quickly scurried up into the branches until I was perched about ten feet directly above him, leaning against a trunk with my feet on a branch. He looked up briefly, but then went back to his book.
I next took one foot off the branch and placed it on an adjoining branch, so that my legs were spread wide apart and anyone below could easily see my sex. The problem was, he wasn’t looking. How to get him to look up? I deliberately dropped my book so it landed a few feet from him.
He looked up, his eyes quickly focused on my pussy. “You dropped your book,” he said, staring at my pussy rather than my face. Now I had his attention.
“I know. I’ll come down and get it.” He continued to stare at my naked pussy and I took my time getting out of my position. I wanted him to get a good long look and be quite sure that I was naked under my skirt. I waited, considerably longer than was decent before I climbed down out of the tree.
While I was climbing down, he had picked up my book and taken a quick look at a page or two. “Your book looks a good deal more interesting than my book,” he said, as I sat down near his feet. I pulled my knees up against my chest but held them tightly together, exposing most of the underside of my thighs, but probably not much more. He was facing me lying on his back, with his legs stretched out and his upper body propped up on his elbows.
I ignored his comment and looked sternly at him. “Were you looking at my pussy?”
I expected him to blush, but he was cool as can be. He just smiled that devastating smile of his and asked innocently, “When?” His eyes were focused on mine and the effect was mesmerizing.
“When I was up in the tree.” As I spoke, I let one knee fall to the side so my pussy was again exposed to his view.
“Oh, I thought you meant now,” he said, staring at my pussy.
“No, I know you are looking at my pussy now, and I mean for you to be doing it now, but not when I was in the tree.”
He laughed, and tried to subtly adjust his clothing to make room for his obviously rapidly-swelling cock.
“So really,” he said. “You expect me to believe that you didn’t deliberately expose yourself to me when you moved your left foot to the second branch even though you are doing the same thing now,” . . . he looked at his watch . . . “a mere one minute and 35 seconds later?” escort maltepe
We were both silent while he continued to stare at my pussy, and I continued to watch the lump in his trousers grow.
“You seem to be enjoying the situation,” I said, with a nod towards his growing cock.
“Yes,” he said softly. He reached down with his hand and adjusted his pants further to accommodate his growing cock, never taking his eyes off my pussy.
“Well,” I said. “I’ve shown you mine, so it only seems fair that you show me yours.”
“You mean here? Now?” he asked with a mildly desperate tone in his voice. I was getting to him, and he looked so cute. I could feel my pussy starting to leak.
“Yes,” I said. “Fair’s fair, or are you just a voyeur?”
“Fuck,” he said softly.
Now I was really getting to him, but I didn’t want to scare him off. Instead of pushing him further about exposing himself, I looked deliberately around and then began to massage my tits through my T-shirt. “I’ll bet you’d like to see these too,” I said.
“Yes,” he croaked.
“No, I can’t do that,” I said.
“Someone might see me!”
“Uh, is that a problem . . . I mean given what we’ve done so far.”
I smiled, more or less admitting that I was jerking him around, and asked, “Do you know someplace we could go that is a bit more . . . private?”
He thought or a moment and then got this devilish twinkle in his eye (so sexy). “Well, as a matter of fact, I do. Follow me.” He jumped to his feet and pulled me up, copping a quick feel of my boobs as we rose.
“Oh, you are so bad,” I said.
“You haven’t seen anything yet,” he said, as he turned and headed for the law school, once more adjusting his trousers to accommodate his erection.
We walked down a long hallway past classrooms and offices and then up a set of stairs, past the administration office and into the law library. It was late in the afternoon and the place was pretty empty, except for a handful of students grinding it out over books in the main reading room. From the reading room we continued through a small door on one side that led to the stacks—several stories of nothing but law books, mostly obscure. The place was silent as a tomb and had that musty smell of old books. It had floors made of metal grating that allowed you to look straight through to the floor below (or above). It occurred to me that someone below us could look up my short skirt at my exposed pussy, but the place was empty and pretty dark.
We went up several floors and then through a labyrinth of twisting hallways defined by bookshelves.
“You could get lost up here and never find your way out,” I said.
“Legend has it that several students have done just that. Their ghosts haunt the place, but still can’t find their way out.”
“Creepy,” I said.
He led me back to a remote corner of the fifth or sixth floor (I had lost count of the stairs we had climbed). The bookshelves in this corner were surrounded by a locked cage. “This is Professor Sander’s private collection,” he said as he fished a key from his pocket and unlocked the door that allowed access to the cage.
“How come you have a key?”
“Oh, I’m his research assistant,” he responded, as we stepped into the cage. He re-locked the door behind us and slipped the key back into the pocket of his jeans.
It was dark and a bit spooky as he led me through a pathway between a series of bookcases. In the back there was a small work area. As we entered, he flipped a light switch on the side of a bookcase and the place lit up dimly, disclosing a small work area with a table, a couple of hard chairs and a couch. The iron grate floor was covered with a well-worn piece of carpet.
Then he turned to me, saying softly, “Now let me see that pussy again.”
I stepped into him and we kissed, a long erotically-charged, aggressive kiss. I could feel his erection pressing against me, and his hands fondling my ass. He had pulled my skirt up around my waist and his touch was so soft. I wanted it to go on forever. But as Hemingway allegedly once said, no man can make love to a woman standing up for more than a minute or two. I think that is largely true. He dragged me over to the couch and, without breaking the kiss, we both managed to disrobe the other and fall on to the couch. I am really not sure how it happened, but when I realized the kiss had ended, he was lying naked on his back, his cock sticking straight up, and I was naked on my knees between his legs.
I reached out and touched his erection. It jumped when I touched it. It was about the same length as most cocks I had seen, but a good bit thicker. At first I just stroked it softly with my hand. Then I leaned forward and touched the tip of his erection with the end of my tongue, tasting the slightly bitter pendik escort flavor of the drop of pre-cum perched there. His cock jumped again and he groaned softly.
I pulled my hair to one side and looked at him. He was lying with his head propped against the arm of the couch watching me. I kept my eyes on his as I leaned forward and used my tongue, first on the head of his cock, then on the shaft, and then back to the head.
“Oh fuck, that feels good,” he said.
Just as he spoke, I leaned farther forward and sucked the head of his cock into my mouth, continuing to swirl my tongue about it. I heard a sharp intake of breath from him. I kept it up as I began to jack the shaft with one of my hands, deliberately letting saliva spill from my mouth to lube it. His dick was so big around I could barely get my fingers around it.
After a moment I pulled my head back, sucking on him as I did so until his cock was clear of my mouth. I sat back, continuing to stroke the shaft, now using both hands and a twisting motion, and staring at him.
“You like that don’t you?”
“Oh fuck, yes!” he responded softly. “More, more.”
I pushed my hair back again so I could continue to watch his face. I like to watch a man as I suck his cock. It’s so much more erotic if I can see his reaction. This time I pushed his cock farther into my mouth, as far as I could get it. I began to pump it back and forth sucking hard each time I pulled my head back. His eyes were closed and he had let his head fall back as he savored the cock sucking.
After several minutes, he spoke up, “Oh, fuck. I’m going to cum.” I pulled back, continuing to slowly stroke his prick with one hand. I wasn’t ready for him to cum, but I wanted to keep him on the edge.
“How long will it take you get hard again, if I let you cum now?”
“Not long,” he said.
“Good,” I said. “I want you to cum on my tits.”
We changed positions so I was on my back on the couch, and he was straddling my hips. I reached out and grabbed his cock and began to stroke it with both hands. It was hard and slick from the cock sucking. He leaned forward, one arm resting on the back of the couch. “Fuck, oh fuck! That’s it. Just keep that up,” he said. I felt his cock go even more rigid than it had been, and then I saw the first spurt of his cum eject. It missed my tits completely and went all the way to my face, landing in a hot wet stripe from my right temple down to my chin. The next three spurts and the dribble that followed were better aimed, landing on my tits and my belly.
He collapsed sideways on the back of the couch while I wiped the cum off my face and smeared it along with the rest of his cum across my tits and belly.
Sitting up, he said, “It’s my turn now.” He hopped down off the couch and pulled me around by the legs so that I reclined against the back of the couch with my ass hanging off, supported by my legs draped over his shoulders. He began by kissing the inside of my thighs but quickly progressed to my pussy. First he slid two fingers into me. They penetrated without difficulty since I was wet and slippery. Really, between our little seduction routine downstairs under the trees, and the session discussing porn with the Professor, I hadn’t thought about much of anything but sex for several hours. Then while he continued to finger fuck me, he began to run his tongue between my lips, stopping on each stroke just short of my clit.
“Fuck! Oh fuck! So good,” I moaned softly. He pulled his head up to look at me, and I starred into his brooding dark eyes for just a moment and then used both hands to press his face back into my sex.
He finger-fucked me and tongued me for a long time (several minutes? Who the fuck knows?) It was heavenly. I didn’t think I was close to cumming, but I was so lost in the sex. I groaned and mewed like a kitten.
Then it happened. No warning whatsoever. I just tripped into a violent orgasm. It surprised me so that I screamed. Then I slammed my thighs together crushing his head. He stopped licking me but he kept his fingers working in my spasming cunt. What a climax. No buildup. It just went from nothing to balls out instantaneously, and once it started, I kept cumming, and cumming, and cumming. Oh, so fucking good!
I pushed him away, and he hopped up on the couch next to me. I leaned against him for a long time. Eventually I opened my eyes and saw that his cock had recovered. It wasn’t as rigid as it had been before, but it was hardly what one would call soft.
“Ooh, he’s back,” I said, reaching down to stroke his prick. When I touched it, it jumped so it was now fully erect, standing straight up instead of lying on his leg as it had before. I swung myself around so that I was straddling him with my knees sinking into the couch on either side of his legs, and began to sink down onto his cock. My cunt was still tight from the intense climax of a few moments before, and it didn’t want to allow the intruder, but I was wet and with just a little effort I felt the big head began to slowly penetrate me. He began to slowly flex his hips, and on each flex his prick sunk more deeply into my cunt.
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