Looking Back Ch. 03

Nisan 7, 2021 0 Yazar: admin

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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 describes more of her efforts to use sex to better her grades in a college English class.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! Don’t stop. Fuuuuuck! Oh shit that’s good! That’s it. Fuck me! Oh fuck me! Oh fuck this is good!”

I was in our loft in New York in my favorite position—on my back with my legs spread as wide as possible, and my knees pulled as far towards my head as I could. Henry was on top of me pounding my pussy with his rock-hard cock.

“Is that what you want slut? You like that big hard cock in your cunt?”

“Oh fuck! Fuck yes! You know that’s what I like.”

“Am I as good as that guy you’ve been fucking in San Francisco? Am I, slut?”

“Ohhh. Ohhh. Oh Fuck yes. Fuck you’re way better. Fuck, that hard dick of yours is filling me up. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You’re so much bigger and so much harder!”

“Ohh fuck. I’m going to cum. Arrrrrgh!” He always came when I admitted I had been fucking someone else. I don’t know why, but it always just set him off. Sometimes it was true and sometimes it wasn’t. If I didn’t have a story about someone I had recently fucked to tell him, I made one up.

I could feel Henry’s hot cum filling my cunt and it set me off for the third time that night. I screamed as my cunt clamped down on his rigid cock. We collapsed into each other’s arms, both spent for the evening. As we rolled to the side, still wrapped in each other’s arms, I murmured, “God, you’re good. How do you keep it up like that at your age?”

“It was that story you told me over dinner,” Henry responded. “It made me so fucking horny I felt like I could fuck all evening.”

“I think we did. It’s 3:00 A.M.”

The story I had told him over dinner was a description of the first time I visited Professor Smyth’s home. As you may recall, I was taking a seminar in 19th century English literature from Professor Smyth in spring quarter of my junior year at Cal, and I had gotten woefully behind in my reading and class attendance. I had made only one class in the first five weeks. 19th century English literature is basically pretty dull stuff, or at least the part of 19th century English literature they teach in colleges and universities is dull. Actually, there was some pretty interesting material written during the 19th century, but it is still not socially acceptable today, nor was it then. And just like porn today, it sold well. As I subsequently learned from Professor Smyth, Victorian porn is far more interesting than Dickens.

I had gone to Professor Smyth’s office with the intention of giving him a blowjob in an effort to avoid flunking the class. It took a little work on my part to seduce him, but we ultimately got there. When he finally came he quickly tidied himself up and ran off to a faculty meeting without so much as a thank you, or a “fuck you’re good.” As he hurried out of his office he handed me a slim volume of Victorian porn and told me the blowjob would get me a passing grade, but if I wanted an A, I should read the book and come to his home a few days later. Not very fucking romantic, I thought, but then again, I hadn’t come to his office looking for romance, just a better grade than the D or F I was earning.

“So, my dear, did you take the Professor up on his offer of “private tutoring?” Henry asked.

“Oh yes. Grades were important to me in college. I may have been a horny little slut who partied hard, but I made sure I got the grades too. I must admit, however, that this was the first time I ever had to resort to sex to get the grade I wanted.”

“And so, Kate, how was the private tutoring? Did you learn anything you didn’t already know?”

“Surprisingly yes. I learned a hell of a lot about sex I didn’t know, and I learned a lot about literature that I didn’t know. Let me tell you about it.

I wasn’t particularly enthused about going any further with a relationship with the Professor, given that he had left me sitting in his office essentially naked with his cum spattered on my hair, my face, and my tits while he ran off to a faculty meeting. To make matters worse, I was horny as hell, and he hadn’t even thought of satisfying me. Not really a gentleman, I thought.

But later that day, after fucking another college kid I barely knew, I started to read the book the Professor had given me, and I found it fascinating. It wasn’t just the kinky sex. There really was a story in it about a young gentleman and kartal escort bayan his struggles with his gradual decline into depravity. If that was what 19th century English literature was really like, I wanted to know more. So the following Thursday I showed up at his house near Walnut Creek with the book in my knapsack, assuming I was going to get fucked by his long skinny dick, but wanting to know more about Victorian porn.

The house was in the hills east of Walnut Creek towards Mount Diablo, isolated from anything else. I had some difficulties finding it, but I eventually got there, my usual 15 minutes late. I knocked on the door and the Professor opened it. He looked at me (well more at my T-shirt-covered tits than my face) and said rather coolly, “Oh, you did decide to show up.”

I mumbled something about having gotten lost, but I really wasn’t very articulate because I was surprised by the Professor’s appearance. When he was at the University he always dressed in the most impeccable tweed suits. Today he was wearing a silk robe, loosely tied at the waist, which came only half way down to his knees. His legs that showed below it were skinny and bony. I guess that shouldn’t have come as a surprise given I had his trousers in a pool around his feet when I had been blowing him a few days ago. Too focused on his dick, I guess. You have to do that to give a good blowjob.

I could also see a good deal of gray chest hair that started at his throat and extended to where the robe came together just above his waist. The tweed suit was better, much better. Okay, he wasn’t pretty, but I wanted an A, and I wanted to know more about Victorian porn. And I knew from the prior week that he had a decent dick, so I figured I could put up with the fact that he wasn’t a young hard-bodied stud.

“All right, all right. Come in my dear. We’re out back by the pool.” He turned and led me through the house and out to a patio and pool.

“We’re?” I thought. Who else is here? I was prepared to have more sex with the Professor to get my A, but I hadn’t planned on other people being involved. I was not at all expecting what I found when I stepped out onto his patio.

“Halili, come meet Ms. O’Riley,” said the Professor as he strode to a bar and poured three glasses of wine.

Halili was a tall, slender African woman (at least six feet) who was swimming in the pool. She pulled herself out of the pool on the ladder, and I realized several things immediately—she was stunningly beautiful, at least thirty years younger than the Professor, and quite naked. Her skin color was a pale chocolate, but her nearly black areolas and nipples shown in stark contrast to the tawny color of the remainder of her skin. The hair on her head had been clipped very short. Were it not for its darker tone than her skin color, I might have thought it shaved. Her bush, however, was thick, dark, and curly. Droplets of water from the pool sparkled on it. Her dark brown eyes were large and round and her teeth, exposed when she smiled at me in response to the Professor’s introduction, were a brilliant white. Her breasts were small, so small that she clearly had no need for a bra, except perhaps to prevent her nipples from protruding through an outer garment when engorged, as they were now from the cold water of the pool. Her legs were long and lean, but well muscled, and like many black women her butt stuck out sharply from her lower back.

Halili grabbed a towel from the back of a chair and casually dried herself as she walked towards me, her teeth gleaming in the bright California sun. As she reached me she dropped the towel on the back of another chair and stood naked before me, her hand extended. “How do you do,” she said in perfect upper class English. Her diction was, if anything, better than the Professor’s.

“Kate O’Riley,” I said, completing the Professor’s introduction (he probably couldn’t remember my first name, even though I was sure he could remember the blowjob I had given him). I took her hand. It was smooth and soft. She shook hands firmly. As we shook hands I could see her eyes roaming the length of my body and when the handshake, which seemed just a bit longer than normal, broke she withdrew her hand in a way that allowed her to softly stroke my palm. It was very sensual.

Meanwhile the Professor had arrived bearing glasses of white wine, which he held out to us. “It’s a Sancerre from the Loire Valley in France,” he said. “Very nice for a sunny California afternoon.”

As I took a sip I could see that Halili’s gorgeous brown eyes were still focused on me as though I were a Christmas gift the Professor had just brought her. I was fascinated and a bit scared at the same time. I was also feeling a stir in my groin that I usually didn’t experience when introduced to an attractive woman.

The escort maltepe Professor had returned to the bar and picked up his own glass of wine. As he walked back, I’m sure he noticed Halili’s and my preoccupation with each other and our silence. He sat in one of the chairs and finally spoke up, breaking the pregnant silence. “Miss O’Riley, Halili is my wife. We’ve been married now for, what is it my dear?” he said, looking at his naked wife. “Oh yes, ten years now. We met in Kenya when I spent a six month sabbatical from Oxford there.”

God, I thought. She doesn’t look a day over twenty-five, okay thirty at the outside. He’s even more of a dirty old man than I thought.

“Yes, I thought I was going to freeze to death when he brought me back to Oxford. I’m not sure how I lived through that first winter. Thank God Berkeley wooed him away so we could live here.” As she spoke her eyes continued to stare at me. I was finding the whole experience incredibly erotic. I was used to drunken frat boys undressing me with their eyes, but never a naked, six-foot tall, black woman.

There was more silence as Halili and I continued to stare at each other, more or less ignoring the Professor’s presence. I could see the Professor in my peripheral vision, and he was watching the two of us with a bit of a smirk on his face, as though he had fully expected our reactions to each other.

“And Miss O’Riley,” the Professor said, breaking a silence run far too long, “is a student in my seminar on 19th century English literature. Or at least I think she is. Her attendance has been, shall we say, less than stellar.”

“I see,” said Halili, “and what brings you out to see us this afternoon?” Her eyes remained focused on my body.

“I . . . ah . . .” God it was getting to be difficult to be coherent as I sat before this stunning naked woman who appeared to want to tear my clothes off.

“I told her that if she wanted an A in the class she should come out here for some private tutoring,” the Professor interrupted, saving me from my inability to answer.

“Oh,” said Halili softly and slowly. She paused just for a moment. “You must be the one who gave him the marvelous blow job last week. Well, I should warn you about his private tutoring. That’s how I met him and wound up married to him and living in Oxford freezing my tail off.”

I stared at her thinking, “Oh shit! His wife knows.”

“Really Halili my dear,” the Professor responded. “Oxford would have been much nicer if you had been willing to wear clothes.” Turning to me, he said, “She insisted on wandering around our house, and even our garden, stark naked in the dead of winter. English homes just aren’t built for that.”

“It doesn’t seem to be a problem here,” I said, finally regaining control of my tongue.

Halili smiled in response. She was sitting in the sun and now the moisture from the pool had been replaced by a sheen of perspiration. Her skin was gorgeous.

“Actually Professor,” I continued, deciding there was nothing to hide, “I can probably live with the C you promised me in return for the blowjob. My other grades are good enough so that I will graduate, unless I screw up another class or two as badly I have yours. The reason I decided to come out here is that I want to know more about the book you loaned me.” As I spoke I retrieved the book from my knapsack and set it on the table in front of us.

“Ah, so perhaps there is hope for you yet, young lady. So what did you find in the book that was of such interest? Something more than just the sex, I hope?”

With that, we launched into a discussion of the literary merits of Victorian porn and how it compared to the straight prose and poetry of the period. Halili leaned back in her chair, her eyes closed, ostensibly ignoring our “shop talk” and soaking up the sun.

Professor Smythe and I continued our discussion for the better part of an hour, and I was pretty much fully engaged, although I couldn’t help but take a peek now and then at the naked black goddess in the chair opposite me. I noticed that although she purported to be sleeping, she was periodically sneaking a look at me. We both thought we were being discreet, but I am sure the Professor was fully aware of what we were doing.

Finally we had exhausted our discussion, and the Professor said, “Listen my dear, if you want to pursue this further, there are a couple of additional books like this one I would like to have you read. Why don’t you stop my office next Monday afternoon and pick them up. In fact, perhaps we should just plan on a regular Monday afternoon schedule for the rest of the quarter. We can meet in my office, and since I don’t have office hours on Monday, we won’t be disturbed. I see no reason for you to bother coming to class for the rest of the quarter. pendik escort Let’s just have our regular Monday sessions, and I am confident you’ll get your A.”

That’s six more blowjobs, I thought, counting off the weeks left in the quarter.

“Now if you ladies don’t mind, the wine has made me a bit sleepy so I am going to retire for a nap, but I suggest you take advantage of the pool.” With that he rose and retreated into the house.

Halili was “awake” again looking at me like she wanted to devour me. “Shall we?” she said, extending a somewhat ambiguous invitation.

“But I don’t have a swim suit.”

Halili, who was standing by now, laughed, a lovely lilting laugh. “Oh my dear,” she said, “we never use swim suits in this pool and, for what I have in mind, a swim suit would just get in the way.” She turned and walked toward the pool, her ass swinging sexily.

I stood, stripped off my clothes, and followed her. I wasn’t sure where this was going, but I was too horny to care, after spending an hour discussing Victorian porn with the Professor while being mentally undressed by a gorgeous black Amazon, I didn’t care about much of anything except how I was going to get myself off.

I walked down the steps into the pool. The water was cool, but not cold, and when I reached waist deep I dived forward and down, feeling the coolness surround my body. The one place it didn’t seem to cool was the low heat in my pussy that had been building since I first met Halili. I came to the surface and swam a leisurely crawl across the pool, did a diving turn when I touched the end as I had been taught in high school swim team, and then flipped over on my back to re-cross the pool in a back stroke. The sun felt lovely on my naked breasts and belly. The water was slightly more than waist deep at this end of the pool, so I let my legs sink to the bottom and then simply stood up.

Halili was sitting on the edge of the pool a few feet away, and I walked toward her until I was standing with my breasts almost touching her knees.

“You are really very beautiful,” she said to me. “I can see why he chose to bring you home.”

“Really?” I said. “I thought he just wanted another blow job. But now he’s gone off to take a nap.”

“He brought you home for me,” Halili said, “and he’s not napping. He’s watching. He loves to watch.” As she spoke she casually spread her legs apart so her sex was becoming visible through her dark curly hair. Her pussy lips were large and dark and I could just see the barest hint of the pink of the inner lips hiding behind them.

“Oh.” I didn’t quite know what to think. I had only intended to exchange a blowjob for a grade. Now I appeared to be becoming involved in a kinky threesome between a dirty old man and his young trophy wife.

“Have you ever been with a woman before?” she asked. As she spoke she dropped into the pool and stepped behind me.

“No.”

Now she had those soft hands on my shoulders giving me just about the most sensual massage I could imagine.

She pulled my raven hair away from my neck and ear on one side, leaned forward, and whispered in my ear, “Does it scare you?”

I was quiet for a moment. Then I said, “No.”

As I spoke she caressed my ear with her long tongue, while her fingertips traced a sensual path down both sides of my back until they reached the beginning of the swell of my hips.

“Does it excite you?” Her fingertips continued on down into the water caressing both sides of my ass.

I was silent as her hands begin to fondle both globes of my ass. “Yes, it excites me,” I said, “but what about your husband. What if he sees us?”

“I told you, he’s watching us right now. He gets off on watching me with girls he brings home. He wants to see me do you.” She slid her hands back up my body and around to the front until they were cupping my tits. “You have beautiful breasts,” she said as she began to slowly massage them.

Fuck, this was erotic. I couldn’t decide which was more exciting—the things Halili was doing to my body or the fact that the Professor was watching us from somewhere.

“So he’s not going to be mad if he sees us having sex?” Now she was lightly pinching my nipples and tugging on them.

“No.”

“And you’re not mad because I sucked him off in his office on Tuesday?”

Her tongue probed the inside of my ear and then she blew on it while she continued to twist and pull on my nipples. I was on fire. “Do I seem mad?”

I groaned in response. Then I spread my footing a bit and started to reach down to fondle my pussy.

“No, no, little girl. That’s for me to do,” she said a bit sternly as she pulled a hand from a breast and used it to pull my hand away from my pussy. I’m going to eat you until you scream for mercy. That’s what he wants to see and, oh yes, that’s what I want to see, too.”

She grabbed my shoulders and turned me around so we were facing. “Have you ever kissed a girl before?” she asked. Now she had those oh-so-soft hands holding either side of my face as she looked down into my eyes.

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