Oh Yes

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Anniversary

It's hard to write this post now that my torrid love affair with the Professor is a distant memory.  But then, my memories do tend to distance themselves with great speed.

I came to work on Wednesday morning dressed in a slinky black skirt and tight silky top, straight-haired and waxed for my date with the Professor that night.  And then I received this off-hand message :

[...]

No, not literally that.  Why can I find no trace of it in my records?  Ah yes, in a fit of pique I kept no records that day.  But the gist of the message was that his father's train was not at 18h49, but at 22h00, and this meant he could not see me that night after all.

Shocked and disappointed, I dashed off a line or two about how he was killing me, replete with broken-hearted and pouting emoticons, and signed off, resigned to my fate.  However, alone with my thoughts, I found myself entertaining unaccustomed suspicions. 

First of all, what kind of train leaves precisely at 22h00?  None that I know of, and certainly not the Eurostar to London.  In fact, the last of these, if I'm not mistaken (and I'm not, because I checked on their website), leaves the Gare du Nord at 21h13.  This was a lie if ever I've been told one.

Inclined as I may have been to panic, tear at my hair and rend my clothes in my distress, I attempted to compose myself with the reminder that, after all, the Professor doesn't owe me his fidelity, there's nothing I could do to enforce it even if I wanted to, and tearful accusations would only result in the kind of perfunctory and empty reassurance they deserve.

So I went out for a dismal drink with friends that night and returned to work the next morning fired with resolve - to avoid the Professor at all costs.

Of course, that didn't last.

A few tearful accusations and perfunctory reassurances later, I suggested that since the Professor had fucked me on his wife's birthday, it was only right that he should fuck me on my wedding anniversary.

Naturally, he asked when this was.

I told him, tomorrow.

"That can be arranged!" he said.

So the next day, Take II.  I spotted him on the train on my way home at lunch, in the reflection of the train window.  Though I couldn't see his face, I knew at once it was him.  I kissed him passionately on the escalator going up towards the exits.  "Kiss me like that again and I'll fuck you before we even get to your place," he told me.  I've never known it to take so long to get home from the station.  I was so wet and swollen, it hurt to walk.

I attacked him as soon as we got to the courtyard, he plunged his fingers into my aching pussy, dripping wet with excitement.  I fucked myself on his fingers for a while until he made me turn around and go inside.  My legs were weak and trembling as I climbed up the stairs, barely able to see where I was going, my vision so clouded with lust.  As soon as we got inside I sank to my knees, undoing his belt and taking him into my mouth with one hand as I removed my skirt and began to rub against my wet pussy with the other, inserting first one finger, then two as I moaned with my lips around his cock, hot with desire.

I was so swollen and slippery, though, that I could barely feel anything.  I needed him inside me, filling me up and stretching me out with his cock.  Finally he pulled me up and told me to turn around and bend over.  As soon as he entered me I felt the first waves of pleasure hit me.  Moving back and forth on his cock and grinding against it as he fucked me from behind I wanted him deeper and deeper inside me.  His fingers were dripping with my tart wetness as he grabbed my face to pull me back harder onto his cock, and I sucked at them hungrily, running my tongue around his wedding ring until I could no longer taste any trace of myself.  Finally my legs trembled and went weak at the knees and it seemed his cock was the only thing holding me up.  He lay me down on the sofa and climbed on top of me, thrusting into me and bringing me to orgasm again and again as I cried out in pleasure.

Eventually he extricated himself from me, spraying me with droplets of sweat from his hair as he got up to go to the bathroom, while I just lay there, helpless and unable to move for a few moments, I was so well fucked.

Once I had regained my composure somewhat, I followed him into the bathroom where I went down on him some more, once again enjoying the taste of my hot pussy on his cock, while he forced my face towards the mirror to make me watch myself with my mouth full of cock.  Then he swung me around and bent me down over the edge of the tub to fuck me again, pounding into me until I could barely keep my balance.

After that he asked me to get on the bed, on my hands and knees, so he could fuck me on all fours, eventually pushing me down onto the bed and lying on top of me, with my legs held together between his so he had to force himself between my thighs to penetrate me.  I was moaning and whimpering when he pulled himself off me, begging him to fuck me more, but he had to shower and get ready to go back to work.  I managed to suck him a little more in the shower, upon which he naturally had to fuck me again from behind, with my legs spread wide apart this time, it was so intense I could barely stand it, and in fact collapsed on to the floor afterwards in a sexual daze, my limbs like jelly and my entire body quivering as he extended a hand to me to help me up.

"Happy anniversary, darling," he said. 

Come on Eileen

I wasn't expecting to see the Professor on Monday.  I thought he'd still be in Brittany with his wife and kids.  He never tells me anything.

I wore my blue striped dress, the obscenely short, transparent one I can't wear without underwear.  And tights.  And even so, Magic commented on the hostile stares directed at me from the women I passed on the way to work.  I love it that they hate me.

So I get to work and there he is.  Well, a couple of hours later, and online, complaining about tiredness.  But I'd spent two hours the night before making myself come thinking of him and I didn't care, I begged him to come over after work and let me blow him in the bathroom of my office building.  Still, I didn't know if he would come.

He rarely does.

He texted me at seven, to say he was outside.  I ran down in my transparent dress, stripped of tights and underwear, and when I saw him across the street I couldn't, I couldn't hold back... I was all over him as soon as he got to the door.  He had to unentangle himself from me to suggest we take it inside.

We went into the bathroom and I couldn't even wait to close the door, let alone get into a stall.  Luckily he had the presence of mind to get us into one - the same one we'd used the last time.  He took off his rucksack and placed it on the toilet lid - there wasn't a lot of room in there.  As soon as he'd unzipped his pants I had taken the length of his cock into my mouth and was sucking like my life depended on it.  I couldn't get enough of him.  He grabbed my head and moved it back and forth over his cock, fucking my mouth deep and hard.  I didn't even care if anyone came in and heard me gagging on his thick hard cock.

"I want pussy," he said, pulling out and swinging me around.  I steadied myself with a hand against the wall and bent over to let him lift up my dress and plunge himself into my wet and swollen pussy, fucking me hard as I gasped in excitement, pushing my ass back against him to get as much of him into me as I could.  And just when I thought it was too much to bear, he swung me around again, pushing me onto my knees and shoving himself into my mouth again for me to lick and suck my tart wetness off his cock.  At the same time he slipped his hand inside the top of my dress to grab my right breast.  Now I don't know why but my breasts have been feeling extra sensitive lately and the feeling of my new C-cup fitting so snugly in his hand and his fingers rubbing against the nipple with my mouth full of cock was so incredible that I could have gone on like that forever, but he turned me around again and fucked me some more, and this time I was even wetter, his cock was sliding in and out of me and I began to come, my legs trembling and my cheek brushing against the top of his rucksack as he continued to fuck me, ruthlessly, holding my ass open and rubbing my wetness over my asshole with his thumb.

"I should just fuck you in the ass," he threatened, inserting his thumb ever so slightly into my sphincter, driving me crazy with excitement as I moved back and forth on his cock, still supporting myself with my hands on the wall as I pushed myself against his cock and thumb!

I felt like I was almost on the verge of passing out when he stopped, pulled my head towards my cock and told me to get ready to receive his come.  I closed my eyes and felt the first hot spurts hit my face as I opened my mouth to suck the rest of it from his pulsing member.  And honestly I think I've never been happier than I was at that moment, with his thick hot come all over my face and tongue, and it was so sweet, so warm and sweet, I didn't want to waste a drop of it, eagerly lapping it off his fingers as he caught the drops spilling from my chin and cheeks and held them to my lips.

Love?  Or just a lovely blow-job...

What is the Product of Demented Sex?

How does one get from this:

...to this?

Seaside Town

I knew this had to be the first of my retroactive sex-and-love-log posts. It was one of the happiest days of my life.

Often, one does not identify the happiest day of one's life until after it is already over, or almost over. And this was no different.

I was a mess of nerves for days beforehand, wondering what to wear, how to avoid getting caught in an elaborate lie, and whether I would be able to make myself seem interesting to him for such a long period of time. In fact I was busy messaging the Clone that very morning debating how long it would be before he pulled over and asked me to get out of the van!

I pretended to go to work that morning, only to turn around halfway and come back home, where we had an hour or so to kill before the van was ready. Sadly I can no longer remember the details but I believe it ended with his come in my mouth.

That taken care of, we made our way to the Gare de Lyon, and the car rental place. Watching him at the desk, filling out the forms and dealing with the car rental people gave me an indescribable thrill. I felt privileged, to be a part of such a mundane activity, and yet at the same time a voyeur, witnessing aspects of his life which I had no right to see.

We sat down at the little cafe opposite for a coffee while we waited. We talked about holidays, he told me about his honeymoon. I was so jealous.

The van was ready, we went out to pick it up. It was smaller than I knew a van could be. But I knew I would be uncontrollably turned on to watch him drive it. In fact, I couldn't take my eyes off him, from his impatient fidgeting and tapping of the steering wheel as we inched past the street market at Daumesnil to his look of steely concentration on the open highway - even when I was writhing in my seat with his fingers in my pussy (though not so much with his cock in my mouth).

We must have tried every pit stop between Paris and Calais in our quest to find somewhere to consummate our love. But even the most secluded and promising spot would suddenly reveal a harried family picnic in progress, a somnolent trucker reclined behind the wheel, or a motorcycle gang passing jubilantly through.

Eventually we decided to satisfy a different sort of hunger, and stopped at a nondescript place offering sandwiches and french fries (and, I discovered inside, a buffet of hot food - but this was no time for gluttony!). He suspected the woman behind the counter might have taken it upon herself to toast a couple of jambon panini for us - indeed she had. Perhaps if I had been someone other than a finicky vegetarian we would have just had those. But he corrected her mistake and we had goat's cheese instead, as we discussed the convertible we had spotted in the parking lot outside, and the boring banker types who eventually returned to it. He commented on my delicate manner of eating - all an act for him, of course.

We got to Calais eventually, driving through crowded streets where he made me come on his fingers, to a parking lot in the centre of town. It was cold and windy, and there was no-one around, so he took me in the back of the van, bent over, in the dark, and then my shins rubbing against the dusty floor as I straddled him. I was worried about my stockings, until we discovered that I could rest my legs on his arms, and, in fact, he could use them to help rock me back and forth with his cock even deeper inside me.

We emerged cautiously for a stroll around town - a short stroll, for, as became apparent from the way he was hopping from foot to foot in front of a statue of King Edward, he needed to use a restroom, badly. (A circumstance which I found unutterably cute.)

And yet I can't remember exactly where we found this restroom - did we stop somewhere for a drink? I think perhaps we did - we must have - yet where, and what, escapes me.

Then followed a long, cold, windy walk to the beach, queried for directions by a couple, roughly the same age and ethnic make-up as us. (I wondered if this had predisposed them to us... and also if they noticed, and what they thought of, our passionate embrace under a bridge a few minutes later.)

We got to the beach, and it was just as a beach should be - cold, windy, deserted. But not deserted enough for him to take me, as I coyly proposed, in the narrow space between two changing cabins, for we could see a group of intrepid youngsters playing in the sand behind. So we kissed for a long time, but nothing could warm me, not even his amorous hands on my cold body, so eventually we were drawn to the relative shelter of a dismal snack bar, where we purchased two insipid waffles, liberally doused with candied sprinkles, which even I could not bring myself to consume.

Back in town, after a brief stop in the van, we found a nice place to have dinner, and freshen up. I returned to my seat, somewhat self-conscious under his gaze. "See?" he said. "How every man turns his head to look at you as you walk by?"

The day was ending. We drove out to the other part of Calais, where I would catch my train back to Paris, and parked outside the station for another interlude in the back of the van, where by now it was really completely dark, and I only knew he was coming when I felt his hot semen shoot into me, and then stream down my thighs as I lay there, utterly wasted.

However we still had some time to kill before my train, so we sat in the front necking until a car pulled up beside us - the police! They made us dismount and interrogated us. All this only added to the fun! But when we'd finally gotten rid of them we decided I had better check in, and he left me at the gare.

Sitting in the train, leafing through a magazine article on Jarvis Cocker, I was already crest-fallen. It had been one of the best days of my life, and it was over, and I knew nothing like it would ever happen again. He had fed me, and fucked me 'til my pussy felt like it was gaping open and dripping with come, and yet I felt a hollow emptiness, where he should have been, and wasn't.

Friday

It seems almost formulaic - I came again while kissing him, dropping the keys to the floor, impaled on his fingers, falling to my knees as soon as he withdrew them. I crawled unsteadily towards his cock; he lent me a helping hand, grabbing my hair and forcing my head down on to him, until the head of his cock hit the back of my throat, and he drew it out covered in thick saliva, pausing only to let me slather it all over the shaft with my tongue. "Now suck," he said. "Get me nice and lubricated so I don't have to waste any time easing into you." Then he plunged into my mouth again, still holding me by the hair and fucking my face until I gagged and almost choked. Then he pulled me off, my face drenched with spit and tears... and my pussy dripping.

He bent me over the bed and ripped off my underwear, entering me fully in one swift thrust. Then he held still and ordered me to fuck myself on him, which I did, slowing down only when I felt myself close to climax, at which point he delivered a hard slap to my ass to remind me of my task. Then he pushed me down on to the bed and commanded me to spread my legs - "that's it, wider" - and when I couldn't get any wider, fully open and exposed to him, he climbed on top of me and fucked me hard until I came.

Then he flipped me over and continued to fuck me, holding me down with his weight pressed against me, and as the delicious tingling began to traverse my limbs I felt a strong desire to touch him, and reached out for his hand. He wrapped his fingers around mine - lovingly, at first, or so it seemed, then pinning down my wrists on either side of me, fucking me hard and taking no notice of my orgasm. "You're my bitch now," he said. "Take it like a whore." Then he sat up, still inside me, and began to finger-fuck me slowly in the ass, while I lay there gasping and unable to move.

Then, tiring of this, he lay back on the bed and guided my head down to his cock. "And give me your pussy at the same time," he said. I presented it to him, so he could finger-fuck me while I sucked him. Then he pulled me on top of him. "Now ride," he commanded. "You need the practice." My hair was all tangled up by now, so I had the rather odd experience of trying to undo my pony-tails while bouncing up and down on his cock, and even after this, felt that I wasn't doing quite as well as I would have liked, but eventually, as I got close to orgasm, my body took over, my hips rocking back and forth on his cock, as though disjointed from the rest of my body. "That's right," he said. "Don't stop." I tried vainly to maintain the rhythm once my orgasm subsided. Finally he allowed me to stop and we both lay there panting for a second. "Tired?" he asked me. "No," I said defiantly. He grabbed my waist and held me down firmly onto his cock, fucking up into me so viciously that I almost screamed!

Then he pulled out and kneeled over me, dragging my head to his cock and burying my face in his balls. "Now lick me up and down - suck my balls," he told me. Oh God! It was so wonderful to have my face pressed into his warm sweaty balls. My head spins even now at the thought of it.

Then he pushed me down onto my back and mounted me. "I'm just going to use you now for my pleasure," he told me, adding, "You'll need to get wetter than that if you want to make me come." I did my best to oblige, tilting my hips towards him to take him as deep inside me as I could, rocking back and forth receiving his thrusts. Sometimes, after fucking my pussy for a couple of hours, he pulls out at the last second and drags my face to his cock to make me swallow his come, or plunges all the way into my ass, without warning, to fill me there instead, but this time I knew he would leave me walking around with his come trickling down my thighs all day, and I was right. He came deep inside me, the warm spurts of semen triggering my own final climax of the day.

"You're getting better at riding me," he smiled. "Thank you!" I replied. "Practice makes perfect," he added. We lay there for a while in uncommon peace and stillness. He seemed almost to be drifting off to sleep. Then I saw that his eyes were open, scrutinising me. "You have the most amazing cheekbones," he said. "What, really?" I asked incredulously. "And the most beautiful eyes," he continued. "Your face is to die for."

Although I would have loved to frame this moment and live in it forever, sadly, all good things must come to an end, and soon we were up and preparing to head our separate ways. "I love that dress," he remarked. "It makes you look like a summer fairy." "Thank you!" I replied. "But the Snoopy underwear makes me feel like such a pervert," he added. I laughed lasciviously and wriggled back into it.

Tuesday

We kissed in the stairwell, my arms draped around him from my slightly elevated position on the bottom step, his fingers between my legs, under my skirt, lightly running against the crotch of my white lace underwear, then pulling it aside and plunging into me. "You're wet," he remarked. "Perfect." I moved against his fingers, kissing him, then turning my face away as I felt my body tense in a mini-orgasm: just a taste of things to come.

"Get upstairs," he commanded, and I turned obediently to climb the stairs, my legs weak and quivering like jelly. "That's right."

We entered the room and I turned towards him again, kissing him passionately, as his hands roamed across my body, but this time only ever brushing against the surface, never venturing further, tantalising me and taunting me, until I groaned with the desire to feel him inside me! But he made me wait, forcing me to my knees instead to suck him while he got undressed, pausing every now and then to twist my hair around his hand and force my head further down onto his cock, until I gagged and my eyes began to water. Then he pushed me onto the bed, on all fours, pulling off my underwear - so much for my sexy underwear! - but even then he wouldn't enter me, ordering me instead to "come and get it", making me crawl backwards on the bed until I reached the edge, where he grabbed my hips and thrust into me so hard that I cried out in pain! He began to pound me so viciously that I wondered if I would be able to come in spite of the pain! But instead of squirming away from it I tried to move back towards the fucking, and open myself up to him, to take him as deeply as I could. And before I knew it, my body began to shake in the throes of orgasm, and I dropped my head on to bed, resting my cheek against the sheets, moaning softly, with only my ass still up in the air to receive him, as his thrusts slowed. "Thank you," I breathed, looking back at him as I remembered my orders. He smiled in recognition.

But he only gave me a moment's respite before turning me over to mount me. By now I was completely open and moving my hips rhythmically up to meet his thrusts, and soon I felt that luscious warmth spreading slowly through me, from my chest down to my legs, leaving me flushed and gasping and writhing beneath him as I came again. I barely had time to whisper, "thank you," before he had flung me over on to my stomach, plunging into my still-contracting pussy, and I felt myself shuddering again in the throes of another orgasm, but before I could find the words to thank him he had pulled out of me and shoved his dripping cock into my mouth. I accepted it gratefully, sucking until there was no trace left of my come on his member, at which point he plunged into me again. By now I was so slippery and wet with come that I could no longer feel him stretching me out at all, just the head of his cock slamming into my cervix as he fucked me hard and deep, ramming his fingers into my mouth and commanding me to, "suck, whore, you know you wish you could be sucking cock while getting fucked," and so I did, sucking desperately until I found myself breathless and gasping and coming again...

"I need a pause," he said, lying back on the bed. I dragged myself towards him and sucked his cock again a little until he'd had enough and pulled me up on top of him. "You know the drill," he said. "Make yourself come on my cock - I shouldn't have to do anything." I leaned forward so my breasts were hanging over him and my nipples brushed against his chest, and began to move my hips up and down on his cock, but although this had worked for me beautifully the last time, for some reason, I found my body tensing up and unable to move when I got close to coming, and I just couldn't quite finish. Noticing my frustration, he spanked me a little, slapping my ass to encourage me to ride faster, then reaching up to idly pinch and squeeze my nipples, knowing that this would push me over the edge, as it always did. But just as I began to quiver and moan, he lost patience and grabbed my hips, pulling them down onto his cock as he started slamming up into me, holding my arms apart and forcing me upright. I arched my back and groaned, coming helplessly over and over until I couldn't bear it any more and fell away, shaking violently, curled up in a ball beside him on the bed. And he let me rest there for a while this time, before commanding me to turn over again onto my stomach and mounting me from behind. I submitted weakly as he reached underneath me to rub my wet pussy and spread the juices over my asshole; I hoped this meant he would fuck me in the ass, but he decided against it - "not today," he said - penetrating my pussy instead, while I lay still and motionless beneath him, offering up my body for his pleasure, allowing him to pump me full of his thick, hot come.

We lay there for a while, my head on his shoulder. "I'm tired now," he said. "But you're not." "I'm not," I laughed. "You're just enjoying the cuddle," he said. "See, you're a hopeless romantic at heart - not just a sex fiend." "That's right," I replied. "Well," he said, climbing up behind me. "This hopeless romantic is about to get fucked again."

I groaned as he entered me, realising how sore I was, but he pinned me down, holding my arms down over my head, fucking me hard until I came again, and it was like a golden flower of pain opening up inside me. I could almost feel the flood of endorphins rushing into my brain. I curled up on my side, almost dizzy, as soon as he pulled out.

"Are you tired now?" he asked.

"I'm tired now," I whimpered, but he pressed his cock between my legs again, as we lay side by side, brushing my nipples gently with his fingertips until I writhed and moaned against him, but this time it was more from pain than anything else - I was just so sore.

He watched me from the bed as I combed my hair out in front of the bathroom mirror.

"You've gained weight," he remarked.

"Have I?" I asked nervously, flustered, and trying to hide my confusion.

"Yes," he said, coming up behind me and grabbing at my tummy as he embraced me. "Either that or you're pregnant..."