Sexual Biography of a Young Woman Pt. 04

It was smooth and a little cold but that didn't matter, nothing mattered other than Mr Deekins and me; at that moment he was my entire world and, I hoped, I was his. As he stood beside the sofa looking down at me his fingers fiddling with his belt and zip, it looked very much as if I was just that.

I went to remove my panties as I thought that was the appropriate thing to do. I was playing things by ear for I hadn't been here before and had no idea what was expected of me; I hadn't played the game so I didn't know the rules, how could I?

"No," he said a little sharply as he slipped his trousers down his legs, considerately removing his socks at the same time. "Leave them on for me Sammi, they look so good."

Momentarily thinking, "oh shit not another clothes freak," my mind going back to the times with Rich when he'd made me wear my school uniform to fuck me in, I quickly realised this was different. I mean, after all, a pretty, lacy thong is quite a different thing to a cream and red striped blazer, a school shirt and tie isn't it?

He had an assurance I'd never seen in a man I'd made love with, but then as that was only three it wasn't much of a sample was it; certainly not statistically significant enough for Mori or Gallup? But the confident and unabashed way he slid his boxers down and completely bared himself to me really was something. I liked it, I liked how he'd now taken control, that he was leading the way and directing the action. Yes I felt better now that Mr Deekins was dominant, for that let me play my more natural role, a submissive.

He really did look absolutely gorgeous as he as good as posed in front of me for a moment or two. I'd learned that I liked the look of naked men; especially naked, erect men; especially naked, erect men who are about to make love to me and most especially this one for he was now kneeling on the sofa kissing me. I felt so special; I felt wanted, needed, adored and very, very feminine indeed as the naked, rampantly erect lecturer, kissed me, stroked my body and whispered lovely little nothings into my breasts; yes he seemed to speak into them, not my ears, but then men have that tendency, for, as I've found over the years, they also talk into nipples, pussies and bums as well.

Now was evidently the time for my knickers removal. As he kissed me he started pulling on them, I raised myself to help him by putting both arms round his neck and using that to lift my bum from the sofa; my skin stuck to the leather for a moment or two and then came away as if my skin was peeling.

But then I was wonderfully naked in his arms. I felt great, it was what I wanted, what I needed and what my body had so strongly been craving for so long now; to be naked crushed against DD with him about to make love to me.

I wanted to, but somehow didn't have the confidence to take his manhood in my hands. It didn't seem right, somehow. Silly I know but that's how I was then. The next time he had me though was a totally different ball game, but we'll get to that later.

I was laying on the sofa one leg stretched along that the other bent with my foot on the floor. David was lying between my opened legs, his arms around me as our mouths deep kissed and tongued each other. His cock was pressed right into my stomach the base of it squashed against my pubic bone. My arms were round him running up and down his back his were squeezing my breasts and bum at the same time. Absolute heaven!

He wiggled, he slid down me a little, he propped himself up and, impressing me enormously, he slid a condom on one handed. We went back to the position we'd just been in, well almost. He was still between my opened legs, his hands were still all over my bum and boobs, I was still stroking his back and our mouths were still clamped together. But now his cock wasn't on my stomach, it wasn't making that large indentation in my softness and its base wasn't pressing on my pubic area. No, now it was between my thighs, now it was beneath my stomach, yes now the tip of it was nuzzling right against my lips that I was sure were opening of their own accord to give this most welcome visitor a rousing welcome.

He raised himself a little so that we were looking at each other.

"I want you so much Sam, I didn't realise it."

I smiled with pleasure. "I want you as well David," adding as I held his gaze, "and I did realise it."

He laughed and kissed me.

"Actually I did realise it, but I put it out of my mind. It's dangerous and I didn't think you'd want an old sod like me."

"Oh David," I sighed pulling his face to mine and kissing him passionately. Adding, (probably rather melodramatically, but hey then that's me isn't it? It comes with the package, the youth, the tits, the oddness about sex and the liking for older men), "have me David, please take me."

And with that he buried his face in my long blonde hair, grabbed my bum with both hands and eased himself forwards so his cock opened those lips that had been waiting wet and ajar precisely for this.

Can there be a better sensation than that of a hard cock slipping up your waiting pussy? I doubt it. It's simply awesome, wicked, magical and just fucking fantastic. There are so many associated feelings, both physically and emotional, that I'd like to describe, but probably shouldn't for I think I know what you most want. And that's to hear how David Deekins fucked me isn't it?

Well he was good. Good to me at that time meant better than the nerd who'd had my virginity, better than Rick who'd taught me so much but was such a bastard and better than the university nonentity I'd had just after I started, who I hardly even remember, so it's a somewhat untested opinion. But to be shagged for ten minutes or so, as his hands were all over me, as we kissed and licked each other, as he varied from deep, long thrusts to short faster ones and as he made me cum twice before exploding into me can't be much less than good can it?

We only did it once that afternoon, but then after that we only did it once most afternoons, up until I left a few months later. That was plenty for me.

I loved being "looked after" regularly; it's a most interesting feeling. No wondering where the next shags coming from, no looking at men who stare or chat you up and wondering whether they fancy me and no frustration at all, for your body doesn't go long enough without sexual stimulations for it to build up. A bit like being married I guess, but without the hassle.

I suppose we fell in love in a way. We both knew there was no future and although David had secured a new job in London we knew we'd never be true partners. I didn't mind at all, after all having a lover and being a mistress is far cooler than being together, I think. Although I felt no sorrow for his cheated wife I didn't want to break anything up, not that he'd have wanted me to in any case. Also, although I find older men more interesting and enthralling and, without doubt from my perspective, they're far better lovers, I had no desire to have one as a long term partner; a twenty year difference at eighteen is one thing, two decades between a couple at forty and sixty is quite another.

So the inevitable pillow talk between us on those long, lazy sex filled afternoons and evenings wasn't maudlin and messy. It didn't dwell on the future and what will happen to us. It didn't concern itself with "her" and how we'd cheat on her and see each other once he moved to London and it didn't discuss our relationship through rose tinted glasses. No both of us recognised it for what it was. An older man having a fling with a young bird and an impressionable young woman giving vent to her yen for older men, To say that it was just sex was an overstatement, just about. Sex was of course the prime motivator but there was something else as well. Whether it was love or a derivative of that who knows? We cared and felt for each other and wanted to be together but we both recognised the restrictions our ages and situations placed on us and were relaxed living within them.

So basically we fucked each other when we could and thought sod the future.

But the future needs to be told and will be in the next few parts of my sexual bio.