Top of the Popsies Ch. 01

PUBLIC BETA

Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.

You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.

Click here
pandsal
pandsal
224 Followers

"Yes," she said, holding my gaze. "But because of the adjournment, my afternoon is free."

The Savoy was nearby. I checked us in, no questions asked about the absence of luggage. She looked round the room, opening drawers and cupboards, surprisingly showing a nervous side. After a while, she turned to me and said, "I wanted this to happen. You knew that, didn't you."

"No. I only hoped. But I wanted it, too. How long do we have?"

"Not as long as I would like. An hour, maybe. I have to go back to the office and collect some papers for tomorrow." As she spoke, she began to undress. I followed her example, unable to take my eyes off a magnificent figure too long hidden by the legal suit. Her underwear was black and, I could tell, expensive. Black because it made sense, not because it would be arousing for me. Coincidentally, though, nothing excites me more. Normal male hormones probably.

"Can you put the television on?" she asked.

Surprised, I did so. Surely there wasn't a programme she wanted to watch? As though reading my mind, she said, "It doesn't matter which channel. Just turn the sound up. I want you to spank me and it could get noisy. Can you do that?"

Life is full of the unexpected. Although I had often thought about spanking, and the opportunity had occasionally seemed about to develop, it had always proved elusive. Now, as soon as she said the word, I felt the excitement in my loins. "Across my lap?" I asked, hoping to disguise the fact that I was entering unexplored territory.

"However you want me. Just tell me and I'll do it. It - it helps me."

"Let me look at you first. Turn round. Bend over. Show me." I sat on the edge of the bed and fondled my cock as she displayed herself. When she bent down with her back to me, the black knickers stretched across her arse cheeks, I knew I could play her game with enthusiasm. "Over my lap then."

As she moved to obey, I stopped her. "The bra off first." Meekly, she complied, revealing tits no larger than medium but firm. When she approached me, I reached up and tweaked the nipples on both sides. She squirmed but didn't demur. "Slap them," she said. I did so, but tentatively. "Harder."

When my hand cracked against bare flesh, I understood why she had wanted the television sound. She flinched, then thrust them forward for more. The more I dealt with her like that, the harder my cock became. I was barely able to contain my desire to throw her on the bed and fuck her, but I knew it would be a mistake to move too soon.

"Across my lap now." Once in place, I took the opportunity to caress her buttocks and probe between her legs. She obviously knew herself. The gusset of the black knickers was soaked. "Smack me," she said. "Go on. Please."

This was a woman of penetrating assurance in the court room willingly submitting herself to a situation many would find humiliating. More than submitting, she was asking, revealing herself to a virtual stranger in order to satisfy a craving she couldn't control. Where, I wondered, did her husband figure in this scenario? Had he taught her? Or was it something she felt she had to hide from him? I felt myself drawn into something I might never understand, but Olivia's abandonment to her need infected me. The more I applied myself to satisfying her, the more excited I became.

Afterwards, I concluded this must have gone on for some twenty minutes, possibly longer; spasmodic spanking, varying the duration of the intervals between each thwack with my palm. She asked me to do it like that, so that each time my hand descended unexpectedly. The only sounds she made were little whimpers. If she spoke, it was only to urge me to be more severe. At first I left her knickers in place. When I removed them, her cheeks were red. And soon became redder.

Finally, she said, "I'm ready. It was good. You can fuck me now." She lay back and opened her legs. For the first time I saw the luxuriant triangle of dark pubic hair and, below it, cunt lips wet with her secretions. We fucked in different positions, never more satisfactorily than when she asked me to penetrate her from behind. "Then you can slap me at the same time. Don't worry about getting me off - I can do that myself later. That's not what this is about."

So I fucked and slapped, slapped and fucked until she backed me off, turned and took my cock in her hand. With a few swift, firm jerks she extracted a stream of spunk on to her tits.

Olivia asked to use the bathroom first. Behind the closed door I heard the shower running but, because I had turned off the television, I was also able to hear the sounds she made as she gave herself an orgasm.

She emerged composed and businesslike, dressing quickly in silence. Then she gathered up her brief case, inspected herself in the mirror and went to the door. She thanked me for "being everything I could possibly have wished," and seconds later she was gone.

It never happened again. I telephoned several times but her secretary always said she was busy. To have pressed further would have been too obvious. In the circumstances, I changed my mind about asking her firm to take on my legal affairs.

Since then, I have continued to avoid court whenever possible. When I have been unable to do so the proceedings have been so focussed I almost begin to wonder whether Olivia was a hallucination. But I have kept the credit card voucher from the Savoy to remind me.

***********************

6 Ursula. One of the few advantages of my family situation was the guilt my parents felt over my upbringing. As a result, they financed not only my boarding school but Cambridge as well; and when I came down from Cambridge with a First they agreed to a further year at a European University. My hope of Harvard or Yale dashed, I chose Heidelberg to get my Doctorate in Modern Languages.

In many ways it wasn't a happy choice. There were few British students and none I would have wanted as friends. In any case, it made sense to exercise my German with native speakers but for some reason foreigners, especially Brits, were excluded from their social activities. One morning during a tutorial, my Professor asked how I was settling in so I told him the blunt truth.

Professor Feldmann was, I guess, about sixty, a small, bald man, completely devoid of any sense of humour but innately kindly by nature. He asked if I had no woman friend.

"In Heidelberg? No."

He look at the file open on the desk in front of him. "But you are a young man of twenty-two. You must have sex. Do you visit the Eros Centrum?" This was the local red light area, licensed, regulated, about as safe as any collection of brothels could be. I shook my head. In fact, I had been there once out of curiosity but I hadn't indulged. Sex for money didn't appeal to me then and never has since.

The Professor closed his study door, which I had never known him do before. "Please, Donald, speak to me about this again - " - he looked at his diary for my next tutorial - " - when you come on Friday. I may be able to help you."

Puzzled, but unable to see how he might help, I put the remark out of my mind. It only resurfaced on Friday when he again closed the door, this time as soon as I entered. However, the subject wasn't raised until I was about to leave. Then Professor Feldmann said, "About ... you remember ... we spoke last time. About friends?"

"Yes."

"Can you come to my house this evening? About nine o'clock." I nodded, curious to know where this was leading. "Good. Here is my address." He handed me a sheet of paper on which he had already written the details. "But, please. This must be private. If you tell anyone, it will be very bad."

Shortly before nine, I presented myself at a modest detached villa in an outer suburb. Even before I rang the bell the Professor opened the door and almost pulled me inside. "Good. You are here. You found our house?" Self-evidently I had. I put the question down to him being nervous. There was a bead or perspiration on his bald pate which he dabbed with a large handkerchief. Good. Please go upstairs." He pointed the way. The first door on the right. "Frau Feldmann ... Ursula ... is waiting for you."

I suppose I could have made an excuse and left, but I didn't. I mounted the stairs thinking about the possibility of mounting the Professor's wife. I tapped on the bedroom door. It opened immediately. I had been expected upstairs as well as down. The woman who greeted me, literally with open arms, must have been in her early fifties. Long dark hair hung loose over her shoulders. She had blue eyes above high prominent cheekbones and a generous mouth. The ankle-length gown she wore fell open to reveal lacy blue lingerie - bra, knickers, suspender belt, stockings. Incongruous on a woman of that age but that surprise was nothing compared to her greeting.

She said, "Ich heisse Ursula. Ficken wir?"

She stepped forward and pressed an exploratory hand into my groin. Any doubts I may have had were already dispelled: it wasn't her intention to help me with my colloquial conversation. The eagerness with which she attacked my belt as a prelude to speedily removing my clothes made me think her motive was something more than fulfilling a commitment made by her husband. That was confirmed when she threw off the housecoat, grabbed my hand and led me to the bed.

Almost before I knew it, I was on my back and her mouth was wrapped round my cock. It was less than five minutes since I had arrived at the house. She sucked greedily, taking in as much of my now rigid shaft as she could manage, licking it from balls to tip as she let it slip out, then gulping it down again with loud slurping noises. It was so well done I eventually had to put a stop to it. A premature conclusion, I suspected, wouldn't be her idea of fun, however much she might enjoy the taste.

When I eased her head away from my crotch, she wasted no time in bending over the edge of the bed and smoothing her hands over the cheeks of her arse. I took the hint and applied my own hands, relishing the erotic charge from the silky blue knicker material. The sensation was intensified when I pressed my cock against her, searching for the crack. I stretched an arm round her to see if I could finger her clitoris but she had beaten me to it. Her hand was already inside the waistband of her knickers, frigging herself.

Now I was the impatient one. I stepped back and slid the knickers down her thighs and calves to the floor. When I moved back in she reached behind for my cock to guide it into her but even before I had tested her opening for wetness, her other hand beat us to it. With a loud cry (was the Professor listening at the door?) she went into spasm, scrabbling with her fingers to sustain the orgasm.

Many of the other women I have fucked would have needed at least a few moments for recuperation but not Ursula. Within seconds she had cast herself on to her back on the bed and was plunging my cock into a cunt that was now prepared for anything. As I began to pump I noticed that at some point she had removed her bra and was forcefully thrusting up dark nipples on full round tits with each hand.

Inexperienced as I was with an avid older woman, I look back with some pride on the way I took charge of a situation that was getting out of hand. For as long as I was able, I kept thrusting, hard enough to feel my balls swing through against her arse; but while there was till time, I withdrew and sat back on my heels. When she reached for my cock with her hand and began fondling I smiled down at her. "Langsam, bitte."

She nodded and slowed down. A second entry was as much as I could manage but again I managed to ride her counter thrust before driving back in as she subsided. Like that we rode together with mounting lust. Once again she fingered herself to orgasm, this time while I was inside her. The contractions of her cunt muscles around the base of my buried cock did the rest and I emptied myself into her with a series of throbbing spurts.

Afterwards, where there might have been an uneasy stand-off, there was none. She kissed me, a long, deep, tongue in mouth kiss. Then she said. "War schön, nicht?"

I said yes, it had been marvellous, which was the simple truth. "Für mich auch, ganz besonders," she said. "Bis zum nächsten mal."

Pleased as I was that she said it had been special for her, I was more interested by her reference to 'next time.' However, that was confirmed when the Professor met me at the foot of the stairs and thanked me for coming. We shook hands. He told me I would be made welcome any Friday evening at the same time. And so I was without ever learning what was behind my weekly appointment. Couldn't the Professor provide for Ursula's voracious needs? Or was he a voyeur who had some secret means of spying on us? Was it perhaps a service the Feldmanns regularly provided for solitary students? Who knows?

I do know I eventually received my Doctorate with Honours. I have to assume it was in recognition of my mastery of modern languages and not in any way a reward for services rendered.

***********************

(to be concluded)

pandsal
pandsal
224 Followers
12
Please rate this story
The author would appreciate your feedback.
  • COMMENTS
Anonymous
Our Comments Policy is available in the Lit FAQ
Post as:
Anonymous
3 Comments
ZingiberZingiberabout 17 years ago
The sequel, the sequel!

Please sir, five through one!

AnonymousAnonymousover 17 years ago
Super - can't wait for the next Chapt

Really well-written, near-perfect flow and pace!

AnonymousAnonymousover 17 years ago
love it

From an equally highly sexed Brit, recognise the places and atmosphere, can't wait for sequel!

Share this Story

Similar Stories

Oh Baby! What a Sitter! He was her sitter. Now he needs one, and gets something more.in Erotic Couplings
On My Way Home Snowed in with three teenage girls. What rotten luck.in Mature
My Girlfriend's Neglected Mother Hot Mom, hot daughter, is anyone complaining?in Erotic Couplings
Stepmom Helps Out Pt. 01 Stepmom helps her son with sex.in Erotic Couplings
Wish Box Guy finds a magic box that makes his life more interesting.in Mind Control
More Stories