A Storm

My first term at university ended in rain. Thick winter downpours that went on for weeks. Coming home from London on the train the whole countryside was shaded blue to grey, dull fields, smears of woodland. I had little interest of looking out the window so read a cheap paperback as the light faded to night. At each stop on the slow country line the doors would open, and the wind would blow in, stopping the train getting completely warm. And as the journey's first hour blended into the second the carriage emptied so by the time my stop came, I was the only one left.

Alton was a small village and its station had only one platform and one overhead light which put the worsening storm in a contrast of off yellow. The downpour was torrential, and the rain was whipped near horizontal by freezing gusts of wind. I had a five mile walk ahead of me. My family home was out of town. My parents weren't back until tomorrow; there was no hope of a lift.

I shouldered my backpack, drew the colour of my coat against the rain as best I could and turned away from town to start my walk home. The road had no pavement, its edges were streams of water, mud, and leaves. I crossed my arms, huddling into myself to keep warm, bent forwards into the wind.

I carried on like this for twenty minutes, everything about me was wet. As I turned a corner into a small wood, I saw a land rover ahead of me. Parked at the side of the road, engine running, its rear lights spreading a red glow over the leafless trees around it. I was half past it when I heard the driver's window wind down.

"God are you alright" a woman's voice "you need a lift anywhere?"

There was something about accepting a lift like this, from someone at the side of the road, even if from a woman, that made me feel awkward.

"Its fine, I live just down past the Coaches Inn," I called back over a particularly strong gust of wind. The tees shook. "I haven't got that long."

"The Coaches! Oh, for god's sake that's half an hour walk from here, get in, I'll drive you."

I could hear the heater inside and felt the warmth from the window. I couldn't make out the woman, but there some something in her voice that put me at ease.

"Yeah OK that would be great".

The window started to wind up and I ran to the passenger's side of the car and climbed up. I was immediately grateful, the car was so warm I started the shiver, soft pop music on the radio, leather seats. The upmarket land rover of the of a rich family, not farmers. It smelt of heavy perfume and coffee.

"William! God are you alright, I didn't realise it was you."

I looked up into the woman's face and I took me a moment to place her and another to check myself.

"Miss Newson. Thank you so much."

She had taught me maths all the way to eighteen at my school, a bus ride from home in the local town. I had last seen her on my results day, with a few other teachers in the corner of the old gymnasium, arm round a crying student who missed their grades. She had smiled at me and cocked her head towards the open door as I walked out. She must have known I had straight As, and her gesture gave me licence to only smile my thanks.

"Your soaked, what were you thinking."

"I couldn't get a lift; I didn't think it could be this much worse out here."

"You're a fucking idiot. Here have some coffee to warm up."

She passed her cup, white travel lid screwed on with a small hole to drink from. It was covered in smears of her lipstick. I made to screw the lid off, so I didn't have to put my mouth where she had put hers.

"Don't take the lid off, my husband will fucking kill me if we spill anything"

So, I pulled it to drink, and my tongue felt the grease of her lipstick half a seconds before the bitter coffee, no milk, no sugar. Seeing teachers since leaving school was awkward, old authority figures next to you at pub urinals, or in corners of bad parties hosted by my parents' friends where I had to hand out canapes. But seeing Mrs Newson now had an added edge of disorientation, she looked different. In school, hair tied up, thin, simple loose pastel cardigans over white cotton, she had never been striking. Now; blond hair down, white silk top showing the length of her tanned bear arms. Legs in tight black leather trousers. Her makeup was heavy and neat. Eye liner, burgundy lips. On her left wrist she had a gold watch, and on her right a bracelet of thick gold chain. A huge single diamond on an engagement ring, wedding band almost hidden beneath.

What struck me first was not how attractive she looked, but how wealthy. None of this, the gold, the immaculate land rover, had ever seen remotely possible for the teacher I had known. Strict and plain, she had seemed like the Mums of my friends, just ordinary.

She leaned back a little and her eyes took me in. "I just dropped my family at the airport, but my bloody daughter has just called to say she thinks she left her straighteners on. I have to pop home to make sure she hasn't burned the whole place down before I drive out to yours."

"Sure, of course. Just thanks for the lift."

"That's alright," she smiled. Her eyes were green, a fact I was not sure that I had known.

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Her house was detached and surrounded by high hedges. The drive was steep and only at the top could you get a full appreciation of its size. Grand front entrance, three stories, with a skeleton of a tennis court just visible at the end of its long garden. All the lights were out, ivy climbed between its many dark windows. She parked on the gravel round the back.

"This weather is terrible," she laughed as she opened her door.

A pale trench coat pulled up to cover hear hair she led me towards the back door. Huddled she was fumbling with the lock, trying different keys in the dark, none working. A Particularly strong gust blew her trench coat up and she lost grasp of it. It tumbles past me and I ran to pick it up. As I did, I heard a crack, a gush and a scream. The guttering above had snapped, a bucketful of rainwater had pored over her.

"For fucks sake" she shouted up to roof of the house. She turned to the door and failing to open it again, kicked it in frustration. I walked up beside her, took the keys and trying the lock by chance landed on the right one. We ran through, closing it behind us and found a sudden silence. In the dim grey of the storm I saw a large kitchen with bare clean surfaces. She flicked on a light. Blue and white tiling, copper pans hanging in rows, and two large stoves.

She took a few steps away from me a turned, whipping her wet hair back with both hands. Her mascara had run from both eyes which were closed while she panted quietly from the shock of the cold. I dropped my eyes to her white top, which had been blanched transparent by the water and clung to her breasts, bare without a bra, showing tight cold nipples. They seemed improbably large for someone so slight. My mouth went dry and I didn't say anything. Her eyes remained closed while she ran her fingers through her hair, her chest bare to me. After what seemed an age, she opened her eyes.

"What a total disaster," she said smiling. Shaking her head, she looked down at herself. There was a pause where her nudity and my awareness of it became apparent to her. Her eye everted, chest rising with her breaths, the points of her nipples moving a little under the fabric. Finally, she brought her head up to look at me and laughed a single ambiguous laugh.

"I need a shower, have you got a change of clothes?"

"In my bag," my voice surprisingly firm.

"Use the downstairs bathroom, doors the other side of the kitchen."

With that she turned and waked out the room.

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Shortly after she had left to shower the house creaked into life. The old plumbing rattled through the ceilings and down walls which brought warmth back into the rooms. She had turned the thermostat so high that within 15 minutes I had to remove my jumper. I stood awkwardly in my dry clothes, back in the kitchen, without any real idea of what to do. I could hear her walking upstairs, the old house creaking out her path. I had heard the shower go on, and then go off, a hair dryer, a toilet flush and then... nothing.

"That's better." She had entered the kitchen behind me, "are you more comfortable now?"

"Yes thanks." I turned to look at her, a dark silk night gown to her mid-thigh, her hair dry and blown, same jewellery and watch, makeup restored. She walked past me to a cabinet and opening it reached to pull two glassed from the top shelf. Her bare legs had the same deep tan as her arms, even in the middle of winter.

"I need a drink, come on." She walked out the kitchen though yet another door. Entirely disorientated I followed her into a formal lounge, antique sofas around a wood fire. It crackled in the silence as she produced a bottle of whisky from a cabinet.

"What do you think of the house?" she asked while poring two large neat glasses. It occurred to me that she may soon not be able to drive me home, and that I didn't really know where I was.

"It's amazing, its huge."

"It's all from my money. I mean my family's money. My husband has the city job, pays for the kid's school and holidays, but the house was me." The significance of this wasn't clear to me so I stayed silent. "It's an act I guess Will, at school. I play it down, the money and everything, it's easier to fit in as a teacher if I seem more... normal." She sat down on the sofa and cocked her head to show she wanted me to sit too. "It's a surprise for you surely, all this. You didn't think I lived like this right?"

"No, no I didn't."

"Good, then my act works." There is a pause, a log moves in the fire. "How engineering then? University in the big city." Her tone has changed a little, back to something slightly more familiar, just a teacher, catching up with an ex-student.

"It's great. It's going to get harder I think, later in the year. The first term isn't much more work than your class was." She smiled at this and crosses her leg, her night gown falling further up her slight thigh. She takes a long drink and so I follow. The whisky is very smoky, the taste taken almost to ash.

"And outside your studies things are ok? Making friends, romances? Living your best life? Or whatever it is 19 years olds want."

"It's OK, it's a big class but I have met some people, I mean I have made friends."

"Who was that girl you used to go with? Still see anything of her?"

"Not since the summer."

She moved to kneel up on the sofa now, legs bent beneath her, thighs pressed close together. Finishing her whisky in a large gulp, a small trail ran to one side of her mouth and she whipped this with her finger.

"So am I to deduce that your first term at university was unsuccessful, romance wise." She laughed at my silence. "I have a theory about the problem you have here Will. I think boys of your generation are too meek. They are either insecure, yappy and annoying, like small dogs or they are emotional and wet, like you."

"I think that's bollocks." I had heard these arguments before, from old bores who considered themselves real men. I felt on firmer ground. "What do you want us to do, go around patronising women, locking them up in a kitchen, beating them whenever we want? I hate this bullshit that to be a man I must somehow dominate women." She gave a look of mock shock.

"Beat women! You think I was suggesting you should go around hitting women?"

"No of course not." There was a long pause, she was looking into the fire.

"Ok Will, hit me." She turned, looking right at me. "Hit me."

"There is no way I'm hitting you. This is ridiculous."

A sudden shock, the force of it, followed by a rippling pain. She had slapped me, right across my face, her thick gold bracelet pulled up into her open palm. I was dazed, head down and blood from inside my mouth forming a rim on my bottom lip.

"I hit you there Will. So, I guess you have an excuse to me a bit more fucking put together and..."

I had put my whole body into it, twisted from the hips and swung my open hand, slapping her across her face. The sound was short and violent. Her whole body moved with the blow. I had hurt her. I heard her exhale though clenched teeth.

Then slowly without eye contact, she drew herself up, dropped her hands to the belt of her night gown, and pulled it open. Beneath her bare breasts fell outwards, the nipples now large in the increasing heat of the room. She spat into her right hand, the one she hit me with and started to rub it over her breast. Two fine gold chains ran from her neck down to the freckled skin of her cleavage and twisted under her fingers with her spit. The skin of her breasts becoming moist, her body lean, a black ribbon around her narrow hips, plunging to a thin strip of lace that ran down between her legs.

"You get to look again." She dropped her hand to rub herself through her underwear. "They were my money as well. It was suggested I should of go a size smaller. I ended up needing a whole new wardrobe of loose clothes just to hide my new breasts from you all at school."

She moved closer to me and took my hand placing it on her chest. I started to feel gently, to rub her dark nipples between my fingers. I had learned this was how sex would always start for me, a massage, kissing, and the slow introduction of my cock. Girls would tighten at the first sensations of my size. To get them to take me involved a process slow frustrating adjustment, deep breaths. They would ask how much of me they had inside, and I would lie to make the process less daunting.

"Fucks sake!" She dug her nails into my neck and scratched me. Standing she walked across the room. "What's the fucking point. Is this what you think I'm looking for?"

She stopped in front of a floor to ceiling bookshelf, her back to me. Old leather-bound volumes, titles in gold. There was a long silence and then without really thinking I stood and removed my clothes. Naked I started to feel my half erect dick, no longer held back in my underwear. I stated to pull, looking at her from behind. I got hard, only working the end of my cock while the rest grew, and as it got firmer my grip widened, no longer able to get my hand round my own girth. I took some steps towards her and hearing me get closer, she dropped the nightgown from her shoulders to the floor. Her bare toned back curving to the thin slip of lace between a tight small ass. I stopped right behind her, the tip of me inches from her skin. She didn't turn. Placing both hands round the band of her underwear I tore it in two sharp movements. She shivered as her underwear fell to the floor. Her breaths got longer. I moved one of her legs to rest on the second bookshelf and bent her forwards slightly, exposing a dark tight anus and the back of her cunt. I placed the tip of my dick at the lips and parting a little she gave a slight groan. Then taking hold of her hips I pushed firmly, she gave into only the first two inches but that was enough for her to feel the width. The noise she gave got higher.

"Fuck Will." Her voice had changed, for the first time she sounded fragile, and she moved her hand back onto my chest, bracing me from thrusting again. I stopped and we stayed like this, little more than the tip of my cock in her as her breathing slowed. Then she removed her hand from me, resting it back on the bookshelf. A signal for me to begin. If she wanted it rough, then for the first time in my life I would oblige. I pulled out complexly and thrust back as hard as I could. She screamed as another inch of me managed to enter her. "Fucking hell Will."

I looked down. "You're not even taking half of me," I mocked. I thrust again, deliberately sharp, again and again. She moved her other leg onto the bookshelf, so she was completely off the floor. Now as I thrust less of me entered her due to the height she had gained.

"Don't run from me." I pulled her down, planting both her feet on the carpeted floor. I bent her forward at the waist, using her upper body to brace her against the bookshelf, so the full force of each entry went into opening her up. Fucking her like this, sharp hard thrusts, her short high-pitched inhalations and the fire the only sounds. Slowly her cunt got wetter, though she still couldn't take half of what I gave her. Then her noises changed, became deeper, and I felt her body tighten as she started to force herself back onto me.

"Oh fuck. Don't you fucking stop Will." She was authoritative again, like how she had sounded earlier that evening, so I stopped and withdrew completely. I heard her frustration, then returned myself 3 times as hard as I could. The force bending her upper body against the shelves and her head twisted looking back over her shoulder. Our eyes meeting for the first time since we started. Looking up at me, green eyes, at first angry and then slowly submissive. I withdrew and she straighten herself out, pointing her ass up in the air for me. Her cunt bare, still and expectant.

"Better," I said, and re-entered, fucking at pace. I wanted to see her cum, so this time when I felt her body start to tense, I stayed steady. Looking down I saw drips of water from her running down the outside half of my cock, down to its base, wetting my short pubic hair. The cunt itself now gave a noise, on each thrust excess wetness dipped to the floor. She started to cum suddenly, unpredictable, and I fucked her though the orgasm and past it, until she was getting weak, trembling and unable to keep her legs straight. When I finally pulled out, she dropped to all fours on the floor. Head down; deep fast breathing taking time to slow. Finally, she straightened up her body and kneeling, turned to me.

"Fuck that dick is big!" The first time she had seen in. Taking hold of it, running her hands the length of it. Seeing the wet line that marked the limit of what had entered her "Fuck I didn't even take that much of it."

"You'll get fucked with more of it." I was pleased with the authoritative sound of my voice. She stuck out her tongue and licked the tip of me and started little flirtations at sucking it, kissing it, spitting saliva out into her hand and rubbing it into me. Her engagement ring glittering as she ran her fingers over my length. While she played with me, I noticed a selection of photos on a small table, of her and her husband. The first a black and white headshot of her alone, young and incredibly pretty, turning to the camera. She had pearls on and a starched white shirt. I looked down and took both her hands off my dick.

"Open your mouth." Which she did, cocking her head back. I placed myself between her lips, felt her teeth lightly brush an itch or two up my dick. She sucked as best she could, her head slipping back and forwards slowly.

The next photo they were both on holiday, a beach. He was tall, and his dark hair was cut short and uniform. He stood with an arm around her shoulders, and she was in a bikini, her tits not yet done, she looked a little boyish. The third photo was of them leaving a church on their wedding day. Him in suit and tails and her in a ridiculously big white dress. Both smiling. I looked back down at her, her eyes looking back at me, her jaw forcing itself wide to take me. I took both hands and wove my fingers into her hair. She blinked as I forced her head forward onto me and I held her there while I looked at the red confetti of her wedding day. Her green blinked and I released, my dick coming out of her mouth with threads of saliva as she gasped. She had gone red in face but before she had caught her breath, she went back the rubbing the first half of my dick and sucking the tip.