Accommodating Students

Before long, Nicky's blow jobs could blow my mind not just my cock, and I grew to love the taste of her slit, her clit and even her anus though she did pull out handfuls of my hair every time I ate her out. We fucked in her room, in mine, in my car, on the Downs and on the beach at Weston. We even once masturbated each other on the famous suspension bridge.

Then our luck ran out and the inevitable happened: I got her pregnant just before her nineteenth birthday.

It was made clear by all four of our Catholic parents that we needed to get married, we were very much in love anyway, so that's what we did.

Nicky looked more beautiful than ever at the wedding. Her baby bump is just visible in some of the photos, as is her father's shotgun (joke). For Catholics, being a bride at nineteen wasn't that unusual in those days, and early marriages were in the family anyway; both her mother and mine had given birth by the age of twenty.

Our first child, a daughter, was born the following November. We moved into a flat on the wrong side of the river and for a while were blissfully happy -- well, as happy as a nineteen and a just-twenty-one-year-old can be in a tiny apartment with a baby crying all the time.

Needless to say, our sex life took a sudden turn for the worse.

Fortunately, at work, things began to improve. I was moved onto more significant tasks which not only recognised my qualifications, they also brought in more money; enough to cover most of the bills. Nicky's job in a local supermarket paid the rest.

Then, despite a much-reduced sex life, I knocked her up again when she was twenty, and for a third time at twenty-one. All three were accidental, but the result was the same. By the time I was twenty-three, I was responsible for a family of five and our copulations had come to almost a complete stop.

With so many of us living in a small flat, the pressures and stresses were enormous, and, with Nicky no longer able to work even part time, so was the need to earn more money.

Fortunately, around this time, I was approached by the Letting Agent I was working for when this story started. With a relatively large portfolio of properties, they needed someone permanently on their books who could do most of the ongoing maintenance on their properties. Thanks to my broad range of skills, one of the local landlords we used to do more substantial building work for had recommended me.

The wages were considerably higher too, so I grabbed the opportunity with both hands. My builder Boss was furious, but as a goodly portion of his income came from this landlord, he just had to shut up and lump it and a month later, I donned the uniform of the Letting Agent and started out in the world of property rental.

The business was to provide for us in so many ways, for the rest of my career.

I have to say, I enjoyed the work from the start. I had a great deal of independence, got to travel the city, and could use the skills for which I had trained on a daily basis.

Visiting stuck-up students wasn't my favourite activity; some of them saw me more as a servant or part of the furniture, but I quickly learned how to ignore them and do what I enjoyed doing best -- well, second best.

Soon Nicky, the kids and I could afford to move into a small house rather than the tiny flat, my new Boss advising us how to negotiate a great deal with our new landlord.

As the kids grew older and we grew more experienced, Nicky and I began to re-establish our sexual relationship again, albeit at a much lower level than before. She had torn during childbirth and, with my cock being so big, she now found all but the missionary position to be too painful.

Fortunately, I could still make her cum in that position and did so as often as I was allowed.

She did try to please me though; sometimes she would just bite her lip, ignore the pain and let me enter her hard from behind, but seeing the look of discomfort on her face in the bedroom mirror as I fucked her on her knees, made these occasions rare.

Her interest in oral sex reduced too. I could still make her cum on the few occasions she still let me eat her out, but childbirth had made her much more self-conscious 'down there' and these orgasms were becoming rarer. And although her blowjobs were still world class, the gaps between them could now be measured in months rather than days or weeks.

With each baby her weight increased, and her libido decreased, until by the time I was twenty-eight, though we both still loved each other, we had settled into one half-hearted sexual encounter a month at best.

At worst, weeks would pass with nothing sexual between us at all, and I lived my life in a constant state of frustration which no amount of masturbation could relieve.

Being a good looking, if perhaps rather conceited young man, there was no shortage of women in the city who would have been prepared -- even eager to help relieve my sexual frustration. But I loved my wife and besides, the city was too small a world for a passionate affair such as they and I would have wanted, to remain secret for long.

Fortunately for me, fate decided to intervene and provided me with an unexpected, safer alternative.

***

It all began with Fiona. I never did find out her last name. I suppose I could have looked it up in the paperwork but, given our entire affair lasted less than fifty minutes, it didn't really matter.

I'm not sure she ever knew my name at all. She certainly never asked, but it was Fiona that set me off on the path I have pursued for most of my professional life.

I remember the Friday morning it all began. I had been at work early, fixing a hot water boiler in a Redland flat before the student tenants got up. Given the amount of sleep students need, I had plenty of time, but I needed to be back in the office before eleven o'clock to cover for my colleague who had a Doctor's appointment.

I did not usually man the office; in those days my role was mostly maintenance. My Bristol accent was quite strong and my manner with potential tenants was perhaps a little too brusque for some clients, but it made a nice change for me and I was looking forward to it.

Fiona came through the door just before noon. I had noticed her looking at pictures of properties in the window before mounting the three steps and entering the room.

I think it was her confidence that I noticed first. In those days, most female students were rather shy and diffident, but Fiona strode straight into the shop and right up to where I was sitting.

It would not be acceptable today, but like most young men in the eighties, I wasn't afraid to give her a good looking over and for her to know I was doing it. A skinny brunette, I gave her six out of ten at best. She wasn't particularly pretty, her chest was flat and her skin was pale, but she had long, slim legs that her shiny leggings and heels showed off to impressive effect.

"I'm due to look round the house on Manor Road," she said in a Liverpool accent hard enough to scratch a windowpane.

I knew the house well. It was one of our very best student lets; a Georgian end terrace with five good sized bedrooms that had been on our books for some years. It had a large kitchen and even a lounge. I would have called that a sixth bedroom and tried to up the rent, but the owner preferred to keep the quality high and attract better tenants, and would only rent to girls in the naïve belief that they would look after the place better.

Parts of it had seen better days, but I was -- and still am -- conscientious about maintenance, so all was in good order. So much so that it was always in great demand, usually passed on from year to year based on recommendations from previous girls, and always had a long waiting list in case any group dropped out at the last minute.

The fact that a viewing was planned was a surprise. My colleague hadn't mentioned any visits that afternoon. I frowned then looked up at the arrival.

"You're Fiona?" I asked.

She nodded. "Right!"

"I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting any viewings today."

"I should be in the book. He told me he'd put it in."

"Who told you?"

"Don't know her name. An older woman; chubby, short hair, lots of beads, sour face."

I smiled inwardly. She was describing the owner's wife perfectly.

"Let me see."

I looked in the large appointment diary open on the desk. Sure enough, there in pencil was a note:

'12:00 - 25 Manor Road - x5 -- Fiona -- possible reserve.'

"It says five of you. Are you all coming round?"

"Just me," she smiled. "I wanted to see the place for myself. The others have already been."

I fumbled in a filing cabinet for the property details and pulled out a handwritten sheet torn from a reporter's pad.

"You do know there's a waiting list?"

"Yeah! Of course. We're on it."

"Is it in your name? I can't see a Fiona."

"How about Claire? Claire Robinson?"

I looked again.

"Okay I've found your group. But you know you're only fifth on the waiting list?

"That far down?" she asked, disappointedly.

"It's a very popular place. And there's a real shortage of good places."

She sighed.

"Don't I know it. Look, can I see it anyway? If it's as good as the girls say, I might have some ideas."

For a moment, I wondered what she meant by that, but when no more information appeared, I looked up at the clock on the wall. I wasn't supposed to leave the office unmanned, but it was lunchtime, the day had been quiet, and it was unlikely that half an hour of absence would make much difference.

"Okay! My car's' outside," I smiled.

***

It took ten minutes to drive from the office to the house. It would have been less if the roads hadn't been blocked by badly parked cars, but that was all part of Bristol's dubious attraction.

On the way, Fiona chatted pleasantly, her accent become stronger and stronger as she relaxed. Within minutes I learned that she was in her second year of study at the city's Polytechnic, that the four other girls she was planning to share with had known each other since their first year, and that although she was very much a latecomer to the group, she had promised to secure them a good place to life in their final year.

She clearly wanted to perform well for her new friends.

The house looked like all others in the street, apart from the untidy garden. The rest of the row were pristine. I made a mental note to deal with it the next week then rang the front doorbell to warn any residents within and let the two of us inside.

"Wow!"

Fiona was impressed from the start and should have been; this was one of the smartest student houses in one of the nicest parts of the city. Not quite up to Clifton trendiness, but better accommodation at a much better price.

I took her on a tour of the lounge, kitchen and garden before leading her upstairs to the first three bedrooms and bathroom. The rooms were large, light, well decorated and fairly tidy. There were a few items of underwear scattered across the carpets but nothing to worry about.

Another flight of stairs brought us to the two remaining bedrooms and the shower room. There were equally well looked after. As we descended the stairs I could tell Fiona was very impressed and wasn't at all surprised when, on returning to the kitchen, she started trying to negotiate.

"Where did you say we were on the list?"

I looked at the file in my hand.

"Fifth, I'm afraid."

She pulled a face.

"Has everyone else seen the place?"

"I'm not sure. Most know it already so don't bother."

"Have they offered a deposit up front? We can offer a big one."

"We can't accept deposits unless we have a contract," I replied, amused.

The girl thought for a moment, then turned to me with a strange expression on her face.

"How about if we offered a special deposit. A personal one for you... Would twenty quid that persuade you to get out your pencil and move us to the top of the last?"

This sum was not trivial -- it was in the early eighties after all - was not the first time I had been offered a bribe to give preferential treatment to a potential tenant. Last time the amount mentioned was much higher and I had still rejected it.

The look on my face must have given away my lack of interest.

"How about fifty then?"

"Fiona please..."

"A hundred then, but that's as much as we agreed."

I looked at her puzzled.

"You talked about bribing me before you came? You agreed how far you could go?"

She looked shame faced; caught out in her and her friends' scheming.

"And that's the real reason you wanted to come round today?"

She nodded.

"Listen Fiona, taking a bribe is more than my job's worth. I appreciate how hard it is to get any half decent accommodation, let alone a place as nice as this, but I can't take money just to play about with the waiting lists. You'll just have to wait and hope the others fall through. They often do."

I had turned towards the door as if making to leave when she called me back.

"What if I giv'yer a gobble too?"

Her accent was at its strongest so it took a few seconds for me to understand what she meant, and even then I thought I must have misunderstood. The look I gave her must have been gormless in the extreme because she laughed at me and repeated herself slowly.

"I said, what if I give you a gobble? Will that move us to the top of the list?"

"You mean...?" I stammered, unable to believe my ears.

"You want me to say it slowly?" she frowned. "I'm offering to suck you off, here and now, if you put us first on the list for this house next year."

This offer had come right out of left field and for a moment, left me completely stunned. Nothing like this had ever happened to me before. As far as I knew, girls had to be wooed, seduced, cajoled or persuaded into doing anything sexual.

No girl had ever offered me any form of sex as a transaction before. In my limited experience, only prostitutes did this -- but this girl was very obviously not a prostitute.

She must have misunderstood my hesitation because she sighed heavily.

"Okay. If you do the offer letter today, you can fuck me too. But it's my final offer, and I want to see the letter first, right?"

"Are you serious?"

"Deadly!"

***

If sex with my wife Nicky hadn't been so infrequent and unsatisfactory, the rest of my life might have been different. If I had been getting my end away as regularly then as I had been before the kids arrived, the prospect of a bit of Posh Totty might not have had such an appeal.

But my sex life was terrible, Fiona's legs were long and enticing, and the chances of being discovered so small that any qualms I might have had were quickly overcome.

We drove back to the office in silence, both of us nervous, my eyes straying constantly from the road to her skinny, shiny-covered thighs and back. I parked the car, opened the back door with my key, leaving the door to the street locked and the 'Closed' sign in place.

"Through here!" I hissed, leading her through to the kitchen area.

"Letter first!" Fiona insisted, a nervous smile on her face.

"Okay!"

Returning to the front office and ignoring any faces that looked through the display window, I quickly located the master tenancy offer letter from the cabinet and began to fill in the lead tenant's details from the waiting list in my file.

A minute or two later, I had signed it, dated it, photocopied it, changed the order of documents in the file to cover my amendment, and was back in the kitchen to show it to Fiona as proof.

I still could not quite believe it was happening; surely it was just some student prank; surely the joke, whatever it was, would soon be obvious and I would be a laughingstock.

But no. As I entered the kitchen, I found the girl had already removed her heels, her shiny leggings and jacket, and was standing there bare legged in her panties and T-shirt. Silently, I handed her the top copy of the confirmation letter. She thanked me, read it, smiled broadly, then without another word, dropped to her knees and began to unbuckle my belt.

I took a deep breath, not quite able to believe what was happening as my belt was opened, my zip lowered, and my trousers slipped down to my knees, revealing a large and growing bulge in my exposed pants.

"You've done this before," I observed with a smile as her hand cupped my firming cock.

She said nothing but looked up. Our eyes met. There was a nervous twinkle in hers, I suspect baffled excitement in mine but a moment later, my underpants had joined my trousers at knee level and my imprisoned cock had been given its freedom.

Many years, and more than as many girls later, I now know that my cock is on the large side; not porn-star huge, but generously proportioned, especially in its thickness. How experienced Fiona really was I will never know, but the look of shock on her face when my erection sprang up only inches from it is one I will cherish forever.

I could see that, for a moment at least, she was taken aback, but to give her credit, she never looked like backing out of our deal. Indeed, as she took my shaft in her hand and began to lick its rough underside, a determined expression appeared on her features.

The blowjob she delivered was nowhere near the best I have ever had, but it was good enough and, being the first illicit sexual act that I had undertaken since my marriage, has remained imprinted on my mind ever since.

Fiona licked, sucked and nibbled my erect cock, running her fist up and down its shaft and her tongue over its smooth, swollen end like a pro. Deep throating was not on her menu, and I could have done with a lot more eye contact, but it still felt amazingly good.

The girl might not have experienced many cocks, but she had clearly given those she had known, plenty of attention.

I could have spent a good half hour with my cock in her mouth, but eventually Fiona decided that it was time to move on, slowly released me and rose to her feet. As her face became more level with mine, I could see from her expression that I wasn't the only one her ministrations had massively affected.

Her eyes sparkled and her body simply exuded arousal. She backed away until her buttocks were pressed against the edge of the kitchen table, her eyes fixed on mine all the time. I followed eagerly but clumsily, my knees tied together by my trousers, keeping as close to her as I could until our mouths were only inches apart.

Then we kissed, falling on each other; lips immediately open, tongues thrust violently into each other's mouths as our teeth clashed. Her hand dropped to my naked cock and began to pump it. In return, my fingers slid inside the back of her knickers, grabbed her skinny buttocks and pulled her towards me.

There was no love or emotion in it; this was sex; raw sex, pure and simple. As her hands worked up and down my shaft, my fingers plunged the length of her cleft until they found the base of her slit from behind and worked their way into it. She gasped and I felt her grip on my tighten.

I began to finger her, pressing her bodily against my groin but the angle was awkward and my actions clumsy. Abandoning the idea, I slipped my hand from her buttocks to the tangle of fur between her upper thighs.

Long before girls began to trim or even shave themselves down there, it was long and wiry and wrapped itself tightly around my fingertips as I began to roughly explore her slit.

She was wet when I started and soaking wet by the time I pushed her back onto the kitchen table and roughly pulled her knickers down her long, skinny legs. Throwing them into the corner of the room. I spread her unresisting thighs wide and moved in for the kill, rubbing the head of my cock up and down her crease until I had parted her fleshy inner lips and found what I was looking for; her entrance.