Fucking My Mind Pt. 01

"But then mysterious Christina being in the world of the free, thinking bankers you would know all about liberal attitudes towards sex wouldn't you?"

I didn't reply. Words just didn't seem to form properly

"Well?" He said running his hands up and down my bare arms.

"Oh Guy" was all I could rather ridiculously groan as he lent forward, took me in his arms and kissed me. At that moment he knew as well as I did, that we would make love.

The kiss was deep and long. Our lips squirmed together, our mouths opened and our tongues found each other and duelled. Our hands ran up and down the other's back, our bodies pressed hard against each other, my breasts were squashed and he pushed himself firmly into my stomach. He broke the kiss.

"I still need an answer mysterious Chrissy."

"To what?" I asked as he removed his arms from round me.

"That you know we are going to make love don't you?"

I had never been put in such a strange situation before, but then I had never been with a man like Guy before; never with a man who played such mind games. The answer was simple and obvious, of course I did, but saying it was complicated and difficult. He knew that; it was as if he was reading my mind.

"It really is amazingly easy Christina to answer you know?"

"Yes I know."

"Then do that," he said walking a few feet away from me to a round yew wood, table with drawers in it. He opened a drawer and took out a box of cigars, Davidoff I noticed.

"I can't" I whispered.

"Then we won't will we?" He said rolling a long cigar between the palms of both hands. "Although I am sure you want to, don't you?" He went on cutting the end of the cigar.

"Yes" I whimpered, as he heated the end of the cigar before lighting it and puffing out a cloud of blue smoke.

"You do want to don't you Chrissy?"

"Yes Guy," I said starting to walk towards him.

"No, stay right where you are," he said sitting down in a green leather, high backed club chair alongside the round table. "Now tell me that you have known we would make love from the moment we met haven't you?" He went on clenching the cigar in his teeth as he undid his shirt and removed it.

"Yes Guy I think I have" I whispered reluctantly in some ways as I watched him stand up again. He undid his belt, slid his zip down and pushed his trousers off. He wasn't wearing underpants. He removed his socks and amazingly confidently stood in front of me naked apart from his open shirt. He sat down again and puffing on his cigar said. "Then undress for me, I want to see you."

He wasn't at all erect.

It seemed such a natural, innocuous and sensible suggestion. I had no feeling of resistance whatsoever, I wanted to undress, I wanted him to see my body. I realised that I wanted this man, who I had only met a few hours ago, to fuck me.

Nothing like this had happened to me in my twenty plus years of being sexually active. Sure I have had one-night stands, yes I have been to sex clubs both with Simon and with groups of girl-friends on hen dos, of course I have had other partners and Simon and I have been part of a swinging circle. Always though, I had to a large extent been in control. Even with Simon I was usually the more dominant party so feeling so much under the control of someone else was a new experience for me. And part of that was wanting to do as this man commanded.

Reaching up and behind my neck I took hold of the back of the halter neck of the dress and eased the two Velcro 'fasteners' apart. My heart was pounding as I stared at the near naked man sitting in the leather chair puffing on a cigar. I suddenly remembered that I was in one of the oldest and most famous colleges in one of the world's foremost universities. The mullioned windows were open and I could hear the sounds of Cambridge wafting in just as I could smell the aromatic cigar smoke. It was quite a cocktail of sensations.

I felt many things. Arousal, obviously; fascination, naturally; fear, largely of the unknown, slightly; sense of adventure, strongly; and desire, hugely. What I didn't feel was guilt and that surprised me as much as my strong wish to please Guy did. I am not at all the type of woman or person who unduly considers what others may think of them; in my position and the industry I worked in that was not possible if one wishes to get on. By peeling the front of my dress slowly down and baring my pert breasts to Guy I was doing what was arguably the most outrageous and, in many ways, the most wanton thing I had ever done. Having done that, I just stood there the ends of the neck strap in either hand and stared at him through the cloud of blue cigar smoke. What was I expecting, his approval, compliments, maybe his concerns, after all they are quite small or perhaps a comment on my nipples that are ver prominent? I didn't know what I was expecting or hoping for, but it was certainly not his gruff. "Come here."

Feeling totally under his control, I walked over to him my eyes taking in his toned, fit athletic body. He had a hairy chest, but I hoped not a hairy back. He was still flaccid. That surprised me for a moment, but then it registered that he was altogether surprising and different to any man I had met or been with before; he was a controller, of me, his environment and clearly of himself as well. Puffing on his Davidoff he gave my breasts the intensity of his blue eyed stare. My nipples, which already were hard, seemed to explode with sensations and grow even more erect.

"Very nice" he muttered, surprisingly not touching my boobs. "Turn round."

I stood there with my back to him wondering what he was going to do: reach round and grab my tits, stroke my bum or shove his hand up my skirt. He did none of those, but instead slid the zip on the back of my dress down and said.

"Take it off."

I turned and did that, letting the dress slide down my legs so I could step out of it. I stood a few feet from him in just my white, lacy thong and high heeled strappy shoes. "Turn round slowly," he ordered me.

As I did that and felt his eyes devouring me I felt more feminine, more desired and more aroused than I could ever remember.

"You have a good body Chrissy. I shall enjoy using and enjoying it."

He stood up and took me in his arms. He kissed me and caressed my bum, slipping his fingers slightly inside the crease, something no one had done to me before on a first date. But then I had never done any of the things I was doing with Guy on a first date before; as I had said to Kali, 'I don't do one nighters.' As Guy's tongue slid deeper into my mouth and his fingers pressed firmly on my anus, in my mind I changed 'don't for didn't used to!'

"You do want me to use you don't you Christina?"

'Fuck what a question,' I thought, busily licking round his teeth and slightly opening my legs and, as a consequence, the crease in my bottom. I didn't reply at first, but recalling what had happened last time I adopted that tactic I grunted. "Yes," not really fixing in my mind just what having my body used meant.

"Then I will and it will be the most wonderful experience for us both, I have great plans for our future."

'Our future?' Bloody hell we only met a few hours ago and we already had a future! Still, I reconciled, that was probably preferable to being used, which in this context I interpreted as fucked, then kicked out in the middle of the night to drive home to my empty apartment.

I felt his hands on my thong, pulling and stretching it. It was not one of those super slim jobs that have just a half inch strip of elastic probing between your cheeks. It had a band of lace, covered on the inside, the wet side, in a silky material. Where it left the, also lacy waistband, which was more round my hips than waist, it was probably three inches wide tapering down an inch or so as it plunged southwards to dive between the full, rounded, cheeks of my bum. I didn't mind him doing that, in fact having your panties or thong pulled, especially upwards or backwards can, and usually does with me, exert pressure right on my clit, it was nice and he knew that for he was totally in control of what he was doing and, I knew, me as well.

As he pulled on that, so we continued to kiss and hold each other. His skin, other than on his hairy chest, was surprisingly smooth and, I thought, more like a woman's, it felt nice especially where our thighs were pressed together. He still wasn't, I noted, erect. That worried me, was it me?

Still holding and pulling on my thong he reached up and went to cup my breast. I eased back a little so he could get his hand between and then gasped as he pinched my nipple, very hard.

"Too hard?" He asked.

"A little," I murmured reaching down and trying to slide my hand between us. I wanted to feel his cock. He pushed me away.

"Not yet."

"Why?"

"Because," he replied again pinching my nipple hard and smiling as I looked into those gorgeous, but slightly cold eyes, "I say so Chrissy, you may be the big boss, but I am the boss here you know."

He squeezed my breasts and pressed harder on my anal hole. Like many men, nowadays, or so I read and have noted with those I have been with since my separation, he had a clear interest in that part of my anatomy and I imagined that part of our 'future' might well be in exploring that. Not being that keen on full penis penetration anal sex, I put that thinking to one side assuming we'd cross that bridge, or get stalled mid-way when the time arrived. I did panic a little, though, when I suddenly wondered if he might try to cross the bridge tonight; that would be something on a first date!

"Aren't I?"

"What?"

"The boss" he said pinching my other nipple equally as hard as he had the other one earlier; it was nowhere near as painful and I only just winced. I guessed that he knew it wouldn't be as painful. He smiled and added. "I am the boss of the boss aren't I?"

"Yes, but I don't really know you do I?"

"No not really you don't, just enough to have taken your clothes off and be naked in my rooms."

I smiled at the irony. "Well not naked Guy, I still have my panties on."

"Oh yes, so you do," he smiled.

I felt him pulling it again. He moved his other hand from my boob and gripped the waist, or should I call it hip, band of the thong. Then with one wrench, which put tremendous pressure on my clit and pussy lips, he tore the gusset from the waist band and, effectively ripped my panties from me. He looked into my eyes, his twinkling with something, amusement maybe, smiled and said. "Let's amend that to the past tense shall we?"

"You sod," I said half seriously, after all it was from AP and cost fifty quid, and half excitedly for having your knickers ripped from you really is a turn on; in the appropriate circumstances that is and these certainly qualified as that. As I felt them being ripped I felt his erection growing against my stomach.

Then he fucked me.

It was a strange, but exceedingly exciting and quite different fuck to any I'd had before.

For a start, he must have been inside me for well over half an hour. Secondly he didn't move very much. Instead, he held himself rigid buried deep in me and encouraged me to do at least an equal amount of moving. That was strangely stimulating, in some ways more like using a vibrator than being screwed. But as I was doing that his hands were all over my body, particularly on my bum and between my cheeks, and that gave me sensations in so many different places. He made me cum at least four times, but I am not sure that he ejaculated at all.

I didn't stay the night, but then I wasn't invited to and, in any case I don't think I would have wanted to for, after all 'I don't do one night stands do I?

Still wearing just the torn, white lacy thong and my strappy, high heeled pumps I, rather embarrassedly picked up my dress and jacket.

Guy had turned away and was standing naked still apart from the shirt relighting the thick, Davidoff cigar.

"Where's the bathroom please?" I asked.

Without turning and looking out of the leaded window onto the very dimly quadrangle in the centre of the college, he said. "Through the door, down the corridor and second on the right."

As I walked out of the sitting room where we had just had sex for nearly two hours I noticed he didn't even turn and watch me leave.

The bathroom was very old fashioned as, I suppose, should be expected in a Cambridge University college that was nearly seven hundred years old. It was functional and rudimentary, with no luxury or unnecessary fitments. I toyed with showering, but the big cast iron bath with a rather dirty and torn shower curtain wasn't inviting so I washed myself instead with a flannel and hot water.

Where he had ripped my thong the gusset hung down between my legs, but the waist band was intact. Without thinking I tried fixing it so it looked as if it hadn't been torn. For some reason I didn't want to drive the fifty or so miles home with no panties on, daft really. I fixed that by easing the waistband down a little further onto my hips so I could slide the back of the gusset into it and that would hold it in place. I did that and checked it out in the full length, free standing mirror. It looked ok, but I was a little alarmed at the red blotches on the tops of both of my breasts. The alarm was for two reasons. One, I would have to be careful in front of an escort who I was due to visit on Wednesday. Explaining love bites and teeth marks on your breasts, isn't an easy thing to do and secondly, and more importantly, I didn't remember him doing it.

He was starting to fuck my mind.