Lake Siren

As Jim left Monday morning it was obvious that we were both hurting physically but emotionally on cloud nine. My pussy, nipples, and lips were beet red and worn out from all of the mutual sucking and fucking. "Uh, Jim -- when you come next weekend let's make a deal. No more than two fucks in a twenty four hour period. While this weekend was the best sexual experience of my life, my body can't take it again," I said as I held onto his bulging biceps and stared into his steely-blue eyes.

"Since I can barely walk, or sit, my dick and balls hurt so much," he chuckled, "it's a deal. However, if I promise not to tax you too much, do you think that you could visit me in Albany sometime this week -- although since I have two roommates we should get a hotel room."

"When do you get off work Wednesday?" I asked as I lightly ran a hand over his neck.

"I'll make a point of leaving at 5:00 p. m." he replied.

"If my body recovers by Wednesday morning I'll give you a call," I smiled, and then placed a light kiss on his lips -- which were hurting as much as mine were, if not more.

That Monday I was in a euphoric daze as I stumbled through the day. The only exercise that I was capable of was a leisurely mile long swim, but even during that I experienced some pain. I did fix myself some nutritious meals, rubbed ointment on my sore cooch and nipples, and hydrated properly. I also actually did a little planning for my next article and ensuing novel, although I still had not come up with the killer inspiration that I was looking for.

By Wednesday morning I was feeling much better, so I called Jim's cell to see if he'd like a visitor. He was excited -- but then again, twenty one year olds recover more quickly than forty seven year olds. I booked us a room at the Renaissance Albany Hotel, and told him to meet me in the lobby at 5:15.

We had a pleasant dinner, and he showed me a few sites, but we both were interested in inspecting each other's bodies for any erogenous zones that we might have missed during our over-the-top weekend. We got to bed by 9:00 p. m., played with each other's parts for a good hour, and then had a very enjoyable animal fuck, doggy style. I fell asleep content.

There was a problem later that night, however; we had intercourse again about 3 a. m. This time, however, it wasn't an animal fuck that had been our Modus operandi; we made love to each other. It was tender, sweet, full of feeling, and both physically and emotionally satisfying; and after it was over, and Jim was back in dreamland, I cried.

That was the first time in two months that I had allowed myself to intensely focus on how I had loved Brett, and how I had been discarded. My loving intercourse with Jim was a session like I had had with Brett when we were first married and similar to our sexual encounters throughout our twenty five years of marriage. Fortunately my sobs didn't wake Jim up, and by the next morning I had come to terms with the situation and I was completely composed.

I wanted a continued relationship with Jim, but to protect both of us I had to make sure that we didn't fall in love with each other, even if we developed feelings akin to love. Jim was a fantastic, desirable man and needed ultimately to find someone his own age range to have a family with -- but I certainly wanted to be available to him to the extent practical until that occurred. As to what the future held for me? I simply wasn't sure.

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

Jim and I continued to spend every weekend together at Lake George, and usually on Tuesday or Wednesday night we would meet at an Albany hotel. While the sex was phenomenal -- the best of my life, even better than with Brett when we were first married -- Jim's companionship was also very welcome. He was intelligent, personable, and easy to talk with, and up for any physical adventure -- except for swimming long distances. Even though my swimming lessons had taken with him, his body just had too much bulky muscle for him to ever be lithe and comfortable in the water, like I was.

I was really going to miss him when he went back to school.

Our fourth weekend together, early on a Saturday night, serendipity struck. After a round of high-intensity miniature golf, with the winner due a half hour back rub (he cheated and won, the bastard), his cell phone buzzed. It was Ray Hopkins. Neither Ray -- nor any other of Jim's friends -- knew about our relationship or the time that we spent together, so when Jim mouthed "Ray" as he answered the phone I knew to be silent.

After a number of "No shits," and "Too bads," from Jim he terminated the conversation.

"What's the problem?" I inquired.

"It looks like our fraternity is not going to be allowed on campus this year -- and that's really going to cause a problem with housing and our social lives."

"Why?"

"We had a couple of bad apples last year, who raised our 'risk assessment,' as both the College and the National Fraternity like to call it, to an unacceptable level. The only way that the College and National will allow us back on campus is if we get a housemother -- which I thought was an anachronism. Ray has had no luck with anything that he's tried, and unless something happens in the next week, it will be too late," Jim replied with a hang dog look.

Suddenly I was hit by lightning. What could possibly be a better life experience for me in my present situation to get inspiration for an article and novel -- hell, probably a dozen articles and two novels -- than to be a housemother for a fraternity at a high-end college like Dartmouth?

I obviously had been standing with my mouth open and totally unaware of my surroundings as I caromed the concept through my brain at the speed of light because the next moment of awareness that I had was when Jim was lightly shaking me and asking "Are you all right Amy? Earth to Amy, come in please."

"Uh...what?" I responded.

"You were out of it for a good two minutes. I was talking to you and you just had a blank stare on your face. What's up?"

"Let's get home and talk...now...not even any ice cream first," I snapped, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward the car.

"I need to be quiet until we get home," I told Jim as I tossed him the key to my car and got in the passenger's seat. Aside from a little cackling at my demeanor, Jim didn't say anything as I continued to work the idea over in my head on the ride home.

Once we got home, Jim and I got naked and as I gave him his back rub -- digging my nails in on occasion to remind him that I thought that he had cheated to win -- I had a serious conversation with him.

"So, Jim; are you going to be sad when you go back to school, and no longer have sex with me available anytime that you want it; or do you have a harem awaiting you at Dartmouth?"

"No one special -- certainly no one with one-tenth of your sex appeal," he moaned as I pressed hard on his lower back.

"Would it be a disaster for you if I stayed available to you at school?"

He tried to turn over, but I straddled him and wouldn't let him.

"Are you serious, Amy? That would be a dream come true for me; but you can't put your life on hold for me and hang around a college town."

"How about if I was the housemother for your fraternity?"

That did cause him to turn over even though he had to flip my 140 pounds (64 kg) off of him to do that.

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

We violated our only-two-fucks-per-day pact that night. We vigorously fucked three times. By the time that we fell asleep, Jim was more excited than I was about the prospect of me being the housemother for his fraternity. By the time that he left for Albany early Monday morning, we had diagrams of the fraternity house, construction plans for the president's (soon to be housemother's) two room suite on the first floor to make it more private and accessible only to Jim, all the criteria the College and National Fraternity were looking for regarding a housemother, and scads of other information.

Jim called Ray Hopkins on his way back to Albany and posed the question to Ray that since they had nothing to lose at that point "Why not call Amy Bryant in case she knows of someone?" Ray still had my cellphone number from when I rescued Jim, so Jim didn't even have to volunteer that information. Ray called me immediately after he got off the phone with Jim.

I acted coy, but said that I'd see what I could do. I told him that I'd go to Dartmouth to get the necessary information so that I could talk intelligently about it with some friends of mine who I thought might be interested.

As soon as I terminated my call with Ray that Monday morning I phoned the person at Dartmouth in charge of fraternities -- she was the person who would be the most influential in making the decision about a housemother. I arranged a meeting with her that very afternoon, and was pleased that if necessary she had the ability to video conference in the individual in charge at the National Fraternity.

At 2:00 p. m. I was sitting across from Betsy Simpkins at the Dartmouth administrative offices, dressed in the most conservative outfit that I could find, and with no makeup, clear-lens glasses, and my long hair in a bun. After I assuaged Betsy's complaints that I was too young -- she seemed surprised by my real age, which I handed my driver's license to her to prove, a real ego boost -- I hit every point that Jim and I had prepared for on Sunday. That included me promoting that I could help the fraternity members with any courses having to do with English or writing because of my journalism experience and my Masters in Journalism from Northwestern. I even provided her with digital copies of some of my most intellectual articles, and one of my three novels (the others were too risqué to disclose).

By 3:00 p. m. we were videoconferencing with Terrance Jones at the National Fraternity offices in Ohio, and by 4:00 I had been offered the job pending my references checking out. I asked if there were any fraternity members in summer school who could give me a tour of the fraternity house and by 5:00 football player Harrison Womack was conducting said tour.

I stayed that night in Hanover, New Hampshire, and by noon the next day I had already met at the fraternity house with a contractor and had given him a deposit to sound-proof and upgrade the first floor suite which would be my living quarters -- including completely redoing the bathroom -- and to put in an outside entrance as an up-to-code "fire escape" so that Jim could visit me without being seen.

Jim was so thrilled that he drove to Lake George on Tuesday night with a "Thank You" card, a dozen roses, and -- of course -- with his cock at maximum hardness as we once again violated our pact and he fucked me doggy (my favorite position) three times that night and sucked my nipples raw.

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

Since I had saved their fraternity, since I made it known that I had a concealed carry permit, since Ray, Harrison, and Jim -- who were likely the three most muscular dudes in the fraternity -- were fully on board, and since I had negotiated with both Dartmouth and the National Fraternity the power to expel any member who didn't shape up, I had essentially no discipline problems (the only real one Jim and Ray took care of) once school was back in session.

Jim and I were careful not to ever have any PDA, or heart-felt talks in public, nor was he ever allowed to call me "Siren" in the company of others. I also made it clear to him that he was to party on the weekends with people his own age, and hopefully find a girlfriend. We spent every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday night together, without anyone else knowing courtesy of the outdoor entrance that only he and I had keys to; and enjoyable nights they were. I rarely failed to have at least four toe-curling orgasms those nights, and Jim two -- however, we did adhere to our only two-fucks-a-day pact, and even skipped sex in favor of cuddling a night or two if one of us had had a hard day.

Since in addition to being serviced by Jim, I was on campus to get as much information as I could for articles and novels, I was very active not only in the college community but in town as well; I made sure that I didn't waste any time. In addition to confidentially counselling all the members of the fraternity who had personal problems -- especially "girl problems" -- and providing academic help to those who had English or writing classes, I got involved with a number of clubs and sports on campus, and spent many hours in the student union and interacting with faculty, students, and staff -- including endearing myself to the maintenance and janitorial staffs since they had insight into the goings-on on campus that others didn't. I also taught a strip aerobics class in the town, and got chummy with many of the local merchants.

Perhaps the most significant situation that I got involved in was during girls' volleyball season. I knew through several sources, including one of the fraternity brothers who was dating a girl on the team, that many of the volleyball players were unhappy -- so I gained the trust of the leaders, and got them to open up to me about their issues. To make a complicated situation simple, both the head coach -- a male -- and the assistant coach -- a lesbian -- were sexually harassing virtually all of the team members.

I had a secret meeting with the entire team, handed out and instructed them on the use of high resolution mini cameras -- with sound recording capabilities -- and we made plans to run a weeks' worth of stings on the two coaches.

At the end of the week I had all the recordings condensed into a thirty minute presentation. Then the team captain and I went to see the athletic director and the head of campus security. Their initial reaction was not as strong as I thought that it should be so I made it clear to them that I would be going to the state police myself, and writing a national magazine article about it, unless both coaches were terminated immediately.

"But we'll have to cancel the season; we don't have a suitable replacement," the athletic director moaned, "and in view of Title IX that means that we'll have to deep six a spring male sport too."

"I've got that covered too, Director. I guess that you didn't know that you have an English professor who has a light course load this semester and who was an All-American Division III volleyball player, did you?" I smiled.

With that I opened the door to the Director's office and invited in John Baines -- a forty year old assistant English professor, who is six feet five inches (196 cm) tall and who -- if he shaved off his beard (which I had every intention of getting him to do) would look exactly like a California beach volleyball player.

Things worked out even better than I thought that they would. The fired head coach got drunk, waited for me at night outside a meeting that he knew that I would be at, and punched me.

It was only a glancing blow in view of his drunkenness and my dexterity, but I needed to make it look good for the mini camera that I was wearing -- and often wore around campus -- so I fell into a snow bank. As he charged me I waited until he had cocked his fist to hit me in the face with his fist while I was prone and then shot him in the kneecap with my Sig Sauer and then called 911.

He got a year in jail and a permanent limp. The assistant coach took her cue from that and left town. I got not just campus-wide hero worship, but a reputation in all of Hanover besides.

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

You may be asking how I got John Baines to agree to coach the women's volleyball team, and shave off his beard? I'll tell you.

Jim had ramped up my libido so high that I needed more than just the three nights with him to be content. However, I truly was out for his best interests so even though he would have been happy to forgo a dating life with college age women and fuck me essentially every night of the week, that wouldn't be right. He needed a life after me, because I couldn't see that we were ever going to have a long term relationship given the fact that I was older than his mother.

I met John at some faculty-public event at the College of Arts & Sciences. He was single, intelligent, cute -- if he shaved off that fucking beard -- and interested. While I can't say that I actually came out and "bribed" him with sex to get him to take the coaching job; well on further reflection I guess that I can say that I bribed him with sex to coach the team. By the time of his second practice with the team he had shaved off his beard, and I had fucked him senseless twice. He was much different than Jim, four inches (10 cm) taller and fifteen pounds (7 kg) lighter, with a willowy rather than muscular built. His very long cock wasn't as girthy as Jim's, nor did he have Jim's energy, but he was a really good fuck. Like Jim he really liked the distended nipples on my East-West boobs.

My relationship with John continued for the rest of the year; we fucked most weeks, usually on Friday and Monday, often in the morning at his apartment but sometimes at night. He had a girlfriend who lived between Concord and Boston (less than two hours' drive from Hanover) who he wasn't exclusive with -- I wasn't causing him to cheat -- who he visited on Saturday and Sunday, or she visited him, depending upon the volleyball team's schedule during the season.

John was slightly, although not excessively, kinky. One Friday night he duped me into coming into the women's locker room after all of the volleyball team members had ostensibly left, stripped me, and then fucked me in the communal shower up against the wall as warm water splattered on us. Although I can't be entirely sure because my brain was being fried from the intensity of the reciprocation of his long cock into and out of my pussy while he simultaneously sucked one of my enlarged nipples, I thought that I saw two giggling team members watching us before disappearing behind the lockers. For some reason that voyeurism caused me to have an orgasm in the top ten in intensity in my life.

In addition to John and Jim I had another "J" to fill my carnal needs. His name was Jason, and he was a full professor in economics, divorced, and forty two years old. Jason isn't much bigger than I am, but is extremely handsome and passionate about everything, including eating my pussy, which he loved to do. In fact, I do believe that he is the best pussy eater that I have ever experienced and Brett and Jim are both excellent -- and a more than decent fuck too, even if not close to Jim's level. Most weeks Jason and I slept together at his apartment on Saturday nights, and fucked sometime during the day on Sunday too.

Jason was the kinkiest guy that I had ever known. He loved to use toys, role playing, light bondage, and unusual positions. One of his favorites was to blindfold me, tie my hands to his headboard, work a butt plug or vibrator into my ass, and fuck me doggy. In fact one time when he got me drunk (only the third time in my life that I was) I swear that three of the four times that I was fucked doggy that night with a blindfold, restraints, and butt plug up my ass, it was not by Jason.

The next morning when I questioned Jason why he was normally a one and done guy but had fucked me four times the previous night he said it was because he was unusually horny and had taken some little blue pills. Since even in my drunken state I was sure that one of the times that I was being fucked the cock was much thicker and longer than his, and deposited a significantly larger load, I didn't believe him. However, since an STD test that week showed no issues, I had not been hurt -- in fact it had been really pleasurable, especially since there was a mystery component and fodder for at least several scenes in upcoming novels-- I let it pass. Nevertheless, I did make sure never to drink around Jason again.