Meeting Her Pt. 02: Starting Affairs

Isabel melted in my arms, giving me her body as a willing wonderful bounty of pleasures to molest and enjoy repeatedly.

I could have kept up the kissing for a time, she was very hot, but she wanted more. Isabel stepped back and shed her skirt, leaving her standing among books and student papers in a tiny red thong plus black stockings that stretched almost to the top of her thighs, and moderate heels. Her tits were large with silver-dollar sized nipples, magnificent on display. She turned around slowly, showing me her wonderful long hair covering her back, then tilted her head so her hair moved to the side, revealing that the thong was just a thin string up her crease. I could see the rosebud I had fucked about 70 days ago, it was slightly distended, moist with lube and inviting, like it was played with this afternoon. The sight was more provocative than being naked. She stretched her arms up, posing her back and shoulder, showing me the muscles of a very strong woman. Then she bent forward, releasing the thong's waistband on the way to bending down, touching her toes. The tiny garment fell, revealing her wet, distended pussy, her pre-parted labials and the very tempting lubed rosebud, all ready for my cock to slip right in, violating her marriage in every way.

"Do you see something you like? You don't have to applaud to show your appreciation," she said as she grabbed her ass cheeks and spread herself more.

I took that as a request to let my boner out, dropping my slacks down to my ankles. I left my briefs off after my shower. My cock was about 80% erect and rising as I looked at her. She appreciated the way things were firming up, she gave a gleeful wiggle, turned and started moving like she was drawn to my cock. I moved to meet her. In moments she was down in front of me, her knees cushioned on one of those glorious soft Persian rugs. "I want you inside, but I owe you and I want the main course to last so I have to do this first. Do we have what it takes to play twice, or is there some reason to make this meeting a quickie?"

"At some things, I do not believe in rushing a lady. Are you sure you don't want to go someplace more comfortable?" Isabel was an important woman, older, equivalent to a Dean, and she looked like all that plus super sexy as she was on her knees, in my office, about to put my cock in her mouth.

"Fuck no! This rug feels wonderful, a real luxury. But even more, being on my knees like this, here, exposed in just sexy stockings, feeds my 'naughty in a faculty office' fantasy, I know this is real. Plus I wanted this all afternoon, I need this meat NOW." With that she took my cock into her mouth. The first few strokes she confined herself to the head, the ridge and about an inch of the shaft. "It has been so long since I had one in my mouth. I have to get used to it."

"Take you time, what you are doing is quite delightful."

"Umm... I don't want to be delightful... I want to be BAD... 'all in' bad... 'cum in my mouth dripping down my chin' bad."

She kept working, getting used to taking me a little bit deeper with each stroke as she worked.

When she got me all the way in - I told her not to stress but she insisted on taking it all - she got distracted by my complete lack of pubic hair. She had to explore with her lips and tongue. The wonders did not cease, her explorations led her to putting her face in my balls and the reaching for the area behind, which was also conspicuous in the lack of hair. I have very fine blond hair, but she expected something at least.

"How can you shave down here? Does somebody help you?" She sounded suspicious. She could see it would be very difficult to do alone. Of course, neither of us could think about waxing some delicate regions.

"I use a cream that a Pakistani girl showed me. It is big business for their religion. Commercial products in this country are a bit harsh, the government says it bars imports on health grounds, but it is really to protect US firms. She has a cream from home that worked well even for the most delicate skin. They knew how to ship it to me."

"Well, if you see her, thank her for me."

"I'll give her a kiss for you. Unless you can get away to do it yourself."

She giggled at the quip. "Oh yes, kiss her someplace naughty I bet." With that she began gentle suctioning with her lips on my scrotum, hoovering around away like a perverse version of a vacuum cleaner. It was an wonderful feeling, physically unique plus it seemed a little like I was being worshipped by a woman who was a Dean, on her knees before me.

I considered how Isabel might be able to thank my Paki friend herself, Gee was known to make surprise visits.

Gee was the Paki girl I lived with for a time. She had married her cousin (more than half of Paki's do) in an arranged marriage. When she told her husband she had missing her period he used an excuse to try and take her back home, which he had promised not to do. She knew that after he stole her papers she would be stuck there, making babies. His family owned the local officials. Except she wasn't pregnant, it was a ploy, to see if her would keep his word.

She threw a fit and divorced him in grand style, at a time when he was holding a large amount of family cash in the US for business purposes. She froze the money. To free the money for business they had to settle with her quickly, she walked away with millions. After the divorce was final she wanted to add insult to injury so she asked me to have sex with her while taking pictures. Then she sent the most disgusting shots (which were really disgusting) to his family so he was humiliated as a cuckold (she adjusted the date in the camera so she seemed married) who paid for the privilege. She also sent disgusting real pictures showing her husband's shortcomings and her sodomizing him with a toy to both extended families and their political friends, burning the bridges to ash. For good measure she also disowned her parents who were in on the plan, they had been paid and wanted grandchildren. Now she is making $350K a year as a sharp tax CPA with private clients. She specialized in foreigners and charged a premium. Gee working 70 hours a week for three months a year and 10 hours a week for the rest of the year so she had time for surprise visits.

Well, getting back to the nice woman with my balls in her mouth, I knew that I would reverse the situation when the opportunity came, so I might as well concentrate on enjoying her efforts.

Isabel spent some time sucking my balls, with a few extras like her daring tongue going back further, plus detours along the bottom of my cock. Damn, from my angle she looked good doing it with her long hair and delicious lips. Then she went back to the main event, pulling my entire cock in her mouth. She managed to make a little speech as she licked and tried to take my length in. "Last time... I said... not to pull out. It is the... same for today... and every other... time we are... together. I want... desperately want... your cum inside... unless I... say otherwise. Just enjoy... giving me... your load. More than anything... that is... what I want."

With that she took my cock into her mouth and started sucking like a fiend, as if the need she mentioned was desperate and immediate. She alternated two styles. One was stroking in and out between her lips, taking in about 75% with each stroke, that was what she could handle at full speed. Then, every once in a while she would take it so the ridge was sealed with her lips and she would just suck long and hard while I watched her cheeks cave in. Seeing that put me in the mind of an old saying, about a Las Vegas showgirl who was so proficient she "could suck a golf ball through a garden hose." From my end Isabel was a bit out of practice taking me in, but her lungs gave her damn powerful suction.

I like to think that I have good stamina and I can last, but she felt so good I could not drag things out. She seemed like she wanted to be sucking me when I came, so after plenty of warning and some deliberate co-ordination on her part I gave her what she wanted, blowing my load into her mouth while she was sucking hardest. I had some worry that she would choke on it and die there in my office. That sounded like a problem for me, being that she was the daughter of the university president, but as faculty we have to trust our administrators to handle what comes up.

To try and drag things out a little longer I imagined the paperwork if she died, but still I lost it to her, her sucking on me plus the view was just too good.

Since she asked for it all, I didn't hold anything back. She got it all. There were no choking sounds. I let it all go, creamin' like a demon. My first pulse shot into her mouth and bounced off the back of her palate and upper throat. It felt great to me.

She handled it deftly and calmly took the rest of my spurts, slathering my cockhead with her tongue while sucking. It was very hot. She showed not a hint of difficulty pleasuring me while dealing with the surge from my load. I had to admit it was a unique experience to find somebody with such a degree of control. Then it occurred to me, Nancy also gave me a really good blowjob. It was different, she was always messy and very visual, but also full on. Maybe tennis was a common factor. It called for more research. More tennis alums? I also needed a control group, maybe female basketball players? Cheerleaders?

Research was always on my mind.

Even after I was done spurting she kept licking and sucking, it merged seamlessly into her cleaning off my cock. Finally she peered up at me, her eyes asked if I would mind a little snowball to top it off.

How could I say no? "That was unique and wonderful. How about you bring those wonderful lips up here and give me a little sugar, sweetness." She sprang up. I couldn't decline her very deep tongue kiss, bringing her cum-coated tongue intertwining with mine. She also joyfully painted my lips with the creme, then licked the flavor off. I let her do all she wanted, she indulged herself so we took some time before we separated, well after the flavor was gone.

We were both surprised with how comfortable we were the first time, and now the very sloppy intimate kiss highlighted the mutual comfort level. It was really rare for two people to hit it off so well.

She almost giggled at my enthusiasm, and let herself bask in our mutual enjoyment for a bit. "That was wonderful, just what I was looking for. My husband has never... well, you don't need to keep hearing that. But fuck, I really needed it... all of it. Look... if you are still okay and will have another shot I don't want to be done, I want to get screwed like a grade-seeking slut cheerleader. When can you go again?"

"Again as in, tonight? Or again... for our next date?"

"Well, definitely... both sound good."

"Something tells me you want to get bent over my desk..." She brightened as I said that, I hit on exactly the long-held fantasy she was hoping for. "... we will get there soon enough after I visit a few other delights upon your marvelous body. As for our next date... how about a week from today? At 5 again?"

"That works for me. To make it a real and tawdry affair... let's plan on a bed... can you stay from 5 to 10? Maybe two or three cums?" Setting a deliberate second date for more naughty sex with a married woman made it a real affair, which was just what she wanted. I did not expect her to stop soon.

"Where we might share a bed?" I asked. "I imagine the faculty office thing is a nice fantasy but limiting. At my place in Faculty Estates you could be seen... so a motel? One with good room service?"

She made no move to cover herself, she moved confidently displaying her sexy hot body like knew she looked good and liked to show it to somebody who appreciated her. She absent-mindedly touched herself while thinking, it made a wet sound. Her waist was slim enough to be on the par with 18-year old pro athletes, like a pro tennis player or olympic swimmer. She had the shoulders and arms for it too.

"Could I make a suggestion about where for... dare I hope... more Tuesdays?"

She used the plural so she wanted something regular. "What do you have in mind?" I asked.

"It is easier to show you. Could I use your computer?"

The sight of her, wearing just the sexy stockings and heels as she sat at my desk holding the computer mouse and touching herself was good enough to take a picture. I had a secret about that. But I controlled my impulse.

"Here we go!" she said a few moments later. On the screen was the terrain view from one of the global mapping apps, showing the south edge of campus and one block of Berry Street. "See this apartment house, #225?" It was the second house from the university parking structure at the end of the block.

About 15 or 20 years ago the century-old run-down three-story houses used as cheap student housing had been torn down and the block filled with pricy 4-unit apartment buildings. The university needed parking so they built a parking garage on land leased from the developer, who made out like a bandit on the whole deal.

The university's indisputable parking needs provided the excuse that got all the houses condemned in one fell swoop and forced the individual owners - including some faculty - to sell to the developer. The university got the area re-zoned by showing a combination park/parking lot for the entire block, getting special treatment. But pretty parks don't pay rent, so once the developer owned the land he proposed a new plan to build pricey apartments. It followed the university proposal in green space and trees, etc. but it was not pretty and many folks felt screwed over.

There were objections to the new plan but developer got a judge to say it was okay, then gave the tree-hugging objectors the finger with a tiny public green space on one corner - they put up a sign calling it "Bus Stop Park." Locals called in "Dog Squat Park." Decades later the project still pissed off local liberals, even if most reasonable folks saw how the old houses were a fire hazard waiting to happen. Instead of the garden parking lot that sold the plan to the city the university built an ugly six-story parking structure, signing a 50-year lease for the land underneath it. That really pissed off folks because somebody rich and out-of-sight got even richer.

The university topped the parking structure with japanese garden and a small coffee shop - it was open to everybody, but only faculty could drive or use the elevator, the public and students had to climb 6 flights of stairs. This was a clever move because in winter the university never had to plow the structure.

I had read up on the details, the developer's plan actually provided more green space and more trees than park/parking lot plan, plus it provided close housing so the wealthy residents did not have to commute - polluting and taking up parking space. But some folks could not be satisfied with facts.

From the picture the building at #225 seemed to be a larger footprint than the others. Also, unlike all the others, there was a large (4 to 6 vehicle) attached garage in back, on the alley. It was painted like a university building.

I lived north-east of campus, where I am renting a furnished house in the Faculty Estates. I know Isabel lives north-west, an apartment in a mixed-use building. During my summer jogs I had been past the apartment house she pointed to. "I have been by it a few times. Never inside."

"Well, there is an extra apartment, at the rear." She moved the pointer and drew a route through the alley from two blocks over. "If you were to come up the alley here and make your way to the back yard, you will find a door next to a bench. It will be unlocked. Inside, follow the light to the kitchen for the start of more fun and games. I have reasons to know this route insures nobody will have a good view of your comings and goings. Now the thing is, no food is kept there, so maybe some carry-out..."

"How does coconut shrimp, BBQ ribs, and fresh kettle potato chips sound?" I asked, thinking of my go-to place next to campus.

"From Jimi Wongos? They are the best. Cherry Cheesecake too, extra portions please, it is a weakness of mine. Don't bother with drinks, I have those covered."

"It is a date! For now, I wonder what we might do next?" I was feeling signs of life below but was not ready yet for what she needed. She had another idea about how to spend time.

-

Chapter 7. Isabel's First Anniversary

"Look, you asked about my marriage and vows, so I want to explain some things. Jorge romanced me with a pretty good routine while I was finishing my PhD and he was Dr. Big Deal at another school in the area. I was just getting interested in sex after my immersion in graduate studies. I had time as I was waiting on some final approvals of my work. He was looking to make a move and before we met he had narrowed his choice down to Hillside, which was his alma mater, plus two others. Our new endowed chair gave us the bucks to compete. Things worked for both of us as we dated so we both decided to come back here for jobs. That summer we flew out to Vegas. I had my parents, and my sister Nora as bridesmaid. Uncle Ivan who flew out the week before and arranged everything. Jorge had one of his married brothers there. The first year was an adjustment, but it seemed romantic at times. It felt like a busy marriage.

"At the end of our first year together Jorge was scheduled present a big paper in France on our anniversary. It was a big deal for the school; it would take two weeks and I wasn't going. That should have been a clue. We 'celebrated' the anniversary 6 weeks early, taking an extended weekend at a resort near Riverton right after school ended. It was supposed to be romantic but instead everything went to pieces as he laid a series of pronouncements on me."

"It sounds like he was isolating you."

"That is exactly it. He used his docile sisters-in-law as models for how I would feel and behave. WRONG! They were raised in Chile as wealthy brood mares who were calmer when isolated with 'their man.' I was American with a PhD so I was much more independent, all my reactions went the other way. Also, he believed a married woman could never turn to her father for help and the father would never respond if she asked; the father was finished once he had given a woman to her husband in marriage. Except we didn't do that, I walked myself down the aisle. He did expect a strong bond between mother and daughter, so he picked the weekend when Mother took my sister on a spa weekend. They were out of touch. But Jorge never figured on my Uncle Ivan's complete distrust and disdain for him."

I caught something in her voice. "That was not the first time you mentioned 'Uncle Ivan,' who was he?"

"I am going to put that aside for now. At the resort the first night Jorge hinted about his affairs. He did not speak directly, but he indicated that 'men had urges' and said that no man could see his children's mother 'doing things' that he might desire." Jorge was an expert at implication and innuendo (well, he was a glorified weatherman, so that goes with the territory). He treated her gentle hypothetical queries about her taking a lover as "humorous diversions" unworthy of serious comment. (He said, "Play more tennis.")

He was invited out of the bedroom that night. Of course, the rest of the stay he complained endlessly about his sore back. That did not get him back in bed.

The second day started with him talking about children, which led to the family breeding. Before marriage she had talked in terms of 1 or 2 children after waiting a few years as she advanced in her career; she figured she might start at age 35. "I was making what he was, and expected my responsibilities would increase. He thought the opposite." That morning he laid out a neatly printed schedule of fertility-drug-enhanced family breeding every other year from when she was 30 until she had 5 or 6 male children, it would be better if she started the drugs right away. He said that sometimes children were lost "with birth defects," but those could be made up in the off years. The children would be born in the US, which had better medical facilities. "He took it as a given that I would stop working and raise them to the age of 5, then they would go to a boarding school in Chile. After the last child was 5 we would move to Chile. It was all planned. I was told, not asked." The 'move to Chile' and 'boarding school' parts were not in the pre-marriage discussion, which was minimal and mostly about her 1 or 2 children versus his plan vague interest in more.