School Love

When we left the cinema we walked together in silence. Sensitive to my concern about being spotted, it was only as we entered the dark streets leading to where I'd parked my car that Anthony's hand slipped around mine again. It was only a short drive to his home, and when we arrived I switched off the engine. He immediately reached for me, and for fully ten minutes we sat snogging, arms tightly wrapped around each other, tongues roaming each other's mouths with abandon. Anthony's hand slipped inside my T-shirt again, and I moaned as he cupped my breast in his palm, stroking my nipple between his thumb and finger. Without doubt, if we'd had anywhere to go I would have surrendered myself to him fully that evening. As it was, both our homes were occupied, and having it away in my little car would have required contortionist feats worthy of Harry Houdini. As it was, eventually he pulled away, reluctantly, and whispered, "Well, I s'pose I'd better go in. Goodnight Mel." As I drove off, my heart thumping like a rock drummer on speed, I glanced in my rear-view mirror and saw him standing on the step of his parents' home, staring after me.

I don't know if I should have felt guilt, but the only thing I did feel was excitement at having embarked on a love affair, tinged with disappointment that we hadn't consummated our passion that night. It was only the next day that I started to realise how rashly I'd acted. Not only was I putting my marriage at risk -- not that there was much of it left anyway -- but, more importantly, my job, my career, and my reputation. Why couldn't I have at least waited until he'd left school, when there would have been less risk for me? But then, when he did leave he was off to Durham, over 300 miles away. As it was, if he was going to get there Anthony needed to concentrate on his preparation for his exams, it would be totally wrong of me to monopolise his time. Driving to work I decided that I needed to dampen things down between us, at least for a few months.

My resolve lasted until the class before lunch -- Anthony's group. As soon as I saw him my mouth went dry and I felt my knees turn to jelly. God, I thought, it's ridiculous, a mature woman getting like this over a teenage boy. I couldn't help myself though, and I made a supreme effort to concentrate more on the other seven kids during the lesson. I had arranged to meet Jules for a quick game of badminton over lunch, but Anthony held back at the end of class. He stood very close to me, and I felt my cheeks colouring and my nipples tingling. He gave me the smile that made my stomach do back flips. "Mrs F, I was wondering...I'm going out on my boat tomorrow, and, well, I wondered if you'd like to come along?"

He'd told me about the small dinghy he kept at a club on the coast. It was one of his great passions. I thought of the two of us alone together, nobody to disturb us...then I gave myself a mental shake, swallowed hard and said, "Er, I'm not sure if I can Anthony. I've got something arranged with Peter -- my husband. Sorry."

He gave me a shrug and an easy smile, but in his eyes I caught a flash of concern at my answer. "Okay, no problem. Another time, maybe." He turned to leave then paused, and took a scrap of waste paper from the corner of my desk, scrawling something on it. "Look -- here's my mobile number, just in case you change your mind." I was rubbish in the badminton, Jules beat me even more humiliatingly than usual. She could tell I had something on my mind, and tried to get it out of me, but I couldn't possibly tell her. All afternoon I struggled to concentrate on my work, thinking about sea breezes, the cry of gulls, salt water splashing on my face...no, I'd given Anthony my answer, and that was that. But I felt the slip of paper with his 'phone number in my trouser pocket, burning like a rod of uranium.

When Peter got home that evening he grunted when I asked what sort of day he'd had, and picked listlessly at the TV dinner I'd warmed up for him as he watched some awful American crime show with bullets exploding through people in slow motion. Oh yeah, I had something arranged with him all right: our usual Saturday routine, the drag round Tesco, arguing over whether to buy the economy toilet rolls or the luxury ones (guess who wanted which!), then an afternoon pottering about in my garden while he drowsed in front of whatever boring sport happened to be on TV. Great. I lasted until nine o'clock before I finally gave into my desires. Slipping into our bedroom I dialled Anthony's number. He answered on the second ring. I could hear the distant thrum of drum-and-bass somewhere in the background, presumably from his sister's room. "Hi Anthony, it's Mel. Is it too late for me to change my mind, and join you tomorrow?" He sounded thrilled as he said of course I could join him, and we arranged that I'd pick him up at eight a.m.

That just left me with the problem of what to tell Peter. I took the coward's way out and told him nothing. I slipped out of bed early and propped a note on the kitchen table saying I was out for the day with a friend. Then I drove around town until it was time to collect Anthony. The weather report predicted a warm sunny day, but the sun had not yet arrived to burn off the chill of the night. I dressed in a sky blue vest, thong panties, cotton shorts and rubber flip-flops, with an old tracksuit over them. Anthony was bang on time, and we had a happy journey, chatting about his exam preparations and some of our favourite literature -- I loved his enthusiasm for my subject. On the way we stopped off to buy the makings of a picnic lunch.

By the time we reached Anthony's dinghy the promise warmth had arrived, and I left my tracksuit in the car. He was dressed in a polo shirt, shorts and training shoes. As he wheeled his boat out and made preparations I couldn't help noticing his hairy, tanned, muscular legs, and his tight bum inside his shorts. Before we boarded, Anthony handed me an orange life vest, and slipped one on himself. Then we had a pleasant morning sailing. Anthony clearly knew what he was doing, and he gave me little jobs like pulling on ropes, leaning out of the boat to provide a counterweight as it swung about on the water, and manipulating the tiller.

At about one o'clock Anthony steered us in towards a small island just off the coast, and jumped off the boat, wading knee-high through the water to moor us. I slipped off my life jacket and prepared to follow him, the bag of picnic food in my hand. He took me by surprise though, and I whinnied with laughter as he scooped me into his arms and carried me ashore. He had removed his shirt, and I found my nose nuzzling his furry chest. Finally, he returned to the boat once more, and picked up an old woollen blanket I'd brought from the boot of my car. Then, hand in hand, we made our way up a small hillock. I felt totally at ease with the situation. We found a pleasant, grassy spot in the shade of a large tree, laid out the blanket and ate.

Then we started kissing, tenderly at first, but with increasing passion. As Anthony's hand clutched my breast outside my vest, I could feel my pussy moistening, and a blush spreading through my body. I knew this was it, and I didn't give a damn for marriage, responsibility or anything else except this gorgeous man who was seducing me. When I felt him tugging at my shorts I didn't hesitate to lift my hip so could pull them and my pants down my legs, then I kicked the garments off. I felt Anthony fumbling with his own shorts, and a moment later the tip of his cock rubbed along the length of my slit. I sighed with anticipation as I lay on my back, raising my knees and spreading my legs. Bizarrely, it occurred to me at that moment to hope he didn't mind the fact that I didn't shave my pussy, just trimmed my thick crop of black hair.

My lover positioned himself above me and entered me with a solid thrust. He felt enormous inside me, completely filing my pussy, and half my body, it felt like. He supported his weight on his forearms, either side of me, and I gripped his hairy bum cheeks as he drove his cock into me with long, powerful strokes. I heard myself making little whimpering sounds with each thrust, and Anthony's eyes were locked like tracker beams on mine. Anyone could have come along and caught us, but fortunately they didn't. He managed maybe two minutes before, with a huge gasp, he shot off inside me. I didn't cum, but I felt lovely and warm inside, enjoying the sensation of having been well fucked, and overflowing with feelings of love for my darling Anthony.

As we recovered out breath I pulled the blanket over our naked lower halves. We started kissing again, this time with Anthony's hand inside my vest. Then, on an impulse, I ducked my head down his body and licked my tongue all the way up the underside of his cock. He gasped in surprise, and his hips twitched. I closed my mouth over the tip of his prick and sucked on it, pumping my hand up and down the shaft, and tickling his balls with my other hand. I hadn't done that for Peter in a long time and, as I swirled my tongue around Anthony's tip I realised again how much I enjoyed having a nice, solid cock in my mouth. His hands cradled my scalp, and he moaned with pleasure as I sucked, licked and stroked him. His hips jerked at me as he came, the tip of his prick knocking against the back of my throat, and I swallowed his juices, then rose and thrust my tongue into his mouth, the taste of him still on it.

After that I slept for maybe half an hour, my head cushioned on Anthony's big chest, while he stroked my back and my bum. Then we tidied ourselves up and, holding hands again, made our way back to the boat. We were both quiet and reflective on the journey home, I think slightly overwhelmed by the strength of our passion on the island. When I dropped Anthony off we kissed only for a moment, he gave my breast a single tender squeeze, then went inside. When I got to my place Peter was sitting in the kitchen, an empty wine glass in front of him and clearly in a foul mood. "Where the fuck have you been all day?"

I sighed. "I told you, out with a friend. Jules Berriex. (I made a mental note to brief her.) We went down to the coast for the day." He grunted something unpleasant. I rolled my eyes and went to the bathroom, showering away the salt which had adhered to my skin, and the ache in my limbs. Then I slipped on my nightie and got into bed, quickly falling asleep and dreaming of the sea and Anthony.

I awoke with a start. The bedroom light was on, and Peter was pressing against my back, his hands inside my nightie gripping my breasts, his erect prick nuzzling my backside. I tried to pull away from him, and mumbled, "Not tonight Peter."

There was an edge to his voice when he replied, pulling me back towards him. "Come on Mel, it's been a while. I haven't seen you all day."

Fully awake now, and irritated, I snapped, "Peter, I told you, I'm not in the mood."

He snarled, "Well I am." He grabbed my shoulder and dragged me onto my back. I started to protest but, to my utter shock, he gave me a back hand slap with all his strength across my face. My cheek burned and I felt a drop of blood at the corner of my mouth, where his gold ring had caught me. Peter had never hit me before, and that, together with the look of fury on his face, suddenly made me very scared.

I opened my mouth to plead with him to stop, but he hit me again, a forehand this time onto the other side of my face. I was slightly stunned by the blow. Then he pressed his arm hard across my throat, making me struggle for breath. I managed to croak "Peter, please...", but he ignored me. He roughly dragged my nightie up my body, forced my legs apart with his, and slammed his cock into me. I couldn't believe it -- I was being violently raped by my husband, just hours after I'd most the most tender, sweet love with Anthony. I tried to fight but he was too strong, and with the slaps and the reduced air supply I felt faint. Peter hammered at me with no thought for the pain he was causing me, physical and emotional. With each thrust my head banged against the wooden head board of our bed, and I felt his fingers raking at my thighs, as he tried to pull my legs still wider apart. After a few minutes he climaxed, then without a word he withdrew, rolled off me and lay with his back to me. I ran to the bathroom to clean myself up, and sat on the toilet sobbing for ages.

On the Sunday morning, feeling emotionally drained, I inspected the damage. My cheek glowed a dull red and ached from the first slap; there was an ugly scab on my lip from Peter's ring; my pussy was sore; and it and my thighs were bruised. I was still shocked and horrified by what he'd done. Like a zombie I walked down to the kitchen and made myself a coffee, sinking into a seat at the kitchen table to drink it. I was still there half an hour later when Peter swaggered into the room, looking very pleased with himself. Feeling sick just looking at him, I stood and walked to the sink, gazing out of the window at the back garden and clutching my dressing gown around my throat. Behind me, Peter announced, "We're going to establish a few new rules in this marriage from now on."

I heard the words arise from deep inside me, almost a whisper at first but increasing in volume with every word. "You raped me, you bastard!"

He laughed, a sound like a harsh cough. "Don't be stupid, I'm your husband, I can't rape you."

I resisted pointing out that sexual assault by one marital partner on another is recognised as a crime. Anyway, I could imagine that it would be the hardest thing in the world to prove marital rape. "Oh no officer, Mel's always liked it rough, this complaint's just a new twist in the little game she plays."

I heard Peter move behind me, and shuddered as his hand alighted on my shoulder. Cold tendrils of fear wrenched at my stomach. Gripping me, he spun me round to face him. My fingers, reaching behind me, closed on something on the draining board. I wasn't even consciously aware of what it was until it slashed across his arm. The carving knife glittered in my hand. I heard a voice a little like my own shriek "Don't touch me, you bastard!" as Peter staggered back from me.

The cut was little more than a scratch, on the back of his arm, well away from any major arteries. He stared at his arm as a thin line of blood marked the passage of the knife, then swivelled his head up to look at me, murder in his eyes. Taking a step towards me he launched a full-bodied punch into my belly, screaming "You fucking stupid bitch!" Winded by the blow I doubled over, wrapping my arms around my head as I waited for further blows to rain down on me. Instead, Peter grabbed a tea towel, pressed it to his arm and flung open the back door to the house. He turned and pointed a trembling finger at me. "You'd better not be here when I get back, cunt." Then he turned and stalked out.

As I desperately fought for breath, my entire body started shivering, as if I was suddenly frozen. The spasm lasted maybe thirty seconds, then, still gasping to recover from the punch, I began to sob, my shoulders heaving. It took me maybe ten minutes to pull myself together, then I stumbled upstairs, dressed, and grabbed our biggest suitcase. I packed as many clothes and personal possessions into it as I could, and dragged it out to my car, struggling to lift it into the boot. I noticed that Peter's car was missing from the driveway. Fighting my emotions, I drove away from my home. There was only one place I could go.

Jules yawned as she opened the door, her hair a bird's nest. Her eyes sprang wide open as she took in my dishevelled state. "Mon Dieu, Mel, what is it, what's happened?" Too overwrought to speak I fell weeping into my friend's arms. Poor Jules immediately agreed that I could stay in her spare room indefinitely, and spent the rest of the day giving me tea and sympathy, literally. I think we were both emotionally wrung out by the time we finally went to our beds.

With a liberal application of make-up and Jules' help, I managed to hide my bruises at school on the Monday. I felt depressed and withdrawn though, and I rang Anthony for just long enough to tell him I wouldn't make our usual Tuesday rendezvous. I somehow didn't see him in the corridor all week, and I could see he was upset when he turned up for the usual class on the Friday. I felt as guilty as hell, realising he probably thought I regretted what happened on our boat trip, and had been avoiding him. After class I asked him to stay behind for a moment. Breaking our name rule, he immediately muttered, "Mel, I've missed you so much."

I wanted desperately to hold him, to press my body to his. But I couldn't possibly risk someone walking in on us. I whispered, "I know baby, and I'm sorry. I love you, please don't doubt that. But I had a huge row with my husband this week, and I've moved out. I really haven't been feeling like company." I could see the mix of emotions on Anthony's face: sympathy for my unhappiness, but a sliver of delight that I'd walked out on my marriage. I realised I badly needed to see him properly. "How about if we get together at the weekend, I'm sure we can find somewhere to..."

My voice tailed off as I saw his face cloud over. "Oh shit, we've got a family wedding up in Norfolk, I can't get out of it." We gazed at each other in misery for a moment, then a thought occurred to me. "Look -- I've moved in with Jules Berriex, and she goes to fitness classes on a Tuesday evening. Why don't you come round then, and I'll make it all up to you, I promise."

Anthony still looked troubled. "Mel, are you sure that's a good idea? I mean, even if she's your friend, she's still another teacher."

I smiled and, for a split second, rested my hand on his. "It's okay, you can leave before she gets home. We won't have long but, well, we'll make the most of it." I had told Jules I'd go with her to the salsa class, but seeing Anthony again was too important to me to miss the opportunity.

We were still standing inches apart when, of all people, Jules walked into the room, to collect me for our weekly badminton game. She pulled up sharp and stared at us. "Hello, sorry, it's Antoine, isn't it?" Jules always called pupils by the French or Spanish version of their name. Rallying quickly, I told Anthony I hoped I'd resolved the problem with his essay, and he scuttled away. Jules gave me an odd look, but said nothing.

I told Jules on the Monday that I wouldn't be coming dancing. I explained I'd invited a friend round, and I hoped she didn't mind. She gave me a wicked grin, and said, "My God Mel, you haven't waited long, have you?" My face burning, I told her hotly it really was just a friend. Slightly taken aback by my outburst, she gave me a placatory smile and cupped a cool hand against my cheek. Switching to French, she said, "It's okay, little dove, you can have whoever you like round, I don't mind, really." Cupping my hand over hers, I smiled back and apologised for my brusqueness.

On the Tuesday my stomach was tied in knots of nervous anticipation all day. I'd told Anthony to arrive at Jules' place at 6.30, and I thought she'd never leave, fussing with her hair and make-up. Finally she went, and barely two minutes later Anthony arrived. I didn't even allow him a chance to speak, just threw my arms around his neck and pulled him through the door, my lips glued to his. With no overtures I led him to my bedroom and we quickly undressed each other. It was the first time we had ever properly seen each other naked. We lay on my narrow bed just holding each other, our thighs mingling, I enjoying the feel of my breasts pressing against the soft hair of Anthony's chest, and his hands caressing my bum cheeks.

Then we kissed for a few minutes. I wrapped my hand around his glorious cock, and at the same time his own hand slipped between my legs. I hissed with pleasure as his fingers entered me and started stirring around my pussy. It wasn't long before he manoeuvred me onto my back and positioned himself between my legs. I placed my hands behind my knees and pulled them up to my chest then, for the second time, Anthony's cock pressed into me. He fucked me slowly, pressing into me to the hilt, telling me often that he loved me. He lasted longer this time than on the island, and I did cum, before he did in fact, sighing with release as my cunt flooded and tears rolled down my cheeks. Anthony licked my tears away, and continued to push into me for a while before I felt his juice spurt inside me.