The Fucking Professor

"Yes Guy I think I have" I reluctantly in some ways whispered as I watched him stand up again. He undid his belt, slid his zip down and push 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 Erik and with groups of girl-friends on hen dos, of course I have had other partners and Erik and I have been part of a swinging circle; but then so have most Danish women approaching middle age. Always though, I had to a large extent been in control. Even with Erik 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 some 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 all 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 full 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 do sag a little, but then thirty five D cup breasts do that? 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 Michy. 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 Michaela?"

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, slightly too large 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 Michy, I am the boss 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 penetrations 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 and thong 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. It was as I felt them being ripped that 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 worked out that by easing the waistband down a little further onto my hips 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 Erik who I was due to visit on Wednesday; explaining love bites and teeth marks on your breasts, isn't an easy thing for a wife to do even with an estranged husband and secondly, and more importantly, I didn't remember him doing it.

*

I am not a tramp. I'm not a slut, I'm not easy and I don't give it away or put it around to all and sundry. Before last night I'd had sex probably no more than a dozen times in the past year and four or five of them were paid for when I was travelling. I didn't want any involvement or emotional entanglement with men, or women come to that.

Just why the hell then, I had gone back to this Cambridge University Professor of Humanities rooms in Corpus Christi College and had let him fuck me for nearly an hour? That was a mystery. But I had and it fascinated and excited me. Why? Two reasons above all else.

One him. Guy Bresterton was probably the most intelligent man I had ever met and I am a sucker for brightness; give me a big brain every time over a big dick. He and his mind were the reasons I went to his rooms after the luncheon party and the Humanist meeting.

The second reason and why I did act like a tramp? It was, I was thinking as I drove my Porsche down the M11 towards my Dockland's apartment, because he treated me like one. Daft reason I know, but thinking through the whole situation as I drove along the uncrowded motorway that Sunday evening around midnight, I was sure the combination of his intelligence, his manner and that approach, was why I behaved so differently to the norm. He moved my goalposts, took me out of my comfort zone, treated me with utmost respect as a sexual plaything, but with scorn as anything else. And on top of that he had the most amazingly blue eyes with which he stared intently, melting my resistance and creating an easy entrance for him into my knickers.

Kali had invited me to the luncheon and introduced me to Guy. She now worked for me as my Human Resource Director was the bank's liaison with the University and thus, with Guy. She hadn't said as much, but I became sure during the day that a lot of their liaison was probably carried on with her lying on her back with Guy between her spreaded legs. Now, having been taken by him, I wasn't so sure that she would have been on her back, I hadn't been. I'd been turned round, bent over a table and fucked and then turned round again to face him, but still standing up.

*

"Ok I'm off," I said quietly coming out of the bathroom. I was wearing the halter neck, sleeveless and largely backless, cream and orange 'cocktail' dress and the white linen jacket with the sleeves rolled up a la Miami Vice.

I was surprised to see that he was still just wearing the shirt as he looked out of the small window smoking his cigar.

"Ok" he said turning slowly and looking across the comfortably furnished in a very old fashioned manner room at me. He hadn't put on any lights so it was dim, but as he walked towards me I could hardly believe my eyes, he was fully erect. When we'd had sex, he'd made me cum several times and he'd withdrawn just after I'd climaxed. I was so worked up and sexually sated that I hadn't noticed if he'd ejaculated or not, but then I recalled as I washed there were no dribbles.

"Yes, fine" I mumbled "I'd better be going."

"Yes I guess so, but where is it?"

"Where's what?"

Smiling, coming closer and fixing me with that devastating blue eyed stare he said. "My trophy."

"I'm sorry?"

"My momento, my souvenir, my reward for what we did."

"I'm sorry Guy," I said fumbling through my oversized and bloody inconvenient bag for my car keys. "I don't understand."

"He came up closer and kissed me, pressing his erection very pointedly right into my stomach."

"Your panties Michaela, where is the thong I tore from you?"

"Er," I started now feeling embarrassed as well as confused. "I'm still wearing it?"

"But why, it's torn."

"It feels odd not to wear panties."

"Ah such modesty, such conforming, such conditioning Michy, we will have to cure you of that" he said kissing me again. "And you being Danish as well?" He went on breaking the kiss, holding my chin and fixing me with that amazingly intense stare of his stunning, but rather cold blue eyes.

Again that feeling of being controlled and directed came over me. I felt I was losing my power to direct myself and was coming under his spell. What the hell was it?

"Yes" I whispered.

"Turn round Michaela."

I had no idea why, but I didn't hesitate for not doing as he asked, well ordered really, simply didn't enter my mind.

"Put your hands against the wall and support yourself."

"Why?"

"Don't ask Michy, you will never need to ask, always just do as I wish please."

I did and leaned forward my arms straight out, my hands against the wall.

I felt him pressing his erection against me, he rubbed it on the silk covering my bottom, the underside of it slipping into the crease of my bum. Then he moved away and, glancing back, I saw that he was kneeling behind me. Being slightly taller than my five feet seven his face was about level with my bum. I saw the long lock of blonde hair flopping over his forehead and watched as he flicked it back into place; I knew it wouldn't stay there, for it hadn't all day.

His fingers were on the hem of my dress and I realised that he was edging it up my bare, tanned legs. That sent a shiver through me, but whether that was of trepidation, lust, concern, embarrassment or excitement I wasn't sure, probably all of them. It went past the top of the back of my knees, up my lower thighs to about mid-thigh, where he stopped. He was muttering something that I couldn't quite make out and then I realised he was speaking in Latin, he sounded like the Pope! He ran his fingers very softly up and down my inner thighs, going almost up as far as the torn thong, but stopping just in time; it was hugely sexy. He pushed my dress up further, very slowly revealing my upper thighs, then my thong covered bottom to him. A gentle tug on that and of course the gusset fell away from the waist band.

"Now what's the point of that Michaela?"

"None really" I admitted as I felt that blue eyed stare on my bottom and pussy.

"Then we should remove it and leave it here for display in my trophy case shouldn't we?"

"What?" I said, genuinely shocked "You'll put it on display?"

"Only for my eyes Michy, when I want to remember you, recall what we did, how we had sex and when I need to masturbate about you."

No man had ever spoken to me like that before and his words crashed into my mind, just as his talk on bisexuality had at the meeting earlier this afternoon.

"Because I will Michaela, I most certainly will masturbate often about this," he whispered stroking the cheeks of my bottom almost with reverence "And this" he continued, running his fingers softly along the lips of my pussy. "And of course these," he went on reaching up between my legs and squeezing my full breasts.

"Oh Guy" I whimpered, now so under his spell I would have done anything he asked.

"Undo the halter neck" he said taking hold of the ruined thong and starting to ease it down my thighs. He quickly removed it as I pulled the Velcro on the halter at the back of the dress apart and let either side fall away from me, my leaning forward position helping it to fall from my boobs. The dress had some inbuilt support that my D verging on DD cup breasts needs, so I wasn't wearing a bra and they were quickly naked.

He was holding my hips, he licked the cheek of my bum.

"You can play with your tits Michy" he said as if he believed I needed his permission. I'm not sure I did, but nevertheless I did cup and squeeze them with one hand as I continued supporting myself with the other.

His lips and tongue were roaming over the cheeks of my bottom kissing and licking the full mounds and then gently nibbling them. That and what I was doing to myself created a wonderful mixture of sexual sensations. But they were nothing compared with what was to come.

I felt him grip, tightly each of my cheeks. I gasped at the sharp pain as his fingernails dug into the soft, pliant flesh as he pulled my cheeks apart and then whimpered with pleasure as that pain combined with the pleasure of the tip of his tongue pressing right on my anus. He lubricated that with his spittle then wiggled his tongue so it slipped in a little way. That and my own caresses on my breasts sent me over the top and he gave me yet another orgasm.

"That's enough for now," he said standing up still fully erect my ripped thong in his hand. "We'll come back to that later won't we Michaela?"