The University Lecturer

It felt a bit weird being asked out by my tutor but she was clearly agitated about the whole thing and the sooner she got it off her chest the better. Besides, for an impecunious student, who'd blown too much of his budget on skiing, it was a free meal!

She picked me up at six o'clock outside my accommodation block in her battered Ford hatchback. I was a bit nervous about being seen getting into her car but it was dark and cold and there were few people about. She drove us to a pub in a village about five miles away and we parked up and went in. It was quite busy for a Monday evening in early January but the table she'd booked that afternoon was by itself in a gloomy alcove, away from the bustle and chatter of the main dining area.

We took off our coats and sat down. Margaret was wearing a trouser suit in black barathea over a white, roll-neck jumper. It was the first time I'd seen her in trousers and I felt that same feeling I'd had at the Christmas ball as I looked at her trim figure and neat bosom under the jumper. She'd made her face up a bit more than usual with a dark foundation, eye-shadow and carefully applied lipstick. She looked nice; a pleasant-looking lady in late middle-age who looked after herself.

The waitress came with our drinks and we gave her a food order and she smiled at us and tripped off and I looked at Margaret across the table and she looked at me.

'Well, here goes,' she said and took a big gulp of her white-wine spritzer. 'You remember me saying I'd never married?' I nodded. 'Well it might surprise you to know that I'm still a virgin, Alan.'

I blinked. That wasn't the sort of admission I'd been expecting.

'When I was doing my doctorate in Durham, I had a relationship with another doctoral student. It lasted a couple of years but we never slept together. That may sound strange to you today but forty years ago it wasn't uncommon for a girl to save herself for the wedding night.

'Unfortunately,' she continued, twirling the stem of her wineglass and staring at the table, 'the wedding night never materialised. He dumped me just after we graduated. I was heartbroken, Alan. I cried for weeks. Then I threw myself into my academic career and the years went by and here I am at sixty-one and I'm still a virgin.

'Oh I've had dates and things like that and I've been kissed and groped a few times but I always stopped before the point of no return. It always seemed the right thing to do. But now I'm not so sure.

'The truth is,' she said, looking up, 'that I decided last year to do something about it.'

'To lose your virginity?' I interjected.

'Yes, Alan, exactly that. The trouble is I've led an insular life in academia; I don't know many men and the ones I do know, those on the academic staff, don't appeal to me at all.'

'And the students are out of bounds, I suppose,' I put in.

'Yes,' she said. 'I mean it's not illegal or anything but professionally it's absolutely out of the question. Which made my behaviour all the more reprehensible.'

'It was just a kiss.'

'It was the intent behind it, Alan,' she replied, sadly. 'I'm a silly old woman whose got a bit of an infatuation with one of her students and I justified it in my head because you're a bit older than most of the undergrads and you and I seemed to have hit it off together. I thought we'd become friends. Silly old trout!

'So I encouraged you to come to the Christmas ball and you turned up looking like Sean Connery in Diamonds are Forever and I had a bottle of Dutch courage and made a ridiculous pass at you! I'm sorry,' she finished, looking miserable.

I reached across the table and took her hand, feeling her slender fingers with their varnished nails grip me. 'I think we have become friends,' I said quietly. 'At least, I hope we have. I've got a lot to thank you for, Margaret. Your teaching and guidance when I first arrived, and in fact for the whole autumn term, was an inspiration. It made me want to work harder, to achieve my potential, to go on to better things. It's given me a completely fresh perspective on literature and I know it'll stay with me for the rest of my career. What's a quick kiss after a skinful of wine compared to that?'

'You did push me away,' Margaret reminded me softly, squeezing my hand.

'I didn't push Dr Margaret Hill away,' I said. 'I didn't push my tutor away. I pushed a drunken lady away. In my experience kissing drunken ladies is a bad idea.

'If you'd been sober, or semi-sober,' I started to say but at that moment the food arrived and by the time the dishes and cutlery had been laid out the moment had passed and we busied ourselves with our food, ignoring the elephant in the room.

I tried to talk about Dickens and Poe as we ate but the conversation was stilted and it was almost a relief when we'd paid the bill, put our coats on and walked into the car park, our breath misty in the cold January air. We didn't talk during the drive back to campus but when we swung in through the gates Margaret asked me if I wanted her to drop me at my accommodation block.

'Or you could come up for a nightcap,' she said, quietly.

'Is that wise?' I asked, my guts turning to iced water.

'Probably not,' she replied, 'but you haven't told me what would have happened after the Christmas ball if I'd been sober.'

She parked in the gravel car park to the side of the old Manor House and we walked through the main entrance into the deserted reception hall. 'Everyone's at dinner,' she explained.

We went up the little winding staircase to her room and she unlocked the door and we went in and she closed the door and leaned back on it as I turned to face her.

'Well' Alan, what would you have done? I'm sober now,' she added.

I've never had a clearer invitation, nor a stranger one. Nor, I realised later, a more erotic one. There was a curiously satisfying sense of sin and wrongdoing about kissing a lady more than ten years older than my mother and I fleetingly wondered if I would look at my own mother in the same light again.

I stepped to her and took her upper arms in my hands and drew her to me, our heads tilting to engage our mouths.

'Oh, Alan,' she breathed and then our lips were pressing together and we were kissing as though our lives depended upon it, mouths open, tongues twining, lips working together, feeling her heat and her presence, pressing her head back against the door, her arms wrapped around my shoulders.

We kissed for long minutes and I tasted my tutor's saliva and her lipstick and smelled her scent and felt her tongue against mine, weaving and thrusting. I dropped my arms to her waist and pressed her to me and she responded by thrusting her loins against mine, rubbing herself wantonly against my erection.

Eventually we broke off, gasping, Margaret clinging tightly to me. 'I've never been kissed like that before,' she whispered in my ear. 'Will you make love to me please, Alan?'

'Is that really what you want, Margaret?' I whispered back, still holding her.

'More than anything,' she said quietly and I realised that I felt the same, that I had an overwhelming urge to take my elderly tutor to bed, to make love to her gently and considerately, to give her as special a time as I knew how.

I took her hand and led her down the passage into her lounge area, where we took off our coats, the only light coming from the security lights in the courtyard outside. I looked around.

'Where's your bedroom?' I asked. I'd only ever been in the lounge area.

Margaret took my hand. 'The other side of the kitchen.' She led me through a door into a tiny galley kitchen and through another door into a little vestibule with three doors. 'Bathroom, spare room and my room,' she indicated, pushing open the door to her room.

I followed her in and found that it was near pitch-dark inside and very warm. The bedroom overlooked the gardens at the back of the Manor House rather than the courtyard and the gardens were in darkness. The only light came from a three-quarters moon which hung in the sky casting its silvery sheen over the lawns and hedges of a formal garden.

It wasn't a bad sized room; I could make out an old-fashioned double bed with brass bedsteads, a big wardrobe and chest of drawers and a small sofa, under the window.

'I took Margaret in my arms and kissed her again, the moonlight reflecting off the lenses in her spectacles. She opened her mouth wide and mashed her lips against mine and I felt a great wave of heat run through me. My God I wanted this lady! Wanted to explore her most intimate places, to smell and taste her and bring her to a shattering climax. But there was something I needed to say first.

'Margaret,' I said softly into her ear, 'if at any time you're not comfortable just say "stop" and we stop. Okay?'

'Yes. And thank you,' she replied.

'Let's get undressed and get into bed,' I suggested.

'Do you mind if we keep the lights off, Alan,' she whispered. I'm a bit shy.'

So we undressed, tutor and pupil, side by side in the darkness of her bedroom on a frosty January evening. I could see only dimly as Margaret took her trouser suit off and laid it on the little sofa. Then she took her spectacles off and put them carefully on her bedside table before pulling her jumper over her head. I was down to my underpants by the time Margaret removed her tights and slipped under the duvet, still wearing her bra and panties. Nerves, I guessed. It was rather touching and tweaked my masculine sense of protection to the gentler sex.

I stripped off my underpants, my cock springing up, and climbed into bed with Margaret for the first time. My eyes were adjusting to the gloom and I could see her head on the pillow, her hair dark against the white linen. I kissed her softly and gently and stroked her hair, her bare shoulders, her arms. Her breathing was short and gaspy with nerves or arousal or a combination of the two.

I was certainly aroused. I was hot and my heart was pounding in my chest and I was experiencing a beautiful sense of intimacy that I had hardly felt with other, younger partners. It felt as though I was in bed with my mother and my guts churned with emotion and excitement.

Still kissing my tutor's lips, I slid my hand down and stroked one of her breasts in its lacy cup. It felt a nice size and firmer than I had imagined; I could feel her nipple stiffening through the fabric and I ran the ball of my thumb over it and Margaret shivered.

'Okay?' I whispered.

'Yes,' she whispered back, her hands on my shoulders, stroking my skin with her long, tapered fingers and red nails.

I slid my hand further down, over her soft, flat stomach, down to her panties. 'Open your legs,' I said softly. She obeyed and shivered again as I cupped her vulva and squeezed it gently, massaging the little fatty mound, feeling her pubic bush through the thin fabric. I pressed two fingertips to her labia and felt the dampness of her secretions soak into her panties. Margaret gasped and pressed her nails into my shoulders.

'Take your bra and panties off,' I told her.

She sat up and reached behind herself and unhooked her bra, letting it fall to the duvet. The she lay back down and took her knickers off and tossed them onto the floor. I kissed her again, my hand going to her naked breast, feeling its weight and warmth, feeling her big nipple against my palm. I squeezed and kneaded her breasts and took her nipples in my mouth, sucking and licking, my hand sliding lower again to find her naked pussy.

She moaned softly as I caressed her cunt, running her silky pubic hair through my fingers, tracing her labia with a fingertip, finally slipping my middle finger into her silken liquid depths, all the way in, as far as it would go, my palm tight against her mound.

Margaret writhed and groaned as I slid a second finger in and curled them up, seeking her G spot. I had worried about her ability to lubricate at her age but her vagina was sopping wet and tight around my fingers, promising good things to come. I fucked her with my fingers, kissing her lips and nibbling the soft skin of her neck. She was making an almost constant low keening noise now, and the pitch increased as I slid my lubricated finger up her slit and found her clitoris in its little hood.

I stroked it and circled it and teased it and Margaret gasped and bucked her hips and dug her nails into my flesh as I pressed harder and stroked faster, feeling her orgasm build, feeling her start to lose control.

Then she was coming, her body shaking, crying out into the darkened room, holding me in a vice-like grip as the sensations wracked her elderly frame and left her gasping and breathless.

As the wave of intense pleasure washed through her and subsided I got between her thighs and guided myself to her pussy. I rubbed the head up and down her labia, parting the fleshy lips, sinking into my tutor, feeling her heat and her juices. Beneath me she was breathing in rapid, shallow gasps as I sank my seven inches of rigid meat into her virgin cunt.

When I was all the way in I stopped and kissed her. 'Does that feel alright?' I asked.

'It's wonderful,' she sobbed, 'wonderful!'

I started to fuck her, very tenderly and gently, sliding halfway out and back in again slowly and deeply. She felt amazing! I could have been fucking an undergraduate, except that I was way more turned on than I would have been with a callow eighteen-year-old.

I kissed my lover as I slid in and out of her and stroked her hair and her neck and her cheeks, feeling the warm tears on them. Margaret mewed quietly, lying still as I took her virginity, as I felt the inevitable rise of my own climax, felt the tingle in my balls, felt it creep up my spine, felt it burst in my brain and scatter shards of pleasure through my soul. Then I was thrusting harder and faster, pumping my pent-up spunk into Margaret's sopping cunt.

Afterwards I held her tightly and she cried quietly for a few minutes so I kissed the tears from her eyes until she was composed again.

'Thank you,' she said in a voice choked with emotion.

We lay together for a long time in that warm, dark bedroom. I stroked Margarets hair and kissed her forehead and listened to her breathing. Taking my tutor's virginity had been a revelation for me, a million miles from what I had imagined it would be like. I had been so turned on, so aroused! The way she had given herself to me, the submissiveness, the complete reversal of the tutor-student relationship. It had massively excited me. And her body had excited me too. Slender and shapely to my touch, her breasts a perfect handful, the nipples fat and juicy, as I liked them. What would be revealed when I saw her in the light, I wondered.

After maybe an hour, Margaret disengaged herself and sat up in bed. 'Would you like some tea?' she asked, incongruously.

She got out of bed and put on a silk dressing gown and went into the kitchen where I heard her filling the kettle. I dressed in the dark and a few minutes later we were sitting side by side on a settee in her lounge, sipping tea from China mugs by the dim light of a table lamp. It was nearly ten o'clock.

I put my arm around her shoulders and pulled her gently to me, kissing the side of her head. 'How are you feeling,' I asked.

Margaret considered for a few seconds, as if I'd asked her what motivated Henry James to write.

'A bit disconnected, if I'm truthful,' she admitted. 'That was quite something that you did to me in the bedroom just now.'

'Well I tried to be as gentle as possible...' I began.

'No, that's not what I meant, Alan. You were wonderful, utterly wonderful. You couldn't have been kinder. But it's... well, it's a big thing for me. It's happened at last and I'm not sure it's sunk in yet. That's the first time a man has penetrated me. And the first time someone other than me has given me an orgasm. It's quite a big deal for an old spinster like me,' she smiled ruefully.

'So you give yourself orgasms do you?' I whispered in her ear.

Margaret blushed and I kissed her again. 'Yes, I do masturbate,' she admitted. 'Quite a lot, recently,' she added. 'Especially since I started tutoring you.

'Was it alright for you, Alan?' she asked softly. 'I mean I'm old but I haven't got any experience. The worst of both worlds.'

'You have a wonderful sexy body and it felt incredible making love to you and I am deeply flattered that you wanted me to be the first,' I said. And I meant it. It had been a fabulous experience. What came next I wondered. I looked at my watch.

'I should be going,' I said. We stood up and moved down the hall to her front door. 'What do I say if I run into the Vice-Chancellor?' I asked, smiling.

Margaret didn't reply. Instead she threw herself into my arms and hugged me and pressed her mouth to mine and we had a long, lingering, liquid kiss as I felt her naked body pressed to me through the thin silk of her gown.

'Do you want to do this again, Alan?' she gasped and I realised that she was intensely anxious and my heart went out to her again, this vulnerable, charming lady who wanted so little from her life.

'Yes,' I reassured her, 'I do. Do you?'

'Oh yes!'

I kissed her again and left her waving to me from her door and I went down the winding staircase and through the blessedly deserted reception hall and out into the night. I went straight to my room and undressed and got into bed. My fingers still smelt of Margaret's cunt and I held them to my nose and inhaled the scent as I masturbated to a messy climax.

As I was cleaning myself up, my phone bleeped. A text message from my tutor.

Dear Alan, Thank you, thank you, thank you for such a wonderful climax (sic) to the evening! Nobody could have done it better or been kinder or more gentle than you. I'm sorry I couldn't ask you to stay the night. It would have been wonderful but too risky. For one thing the Hall Porter comes in with tea at seven o'clock!

I hope you didn't run into the VC! The reception can be quite busy during the evening so if we are going to have some privacy, the best time would be afternoons. You coming to my rooms in the afternoon would look perfectly natural! I have no tutorials on Wednesday or Friday but I don't know how often you would want to visit, this is all new to me.

Let me know as soon as you can!

Margaret xxx

I thought for a few moments and typed a reply.

Dear Margaret, I have nothing on this Wednesday afternoon and would be delighted to visit you. Would straight after lunch suit you?

And so it was that at one-thirty on the day after next I presented myself at Margaret's flat in the old Manor House and she let me in and closed the door.

I was, if anything, more nervous and excited than I had been on Monday evening. This afternoon I would see my elderly lover naked in the daylight. The thought was both alluring and slightly scary. What if she was very wrinkled? I looked forward to exploring her most intimate places, tonguing her vagina, licking her clitoris, perhaps running a stray fingertip over her anus. But what would her pussy look like? Would I want to lick it?

I reached for Margaret and kissed her as soon as the door was shut. She was wearing the silk dressing gown that I'd last seen her in and I could feel her nakedness under the thin material. She opened her mouth to allow me to explore her with my tongue and I slid a hand into her robe and cupped one of her bare breasts, warm and soft and heavy in my palm. Margaret made a little cooing noise and pressed herself to me, the bulge of her vulva pressing into my crotch, pressing against my steel-hard cock.

'Take me to bed please, Alan,' she whispered and I took her hand and led her through the lounge and the little kitchen and vestibule and into her bedroom where I saw that she had already closed the curtains.