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The most seductive thing about Nathalie was the fact that she was utterly forbidden. She was a first year undergrad at my college, and I am a married man, dependent on my job and in deep shit if I should lose it. The consequences on my part were about as serious as they could get were I to be caught in a compromising situation with one of my students. But, as I say, that was the most seductive thing about her. The devil on my left shoulder kept whispering in my ear all the way through that first semester, and I was experienced enough with female undergrads to be able to distinguish the merely flirty from the serious propositions.
The first time it struck me that Nathalie was up for it was when she returned to my room half an hour after my tutorial law class had ended to collect her keys that she’d “accidentally” left behind on the floor. The keyring attached to them gave her room number and mobile number, and when she knocked shyly on my door to see if I had found them I saw she had been back to her room to change. Clearly she either had a second set of keys or she had left her room open. Either way, what I chiefly saw was a gorgeous nineteen year-old in a white blouse and short skirt looking up at me with a curious look in her eyes.
It was the belly button that did it for me. The blouse was one of those short ones that tied across the midriff exposing her stomach. That and the fact that she’d undone the top three buttons to expose more than a hint of red lacy bra – and the skirt that didn’t quite reach her knees – meant that what I was mainly faced with was nubile young flesh. And she knew how to flaunt it.
I knew Nathalie was dating Guy – a final year student in the physics department. She knew I was married to Gaynor, at 34 six years my junior and a researcher at a lab on the outskirts of town. Gaynor is smoking hot, and I knew if ever I strayed it would not be because I had lost any desire for her but simply because a man, however regularly he feats on caviar and fine wine, will occasionally prefer a helping of tender lamb.
I kept Nathalie talking a while that afternoon and we eyed each other up in the way that predators eye their prey before pouncing. When she finally left with her keys I had promised to call by later that day with a book I had mentioned being useful to her course and that I believed was in the Old Library – a venue only accessible by staff. She said she’d be in around 11 PM and I was welcome to drop by.
When I called at 11 that night she answered the door in a bathrobe and negligee. The room, a student single room containing only a single bed, a wardrobe, a desk and a couple of shelves showed the feminine touch. She had laid a rug on the floor, decorated the walls with ballet posters and put fresh flowers in vases on the windowsill and desk. An iPhone in a dock was playing Chopin and the room was lit by a single vanilla scented candle. It was warm. She had the heating on high, and she had poured herself a glass of wine. She now went over to the small sink in the adjoining bathroom to fetch me a glass and poured me one too. It was chianti. As she gave it to me she slipped off the bathrobe and sat on the bed in a pale grey silk negligee that finished halfway up her thighs and through which I could clearly see two pert and erect nipples.
I decided to savour the moment. I slipped off my jacket and shoes and sipped the wine while I asked her about herself and her life at the college so far. She played along, telling me all about her family güvenilir canlı bahis siteleri and her home town and saying complimentary things about my course and the way I impressed her with my knowledge of the context behind each of the cases we discussed. At one point she teasingly lifted a leg and pushed my knee with her toe. I caught her foot and stroked it.
“Mmmm, that feels nice” she said, lying back and stretching her leg out to me so I could continue stroking it.
“Well, I should hope so, Nathalie,” I said “considering all the practice I’ve had over the years at massage.”
“Well, if you want to practise on me, be my guest!” she said softly.
I moved over to the bed and put my hands to her neck. I drew her towards me and kissed her deeply on the mouth. Her tongue flicked into my mouth and we stayed together in an open mouthed kiss for about a minute while I fumbled my belt off and removed my trousers. She unbuttoned my shirt and I pushed her onto the bed as I slipped off my boxers. My cock was already fully erect and she saw it and reached down to stroke it. I could tell she intended to take my cock into her mouth, and that is always a wonderful feeling of course when you are a forty year old man and a nineteen year old girl is sucking your sperm into her nubile young mouth, but on this occasion I just wanted to fuck her cunt and ejaculate into her.
I gently tugged her negligee and she obligingly slipped it off. her tits were amazing. I sucked one of her nipples and tweaked the other gently between thumb and forefinger. while I stroked her cunt with the other hand. It was already streaming wet and I parted her thighs and positioned myself to penetrate her.
“Just don’t cum inside me,” she whispered as I entered her.
Disappointed with that but still determined to fuck her I thrust inside and went almost up to the hilt in the first thrust. She was literally running wet with desire and she groaned loudly as I pushed my swollen stiff cock into her. I continued to nibble at her nipple as it was obvious this was driving her insane with desire, and I also surreptitiously moved my hand under her ass so I could gently probe her asshole with one finger tip.
She was so tight I knew I couldn’t last long so I worked on her ass as that was the most likely to bring her to orgasm. However, it was when I slightly changed the angle of my thrusting that she started moaning “Oh god! yes, there, just there!” in my ear, and within thirty seconds of doing that she was clenching her toes across my ass and scratching my back to shreds as she came audibly and violently.
I was thrusting the whole time and I could feel my balls about to explode what felt like it would be pints of hot fresh cum inside her cunt. But she had asked me not to cum inside her and so I withdrew in time to see the first of eight or nine full spurts spatter onto her stomach.
We lay there for a few minutes holding each other and kissing as the realisation dawned on both of us that we had crossed a line together. After half an hour I kissed her on the mouth once more and left. I went to my car and drove the three miles home through the country lanes and to Gaynor, who was already asleep. I showered quickly and slipped into bed with her. She was naked, and I enjoyed the warmth of her body as I moved toward her and drifted into sleep.
It was three months later and Nathalie and I had adopted a pattern of fucking in my room at lunchtimes once or twice a week and güvenilir illegal bahis siteleri checking into a day use hotel in a nearby town on Friday afternoons. I used Nathalie to fulfil my wildest fantasies, and she seemed to use me in an equivalent way as it was clear she had a thing about older men. We tied each other up, dabbled in dressing up and she let me spank her and fuck her anally. For my part I generally had to be dominant over her – although I drew the line at her request for a golden shower. About two weeks into our affair I broke her rule and came inside her. I held her tightly while I emptied my balls into her and I saw a look of desire on her face turn to temporary alarm as she realised what was happening, and then she held me in the most passionate kiss of my life and squeezed my ass tighter than I thought I could stand, seeming to want to milk me into her willing cunt.
We got away with it, but from then on I used condoms with her. I couldn’t trust myself to hold out, she was simply too hot.
All this while, she was still fucking Guy and I was still having great sex with Gaynor. But events were to take a strange turn that summer.
The College Ball was an annual event in June which was traditionally a costume ball. It was held at the Ranelagh – the most expensive hotel in the town and one that had recently received a second Michelin star for its restaurant. Gaynor and I were going to the ball that year as the Phantom of the Opera and Christine. Gaynor had a fabulous ball gown to wear as Christine and I had my usual dinner jacket and a phantom’s mask. We looked great together and I looked forward to the night.
We arrived at about 8 PM for the formal dinner and mingled with the other guests, including the after-dinner speaker – a well known British Olympian who had won golds in two consecutive Games. The dinner concluded in time-honoured fashion with the gentlemen remaining at table to enjoy brandy and cigars and the ladies retiring to the lounge to play whist and to wait for us to join them for the dancing that would begin at 10:30. Somewhere during the brandy course I realised my mask, which I had removed for the dinner, was missing. It didn’t really matter as everyone had seen Gaynor and I enter and we had received gratifying plaudits for how we looked. In my dinner jacket I looked perfectly respectable and the mask wasn’t of any use to me after the night so I gave it no more thought.
Shortly before 10:30 I wandered into the lounge with the others and found that Gaynor wasn’t there. I looked around the room for a few minutes but it wasn’t really big enough to lose someone in a distinctive ball gown such as Gaynor was wearing so I assumed she was in the ladies room and I fell in with a conversation with some of my fellow faculty members. I kept looking for her but she was nowhere to be seen and it wasn’t until 11 that I finally spotted her. She was coming from the lift lobby and was looking happier than I might have expected of a wife who had been abandoned by her husband (as I knew she would see it). However, she simply squeezed my arm as she approached and said “Well, you got her quickly, my darling!”
We danced and socialised, and at 1 AM we finally said goodbye to the dean and the chancellor and walked to the car.
“Well, that’s one I won’t forget in a hurry,” said Gaynor, lolling her head onto my shoulder as I pulled the Mercedes round out of the car park. “By the way, where’s the mask?”
“Oh, I don’t know. güvenilir bahis şirketleri I must have dropped it somewhere I suppose,” I said.
“That’s a shame,” said my smoking hot wife. “I’m up for a repeat performance if you are once we get home.”
“Repeat performance?” I said.
“Yes, but without the mask it wouldn’t be the same.” she replied. “By the way, the room was lovely. I hope it didn’t cost too much considering we’re not staying there tonight.”
“Room?” I said, uncomprehendingly.
“Yes, darling. Are you alright? Are you sure you’re safe to drive? I hope you haven’t had so much to drink that you’ll end up forgetting what was the best sex we’ve ever had.”
“Gaynor, what are you talking about?” I finally said. “Sunday morning was lovely, but I would hardly describe it as…”
“Oh don’t be silly,” Gaynor interrupted me. “I’m talking about tonight, of course. The mask just made it that much more mysterious and seductive. I’m getting wet again just thinking about it.”
“Are you saying…?” I started to say. And then a terrible realisation hit me, and the rest of my sentence stuck in my throat.
“Darling,” said Gaynor, “I don’t want to over-analyse it, but I loved you being rough with me and all that dirty talk. The way you smacked me on the ass before you entered me. It felt exciting and new. And the mask just added to the spice. It was fantastic, and I want to do it again sometime.”
“Talk me through it from your point of view,” I managed to croak out. My throat was dry and I could feel my voice was crackly.
“Oh it was lovely the way you came onto me. I thought you were still out there drinking brandy. I saw this tall tuxedo wearing masked man take me by the hand and guide me wordlessly to the lift. I loved the way you kept up the silence even when I asked you where you were taking me. I loved the thoughtfulness of the room you had booked for us, and the four poster bed. I loved the way you suddenly adopted that fake voice to talk dirty to me, to call me your whore and to order me to strip. I loved the roughness, the slapping and the raw caveman-like sex. I loved the way you fingered my ass and made me cum six times in less than half an hour. And I loved the way you came into my pussy even though we’d said we’d hold off on trying for a family for another six months. You remembered I’d told you this was my most fertile time and to get pregnant in such a setting and under such circumstances would just be the icing on the cake. It was wonderful, darling, and I want you to do it all to me exactly the same way when we get home.”
I somehow managed to keep silent and to hear the whole thing out. When we got home I pretended to be tired and simply went to sleep with my back to her. The word that kept coursing through my mind was “Who?”
Who the fuck had taken my wife and fucked her wearing my mask – who had given her such exquisite sex that she had cum six times in thirty minutes. Most of all, who had quite possibly impregnated her tonight, wearing my mask and with Gaynor thinking it was me? It was like the plot of a Hitchcock film! Who?
There was a holiday the following Monday, and on Tuesday I had a day to cover at our seminar centre in Cardiff, so it was Wednesday before I got back to my office. There was an envelope pushed under the door and I guessed it would be a note from Nathalie confirming our next private meeting. But the handwriting was a man’s script, and it was one I didn’t recognise. I read the short note inside.
“Hi, Mr. Jackson. Hope you enjoyed the taste of your own medicine as much as your wife enjoyed my cock. Nathalie won’t be coming to your lessons any more. If you want to take this further, I’ll happily spill the beans to the college authorities. Or you can cut your losses and we’ll call it even. Guy”
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