A Game of Consequences

Chapter 9. Slipping in at the Back

Colin Dawson wasn't what I was expecting. From my table in the station café, I'd been watching this guy with a small suitcase, standing on the platform edge. Then Jill appeared, looking very tasty in a t-shirt, tight jeans and trainers, went up to him and linked arms. I thought for a moment she was going to push him onto the tracks, but he bent to kiss her.

He was tall - probably a few centimetres taller than me - and quite stocky, with a shock of dark curly hair. I wouldn't have called him 'handsome', but then what did I know about the kind of men that women fancied? I'd wanted him to be an ugly brute, clearly unsuited to the woman I'd persuaded myself back in Rome that I loved - and he wasn't. He seemed a reasonably well-presented, quite fit man who wasn't bad-looking and who seemed to have real affection for Jill.

His train arrived, and he spent some time kissing his wife before boarding. After the train pulled out, Jill stood on the platform for maybe half a minute, seemingly lost in thought. Then she turned and headed out of the station, glancing in my direction and nodding very slightly, but without pausing. I got up and followed. I guessed that, on a Sunday evening, it wasn't impossible that someone who knew her - a pupil, a parent, a neighbour - might be travelling or seeing someone off, and it would be best if we weren't spotted together.

As I emerged from the ticket hall, I could see Jill heading to the car park, so I followed. When she reached her car, she opened the rear passenger door and then got into the driver's seat. I took the hint, and slipped into the back, dropping my bag onto the floor beside me.

"I didn't want us to be seen together..." she began.

"Sure," I interrupted, "I understand. But why the back seat?"

"When we arrive at my house I need you to lie down. I don't want the neighbours to see me bringing a guy home when I've just taken my husband to the station. I'll put the car straight in the garage - I often do that - and you can get out when we're out of sight."

The garage had a door that led into the kitchen. Jill went to the fridge and poured two glasses of white wine. She handed one to me and took a large swig of her own.

"You know, I nearly abandoned this meeting. My husband's infidelity is, he claims, over. Yet here I am, still getting my revenge."

"Is that what this is to you? Revenge?"

"No, of course not," she replied. "But I just kissed goodbye to the man with whom I intend to start a new life in Edinburgh in a few weeks, and then casually brought home a boy who's expecting to fuck me senseless over the next 36 hours or so. Can you see why I might feel a bit conflicted?"

"Sure, but I can make you feel better. Much better. Because I'm not a boy anymore, thanks to you." I moved in and kissed her. After a moment when I felt her body tense, she relaxed in my arms and returned the kiss with affection. Finally, we separated.

"You realise this will be the end of it? On Tuesday morning, if we ever meet again, it will be as pupil and ex-teacher. Nothing more than that?"

I sighed. "Yes, Jill, I get it. But for now - well, let's park that thought. For the next 36 hours, we're in a bubble of our own needs and desires. The outside world is - well, outside. And we're here, now."

I kissed her again and started tugging at her t-shirt.

"Hey, easy tiger," she replied. "We have thirty-six hours or so, by which time I'm expecting to be exhausted and possibly sore. Let's not rush. I'm going to have a shower and I suggest you do likewise. I'll use the one in our en-suite and you can use the main bathroom. But let's finish our wine first."

"Or take it up to the bedroom. I don't know about you, but I've been looking forward to this for weeks. I'm pretty sex-starved and I'm dying to get reacquainted with your gorgeous body, so please don't keep me waiting too long." Thanks to Sharon, I wasn't really sex-starved, but I needed to plead my case.

"Fine. Take your glass upstairs - and your bag. We might do some dressing up. Put them in the bedroom - end of the landing - then have a shower and join me. I'll take the rest of the bottle."

The bedroom was huge, at least by the standards I was used to at the time. The bed was bigger than a standard double, and the furniture looked expensive. I noticed there was a cheval mirror that was positioned so that, from some angles, you could see yourself in bed. I doubted that Jill and Colin used it just for checking their clothing before going out. But I put my bag down near the bed, parked my glass on the bedside cupboard and headed back down the landing to the bathroom. After my shower, with just a towel wrapped around me, I padded back to the bedroom.

Jill was standing, facing the mirror, spectacularly naked.

"What do you think?" she asked, not turning around.

I placed my hands on her shoulders and bent to kiss the back of her neck. "You look amazing," I replied.

"Not bad for an old bird?"

"Amazing for a woman of any age." She turned her head and I leaned forward to kiss her lips. The towel slipped from around my waist and my cock sprang free to press against her lower back.

"Ah, so you're demonstrating that you're interested in me. I can feel that something's come up."

I kissed her again, and then she turned back and looked at our reflection in the mirror.

"Yes, I think we look quite attractive together," she remarked.

"We look seriously hot," I replied, "especially you." I slid my hands slowly down her arms, then across onto her flat abdomen and up to her nicely curved breasts. Meanwhile, she snaked a hand behind her and took hold of my cock, and started stroking it up and down. I kept kissing and licking her neck, behind her ears, across her shoulders and the backs of her upper arms. Then, reluctantly, I pulled myself free of her grip and slid to my knees, letting my tongue trail down her spine while running my hands back down to her hips. I bent to lick her inner thighs, then across her firm buttocks, finally using my hands to gently part them as my tongue probed between them.

She giggled as I teased her tight pink starfish. Then I knelt even lower so that I could lick into the back of her pussy, while one hand went around to cup the front and insinuate a finger into her slit. She parted her legs wider and bent forward, placing her hands on the mirror frame to give me easier access. I licked, I rubbed her clit, I moved my other hand around and slowly inserted a finger inside her silky cunt, which was already quite juicy.

And we stayed like that for a few minutes, Jill getting more breathless by the moment. Then she gasped "Sta- stand up."

I removed my finger from her wet fuck hole and carefully stood, allowing my erect cock to slip between her legs and rub up and down her slit. She let out a low moan.

"Stick it - stick it in," she murmured.

"OK. Just let me get a rubber from..."

"No! Do it now. I'm - I'm on the pill. I want - want to feel it. I want you to cum inside me. Please."

Now, I was eighteen and while, thanks principally to Jill and Phoebe, I'd fucked enough times to maintain some control, I'd never fucked a girl bareback. Remember that this was a time when AIDS was a huge scare and nobody in their right mind and out of a long-term monogamous relationship wanted unprotected sex. But I knew I had no STIs and assumed that Jill would be equally confident. So I went for it.

I spread my legs wide to bring my crotch to the right height, led the beast to the well with my hand and let him dive in. Jill let out a throaty moan as I tried to ensure maximal contact with the front of her vaginal wall. And let me tell you, that was tough. I was eighteen, my cock had never been inside a woman's pussy without a rubber coat, and here I was, the hyper-sensitive frenulum under the head of my cock making firm contact with the front wall of the first hot, silky, wet cunt it'd ever been privileged to explore naked. Condoms had been a natural part of my control regime until then. Without the desensitising rubber, my own arousal ratcheted up insanely. My hand was still cupping her furry mound, my finger still strumming her clit, and I hoped that this would get her to orgasm before me. For good measure, I moved my other hand around to cup and squeeze a breast, squeezing the nipple between my fingers and pulling gently.

But I knew I needed to employ my control techniques. I closed my eyes and mentally recited the sequence of kings and queens again in my head. I'd got as far as William IV when Jill panted "Richard - look at me!" I opened my eyes again and, in the mirror, I could see Jill's gorgeous face, her mouth open, her eyes half-closed, looking back at me.

"If - I look at you, you're - you're so sexy, I'm - I'm going to come - too soon," I gasped back.

"Enjoy it. If you - if you come - you can - you can finish me with - with your mouth and - with your fingers. Just - just fuck me - fuck me hard." She was breathing heavily.

I tried; I really did. I even started to recall the consorts of the English monarchs. I started with Matilda of Flanders, Queen Consort to William I and managed to get as far as Isabella of Valois, Richard II's second wife, before Jill's hot, silky, juicy cunt, the sight of her delectable body in the mirror and her moans of "Oh yes. Oh, fuck me harder!" tipped me over the edge.

There is honestly no comparison between coming inside rubber and squirting your semen into a wet, welcoming womanhole. Before my first bareback fuck with Jill, I'd enjoyed the wetness of a few female mouths, including unloading into Phoebe's, Jill's and Sharon's - and, albeit much too quickly, into Kathy Barber's. Now, pumping into a girl's mouth is a thousand times better than coming into rubber. But my first experience of feeling the fantastic release of coming inside Jill's juicy fuck-hole was deliriously joyful. I think I must've moaned loud enough to have been heard by the neighbours if Jill hadn't thoughtfully closed the bedroom windows earlier.

I kept thrusting for as long as I could while frantically rubbing her clit. I even moved my hand around from her tit, moistened a fingertip with the abundant juices that we'd produced, and inserted it into her puckered arsehole, up to the second knuckle. But, by then. My erection was rapidly deflating and she still wasn't there. When my cock finally slipped out, she turned to me and said "Finish me. On the bed."

After another minute, with her legs spread wide, a finger embedded deeply in each of her holes and my mouth focused on her clit, she was bucking and squealing as I felt her coming. And a few minutes later, we were lying side by side on her bed, casually sipping the remains of our rather warm wine. It tasted odd, mixed with the flavour of Jill's juices and my semen.

"I hope you didn't mind coming inside me like that. It's a bit messy, but having semen trickle out of me afterwards makes me feel horny again."

"Mind? It was amazing. That's the first time I've been inside a girl - a woman - without a condom. I'm sorry I lost control."

"That's OK; it's what I expected. And the mouth-work afterwards was excellent. Thank you, Richard. Now, I know you've eaten but I need to get us something more substantial if we're to have the energy to try again. Pasta?"

In the dining room, she produced two bowls of tortellini with a mushroom sauce. We sat and started eating. She'd pulled on a short robe that looked very sexy on her. I was just in my underpants.

"This is good. You put it together really quickly."

"I didn't; Waitrose did. You just heat it up in a couple of minutes. I'm not intending to offer Michelin-starred catering, you know. I might offer some Michelin-starred fucking later."

"I wasn't expecting culinary delights. I was expecting to use my mouth for other purposes. I'm hoping you might do likewise."

"Possibly." She gave me a 'naughty' smile, but then her expression changed. "You know, I nearly called this whole weekend off," she said, putting down her glass and giving me a rather sad look.

"What? But we..."

She put a finger to my lips. "Look, Richard, I'm a married woman. Having sex with you is exciting and fun, but I have to be practical. A divorce right now would be a major disaster for me. I thought that my marriage was back on an even keel, and the move to Edinburgh would be a fresh start for Colin and me."

"But?"

"But when I came home on Tuesday, Colin was on the phone. He saw me and said, 'Sorry Mike, gotta go. Jill's home and I need to cook dinner. See you around.' Well, I thought nothing more of it. Over dinner, I asked what Mike had wanted, and Colin said his friend had called to see if we wanted to go for a pub meal on Sunday evening. Colin said he'd explained that he was off to Edinburgh and we couldn't. I thought no more about it, except - except on Tuesday, Penny, Mike's wife, turned up in the school office with a sports bag that their daughter Lynette had forgotten. She's in the First Year, in Mr Gould's class. We said hello and, in passing, Penny said how she was being run ragged by the kids because Mike was away on business in Zurich and wouldn't be back until next Wednesday. That's when I realised that Colin was lying again, and I finally decided that this little adventure was back on."

"What about Edinburgh?"

"Well, I hope the call was him saying goodbye to his tart. It's going to be difficult for him to keep a physical relationship going when the vagina in question is four hundred miles away. I'll see how things pan out over the next few months. But what about you? You're moving on and my legs will be closed to you after Tuesday morning, so what's next for the lithe Mr. Watson?"

"Well, I - er - I met a girl. In Oxford. She's going to be at the same college, assuming we both get our grades."

"And when you say 'met', do you mean..."

"Er, well, we sort of exchanged bodily fluids."

"With a protective layer of rubber involved, I hope, or I may regret offering you my naked pussy."

"Of course. Like I said, yours was the first one I've sampled 'au naturel'. But we did consume a lot of juices."

"Ah, I see. And you're implying it wasn't just a one-night stand?"

"No. I'm going to visit her home next weekend. We've been corresponding."

Jill smiled. "Good. I would have been disappointed if you became celibate. It would be a waste, given everything I've taught you. I'll want to check out what you've learned, and maybe teach you some more before this little adventure is through. I'm going to be ready for round two soon. Go up and change into your school uniform. I'll take these dishes into the kitchen and join you back here in a few minutes."

I popped into the bathroom to clean Jill's juices from my face and my sex equipment and sprayed on a bit of cologne. Then I dressed in my uniform, neglecting underpants, combed my hair and headed downstairs. On the dining room table was a notepad and a pen. At the top of the first sheet, Jill had written 'Detention task: write 100 times "I must not say 'fuck' in class."

I started. The first two lines followed Jill's instructions but then, as I suspected she wanted, I started to diverge. When she returned, she was wearing an old-fashioned teacher's robe over her dress. When I'd first started at the Grammar school, seven years earlier, a few of the older teachers still wore them, apparently to reduce how much chalk dust got on their clothes. By the time I'd entered the Sixth Form, they'd become both archaic and largely redundant as we'd moved to whiteboards and pens. I noticed that, although it was late July, she was wearing tights - or, more likely, stockings - and the heels she had on were not suitable for a day in the classroom.

She peered over my shoulder at the lines I'd written. They went something like this:

I must not say 'fuck' in class.

I must not say 'fuck' in class.

I must not fuck in class

I really must not fuck in class

I really want to fuck in class

I really want to fuck in class

I really want to fuck Mrs Dawson over her desk

"Richard," she said in a stern voice, "I put you in detention to teach you a lesson. It seems that you're reluctant to learn. I think I've got to increase the severity of the punishment. Stand up. Now bend over and place your hands on the table."

As soon as I'd done so, she smacked my arse. It wasn't hard or painful, so I didn't move. She did it again. And again.

"It seems I'm not yet causing you enough discomfort. Very well, you leave me no choice. Unfasten your trousers."

"What, Miss?"

"Unfasten them and slide them down to your knees."

"But Miss..."

"Do it, Richard."

I slowly undid and unzipped my trousers and pulled them down as she'd demanded. Then I pulled up my shirt so that my bare arse was ready for the smacking I knew it was about to get. My cock was already mostly hard.

She smacked me, again not very hard. I'm not that much into BDSM - or, at least, I wasn't then and I still don't like inflicting or receiving serious pain - so while it was exciting to have Jill smack my buttocks, it wasn't giving me any particular pleasure. But then she said, "What do we have here, Mr Watson?" And she reached underneath me and took hold of my cock.

"It's my cock, Miss. I'm sure you've held one before, Miss. I'm sure you've fucked one before. Probably more than one - OW!"

She smacked my arse again, this time rather harder, but she also started stroking my cock. It was just like the fantasies we'd discussed in Rome.

"It's no business of yours how many cocks I've held or fucked, Richard. The point is that I have yours in my hand, and it's hard. How do you explain this?" She smacked me again.

"Ow! Well, Miss, you're hot and sexy and you're stroking my cock. Of course I'm hard. But you're playing with fire, Miss."

"How so?" She smacked me again, but I almost didn't feel it, distracted as I was by her skilled hand-job.

"If you keep doing this, Miss, you might - might get fucked."

"Really? And how's that going to happen?"

"Like this..." I said, stood up and reached out to her. She was still holding my cock, but I was kissing her, pulling her robe open. The dress underneath was interesting, to say the least. It was black, short, strapless and had a zip down the front; all the way down the front, with a large ring on the zip tag. I took hold of the ring and pulled it down.

And Jill, the sexy, fit babe I'd sampled several times before, burst out of the dress, which dropped to the floor. No bra, stockings

with suspenders,

tiny, transparent, tie-sided panties. Hot as absolute fuck.

"What do you think you're doing, Mr Watson?"

"I'm getting us both ready to fuck," I replied with an insolent grin.

"And if I don't want to? Are you going to rape me?"

"I don't think it'll be a problem. Not after

this

." My hands moved down to her hips, and I pulled on the bows securing her panties. As they fluttered free, I swept my hands up under her arms, and in one swift movement, lifted her onto the table, her stockinged legs dangling.

And then I was on my knees, my face between her silky thighs, plunging my tongue into that juicy slit. And yes, she was very juicy. She'd clearly been as turned on by our little play as I'd been. Her hands settled on my head. Pressing my face deeper as she moaned gently. I concentrated on licking as I struggled to shrug off my blazer and unbutton my shirt. I almost strangled myself with my tie, but I finally managed to deposit an unruly pile of clothes behind me and I could then focus on using my hands as well as my mouth.

Jill seemed to be oblivious to my attempt to undress, instead intent on feeding me large mouthfuls of her pussy. My tongue found her drooling fuck-hole and penetrated it as deeply as it could. Then it snaked out - with some difficulty, as Jill was pressing me in place so tightly that I could barely breathe - and worked its way up to her clit.