Okay, back to the correct numbering of the parts now. Has there really been six? I wonder how many of you, if any, have read all of them? Why not let me know if you have, or haven't come to that. By the way thanks to all of you who've taken the time to reply with, mostly thank goodness, nice mails and compliments. Please, though do let me know of anything you don't like or find hard to understand.
If you've read the previous parts you'll know you can skip the rest of the intro and go straight to the action
You'll also know that I'm writing a series of accounts about my life in England; mainly true accounts, with just a little embellishing here and there. They're about my sex life to be precise, but then what other type of life is written about on Lit?
A biography I suppose, but a short one and an unfinished one. Is it arrogant for a, nearly, twenty one year old to write a bio? Probably, but then, hey, what the hell, I want to tell my short story so let's see just how many want to read it.
How many want to read about how I lost my virginity when I was eighteen, had an affair with a thirty something man just after that and how since then I've been strongly attracted to older men. About my time at university, learning about girls and how male lecturers ignore the no fraternising with female students rule. How I became a photographic model, part-time and my conflict over what goes on in the studio when there's just the model and the cameraman there.
The accounts flow naturally and are intrinsically linked. I strongly urge you to read them in the sequence I wrote them. Whatever way you do read them, though, enjoy them, leave whatever comments you wish and e-mail me if you'd like to discuss anything.
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A New Start
Chapter 1
The man and the woman were kneeling on the mat facing each other. The personal trainer was wearing a singlet and blue track trousers which had been pushed down round his knees. He was hugely erect. The woman was holding his erection between her hands staring at it with an almost reverential look on her face. The straps of her leotard had been pushed down so that her breasts were completely bare. Her nipples were fiercely hard I noticed, as I watched the personal trainer's hands squeezing and kneading her full breasts.
I watched closely as the woman's face contorted with the pleasure she was receiving. Her mouth was open and her eyes were closed, she was moving her head slowly from side to side. I was transfixed standing in the doorway looking at the hugely erotic scene unfolding before me.
Maybe the woman sensed something, or I may have made a noise, possibly a little gasp of excitement, but suddenly she turned and stared directly at me.
I met my mother's eyes across the room and without a word I quietly closed the door.
Chapter 2
I'd arrived home unannounced from Bristol where I was at university studying English. I hated it and had desperately wanted to leave for some time. I'd told mum and dad a few months ago how unhappy I was and that I wanted to chuck it in, but they wouldn't let me and reluctantly I'd started the second year. But that had got too much so one Thursday I just packed my bags, left and came home and that's how I found my mum just about to fuck her personal trainer.
I'd lasted through the Christmas term largely due to the drama club and my involvement in the script-writing, adaptation and staging of the Joe Orton play, "What the Butler Saw." David Deekins, or DD as I thought of him, a lecturer who gave time to the students' drama club, was the director of the play and had become my older, married lover during its production. Stephanie, who was studying economics and had played the lead, the doctor's wife and a nymphomaniac, in the play, had become my lesbian, well more lipstick lesbian, lover during the same period. That play had a lot to answer for didn't it? Neither David nor Steph had known of my relationship with the other until the last night of the play; but more of that later.
I'd suspected for some time that my mum, who was not yet forty at the time, was not totally faithful to my dad who was some ten years her senior. I had no proof, but a woman can tell the way another female, even if she is your mum, looks at other men can't she? And several times I'd thought that a tennis or golf coach, a man that did work in the house and even a pool attendant on holiday got the sort of look from her that said more than just thank you! That made me at times hate her almost as much as I loved my dad.
For all my life I'd been very much a daddy's girl. I'd always been able to twist him round my little finger and he was so indulgent and generous to me that it made some people really think I was a spoiled bitch, which, actually, I guess I am in many ways. I'd been so surprised when he'd refused to let me leave uni last term, for I was used to getting my own way with him and I was dreading telling him that I'd left. I didn't like to hurt him and really I wanted him to be proud of me. But somehow, I never quite seemed to have the moral fibre to do that. I didn't stick at things, I didn't push myself to excel and I didn't strive for excellence and achievement the way he did. Why not when I so wanted to please him? Who knows?
As a lot of people, rather uncouthly I've always thought, say I was absolutely "gobsmacked" at dad's reaction. Sure he ranted, of course he swore at me and told me how stupid I was and naturally, being a money-obsessed property developer, he threatened to cut off my allowance and almost my inheritance, but he didn't say no. He didn't, as I'd feared he might, totally and utterly reject what I had to say. No, amazingly, he took it quite well and basically said that it was my life, well what he actually said was, "It's your bloody bed you lie in it."
As he said that I met my mother's eyes across the room and we both smiled.
Chapter 3
But I get ahead of myself. I leave some business unattended to, some events not explained, some activities not fully described. I haven't covered all the important, character forming and life-style shaping things that happened to me during my last few months at university. I haven't, for instance' told you about me giving DD a blow job have I? And what can be more important, character forming and life style shaping than deciding whether to spit or swallow?
"Oh God Sam, that's fabulous," David moaned as my tongue ran the length of his erection. "Mmmmm, so good, it's so, so good," he continued as for the first time I performed oral love on a man.
Due to the odd sexual predilections of dirty Dicky, my first longer term lover, well six weeks is a fairly long time at eighteen, I'd been a late starter at really getting down to it. So it wasn't until I'd been at uni a year or so that a mouth found its way between my legs and my tongue slid between a pair of opened thighs.
My starter, though late, for I was approaching my nineteenth birthday, was in many ways incredible. Not only did I that afternoon in a hotel bedroom find the joys and pleasures of oral sex but also I found the joys and pleasures of having and doing it with a woman. Yes, my initiation into making love with tongues, teeth, lips and mouth was with a woman, my lipstick lesbian lover Stephanie Gordon, an economics student and fellow member of the university drama club.
It had been a good month. I'd seduced a lecturer, David Deekins who helped the students run the drama club, I'd established a pattern of afternoon or early evening sex with him and I'd found the pleasures of sex with my own gender. Not bad for a four week period in winter!
David had been fucking me for a couple of weeks. Afternoon fucks mainly as we discussed the script for the play. It was really the only time we could both make it. He had lectures most mornings and tutorials most evenings, so it was mainly mid afternoons when we could fit each other in, or as I quipped one day, fit into each other! But that didn't bother me for I've always felt that afternoon sex is so much dirtier than at any other time, know what I mean?
Don't get me wrong it wasn't every afternoon. He had to do some work and I did have other demands on my time, mainly Steph actually, when I come to think about it! And of course as he was a lecturer, a married one at that, discretion was paramount, so I couldn't and didn't tell a soul, even Steph that he and I were a number and, of course, I couldn't just keep vanishing from my mates without some explanations could I? So my fling with David had to be kept under wraps.
Neither of us was under any illusions about where our "affair" was going; absolutely nowhere was the answer, we both knew that. He had a wife who worked and live in London. One of them would visit the other each weekend and often he'd go up for a night most weeks; it was only ninety minutes by train. His marriage was as important to him as his job and I knew, accepted and totally understood that I shouldn't sod up either. After all an affair with a man twenty years your senior is one thing, much else is just not on. I mean its fine twenty to forty isn't, but forty to sixty is a whole new ball game. So I was completely in tune with his requirements and was totally prepared to be what he needed. A fuckmate. And in the end that's what I wanted as well. A no strings older guy who in exchange for my relatively fresh youthfulness and, so I'm told, tight pussy, would teach me all I needed to know about sex. Seems fair to me even now!
I guess it was our third or fourth time. We'd gravitated from his sitting room and kitchen to the bedroom of his small bachelor pad in the old part of Bristol where I was hating university and studying English. He'd undressed me and we'd had sex. It had been quite quick and vigorous for we hadn't yet got used to each enough to be patient. As I went to the bathroom after having had a very nice climax I saw that I'd only left my flat forty minutes ago and it was at least a fifteen minute walk to his place. Talk about using time fucking efficiently!
I cuddled up to him on the bed after a quick shower. He was, as always, very tender, loving and considerate and we kissed and cuddled in almost a non-sexual way for some time. We had a cup of tea, as alcohol in the afternoons represented dangers for both of us, with some Lincoln cream biscuits and then he laid me back on the bed and licked my cunt until he made me cum twice.
