The 11 42 Tutorial

**Author's Note**

I had this idea after seeing these two Cambridge profs giving each other *that look* while chatting up some poor bastard at a department do. You know the type - respectable in public, absolute filth behind closed doors.

This is not supposed to be some clever literature piece. It's about fucking.

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Prologue

There's something fucking liberating about keeping up appearances in public while doing whatever the fuck you want in private. After fifteen years with David, I've learnt that the best arrangements are the ones you choose for yourself, away from nosy bastards who'd judge you.

It started with Alexander from the maths department. Fucking hell, that man could calculate exactly where to put his fingers to make me come in seconds... Then Liam happened - gosh, so young and eager, couldn't stop shaking the first time I took his cock out. And Elliot? Our neighbour's kid turned out to be something else. The way he'd smirk at me across the room after he'd been balls-deep inside me the night before... Still gets me wet just thinking about it.

Each one taught us something. About what we actually want. About how much bollocks all those social rules really are. Our marriage is way better for it. The dirty looks we shoot each other at boring faculty dos, both of us thinking about the same filthy stuff we've done.

"Getting bloody good at picking them out, aren't we?" David said over breakfast Tuesday, that dirty grin on his face. "Maybe we need a proper system or something."

I snorted into my coffee. "What, like marks out of ten? Cock size, staying power, and whether they can keep their mouth shut afterward?"

"Plus brains," he added, mouth full of toast. "Don't forget we've got standards, love."

He always talks about our hookups like they're some kind of academic experiment. Cracks me up. Though honestly, I do think of these little adventures as educational - for the lads and for us. Each one showing us new shit we didn't know we'd be into.

Which brings me to that train to London, and a fit young thing called William Harwick...

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Let me tell you about the 11:42 to Liverpool Street. It's got a vibe, right? Not the morning rush with all the miserable commuters, not the late train full of pissed academics. The midday one's different - lecturers skiving off, posh twats with jobs flexible enough to travel midday, and sometimes, if you're lucky, students in their best clothes going for interviews.

You're probably wondering why someone like me - Dr. Harrison, respected Cambridge art historian and all that wank - notices this stuff. Well, respectability's just a mask, right? Like the paintings I fix up, I keep my outside looking proper while underneath I'm thinking about all sorts of filth.

After Alexander bent me over my desk and made me bite my hand to keep quiet, after teaching Liam how to lick pussy properly, after Elliot fucked me so hard I couldn't walk straight - you'd think I'd have had enough of younger blokes. But once you start, you don't stop wanting it. You just get hungrier.

David had got us seats in First Class (one of the few perks of this shit academic pay). He sat there pretending to read some boring journal. I say pretending 'cause my husband never misses a trick, especially not when I'm eyeing up fresh meat.

"Three rows back, by the window," I whispered, pretending to check my papers. "Glasses, school uniform."

David flipped a page like he couldn't care less. "Posh school. Head boy, looks like. Nice face on him."

I had another peek. "Fucking gorgeous, more like. Look at those cheekbones. And his hands - bet he plays piano or something."

This is our little game. Fifteen years married and we figured out that being faithful doesn't mean being bloody bored. Adventures are better together. Since that first night with Alexander, we've got pretty good at spotting likely candidates for what we jokingly call "extra credit work." Nothing jokey about how thoroughly we end up shagging them, though.

"He's reading John Berger," I said, crossing my legs so my skirt rode up, showing the tops of my stockings. I knew he'd look. They all do, even the smart ones. "Bit deep for a schoolboy."

I wasn't wearing stockings and no knickers for comfort, was I? Not when I've had young cock inside me while David watches, wanking himself off. I wear them as bait, pure and simple. I could feel myself getting wet just thinking about fresh meat.

"Christ, Catherine," David said, trying not to laugh, "are you seriously checking out a sixth-former on a bloody train?"

"Just looking," I said, all innocent. "But he reminds me of that cellist from summer."

"Right," David nodded, putting his journal down. "The one who played all that classical shit then ate your pussy like a pro."

"That's the one," I grinned, feeling myself get even wetter. "This one's different though. Not all nervous like Liam was. Reminds me more of Elliot - you know, that confidence he had when he first fucked me while you watched."

Elliot always gets David going. Our neighbour's boy really left his mark, especially that night during May Ball when he was in my mouth while David did me from behind. We've still got his filthy postcards pinned up in our bedroom.

You probably think I'm a right predator, but it's not like that. Young blokes learn more with someone who knows what they're doing. Like practical lessons after all that theory, yeah? I've been around academia long enough to know the real education happens when I've got my knickers off.

The train slowed at Audley End, and our target looked up. Fuck me, those eyes - proper intense behind those smart-boy glasses. When he caught me staring, he didn't look away for ages. Definite potential there. I imagined those eyes watching me as I sucked him off.

I recrossed my legs dead slow, making sure he could see the silk against my thighs, knowing if he looked hard enough, he'd see I wasn't wearing anything underneath. His eyes dropped for a sec before going back to his book. His cheeks went all pink.

"Fucking hell, he's interested," I whispered to David, who was checking the time like he wasn't arsed.

"Course he is," he murmured. "That whole 'I'm going back to my book' thing. Controlled, but gagging for it. Wonder how quick he'd lose that control with your mouth round his dick."

As the train set off again, I fiddled with my scarf then let it "accidentally" fall as the carriage rocked. Old trick, but it works. Used it on Liam at that boring faculty thing. Sure enough, our schoolboy noticed right away and got up.

"Think you dropped this," he said, coming over. Christ, his voice - all posh school but with that hint of wanting to fuck.

I looked up like I was surprised. "Oh, thanks," I said, making sure to brush his fingers when I took it. "Such a gentleman."

"Just being polite," he said with a little smile. "Though it did give me an excuse to come over. Your conversation looked more interesting than my book."

Cheeky sod. I like that. It's what I noticed about Elliot at that garden party - the way he looked at me before he bent me over a desk in the departmental library later.

"I'm William Harwick," he said, shaking hands with David first, then me. "Head boy at Bishop's Stortford. Just had a Cambridge interview, actually."

"David Harrison," my husband said, doing that handshake blokes do when they're sizing each other up. "Economics at Trinity."

"Catherine Harrison," I added. "Art conservation, Fitzwilliam."

His eyes got all big. "Dr. Harrison? I was at your Rembrandt talk last term! Our class came. That demonstration of the layering techniques was brilliant."

I hate kiss-arses, but he actually remembered specific bits from my lecture. He'd been paying attention. Interesting. I wondered what other "layering techniques" I could show him, preferably with him on his knees.

"Good memory," I said. "That was pretty complicated stuff for A-level."

"William, please," he said. "Some talks just stick with you, especially since I'm thinking about art history with economics at uni."

I fucking love it when they've got brains to match their looks. So much better than just a pretty boy. Elliot was like that - could chat politics one minute then fuck me stupid the next. I'd had fun showing him exactly how to use that gorgeous cock of his.

David was giving him the once-over, amused, like he does with promising students. "Want to join us? Plenty of room next to my wife, and I'd be interested in hearing about your academic plans."

This is why David's perfect for this game. The totally innocent invite, testing the waters. William paused just long enough to look thoughtful before sitting down.

When he sat beside me, I shifted a bit, making sure my skirt rode up enough to show off my stockings and, if he looked quick, give him a peek at my bare pussy. His cool act slipped for just a second, eyes dropping to my legs before he caught himself. I swear I could almost hear him sniff the air, like he could smell how wet I was getting.

I love watching when they first start to cotton on. The confusion, the hope, the faster breathing. I saw it with Alexander when I first got him alone in my office, with Liam when David suggested some "private tutoring," and especially with Elliot when we first had him over. Young blokes are so obvious. Their cocks even more so.

"My husband was just asking about your reading material," I said, putting my hand near his on the table. "Berger's not typical sixth-form stuff."

"The syllabus books are pretty basic," William said, pulling himself together. "Ways of Seeing's just more interesting."

"Independent learning always beats the curriculum," David chimed in, joining our little game with the smoothness that comes from practice. "Sometimes formal education just gets in the way of real understanding."

We chatted easily after that, and fuck me if William didn't know his stuff. I kept myself just close enough, letting my bare leg brush his when the train rocked, noticing he didn't move away but didn't push it either. Controlled but aware. Perfect. I was already thinking about making him lose that control with my mouth.

Let me be straight about something. What probably looks predatory is actually pretty considered. We've got rules, me and David. They have to be legal age, clearly keen, and actually special in some way. We're not just after a shag; we want someone who's got something about them. Though I won't pretend it isn't fucking amazing to have some eager young cock stretching me while David watches.

Watching William's fingers move as he talked about some project, I imagined them inside me, maybe with David guiding his hand like he did with Elliot. Those hands reminded me of Alexander's precision but with that artistic touch that made Elliot so bloody good at making me come.

When we got talking about London, William surprised me by asking, "Is it about the Gainsborough? Lady Amelia's portrait? Read about that restoration in the paper."

"Among other shit," I said, deliberately crossing my legs again, flashing him my bare cunt for a second before covering up. "The varnish is fucking ruined."

His eyes followed every move, lingering on that brief flash of flesh before dragging back to my face. His cheeks went properly red, and I spotted him trying to adjust himself without being obvious. My little show had definitely got his cock hard.

"That's why they need the best," he managed, voice steady despite the obvious bulge in his trousers. "Our teacher's always going on about your restoration techniques."

I leaned over to David while William was distracted with his notebook. "He's fucking gorgeous," I whispered. "And definitely up for it. I can see his dick straining against his school trousers. How far d'you reckon we can go?"

David's eyes lit up. "Everyone gets off at the next stop. Twenty minutes minimum before Harlow. Might be time for you to show him your oral skills, eh?"

I turned back to William as the train started slowing. "Going all the way to London?" I asked casually. "Or is this your stop?"

"Normally I'd get off here," he said, "but I've got late privileges today. Interview day perks."

The not-so-subtle hint about his free time hung in the air. David glanced around at the emptying carriage. "Fancy carrying on to Harlow with us? Could grab lunch before you head back. I'd be interested to hear more about your economics ideas before your Cambridge application."

Sounded innocent enough. But the undercurrent was clear, and William, young as he was, caught on straight away.

"I'd like that very much," he said, looking between us with an understanding that went way beyond his years.

As we pulled away from the station, the carriage was nearly empty. William loosened his school tie, and fuck me if that simple thing didn't look sexy as hell.

Now it gets proper dirty. After Alexander bent over my desk, after teaching Liam to use his tongue, after Elliot turned into something special, David and I had got bloody good at spotting and developing talent.

I shifted in my seat, recrossing my legs dead slow, putting on a show. The sound of silk on silk seemed loud in the quiet carriage, and this time I made no effort to hide my pussy from William. He stopped mid-sentence, staring openly at my wet cunt.

"Problem?" I asked all innocent-like. "You seem distracted."

His posh composure finally cracked. "Not a problem," he said, his voice rougher. "Just... appreciating the view beyond academic interest."

"Visual appreciation is fundamental to intellectual growth," David said casually, though he was staring just as hard at my exposed pussy. "The physical experience often precedes the theoretical understanding."

I had to smile at David's fancy way of saying "it's fine to stare at my wife's cunt." William looked from my exposed pussy to David, then back to me, clearly wondering what the fuck was happening.

"My husband and I," I explained, putting my hand on William's thigh, just inches from what felt like a pretty impressive hard-on, "have some educational approaches that go beyond the standard curriculum."

The confusion on his face cleared up, replaced by pure lust. "I've always believed in comprehensive learning," he said, impressively steady considering where my hand was.

"Hands-on experience beats theory every time," David agreed, moving seats to block any view from the corridor. "Especially with expert guidance."

The academic bullshit was completely transparent, but it gave us the framework we needed. I slid my hand higher up William's leg, feeling his muscles tense under those posh school trousers until I reached his erection.

"Want a practical lesson?" I asked, running my fingers along his cock through the fabric.

His breath caught. "God, yes," he managed, barely above a whisper.

I glanced at David. "He's so responsive," I said, giving William's cock a squeeze that made him bite his lip. "And feels bloody huge even through his trousers."

"Natural talent," David nodded, putting his own hand on William's leg. "Still thinking clearly despite the distraction. Like Alexander, though might be even better equipped for practical work."

I undid William's belt and zip, freeing his cock from those school trousers. Fuck me, he wasn't wearing any pants, and his cock sprang out like it was desperate for attention. Not the thickest I'd had, but long and with a gorgeous head already wet at the tip.

"Well fuck me," I said appreciatively, wrapping my hand around him. "Talk about exceeding expectations."

"Indeed," David said, his own erection obvious as he watched me stroke William's cock. "Though just looking only teaches so much. Perhaps a more in-depth study?"

Without hesitating, I got on my knees between William's legs, hidden by the table and David's body. His eyes went wide as I lowered my head, making sure he was watching as I licked that drop of precum from his tip.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he gasped, his posh accent slipping as I swirled my tongue around his cock head.

"Pay attention to how it feels," David told him, sounding like a bloody lecturer while watching his wife suck off a schoolboy. "The physical sensation is as important as the theory."

I took William's whole cock in my mouth then, right to the base in one go, making him thrust up involuntarily. After practicing on Alexander in my office, Liam in that changing room, and Elliot just about everywhere, I knew exactly what I was doing.

William's hands hovered awkwardly till David guided them to my hair. "She likes being directed," he said quietly. "Don't be shy about showing her what you want."

His fingers tangled in my hair as I started sucking him properly, bobbing my head between his legs, taking him deep each time. David reached over and undid some of William's shirt buttons.

"May I?" he asked, making his intentions clear.

William just nodded, beyond words now as I flicked my tongue under his cock. David slipped his hand inside William's shirt, touching his chest while I kept sucking.

The train went into a tunnel, the darkness giving us more cover. I pulled back, letting his wet cock spring free.

"Want to feel how wet you've made me?" I asked, my voice all rough.

"Fuck yes," he said, his cock twitching.

I guided his hand under my skirt straight to my soaking pussy. He gasped when his fingers touched me. "This is what you do to me," I told him, pushing his fingers against my clit. "Smart boys always make me wet."

"Fucking hell," he muttered, still somehow playing along with our academic game despite having his fingers on my cunt.

"Better examine it properly," David suggested, guiding William's fingers to slide inside me as I went back to sucking his cock.

Shagging on trains has this special intensity. The need to keep quiet, the cramped space, the chance of getting caught - it all makes everything feel more. Even after fucking Elliot in the university library during a function, this felt extra dirty.

William's fingers, hesitant at first, quickly found their rhythm, curling inside me to hit my g-spot while his thumb worked my clit with surprising skill. Most young blokes are crap at this, but William clearly knew what he was doing.

"That's her sweet spot," David observed, openly rubbing his cock through his trousers now. "See how she tightens around your fingers when you touch her there?"

I moaned around William's cock, sending vibrations through him that made him push deeper into my throat. I didn't mind a bit, relaxing to take him all the way. His fingers were magic inside me, building me up with every stroke.

When William finally lost it, his cock pulsing as he came in my mouth, I swallowed every drop, keeping my lips tight around him. David, cool as you like, kept pointing at his journal with one hand while making sure William's fingers kept working inside me even as he was coming.

"Keep going," David said quietly. "She needs to come too."

Amazingly, William kept fingering me through his own orgasm, his thumb still circling my clit as I ground against his hand. My own climax built fast, then crashed through me, my cunt squeezing his fingers as I came hard.

As the train started slowing for Harlow, we sorted ourselves out quick. William, recovering fast, pulled out a clean hanky, offering it to me first before sorting himself out. Posh school training has its uses.

By the time we pulled in, we'd fixed our clothes and looked normal enough. A few people got on, ending our private session. William went back to his seat opposite, still flushed but surprisingly composed.

"Fucking hell, that was brilliant," he said once we were moving again, his voice low but steady.

"Learning by doing always is," David agreed, still hard but looking completely normal otherwise. "Though there's a lot more to cover in a proper setting."