They were someone else's fingers weren't they? They weren't my own, were they? Surely my own touch couldn't be that stimulating, could it? Even half asleep in bed, having beautifully erotic dreams, I couldn't imagine that the light caresses on my breasts were by me? Was I dreaming or was it really happening?
As my mind caught up with my body and both emerged from the deep sleep, so I remembered where I was and I answered my own questions.
The hand on my full breasts was Guy's. I was lying on my left side. I was in his bed in Cambridge University. It had firstly stroked and caressed me, then cupped it and finally it had gently squeezed the pliant flesh. The fingers had found my nipple and pinched that, nicely, just right, not too much pressure, but enough to encourage the pink, puckered protuberance to stand up and send wonderful tingles through my body. The other hand was pushing at where my left side sunk into the amazingly comfortable, but totally impractical yet wonderfully evocative, feather mattress that Guy had inherited from his grandmother. It was fiddling its way between that and the left side of my body. I knew exactly what it wanted to do. I lifted up a little and felt a little shiver go through me as it wiggled through the gap and found my other breast. It repeated all the actions of the other hand. 'Mmmmmm wonderful,' I thought and felt.
But there was more, much more, there had to be. After all when you are in bed with a man and both of you are naked and it is the morning after a night of wonderful sex, there's bound to be more isn't there? I felt his chest against my back. I felt him lifting my slightly longer than shoulder length, chestnut coloured, unruly wavy hair away from my neck. I felt him kissing and licking my neck and I felt my goose pimples erupt, it sent shivers through me, it was lovely.
Most significantly of all, though, I felt his erection. I felt it against me, I felt it hard, long and hot. I felt it snuggled between the cheeks of my bottom and poking out the top of the crease. I felt it move, I felt him slightly thrusting it almost in time with the squeezing, pinching and caressing of my breasts and the kissing and licking of my neck. I felt him moving it, pulling it away, moving downwards a little and then fumbling it between my legs; I opened my thighs by lifting my right leg. One of his hands slid down my body and the fingers easily found my clit. He rubbed it, I grunted. I felt the bulbous end of his erection enquiring at the lips of my pussy. He pushed and I grunted again.
Then Guy fucked me from behind; it was absolutely wonderful.
*
It's so nice to have a boy friend again after such a long time; over three years to be precise. During that time, I have, been totally celibate, by choice, for almost a year, nearly sexually inactive and, as actors say just 'resting;' I have also had, shorter periods, of frequent activity.
I hadn't thought I would get involved with anyone until my daughter had left home for university, two more years yet. Following my divorce after thirteen years of marriage, I had vowed not involve her with a series of 'uncles.' Alright I did have a slightly mad period when the divorce was made final and I had rather more men in a two year period than I care to remember, but that was ages ago. I've reformed and for the past three years my only real sex has been with a couple of old flames. Being in similar situations, we have the occasional fuck simply for old time sake!
Things change though. Three of Sara, my daughter's, friends and her had asked if they could go on a three month crammer course for their A levels. That was residential, although being close by it meant I could see her often, but she stayed most nights at the college. I hated it at first, but then I met Guy.
I'm forty three and he's forty seven. I am divorced, he has never been married. He doesn't believe in it as an institution and sees it as an unnecessary restriction on man's natural desire to be polygamous. He is a professor of humanities at Cambridge University and is by some margin the brightest and most intelligent man I have ever known, certainly carnally. He is also obsessed with sex in all its forms. And on top of that he is drop dead gorgeous, with a big dick, amazing stamina and fantastic recovery powers.
*
"So you're the mysterious Amanda are you?" The, slim, medium height, just taller than me, dark haired man wearing stylish, tortoise shell framed glasses asked me.
I quipped back. "Well I am Amanda, but as to whether I am mysterious or even the mysterious Amanda, I have no idea?"
"Hmmm."
"What's that mean?"
"We'll see," he said as a few other people joined us.
We were at a luncheon buffet party at Pembroke College Cambridge. I had been invited by a girl friend who was a researcher. She knew I enjoyed the company of bright people for I had occasionally joked with her that the easiest way to get my knickers off was to speak Latin, know something about astro-physics, read and understand Shakespeare or be stunningly bright. As Guy and I chatted, I suspected he knew something about each of those subjects and more; metaphorically speaking, I could feel my knickers starting to slide down my legs already.
Gayle worked for the university in a research role, but also 'moonlighted' for a number of the professors, helping them with their the books they were always writing, the consultancy work most did for big business and the lucrative lecture tours they went on in such places as Australia, USA, and the Far and Middle East. 'Gravy train' stuff she called it explaining that the more active professors, such as Guy, would easily earn a quarter a million pounds a year from it; what a nice 'gravy train' I thought.
"I knew you would like him," Gayle said as we chatted over a cup of tea in one of the rooms of the college away from the heat of the Sunday mid afternoon sun.
"He is fascinating," I replied.
"And good looking?" She offered.
"That too."
"Great hair."
"Yes."
"And nice eyes?"
"Lovely eyes," I replied the piercingly blue of them coming into my mind as I recalled the intensity of his stare as we had chatted. He had one of those looks that made you feel that you were the only person in the world as he spoke to you.
"And it goes without saying bright."
"Yes very bright," I replied adding feeling a little alarmed, "Hey what you doing?" As Gayle ran her hand over my bum in the tightish, thin silky dress.
"Just checking," she smiled "That they're still there."
I laughed. "Yes well in place."
"I thought brilliance got them off."
"I don't do one nighters with men I have just met."
"No, of course not darling," she replied with what looked like a smirk or knowing smile. "By the way are you going to come to the meeting this evening? Guy is the main speaker."
She was referring to a meeting being held in a rambling old house in Grantchester, just outside Cambridge. It was a regular get together of a humanist, free thinking group of which she and a number of other researchers who I knew were members. Although I was aware of the meeting and was thinking I might go, I hadn't checked my email and hadn't seen Guy was the main speaker. That made my decisions for me.
"I know how much you like lively debate and insightful analysis, so you should enjoy this."
