The majority of feedback were in favour of individual postings, so here is the next. The rest are written so if you can't wait mail me and I'll send you your own copy!
*
I was becoming used to Guy, well in some ways. I was starting to understand how he worked. Nobody got close to him, especially women and, so it seemed, particularly me. Emotionally that is for I certainly was becoming and had been several times now, very close to him physically. I mean can you be closer to a man than have him give you an orgasm when you are fully dressed, simply by turning you round, bending you over and licking your bum hole until you cum? But after that and after other similar instances, him cumming in my mouth and then us kissing and exchanging the cum I hadn't swallowed for instance, he shut down. He turned off as if we hardly knew each other. It was as if the physical closeness exhausted him and stopped him being the same emotionally. He never used pet names -- babe, luv, darling or honey -- he never made any reference to love or affection. Yes, he used compliments but they were always about the physical aspects of the relationship; my body, my tits, my arse and my cunt, yes that's how he always referred to ir, he didn't believe in such vanilla terms as pussy or fanny; how we had just had sex, his cock and what he was going to do to me. He didn't mention the future, he never talked about where our relationship might go or what he hoped for. He just didn't open up or let me get emotionally close to him.
But then he didn't believe in love, just as he didn't agree with monogamy, being faithful to another person and being heterosexual; to him everyone was bisexual and that together with polygamy were man's natural states.
He was, by an enormous margin, the most intelligent man I had ever met. And I adore intelligence, it does something to me, it turns me on. From the first time I had met him he had aroused me, every time and every moment I was with him. Between making a date and seeing him, which was usually a very short time, when travelling to meet him, he never came to me even though I invited him to my Dockland's apartment, when with him and when travelling home, he never took me, I was turned on, continuously, hugely and permanently. I was like a bitch in heat about him.
He used that. That was his way. He knew the effect he had on me, perhaps that's why he chose me? And he knew what he could do to me. Not sexually, for he would have assumed from the outset with me and with any other woman he selected to have sex with he would do as he wanted, but emotionally. He saw something in me that made him know that he could control me, that he could direct and dominate me, that I would be subservient to him and that I would do as he wished. And so far I had, willingly and eagerly.
Before Guy, I had only had two 'one night stands,' not that either lasted the night. One was when I was a teenager in Ibiza with a gorgeous Swedish boy and the other was just after my divorce came through with a guy of my age I met at a party, who had also just got divorced. Both were rather silly and came about because of sexual need and opportunity. That was not the case with him. I let Guy fuck me the day we met because of two reasons. One I wanted him to and two he totally seduced me.
On all three occasions I suffered guilt afterwards, surprisingly more with the two straightforward earlier shags than the session with Guy, despite that being more intense and, in many ways more concerning. I did things on my first 'date' with him that I had not done with any other man until I had known them for some time and, even now, I am surprised I did them. I was surprised that I undid the halter neck of my dress and standing before him, got my breasts out and caressed myself as he sat naked, smoking a cigar watching and directing me. I was surprised that I didn't object, but instead enjoyed him sucking my breasts so hard that he left red marks, surprised that I enjoyed the pain of his fingernails sinking into the flesh of my bum and surprised that I didn't pull away when he pinched and pulled my nipples harder than they had been pulled before. I was surprised that I didn't try to stop him fucking me for the best part of an hour as he gave me orgasm after orgasm while he did very little.
I wasn't so surprised on our second liaison, as I now thought of them, and not dates, when he bathed me, massaged me on a bed on his outdoors, rooftop balcony and then made love, or it felt like love, several times during the afternoon, night and next morning.
I knew I was under his control, but it took me time to understand why. It was my fascination for this unpredictable, brilliant, arrogant, self-deprecating, humorous, sexually adventurous, ambitious and creative, free thinking man. I wasn't in love, I was fascinated by him. And in its way, that was far more powerful than the love I had experienced in the past.
I was fascinated by his confidence in: stripping off completely whilst I was still dressed, assuming, no knowing, I would do as he said, expressing his views on bisexuality, polygamy, love and marriage, seemingly having strict control over his erection; not for him letting a mere woman make him hard, he chose when that would happen! It wasn't just those sort of things either. He was an immensely attractive man. In his late forties, he had long, dark hair that had a wave that continuously flopped down his forehead and piercing blue eyes. He had a way of looking at people that was almost hypnotic, his gaze was so intense. He was slim, had a hairy chest, a good body, a sturdy, attractive uncircumcised dick and a great bum. So for me he was intellectually, emotionally, physically and personality attractive and fascinating.
It was, I guess, the combination of all of these factors that had 'stage managed' that incredible afternoon with my friend Gayle. She was a researcher with whom I had worked at an ad agency, but now worked for Cambridge University assisting the professors with preparing their lectures, papers and speaking tours. She had invited me to a luncheon at Pembroke College where she had introduced me to Guy. We had gone on after the lunch to a meeting where Guy gave a talk on the theme that 'bisexuality is man's natural state.' During the lecture to the audience of forty or so he had quite frequently stared at Gayle and me sitting next to each other. That was when I first really noticed his intense stare and felt I was falling under his spell. I gave him a lift back into Cambridge and, unusually for me, for I had earlier said to Gayle 'I don't do one nighters' I had gone to his rooms in Corpus Christi College and had a 'one nighter,' well a fuck on a first meeting with him. That was the start.
Visiting those rooms again a few weeks later and finding him in bed, naked with Gayle had been a surprise and a shock. Of even more surprise and shock was that no more than fifteen minutes after entering his bedroom I was also naked, I was in bed and I was touching Gayle's breasts as she touched mine. He had turned us on our sides facing each other and had then pushed our faces together until we kissed. It was a momentous moment that was manipulated and manoeuvred by him, but experienced and enjoyed by all of us.
We were all on the bed, he and Gayle were naked I was just wearing my panties; a high fronted, white satin thong that was cut acutely at the legs meaning that close attention to one's bikini line was essential. I had recently taken to trimming my tawny thatch into a neat 'landing strip' of pubic hairs, which clearly exposed my lips, so I was fine.
Gayle and I knew we were, but could do nothing about, being manipulated by Guy. The kiss was was soft and gentle at first; we were exploring and experimenting. We savoured the softness, the taste and the smell of each other with our lips and tongues and the smoothness and roundness of the others breasts with our hands. As our lips got used to each other and we as women became accustomed to what we were doing, so the kiss became more intense. Our lips parted, our mouths opened, our tongues explored and we squirmed our faces together. Our hands left the others breast and went round their body. We cuddled each other and our bodies moved even closer so that our breasts were not being cupped by the others hands, but were being squashed by the others breasts.
"Oh yes ladies, yes," we heard Guy say.
