Carol and I had one more sexual adventure together, after which we had a fight. She wanted a threesome with two guys, one of which was to be me. I was to find the other guy to join us. I told her I did not want to share her with another guy. She got mad and left my apartment upset at my unwillingness to set up a MFM threesome for her.
Two days later, Carol was caught fucking a faculty member in his office where she worked. She was discovered by the faculty member’s wife, who raised holy hell with the school. Word spread quickly, and soon other stories of Carol’s faculty affairs surfaced, as well as tales of her sexual adventures with graduate students she was supposed to be counseling, several of whom were married.
Through a chance encounter with Jill a few months later, and over a long cup of coffee, I learned more.
Carol and Jill had enjoyed threesomes with other guys besides me, including Jill’s boyfriend. In fact, after Carol, Jill and I had finished our threesome in the early morning hours, the two left me and woke up Jill’s boyfriend and had a three-way with him.
Jill’s boyfriend had introduced Carol to other guys, mostly graduate students, and she not only did them individually and in small groups, but on at least two occasions did five of them at a time.
All of this extra-curricula activity was during the time Carol and I were “dating” and in what I thought was a serious relationship.
The signs of her additional sexual activities had been there; I either did not see them, or maybe sub-consciously chose not to see them.
Carol had been totally forthcoming in telling me about her “need” for sex and the counseling she had undergone. She had been quite emphatic about liking sex. I had failed to translate her admissions into any need on her part for sex outside of our relationship.
Looking back, our own sexual encounters had escalated in nature over time, from straight one-on-one encounters to outdoor sex and exhibitionism, threesomes, bondage and rough sex. I had assumed that this escalation was a normal progression in sexual play by two people who physically enjoyed each other. Looking back, it was more likely another sign of Carol’s growing need for more sex.
I had wanted us to live together, but she had said no, using my need for privacy and space in which to work on my graduate degree as an excuse for her to stay in her own place. According to Jill, many of Carol’s sexual adventures took place in her apartment, and that’s why Carol wanted to have her own space.
Days would go by without any contact with her. While I thought that was odd, Carol said it was out of respect for my need to do my graduate work.
She turned down a good, well paying, full time job counseling teachers in the local school system, in favor of a part-time job counseling graduate students about the requirements of their graduate degree. The part-time job put her in direct contact with department faculty and graduate students on a daily basis, and gave her more opportunities for sexual encounters.
Even though I had never met Jill, nor had Carol ever mentioned her, during our three-way activities, I had the unsettling feeling that the two had been together before, and probably with other guys.
And then there was that look Carol would give me when I was done pleasuring her. The look she would give me when I had cum for the second and sometimes third time and was spent and could not continue. It was the look that I had always interpreted as her wanting more; needing more sex. It did not cross my mind that she would seek more outside of our relationship.
Eventually, and just as school was starting in the fall, Carol was let go from her part time job working with graduate students. She stayed in her apartment with little or no contact other than Jill and some guys who were still taking advantage of her. She reluctantly spoke with me by telephone, and although seemingly regretting her actions, she was somewhat defiant in expressing that this was who she was. She was, to use her words, an addict.
Using the excuse that she had finished her academic work and obtained her degree, and that she hated winters in New England, Carol returned to California and again sought counseling.
At first, we spoke by phone. Then she stopped calling or answering her phone, and I lost track of her. The last I knew, she was counseling at her old nursing program.
I was angry, hurt and disappointed, and closed myself off from everything but my graduate work, seeing very few people other than my degree committee and a few close friends.
That fall and through the winter and spring I buried myself in my degree writing requirements. I had writing deadlines that I had almost missed because of my relationship with Carol.
I managed to get my dissertation chapter outlines in on time, as well as my first draft of all chapters. Eventually, by late spring, after writing several drafts, I had completed my dissertation and all requirements for graduation.
On an early spring evening, as I was watching one of the first baseball games of the new season, there was a knock on the sliding glass door of my apartment. It was Jill. With the exception of a cup of coffee with her around the December holidays, I had not seen Jill in about eight months.
On this evening, she had a slightly different look than I remembered. It took me a few seconds to realize that it was her hair.
Jill had a great body, was good in bed, and gave a gold medal blow job. But the stringy, wet looking hair that I recalled her having was a major detraction from her appearance.
Now her hair was straight, combed, shiny, and about the same length as before but styled differently.
The new hairdo, along with the scar through her eyebrow and crooked nose gave her an appealing, desirable, and sensuous look. Maybe my mind was colored by the threesome events with Carol, but it was hard to imagine that this woman had been a high school teacher, and wanted to return to a similar position after obtaining her degree.
I unlocked the sliding door and slid it open.
I admit to being horny, having had no sex for the better part of eight months. I admit to immediately thinking about Jill’s body and amazing talents. I admit to feeling a twinge of excitement and a rush of blood to my male parts.
I let her in, looking at her fine ass as she stepped by me.
Jill made it sound like this was a social visit. She wanted to see how I was doing. Of course, she could have stopped in and checked on me long before this, if that was the real reason for her visit.
She wasn’t dressed in any particularly seductive way, wearing only a light spring jacket, jeans, a sweater, and some flat shoes, and no discernible make-up. Then again, she didn’t have to dress in any alluring way; she was one of those women who would look good in anything.
She eased into a chair, accepted a beer, and carried on a normal conversation. Yet there was just a tic of uneasiness, apprehension or even nervousness. I expected some awkwardness, given our history and mutual relationship with Carol, and thought no more of it.
I wouldn’t say we were friends; certainly not day-to-day friends. Our whole relationship, even if that is what it can be called, was based on Carol, a sex video made by Carol, in which I briefly appeared, and one threesome experience. Indeed, I had only seen Jill twice before this particular evening; once with Carol in our small group sex romp, and once at the campus coffee shop.
But here she was, sitting in my living room, acting as if we had known each other for some time and expressing her concern for my well being.
But for the slight air of tension in the room, this would, indeed, seem be a social visit.
Neither of us gave any clue as to what we were thinking, discussing instead our respective studies and writings, finishing our graduate studies, the winter weather, our looking forward to spring, and other similar mundane topics.
Jill had a second beer.
“I broke up with my boyfriend,” she told me.
There it was. The general topic of the afternoon had been raised and was now out on the table for discussion.
“What happened?” I asked, sounding sincerely concerned, but not really caring.
It wasn’t just one thing. He had fucked Carol without telling her. He had fucked Carol with two other guys without telling her. And, he had fucked other women, some of whom she knew.
And then there was her need for time to herself to get her studies concluded and her own writing completed.
Even absent his infidelity, she didn’t think the relationship was going anywhere.
“How about you?” she asked. “Are you seeing anyone?”
Now we were into our little dance; circling around, probing, asking questions, refining and nearing the real topic at hand.
“No. Not really. I’ve buried myself in my work trying to get everything completed on time and approved,” I told her. “It’s been a long winter.”
“Me too,” she indicated. “It’s been a very long winter.”
“Hmmmm,” I thought to myself. Jill was here to see if I was okay, even though we had only met once in seven months, and that was only to discuss Carol; her hair was done a new way, amplifying her attractive appearance; there was a slight nervousness about her; she had broken up with her boyfriend; and, she had spent a long winter by herself.
“Can I interest you in another beer?” I asked.
I got up to get us both a beer, and she followed me into the kitchen.
“You’re not trying to get me drunk, are you?” she asked with a little laugh as she held my arm with her hands and leaned into me.
“Of course I am,” I told her with a laugh. “Have another beer!”
She put one hand on the small of my back and held it there as she took the beer from my hand, and we walked back into the living room.
This time, she sat on the couch, not the chair.
Jill quickly brought up the subject of Carol, and she tried to explain their relationship.
Jill always considered herself to be aggressive when it came to sex; that is until she met Carol.
“I’m as horny as the next girl. But Carol was horny one hundred per cent, all the time. She was insatiable. Was there anything she wouldn’t do?”
The question hung in the air, sort of emphasizing the subject matter of sex.
“Can I use your bathroom?” she asked.
“Sure. Right over there,” I said, pointing out the downstairs half-bath.
Jill grabbed her handbag and walked to the bathroom.
I checked to see if she needed another beer. She did not. She had almost a full can. But I grabbed another one for me.
Jill emerged from the bathroom, braless, her tits swaying back and forth under her sweater as she walked to the couch. I guessed that her panties, if she had even worn any, were now in her handbag.
Our verbal dance was over. She was making it pretty clear that she was here to get laid.
I stood and asked her if she wanted another beer, even though I knew the beer in her hand was almost full. Her eyes quickly glanced at the bulge in my pants, as she indicated that she could use another beer.
She followed me into the kitchen, placed her beer on the counter, and pushed her soft tits and a hard nipple into my arm as I opened the refrigerator door.
She put her hand on the door and pushed it closed, telling me that she had reconsidered and didn’t need another beer after all. I put my hand around her waist as I closed the refrigerator door, and gently pulled her towards me, looking for her reaction.
Jill pushed her body into me, rose up on her tip toes, gave me a big, open mouth kiss, flicked her tongue over and around mine, and let out a low moan.
“I’m glad I came to see you,” she said before we kissed again.
This time I was the one to bury my tongue down her throat as I cupped her ass with both hands.
We stood in the kitchen kissing, pulling each other close and grinding our bodies together. I squeezed a breast; she rubbed my restrained cock.
“Can we go upstairs?” she asked in a whisper.
I took Jill’s hand and walked quickly to the stairs to my bedroom, pulling her along as she reached for her hand bag.
There was no teasing, groping, or playing. When we reached my room, I pulled my shirt over my head and, in one swift motion, removed my pants and underwear. My hard, swollen cock popped out and waggled for Jill to see.
Jill removed her sweater letting her tits flop out, bounce, and then stand out straight and proud. Her brown nipples were stiff and extended.
She unbuttoned and removed her pants, and as I had suspected, wore no panties. Her pussy was smooth and glistening.
Nothing was said. We kissed again, one of those wet, messy, passionate kisses. Then Jill simply sank to her knees, took my hard shaft in her hands, licked the head a few times, and slid my manhood into her mouth, sucking on the sensitive head and stroking the shaft.
It had been a while since I had experienced a blow job. I felt the warmth of Jill’s mouth, the slight roughness of her tongue, and that wonderful feeling of pleasure as she consumed my cock.
I tried to think of other things. What did she like? She was very good at sucking cock. That was obvious. She liked to be eaten. I remembered that she liked it when Carol slid a finger into her ass.
Within a minute, my knees were weak and I would cum if she didn’t slow down or stop.
I pulled her up, gave her another deep, wet kiss, squeezed a breast and tweaked a hard nipple, and then moved her onto the bed.
“Are you going to fuck me?” she said, as she shifted onto her back.
Her question was more of a plea; a statement of need.
“Not yet,” I told her.
She settled in on the bed, with a pillow behind her head.
As soon as she saw what I was preparing to do, her eyes lit up and there was a look of delight and approval on her face.
I bent Jill’s legs back and spread them apart, fully exposing her pussy. She was already very wet, leaking a little; her labia had opened and her lips were in full flower, swollen and inviting.
While on my knees, I lowered my head down to her love hole and grazed my tongue over Jill’s wet lips. She held my head with two hands, pulled my face into her slit, and moaned.
As I slid my tongue over her swollen pussy lips, I was instantly reminded of one of Jill’s little off-putting behaviors. She was loud.
Jill expressed her sexual pleasure in long, blaring words, shrieks and other assorted noises.
While her loud expressions were exciting, gratifying, rewarding and flattering to my male ego, anyone residing two or three apartments on either side of mine would be calling the police, fearful of what might be happening a few doors away from their own residence.
In the three-way with Carol, we had simply put my t-shirt into Jill’s mouth, thereby blunting her vocal ardor.
I got off my bed, grabbed my shirt off the floor, and tossed it to Jill. No explanation was needed, and she willingly stuffed the shirt into her mouth.
Now, only the people living on either side of my apartment would hear her.
I resumed my position on the bed and turned my attention back to Jill’s pussy.
She was the kind of woman you liked to eat. Besides the stifled moans and groans, and a rivulet of her juices, you could feel the tension in her body grow as she neared her climax. She gave out bodily signals that allowed me to speed up or slow down, flick her clit with my tongue or lick her pussy lips, as I tried to slowly bring her to her first orgasm.
Jill bucked her hips, holding my head in a death grip, and pulled my face into her pussy, all the while screaming into the shirt stuffed in her mouth. I buried my tongue deep into her hole and sucked on her clit, rolling the swollen nub around with my tongue.
“I’m gonna cum,” she yelled as she pulled the shirt out and then shoved it back into her mouth.
I tried to keep her going, hopefully flooding her body with long spasms of pleasure, but her release was not to be held back.
I could feel it coming. I slowed down, but her body shook, her back arched, she pulled on my hair, and the moans and groans stopped. For seconds there was no sound other than the slurping of my tongue on her swollen lips.
Jill was in the midst of a violent orgasm.
It was the kind of orgasm where time freezes, every nerve in your body lights up, and you lose awareness of your surroundings. And then there is the sweet release, as the grip of the orgasm frees your body, and ripples of bliss engulf you to your core, until you finally fall back to earth, satisfied and content.
Even as Jill was moaning and trying to catch her breath, I flipped her over and put a pillow under her hips.
There was no quizzical look on her face; no questions about what I was doing or what I was going to do; in fact, nothing was said. Jill was here in my bed to be fucked. That’s why she came to see me. That’s what she wanted. She knew it; I knew it.
I spread her legs and eased up between them on my knees.
I stroked my cock, causing pre-cum to run out of the tip and hang in a long, thin, web-like string which eventually clung to Jill’s ass.
I slid my cock all the way into her slit as she moaned loudly. I motioned to her to put my shirt back in her mouth.
I was energized. I wasn’t even close to cuming. I wasn’t even breathing hard.
I began a steady thrusting of my cock deep into her love hole, while I held her hips and pulled her ass towards me.
At first there were the usual muffled moans, as Jill squirmed a bit, impaled on the bed by my manhood.
Slowly, as I kept up the steady pace, her moans became more exuberant, and she began to clutch and claw at the bed sheets. I held a handful of her hair and pulled her head back.
“Do you like that?” I asked.
A slight nod of her head and a muffled grunt told me she did.
“You came here to be fucked, didn’t you?”
There was another grunt and affirmative nod of her head.
“Do you like being fucked like this?”
She tried to look back at me. She nodded “yes” and grunted something that I couldn’t understand. I pulled the shirt out of her mouth.
“Fuck me until I can’t take it anymore. Please. Don’t stop. It feels so fucking good.”
It wasn’t a plea as much as a demand; and, a loud demand at that.
The t-shirt went back into her mouth, lest the neighborhood be alerted to our activity and want to investigate.
We went on like this for maybe ten or fifteen minutes. Long enough that I was beginning to sweat, and could now feel a growing pleasure spread through my body. I was getting ready to cum.
I bent down close to her face and removed the t-shirt from her mouth, replacing it with my fingers and thumb. She sucked on my thumb as she indicated that she was close and begged me no to stop.
I increased my pace, slamming my shaft into her very slippery pussy, as Jill grasped the sheets with both hands, sucked on my fingers and thumb, and moaned loudly.
She was much too loud, but I really didn’t care at that point. I just concentrated on fucking her hard and fast, hoping that I did not cum before her.
“I’m cuming. I’m cuming,” she roared. It was garbled, but I got the message.
Jill was entering another zone, one where she would again experience the pleasures of an intense orgasm.
“Cum for me! Cum for me!” I yelled.
I removed my fingers and thumb from her mouth, fearing that she might impose severe damage to those digits during her orgasm. Doing so, of course, left Jill free rein to make all the noise she wanted. And she did not disappoint.
As I was nearing my own orgasm, and watching hers, I didn’t much care if Jill woke the whole neighborhood. Let her scream.
I slowed down as Jill’s body heaved and she pulled the bed covers up off the bed with her clutched hands.
“Yes. Yes. Fuck yes. Don’t stop. Yes. Yes.”
This particular orgasm was a long one, lasting for several minutes, until she settled down on the bed, gasping for air. As I slid my cock out of her slit, she lay on the bed, moaning and shaking, twitching and jerking.
I sat back and watched, like an artist admiring his work.
I could roll Jill over and within a minute or so, maybe even seconds, cum all over her body. I was close to my own orgasm, and she seemed to like cum all over her when we did our threesome.
But there was a little voice inside me telling me that Jill would want more. The little voice said that she had come to visit me in hopes of getting fucked, and that I should do everything within my power to accommodate her.
Okay, maybe it was just my erotic, turned on, male ego and mind, and not an inner voice.
In any case, I had an attractive lady lying on the bed in front of me, recovering from her second orgasm of the afternoon. I was close to cuming myself, but still very hard and erect. And, it would be a shame to waste such an erection on a self-imposed hand job just for the pleasure of coming on her. I could always do that later.
Then sinister thoughts entered my head. Hadn’t both Carol and Jill deceived me? Hadn’t Jill and Carol fucked me and then left me alone in my bed only to go off and fuck another guy? Maybe it was just for a fleeting moment, but my anger towards Carol returned, and I saw Jill as an accomplice, someone who assisted Carol with her needs, and not as any friend.
If she wants to be fucked some more, then I would certainly be of service; but it would be my choice and my way.
I flipped Jill over again so she was on her back, and dragged her and the bed sheets down to the end of the bed. Jill said nothing, other than acknowledging with some surprise that I was still hard.
She was sweating somewhat, her hair was matted to her cheeks and nose, and she had that dazed look of a woman who had just cum and had not quite recovered.
I went over to my bureau and grabbed a tube of K-Y lubrication. As soon as I turned around to face Jill again, she knew what was on my mind. There was a slight look of apprehension in her eyes. Other than that, she did as she was asked and bent her legs back and held them open, exposing her soaked, red, swollen pussy and wet puckered hole.
I slid some lubrication on her asshole with my thumb, and some on the head of my cock.
Other than my instructions to her, nothing was said other than her simple request.
I didn’t know whether Jill wanted to be fucked in the ass. I didn’t even know whether she had ever been fucked in the ass, although I had guessed that she had. All I knew for sure was that Jill had liked it when Carol shoved a finger up her ass, and that I was going to fuck her in the ass for my own pleasure.
I pressed the head of my cock against Jill’s asshole and pushed. There was resistance for sure, but having now cum twice, she was more relaxed and on about the third push, the head of my cock popped into her star hole. Jill’s subsequent moan was part surprise, part pleasure, and part concern.
Where was my t-shirt? In my haste to pull her to the end of the bed, I had left the shirt on the pillow, and it was beyond her reach.
I pulled out if her ass, walked to the side of the bed, grabbed the shirt, tossed it to her, made my way back to the end of the bed, put some more lube on the end of my dick, had her pull her kegs back, and popped my cock head back into her ass.
“Please go slow,” she asked again, just before reinserting the shirt into her mouth.
Jill, it turns out, was a stranger to anal sex. My entire shaft slid effortlessly into her hole, and within a minute or so, I was fucking her ass and she was moaning and staring directly into my eyes.
Still, she was very tight, and the friction of her squeezing sphincter on my shaft, was hastening a very large and very intense orgasm on my part.
I slid one thumb into her pussy and rubbed her clit up and down with my other thumb in hopes of getting her to cum again. When I needed to hold onto her hips in order to keep steady and slide my shaft deep into her hole, Jill took over the clit massage, rubbing the nub furiously and slapping her clit with an open hand.
I stood at the end and edge of the bed slamming my shaft deep into Jill’s ass. Jill, resting her ass on the end of the bed, held her legs back, and her knees by her head, and moaned into the t-shirt. I watched my cock slide in and out of Jill’s ass, and her tits slide up and down with each hard thrust of my cock.
I think Jill could sense the change in my demeanor. We had initially pleasured each other. Now I was fucking her ass with some anger, and a touch of revenge in my head.
There was pleading look in her eyes, expressing both the pleasure she was feeling and growing need to cum again, and the concern that I was being rough and might hurt her. Yet, despite the shirt stuffed in her mouth, there was a little smile, as if she was trying to say that she liked it this way.
Jill rubbed her clit and pulled on a nipples, stretching it far out from her body. I fucked her ass as fast and as hard as I dare, without cuming.
She tilted her head forward, her eyes bulging, and pulled my shirt out of her mouth.
She never quite got the shirt back into her mouth, as her body and neck arched. Her head turned to the side and back towards the headboard, and she again screamed that she was cuming.
'What the hell?' I remember thinking to myself, 'Let her scream; let it all come out.'
Jill bounced on the bed, and her eyes rolled partially back into her head, as she experienced her third orgasm of the evening.
I had barely pulled my cock out of Jill’s ass when I came. It was intense; I saw stars; I stumbled and almost lost my balance; and I shot cum everywhere.
When it was over and I came to my senses, I had fallen on my knees and was facing the end of the bed, and a fully opened, wet pussy with a ribbon of cum draped across its swollen lips. I had cum all over Jill and the bed.
I sat back, breathing hard, sweating, with sweat dripping off my nose, and dribbles of cum oozing out of my softening cock. I could hear Jill’s heavy breathing on the bed above me.
I did not see Jill again after this second meeting; not even at the graduation ceremonies. Nor did I ever speak with her again.
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