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If you’ve read the previous seven parts you’ll know you can skip the rest of the intro and go straight to the action. If you haven’t read then I’d strongly suggest you do. You see the accounts flow naturally and are intrinsically linked, so they really do need to be read 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.
Part 8: The Unfinished Business At Uni
My mother is a very self-confident woman; she has what Jewish people call chutzpah. Where I come from they call it being thick skinned or as bold as brass, I just feel she’s got loads of balls.
She’s also got nice, full tits, a lovely bum and great legs. All of which I’d just seen when I inadvertently walked in on her and her personal trainer when I got home from university for the last time.
I’d finally plucked up the courage to leave and was dying to tell mum for I knew my dad was on a business trip to China. I guess I needed a shoulder to cry on. What did I get? A view of her half naked kneeling in the room behind the garage that dad had turned into a gym. Kneeling with the top of her leotard pulled down, the straps dangling her tits completely bare. Kneeling facing a guy who had his back to me and his blue tracky trousers round his ankles. Kneeling holding his erect cock in her hands, looking as if she was about to bend over and suck it.
Our eyes had met, but nothing had been said as I turned and quietly closed the door.
I was in the conservatory when I heard her footsteps across the patio. I was reading Hello magazine and did nothing to acknowledge her when she breezed in. After all what can you say to your mum when you’ve just seen her about to fuck a guy? Although I hadn’t see him clearly and then more from the side and back than the front, he looked to be about ten years younger than her; which would make him around ten years older than me.
“Hello darling,” she said brightly bending over and kissing me on my cheek, “welcome home.”
“Yeah right,” I replied rather sullenly not knowing how to handle the situation and whether I should say something about what I’d just seen or whether she would.
I saw that she was now in grey track suit with pink stripes on it. The trousers were tight round her hips and bum and the top was undone showing that she was wearing tennis top; a tight, pink top that was cut low showing off her spectacular cleavage.
“Give me an hour darling and then we’ll have a nice long chat,” she said checking her appearance in the mirror. “I’ve just started with a new tennis coach and he’s ready to get going on my lesson. Oh here he is.”
I felt rather than saw his presence in the open doorway and was set to ignore him when mum said.
“Rick, this is my daughter, Samantha. Samantha my tennis coach Rick.”
It seemed to take an age for my head to turn and for the sound of his “hello Samantha,” to reach me. An age when I hoped against hope that it wasn’t him; it was though, of course.
He went on, “oh we know each well Amanda,” adding with a slight smile and a glint in his eye, “very well.”
“Really?” my mum asked, “and how’s that?”
“From the tennis I belonged to,” I said quickly hoping to avoid any further remarks from him.
“Yes we played together many times,” he smiled looking from mum to me and back again. “Didn’t we Sammi?”
“Yes a few,” I replied trying to sound disinterested, but wondering and worrying about this bizarre turn of events.
My mum was having tennis lessons, and God knows what else, for I was thinking that probably the personal trainer I’d seen her with was Rick. The guy of thirty something who’d been my second proper lover. The guy who’d taught me so much. The guy that used to have me on the bonnet of his car, on the back seat or on the ground alongside it. The guy used to fuck me in my school uniform had spent most of the night in this house and had shagged me twice on the very kitchen floor just behind where she was standing.
They went off across the garden to the tennis court. My mind was in a whirl. He’d had me many times, was he screwing my mum as well? Had he told her about me? Was he the personal trainer as well? I tried to picture the cock I’d seen in my mum’s hands. Was that Rick’s or dirty dicky’s as I called him after we broke up? Where the hell would all this lead I wondered as I heard the tennis balls start to be hit on the court at the end of the garden.
Although I hated university I had learned a lot. Not academically of course, but about myself, life in general, my sexuality and sex. I’d also discovered a love of the theatre and of writing.
I found the bi curiosity that had been with me through my teens was transferable into reality. I discovered the appeal of older men and realised that I was a latent exhibitionist. Not a bad portfolio for eighteen months at uni, my degree on me and life I called it.
I’d met Stephanie shortly after starting at Bristol and although she was a year ahead of me we got on well as fellow members güvenilir bahis of the drama society. I would never have thought it possible but gradually I fell in love; not with her, but with her tits. They were awesome and did such things to me when I looked at them that at times I wondered how I stopped myself from grabbing them. Later when we were lesbian fuckbuddies she told me that she wished I had, so then I did and often.
It was Steph that showed me in the most graphic way that my curiosity about bi was more than just an interest for we became lovers and had been seeing each other for that reason a couple of times a week since the Christmas term had started last October, some two months ago now.
In previous parts of my bio I’ve described them, her tits that is, and I’ve told you about dirty dicky, my mum’s tennis coach, so if you haven’t read those it might be worth looking back at them to save us both time here.
So if you’ve looked back and read Parts 1 to 6, or at least a selection of them, you’ll have met Mr Deakins, David the lecturer who helped out the drama society, the director of “What the Butler Saw,” DD my lover, the married, forty year old man who’d had been fucking me two, three and four times a week for the past few months. It was David that showed me that my theoretical interest in older men that had been triggered by dirty dick was alive and well and living rampantly in me in Bristol.
The last night of the play was just a week before I left. There’s always a buzz after a show, particularly one that’s as outrageous and as successful as ours had been and at that last night party we’d all been on a high. Steph and I had carried that high on a bit in the small dressing room we shared when we’d quickly brought each other off. Still in our stage costume she’d pushed my little hot pants down my thighs and I’d opened up her buttoned down the front dress and we’d played with each other until we both climaxed. It was lovely and just what was needed to bring us down from the huge adrenaline rush brought on by the euphoria of the evening’s proceedings.
It was then that there was a knock at the door and DD came in to congratulate us. Neither of them knew about the other being my lover so it was quite a challenge when the three of us were together. Because of DD’s position as a lecturer and that, theoretically at least, meant fraternising with the students, (oh, by the way, for fraternising read screwing) was taboo and a dismissible offence, we had to be ultra discrete. I hadn’t told a sole about my “married lover” not even Steph. I also hadn’t in so many words told him about her and me; although when he directed the lesbian scene we’d added to Joe Orton’s scandalously sexy masterpiece, I think he may have guessed.
“You and Steph seem to cope well with the lesbian scene,” he mentioned one afternoon just as I was taking my knickers off.
I smiled back as I dropped them on the floor and stood naked in front of where he was sitting on a sofa. “Yes, it’s been surprisingly easy, but so far there’s just been the three of us, I’m not sure how we’ll do when we’ve got an audience of three hundred,” I replied sitting naked on his lap and shoving my tongue down his throat.
The scene he was referring called for us to kiss in full view of the audience and to then undress as we stood on opposite sides of the bed. We gave the audience a full frontal of each of us and then got into the bed and rolled around under the thin sheet. Whilst hopefully quite sexy it was actually fairly funny as well, or so we hoped l. As it happened the scene worked perfectly to the point that by the third night of the five night run the play, we started making real love under that sheet.
But all that was then and this was now, so after chatting for a bit he suggested a late supper in town, showing clearly that he was basically a London animal and didn’t get out much in Bristol; there’s nowhere you can get a “late supper” after 10.00 pm. That’s when he’d suggested “Maison Deekins for scrambled eggs, smoked salmon and champagne,” the perfect last night late supper.
We got a cab to DD’s flat in the best part of the old town. It was on the ground floor and had a private entrance that enabled the discrete entrance of his visitors; I often wondered if that was why he’d chosen the place! The flat was really just two rooms and a bathroom. The front door led into a big oblong room that served as a kitchen a dining area and at one end a sitting area where there was a big comfy sofa that was wonderful to make love on. It was also where he’d first had me. Off that room there was the bathroom and his bedroom where, funnily we rarely had sex.
Steph and I had changed out of our stage costumes before leaving. She was wearing a white, silk blouse that, for the sake of decorum, was probably had one button too many undone. But hey, sod decorum, we were young, students, successful actresses and we’d just played full parts in a hit play; why should we even think of decorum? She was as usual wearing jeans as we all did. Hers, like mine, were fashionably tight and they wrapped themselves around her mound türkçe bahis and bum like a second skin. I was wearing a skinny knit sweater that left a band of bare flesh around my waist; the fashion of bare bellies and low cut jeans, skirts or trousers was just coming in and I had to be leading edge with my style? I mean that’s the point of life for spoiled bitches from Essex isn’t it?
David opened the champagne and toasted us, we toasted him and we all toasted each other. We toasted the success of the play, the other actors, the director, him, and, as Steph put it, “especially the scriptwriter who brought a whole new meaning to what the butler actually saw.”
We all laughed at her obvious reference to the lesbian scene I’d inserted. David added, giggling, clearly a little squiffy.
“Not just what he saw but what we all saw and that was fantastic,” he said his eyes roaming over Steph’s chest and body.
We were all a little drunk from what we’d had at the party and the champagne so we were saying things that didn’t make full sense but seemed cool, witty and meaningful as we said them.
I looked at David and then stared right at Steph’s chest as I said.
“Yes David they are fantastic aren’t they? But then you’ve seen a lot of them haven’t you?”
As we were quite unselfconsciously discussing Steph’s, tits she bent over away from us her glorious arse staring DD and me in the face. She was rummaging through her bag and then she stood up the tin in her hand that I knew held her spliffs. Without asking she lit one up and looking David in the eye passed the joint to him.
I had no idea whether he indulged or not but clearly from the way he held the ciggie and dragged on it, smoking dope wasn’t a new thing for him. He went to pass it to me but I shook my head and indicated for him to return it to Steph.
We all sat down. Steph and David on the sofa with me sprawled on the floor in front of it. They passed the spliff back and forth as I finished off the champagne. Steph had pulled her legs up onto the sofa. One she laid across David’s lap the other she held bent, her bare foot resting on the edge of the sofa her toes running up and down the back of my neck. I glanced over my shoulder and saw that DD was stroking her foot. I reached up and ran my hand up the inside of his leg, not right up, but far enough I guess to show her that I had a slightly greater interest in and familiarity with him than merely as the director of the play.
We’d all lost our tongues, for nothing was said as DD stroked her foot, Steph caressed my neck and shoulders with her toes and I ran my fingers up and down DD’s inner thigh as we all looked on, as we all saw what the others were doing and as we all wondered what might happen next.
His voice slurred David asked whether we’d like another drink and Steph, giggling replied.
“Fuck the drink let’s have another spliff and this time make little Sammi have one.”
“Good idea,” David slurred, “all three do it.”
“Yes,” Steph came back all for one, one for all like the three musketeers.”
“What like a spliff threesome?” David almost shouted. We all found that hilarious.
As this was going on DD was standing up; my hand was still resting on his leg, Steph’s foot was entwined between his knees. The complications of those and the drink and dope made him stumble and he fell back onto the sofa almost on top of Steph.
“Ooooo, Mr Deakins, I never knew you cared,” she giggled her arms, seemingly automatically, going round him.
“With what you have Ms Gordon and what I’ve seen, how could I not care?” he responded.
They both found their exchange enormously funny and were howling with laughter as I knelt on the floor beside them, also laughing but not with the manicness that hash brings about.
“What on earth do you mean by that?” Steph asked adding, “What have you seen?”
David slurred back. “Everything Ms Gordon, everything and all of that, I have to say, looked in excellent order when I saw it and now I can add also feels in excellent order as well.”
Reaching out and holding my hand Steph giggled back. “You mean my tits do you sir?”
“Well if you have to be technical,” he replied, “yes Ms Gordon, your tits.”
We all found that particularly funny and were roaring with laughter as she pushed him off from on top of her. David rolled from the sofa onto the floor next to me. He put his arm round me and pressed himself against me. If Steph hadn’t realised earlier that there was something going on between him and me then she must have begun seriously wondering now.
She looked from me to him and back again. She had that coy, knowing rather mischievous smile on her face that I’d come to know so well, for it illustrated her arousal and her desire to have sex. So far I’d only seen it directed towards me and I have to admit to a little pang of jealousy when I saw that now she was also directing it at DD. Yes a slight feeling of jealousy but that was vastly outweighed by the excitement that hit me when I realised just where this was possibly, no probably leading.
Steph sat up and looking at güvenilir bahis siteleri both of us said very softly.
That simple, single word and what she did next was at the time probably the most erotic experience I’d ever had.
I watched sort of mesmerised as glancing from David to me and back again she slowly undid the buttons on her blouse. One by one she slipped the four or five remaining buttons undone. Not saying a word or giggling at all she continued staring at both of us as she pulled the bottom of the blouse out of her jeans. Obviously most of her chest was now on view but her nipples were still covered by the edges of the blouse. It made me feel enormously horny as, with my body pressed against David, his fingers digging into the flesh on my hip, we watched Steph pull the edges of the blouse away from each other and slide it off her body.
I felt David’s body shudder and heard a gasp as he saw her bare breasts. In the semi-darkness they looked fantastic. As big as they’d ever looked, they hardly seemed to sag at all. They looked so full and smooth and round and soft, yet firm and proudly upright; and of course they were capped by those so suckable, fully inflamed and totally erect nipples.
At that moment I wanted her so badly, but as I felt that, so David rested his hand right on my thigh and pushed it upwards so it was pressing against my pussy through the jeans. That made me want him so badly as well. I wanted them both and I could see in Steph’s eyes that she wanted me and could feel from DD’s hands pressing right against my pussy that he wanted me; did they, I wondered, want each other as well?
On reflection, it was clearly the time when a lot had to be exposed, no not flesh, but truths; the real situations between us had to be explained and decisions had to be made. In our alcohol, dope and sexually aroused states, though, the thinking wasn’t like that. Nothing was fully considered, we didn’t think of all the angles or analyse the consequence of any actions. We didn’t think of possible future repercussions or give consideration to the discretion that DD’s position as a college lecturer demanded and Steph and I didn’t give a jot about exposing our bi sexuality to him.
It was all so intuitive, instinctive and played by gut feel. It felt natural, proper, correct, appropriate and so fucking wonderful. It didn’t seem wrong, perverse, abnormal or out of the ordinary. It was as though it happened all the time to everybody. Our mutual thinking in that room at the time, we found out later was, “if it feels right, it is right.”
So it was right for Steph to sit on the sofa topless her hands slowly going to her breasts.
It was right for David to press his hand more firmly against my mound through my jeans.
It was right for me to reach up and run my hand along the inside of Steph’s leg.
It was right for David to slip his hand up my sweater and cup my bare breast.
It was right for me to press against his erection with my other hand, for Steph to be pinching and pulling her nipples and for David to lift my skinny knit sweater up so that I too was baring my breasts.
Everything was right but everything was blurred. Everything happened through a mist of dope and booze but that just made everything even more right.
Me kissing Steph, me taking David’s hand and placing it on her breasts.
“Aren’t they gorgeous David?” I whispered as I unzipped him.
Steph kissing me deeply, me getting David’s splendid erection out from his trousers and all of us falling to the floor, DD between us.
“Yes Sam, yes Stephanie, they are beautiful, marvellous,” he muttered as Steph pulled his face towards them.
David sucking her nipples, Steph reaching out for my breasts and me struggling his trousers and boxers off.
“Mmmm David, that’s wonderful, I’ve needed that all night,” Steph groaned as she pinched my nipples in turn.
David was naked, Steph and I still had our jeans on and all of us were merging into one. I could no longer tell exactly where I ended and Steph and David began, what was him and what was her, who was touching me with mouth or fingers. Male became female, female became male and both coincided to be just one thing, pleasure.
And what pleasure, what sheer unadulterated, erotic pleasure. A type and level of pleasure I’d never experienced.
The pleasure of Steph and David removing my jeans; of me holding his cock in one hand and one of Steph’s tits in the other as David removed her jeans. The pleasure of sharing such intimacy with my two lovers, of sharing such erotic moments, such sexual stimulation and of having them share me, Steph and me share David and David me share her, of each of us sharing each other.
I’d never had a threesome; I’d never had any form of sex where more than one person was involved. Unlike numerous friends I’d never even had sex in a room or car with other couples there. So this was all new to me, although I somehow doubted that it was to either DD or Stephanie. Whatever their situation, though, I found the whole thing such a mighty turn on. Slightly confusing at times and in some ways not quite as sexually satisfying as making love to one person, it was nevertheless so exciting, so arousing, so erotic and so horny that I was near to an orgasm all the time. It was simply amazing
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