Johns Story 1

There's a chance the story John will tell you will inspire some of the other people involved to write about their version of what happened.

Stay tuned.

John's Story

I never knew what hit me. I mean, I've had encounters of the sexual kind before, but this was, well. . .

I had better back up a bit. I'm John Thonth, a 42 year old math teacher at a pretty well known college. That's being modest: I'm chair of the math department and I'm really good at teaching and research, but this story will show you I'm lousy at personal relationships.

Some women have called me a professional bachelor, others have called me worse than that. I may not be married, but I like going through the motions. The more experienced men reading this story will appreciate that some ladies are much better at those particular motions than others. This story is about one of those ladies...

I dated Jayne M six or seven years ago. Jayne is a professor in the biology department here, and she was probably one of the most attractive women I ever knew. She was a sophisticated classy lady, one any man would be proud to have on his arm. You wouldn't think it when you looked at her, but there was a big bonus -- she was as exciting and adventurous as you could imagine in the bedroom. She claimed I was only her fourth (or was it fifth?) lover, and that included her ex husband. One of them had to have been an inspiring teacher of sexual techniques, and Jayne was a good student

I thought about Jayne often. Sometimes those memories kept me warm at night when I was in bed by myself. Hell, sometimes I thought about her when whoever I was having sex with isn't very exciting.

What happened between her and me, why weren't we still together, you might ask. Well, that's easy. The only thing we had in common was sex. She liked chamber music, I wanted country. She liked old classic movies, I watched the newest films. Long dresses and fine restaurants worked for her, blue jeans and local bars were better for me. We figured out we didn't have a future together and agreed we'd just be dates and sex partners of convenience.

It wasn't much later when we stopped seeing each other – no hard feelings – and a year after that she married a guy who I guess was a much better match for her than I was. I wished her well, and meant it. Still, when I'd see her on campus I'd remember the hot times we had and wished it was possible to go back to them, at least for a while.

It's not that I saw her on campus much. I didn't go there often during the summer. Hell, if you know anything about faculty workloads, you'll know I didn't go on campus much period -- tenure is a wonderful thing.

My grad students did know I was on call for them, and everyone knew I spent Tuesday afternoons in my on campus office unless that interfered with a tee time or some other afternoon delight.

On the Tuesday before the 4th of July this year I meandered over to campus and began going through the stack of papers in my in box when I saw Jayne walking by. She waved and I asked her to join me for a cup of coffee. It turns out, she said, she was looking for the chairman of the physics department. He had a small "this is my office for thinking, everyone keep out" place in the math building. Jayne said she was working on a joint biology/physics grant. He wasn't around, so we chatted about old times and flirted a little bit. Things were fine in her life, she said, although she did say her husband was away a lot.

Hmm.

"Is he away now?" It turned out he was. "Well, is there any reason we shouldn't have a dinner together, or at least a drink to celebrate old times?"

She thought about that for a minute or two, then agreed a salad and some wine the next night would be a nice way to spend the evening.

"My place or yours?" I asked with a big smile to prove I wasn't serious.

We agreed a TGI Fridays a dozen miles away would be a good place to meet. It wasn't popular with people either of us knew, and Friday's salad selections would work for both of us. It was an informal enough place so that our meeting couldn't be classified as a 'date'. We both knew it would be different if we had gone to one of the better restaurants right in town. People might have noticed and tongues would have wagged.

I looked forward to that quasi date: Jayne was fun to be with and we had some catching up to do.

We met around 9 the next night. It was an odd evening, there was a tension in the air, probably because she was a married woman now. That didn't make a lot of sense though, she knew I never dated, much less bedded, married women (why get shot by a husband when there was so much legal opportunity around?)

Besides, this wasn't a real date after all, it was just two people who were alone enjoying each other's company. I did some pro-forma flirting: that's almost a reflex for me. She gave as well as she took, making it even more fun. Like I said, she was really great in bed, and playing flirting games would give me something to think about when I went home and wrapped my fist around my cock.

She asked about how I was doing and I was honest enough with her. Yes, I was seeing someone she didn't know pretty regularly, but Joyce – that was my date's name – wasn't ever going to be a life partner. Yes, I still lived in the same house, but now my bed was king sized, not queen. "A bigger playground?" she wanted to know, and she was right. I didn't tell her about the scarves under the bed that could be tied to its corners or the video cameras I installed sometime after she and I had broken up. Hey, when I'm alone I'd rather be the star in the porno films I watch!

It was natural to ask about where she lived, too. "Oh, we have a place over in the Pines." I knew The Pines. It was a gated community with large houses on large lots, and there was a private golf course there, too.

"Wow, your husband does pretty well, doesn't he?"

"We do pretty well," she corrected me, "but you're right, he makes three times what I do."

"And he's often away," I added.

"Yes, it does get lonely," she agreed

There was a quiet minute or two. I expected her to say goodbye and go home.

That's not he way the conversation went... "Have you ever been to The Pines?" she asked.

"I played golf there once a long time ago. It seemed really nice and the houses all looked like they should be called estates."

"They are mostly big houses, you're right."

"I'd like to see some of them close up," I said, which was true enough but also a flirt and in a real way, a gambit.

She accepted it. "Would you like to see our place?"

That was a no brainer: "I'd love to."

Jayne took the napkin from her lap, and very delibertly draped it over her dish and said "Follow me."

I got the bill paid, and somehow my Toyota kept up with her not very aggressively driven 7 series Beamer. That was odd, years ago she was a fast driver: careful, but fast. We didn't go to the Pine's main gate – there was an owner's gate that was radio controlled. The gate swung open for her, and closed. I almost expected her to just drive away, but she opened it again for me.

Their house lot was so big that when I drove into the driveway I could not see any other house, just some lights through the trees.

It was beautiful house, a fitting place for her to live, and I told her so. I got a quick tour, then we settled into the den with its big fireplace.

The den had two large sliding doors that opened onto a patio. She turned on the outside lights. I could see a pool out there, and a high wooden fence. "That gives us lots of privacy," she said. I'd have liked to have gone swimming with her in that private pool but that was an offer she wasn't making. She pulled set of gauze curtains over the doors – the other set looked heavy and opaque – then turned off the outside lights. The glass doors seemed to turn into mirrors and the den appeared even larger. The room had leather furniture and reeked of quality and class. The floor was slate, with an Oriental rug in front of the fireplace, and big cushions there, for less formal sitting.

That's where we sat. We toasted each other and old times. I didn't know where this evening was going, I was somehow all off balance all night. "I'll be right back" Jayne said after a little while, and she left the room. I briefly thought this was going to be one of those times when the lady returns in a negligee, or nude, then laughed at myself. That wouldn't happen tonight but when I got home I'd sure pretend it did. I'd be ejaculating into a tissue instead of where I'd have liked to deposit that protein. After all, Jayne was married and some things were not meant to be.

Then she returned.

The suit she was wearing was gone, replaced by a white robe that ended above her knees. It was made of some kind of satin that clung to everything underneath is and it was obvious the only thing it was clinging to was Jayne. This was the kind of thing men dream about, but these dreams don't often happen. Maybe some things WERE meant to be.

I stood, wanting to take her in my arms, but she put her hand on my chest. "I want to do this my way," she told me and then moved behind me. This was her house: we'd follow her rules and her route. We both knew how it was going to end.

I could see our reflections in the patio doors, the curtains covering them just softened the image a little. I watched and felt her arms move around me, saw her hands stroking my chest and my belly, and felt them brush over my crotch. "I can feel that I have that old effect on you," she said, cupping me ever so softly.

"You sure do."

I stood there while her fingers pulled my golf shirt from my slacks, then I raised my arms as she pulled it up. She couldn't get it over my head; I took it off the rest of the way. I was glad, looking at our reflections, that I stayed fit. I wanted to turn to face her but she stopped me from doing that, kept me facing our reflections. "I like watching us," she said. One of her arms was around my chest, then other, on my belly and then I could feel her lips on the center of my back! I thought I'd explode.

I wished we were at my place, I'd have the cameras running and be able to watch this seduction whenever I wanted. "Next time," I promised myself. Somehow I controlled myself, and both of her hands moved to my belt. I stood there, arms at my side, watching and feeling and enjoying the sensations of a beautiful woman undressing me, her delicate fingers fumbling for a moment with my belt, then with the clasp on my slacks, then my zipper. She pushed my pants down, and I helped by kicking off my boat shoes and stepping out of my slacks. I still had on boxer shorts but they weren't doing an especially good job of hiding my erection. That erection didn't get any smaller when I saw her hand slip under the elastic, and for sure got even harder when I could feel that hand with its magic touch stroke me. "That feels nice," she said, "it feels the way I remember it." Did that mean she thought about me, fantasize about me, the way I did about her?

Her hands moved to my waist and she pushed the boxers down. I could feel the waistband drag down my cock, and watched in the window's reflection as the band slipped over my penis's head. It – I --sprung free, exposed. She pushed the shorts to my knees and I did the rest and stepped out of them. I was standing naked in front of her, feeling her hands move onto my hips, then stop. "I remember when we were dating that you told me you would never have sex with a married woman. I'm married, are we going to have a problem?" she asked.

Her fingers moved over my cock, I had forgotten how wonderful her touch was. "I'll make an exception to that rule tonight, if you're willing to break it with me," I told her. She reached under my penis, cupped my scrotum, and I could feel her lips on my back.

"I want what I have in my hands, John, I want to break that rule of yours, I want to do things to you, and put this thing in me" she said, and her lips moved along my back, lower, then finally over to my hip. She moved a quarter of the way around me, and tuned me the other ninety degrees. I looked down at this woman, now on her knees in front of me. I wanted to pull her mouth onto my cock, to control her and dominate her but she wasn't having any of that.

"Just put your hands down, I'll do this my way," she said. Was this going to be a tease?

Well, no.

She moved toward me, and her lips touched my cock's head, offering it only the softest kiss. She pulled one of my arms to the front, and wrapped my fingers around my erection. "Stroke yourself for me," she said. I started masturbating – if she wanted a facial I'd give it to her.

As I pushed my cock through my fist she opened her mouth wide and took the exposed end into her mouth.

SHE TOOK IT IN!

She held my scrotum with one hand, and the other was around me, fingering my anus, then more than that, poking into it, while she blew me! I thought she was great before, but this was new. Someone taught her new tricks, tricks I didn't know!

Could it have been her husband? I was getting a world class blow job from someone else's wife! The analytical part of my brain began questioning my policy of staying away from married women -- if they were this good, that policy was ending right now!

It was an erotic oral adventure. She knew enough to apply tight pressure around my cock when she felt me start to come so she could prevent a premature ejaculation. I heard of that, but never had it done to me with someone's lips!

She finally pulled me down to the cushions on the floor. I was on my back, my penis was sticking up like some kind of a May Pole,. She knelt at my feet and untied the robe's belt. She held the damned thing closed while she pushed it off her shoulders, looked at me and asked "Is this what you remember?" She relaxed her hands and the robe slid down her arms, off her breasts, off of her hands, and she was naked.

Then she was beside me on the cushions, and I was lapping at her, sucking at her, feeling her arousal, feeling her needs and satisfying them.

But not for long. She pushed me onto my back, I was sticking straight up again. She got over me, put her hands on my shoulders to support herself, centered her vagina over my cock and then just lowered herself onto me. I mean, the only parts of us that were touching were her hands on my shoulders and our pelvises! I forgot how wet Jayne would get, and how she was never too tight for a first penetration. Every time I had sex with her going in the first time was like moving in the heaviest warm cream, with her just tight enough to provide ideal stimulation. Like I said at the start of this story, some women are better than others

I looked down between us, we were having fully exposed sex. I loved seeing my penis shine with her lubrication when as she lifted off me, then I would sink deep inside her when she came down.

We rolled over into a classic missionary position and rammed into each other for what seemed only a couple of minutes. She reached between us and stroked me, masturbated me, while I fucked her. That was new, too, and it worked. Oh god it worked, I came in what seemed like buckets full.

I fell onto her way sooner than usual, empty and exhausted. We somehow rolled away from each other. I was soft, wet and soft. I wanted to cuddle, to have her touch me some more, and maybe we'd have sex again, this time more slowly, like we used to.

"You'll have to go, John," she said, ruining my plans. "You can't spend the night. I don't want the homeowner's security guys seeing your car here, people will talk and I don't want that to happen."

"I want to see you again," I told her. She was even better than I remembered, and I didn't want to give it up, even if she was married. "I don't think so, John. Nothing good would come of that, would it? I don't want to put my lifestyle here at risk and we already know the only thing you and I have in common is sex. That's not enough."

"But," I argued, "but wasn't it good? Weren't we good together?"

"We always were," she agreed, "but this was only a one night stand, nothing more. I loved it, I hope you did too, but it'll have to be enough. Try to remember me kindly, John."

I dressed and left. I'd remember her all right, but somehow felt hollow, used. I knew when the security gate closed behind my car it also closed her off from me for ever.

But I'd remember. Oh, I'd remember the way she looked, the way she felt. I'd wish, maybe for the rest of my life, that we would have made a go of it. I did know a little of Jayne was better than none of her. Was it Garth Brooks who sang a song talking about broken romances, but concluded he wouldn't have wanted to miss the dance?

I'm glad I had that last dance. I was man enough to hope her husband would never find out: she deserved the life she had. And me? I was pretty sure I'd be comparing her to other women for the rest of my life.

Then something odd and good happened. Jayne brought her husband to a faculty mixer a few days ago and introduced us. I somehow never knew his name was Walter. He shook my hand, of course, but he looked at me in the strangest way. I had to wonder: did he suspect something? Did he know something? Then the answer came to me: I'm sure Jayne told him we used to date before she met him. That's the reason he had that knowing look in his eye: he thought we shared the same woman at different times.

When I was driving home I laughed out loud at that thought. The times we shared the same woman were not as far apart as the thought -- it's not that big a difference in time, Wally! It was days, not years.

The laugh was on me, though, because tonight he was going to be next to her, and me? I would just have my memories, and my fist, and a box of tissues.

Laughter and tears aren't really that far apart. I didn't expect my bedside tissues would be wet with tears and that I'd be hugging a pillow, but that's what happened.

There was another song from my youth, it was about loving the one you're with. The woman I had been dating for six months, but not seriously, was really very nice. For the first time in my life, I began thinking about spending a lifetime with a one woman.

I'm not even sure how I came to make the decision, but somehow my phone was against my ear, and hers was ringing. "Hi Joyce," I said, "I know it's late, but I'd love to talk with you for a while tonight. Can I come over, or would you like to come here?"

She lived 10 miles away. In the 15 minutes it took for her to come to my house I had gotten rid of the scarves that were under the bed and disabled three video cameras. A little while later, after she got over the shock of my question and said 'yes' we were holding each other, connected in every way, complete.

And here's the best part. I not once thought about Jayne.