A couple of years after my affair with Diya, I met Lucy, a primary school teacher. We hit it off immediately. She was funny, companionable and good in bed. Not, regrettably, as talented and adventurous as Diya, but I suspect that I had matured somewhat and was looking towards a future with a settled home life and children. Fortunately, she had not attended the university where I was working, thus largely removing the possibility of my questionable previous sexual exploits coming to her attention.
Two children arrived in close succession. I enjoyed fatherhood. Lucy wanted to be a fulltime mother until the children started school. I was happy enough with her decision and made a commitment to myself to play my part by keeping my zipper closed in spite of the temptations. We felt that with two children we had done our bit to ensure the continuation of the human race. As Lucy didn't like the idea of taking the pill on a long term basis, I arranged to have a vasectomy, only to find I needed my wife's written approval, although the same doctor had offered her a tubal ligation without requiring my consent. A strange double standard, I thought.
I was conscious that the university and the student body was changing character by the late-1970s. The change of Australian Federal government in the early 1970s after more than twenty years of conservative rule had released a new spirit of challenge, exemplified by the Labor Party's successful campaign slogan of "It's time!" One of the new government's more successful initiatives was to remove fees for tertiary education and encourage housewives to study with a view to returning to the workforce.
Many husbands were chary of the idea, preferring the status quo, but a host of wives seized the opportunity with alacrity. Frequently they had given up work on marriage. Now with children leaving home they were looking for new occupations. From my point of view, as mature age students they were a dream to teach. Unlike many of the school leavers they were interested in the topic, sufficiently disciplined to do the prescribed preparatory work, and, once they developed a little confidence, more than happy to participate in class or tutorial discussions.
It soon became apparent that university life was having an influence on their attitudes, too. Not only did the intellectual ferment of new ideas challenge their long-established and generally conservative views, but they found themselves mixing in a social environment with sexually active young people who were exploring a variety of relationships and were hostile to old social mores. For many ex-housewives it was an unsettling experience, as they had married early with little or no prior sexual experience and had not previously paid much attention to the social changes espoused by the younger generations and exemplified in the musical "Hair" as the "age of Aquarius" - an epoch of free love, lightness and humanity.
University life was exposing them to sexual attitudes, values and behaviour which called in question the way they had lived their life to date. For some it was all a little overwhelming, but many embraced the intellectual and social challenges in a spirit of liberation. Particularly for the more attractive ladies the interest in them shown by many of the younger men, even including academic staff, boosted their confidence and caused them to re-evaluate their marriage. Often they found it wanting. What started as harmless flirting with fellow students or staff frequently became more serious.
It was not long before I found that some of the mature ladies were taking a predatory approach, which, for my sins, I found difficult to resist. I remember two particular episodes. The first involved a woman in her mid-40s who needed approval for a research topic. She had done her homework, so I readily approved the outline she was suggesting. Sitting beside me I felt her knee press against my thigh.
As she leaned forward to point to a section of text I couldn't help but notice several buttons of her blouse were undone giving me a close up view of a lacy bra and an enticing breast sprinkled with freckles. I could feel my cock beginning to react when I felt her hand slip between my legs and massage my rising organ. "You're so handsome, I can't keep my hands off you", she whispered in my ear. "I'd love to suck that big cock of yours."
I was putty in her hands as she pulled my trousers down and pleasured my hard rod. I decided that I might as well get full value from the opportunity, so I lifted her onto the edge of the table where I could slip off her panties. Spreading her legs I began to lick her slit and nibble her clit. "God, that's good! No one has gone down on me before, but you can't go into my pussy - I made a vow to myself that I'd never be unfaithful to Robert." Her pussy lips were prominent, as if already prepared for a visit by a hard cock. I noticed that she had a caesarean scar which didn't detract from her charms, just above the top of her pubic hairs.
I was now desperate to fuck her. "We could use the back passage," I suggested. "I've plenty of lubrication - lots of women go for it these days and call it Catholic contraception." I could tell she was reluctant, although prepared to give it a try. I lifted her legs onto my shoulders, bending her at the waist to expose her tight brown anus. With plenty of KY jelly I was able to gradually spread her sphincter, and slowly enter her virgin hole. Initially she grunted in discomfort, not knowing what to expect. I allowed some time for her bowel to become accustomed to the intruder and eventually I was able to enter fully.
As I stroked her clit she began to relax and enjoy the feeling, pressing back against my groin. Soon the different sensation was really turning her on. After a while we developed a good rhythm, as she pushed back in response to each deep thrust, grunting in her throat at every thrust. "You dirty bugger, you'd have been sent to prison when I was a kid, for buggering me like this," she expostulated in between groans. As her orgasm arrived she demanded, "fuck me hard, I'm coming, you dirty bastard!"
She returned the following week to give me the opportunity to review her work. This time there was no subtlety. Her panties were off in a flash and after a brief time sucking my cock into readiness, she leaned back with her legs spread. "Take off your blouse," I ordered. "I want to see your boobs." Their teardrop shape and white colour set off by the sprinkling of brown freckles entranced me, and I could feel her arousal as I Ilcked and bit her firm brown nipples.
At the same time, I was rubbing my cock up and down her labia, which were pink and glistening, demanding to be fucked. "No, not in my pussy," she insisted but her body was taking control as her hips lifted up to encourage my cockhead to enter. "Please, no, don't," she begged, but her feet locked behind my backside to pull me deeper into her welcoming wet pussy.
"Oh, no please, I'm not on the pill," but I could feel her vulva clenching around my hard cock in welcome.
