Training Course
I have a 3some on a training course
"It's only for a week DD" I said.
"Sammi, that's a fucking long time, especially at my age," he replied.
"Don't be silly you're only forty five for Christ's sake" I replied as he arched his back a little so that he could get his mouth to my breast. "And in case it's not a full week."
"It's fucking Sunday to Friday, that's most of a week."
"I wouldn't see you on the Sunday would I?"
"No, but you would during the week."
"Yes, but why do you have to go away, can't they teach you at the college?" He muttered almost incoherently as his mouth was full of my nipple.
"Mmmm, that's nice" I whispered sliding my hand down his back and gripping one of his cheeks.
"Mmmmm so is this" he replied sucking both my nipple and the areola into his mouth as we lay with his cock rigid buried deep inside me.
"And this?" I asked slipping my finger into the crease of his bum and pressing it right on his hole.
"Oh fuck yes," he groaned, opening his legs.
I pressed harder so that my white painted finger-nail opened up the puckered surround a little.
"Yes?" I said enquiringly, pushing a little harder
"Oh Sammi" he sighed.
"Well?"
"Fucking hell yes of course, you dirty little bitch" he said starting to fuck me again.
We had a mutual orgasm with my finger up his bum almost to the second knuckle.
*
I met DD, David Deakins, at university. He was a lecturer, I was a student. I was the producer of the first year student's end of term play and he was the staff member responsible for overseeing it. That caused us to meet frequently and that led to me seducing him, although he did not take much seducing once I made it clear I was available. Since my teens I have had a 'thing' about older men!
Our 'affair' continued for the next year while I was at college and went on after I left and returned to Essex. As the university was in Bristol, some one hundred and twenty miles from where I lived, seeing each other was difficult. However, as DD still lived in London with his wife and children, he was there about every other weekend and we were able to sneak a little, but not enough, time together. Things significantly improved, though, when he left Bristol for a post at London University and we had much more opportunity to have sex, which we took up very avidly.
DD's wife, the titless bitch as we called her, was a big wig in the Civil Service and was on some sort of working party connected with the EU. This meant that she travelled to Stuttgart and Brussels quite often giving DD and me all the time we needed to continue our affair.
We both knew that it would go nowhere and we had discussed that. He would not leave his family and I did not want him to. I had no desire to be a stepmother to a son just a few years younger than me and, although a twenty year age difference with DD seemed ok to me at twenty three, I could not conceive what it would be like when I was forty or so.
We had talked about it often and had a tacit agreement. For the sake of peace at home, he would continue sleeping with the 'titless bitch' and I would 'see' other guys and maybe meet my 'mister right' one day.
After disappointing my parents by leaving Bristol University less than two years into my degree, I had gone to drama school. I had no desire to be an actor, but wanted to get into TV or films as a writer, producer and director. I loved it. The college was in Bloomsbury in Central London.
A year or so after I had started, my dad's property development business got into financial trouble and it went bust. He and mum split up and dad went to live in Spain. That meant he could contribute hardly anything towards my fees and mum, although having the large house in Loughton, Essex was not inclined to help other than letting me live there for free. To pay for the fees I had to work and the only job I could find that provided the amount of money I needed and gave me the time to go to college and study was as a glamour photographic model. In other words, stripping off for photographers to shoot me undressing, naked and feigning, well usually feigning, orgasms.
On the course, I covered most of the topics the guys wanting to be actors studied, but also I had to do a finance and law module. They did not cater for that at Bloomsbury so I was attending a course at a training centre near Reading. It was run by two trainers, both of whom were in their mid-forties who, despite the tedious topics were entertaining and interesting. There was no one else from my college on the course, but there were four guys and one other woman.
Miriam was older than me, probably early thirties, and though quite pretty was chubby and very badly dressed, she looked dirty and unwashed and rather bohemian. The four guys were very intense and exceedingly boring, but friendly.
I like the two trainers. Mike was tall and quite slim, with a mop of unruly, dark hair. Alan was shorter and very good looking with greying blonde hair. We got on well during the week and had mildly flirted from the outset at registration and the dinner on the first evening. It had got stronger and more obvious as the week went on particularly in the bar after dinners. Most evenings the guys and Miriam went to bed almost straight after dinner leaving me to the advances of Mike and Alan.
As my and one of the boring guy's courses included writing, we had an extra day than the others. Hence, they left on the Thursday afternoon and Mike and Alan were due to deliver a module on copywrite law on the Friday. As usual, soon after dinner the other student went to bed leaving the three of us in the nearly empty bar.
Mike and Alan were both wearing chinos. Mike's were blue, which he wore with a white Polo shirt and Alan's were beige with a dark blue linen, long sleeved shirt on top. They both looked smart, yet cool. They were modern, but were not trying to look younger than they were and that's the look I like on a man.
I was dressed in a frivolous fashion; God knows why, but I was probably playing to the gallery, well them really I suppose. I was wearing a ridiculously short, cornflower blue, slightly flared skirt with a silly, little sleeveless top that had spaghetti straps over my shoulders, one of which, the left, was loose and kept sliding off my shoulder. It was quite low cut, but fairly tight and probably showed clearly that I hadn't bothered with a bra. But then I had not worn one most of the week. As it was still warm and the tan I had got in Egypt was holding up well, I was not wearing tights or stockings. I had strappy mid-height heeled, peek a boo shoes that flashed off my scarlet painted toe-nails to perfection.
Alan and I were sitting in low chairs at, say, six and nine o'clock, with Mike on a sofa opposite me at twelve. We had a small table between us. We were discussing our private lives. Alan was married. "But" he said smiling. "My wife does not understand me."
"Yeah right" I smiled back. "Wives never do, do they?" I went on slipping the spaghetti strap back in place.
