I knew that I should stop them; I knew that I should be stronger and I knew that what I was doing was madness, probably socially and career wise. But then, since parting from Kevin my whole fucking life had become madness. Other than one mad period when I’d had a six-month affair, I had been faithful to him and had expected us to be together for the rest of my life. Finding him being unfaithful for the third time blew me away and I kicked him out. That was the signal for my craziness to begin.
The very night he went I spent in the arms and then the bed of a female neighbour. I found chat rooms, I found cybering and I made online friends with whom I had phone sex. I read Literotica, I looked at female porn and I started to write erotic stories. After the divorce became final, I had a six-month spell of ‘putting it around’ and I slept with six or seven guys, but then I saw sense and stopped. That’s when I met Sammi and started my bisexual, lipstick lesbian affair with her.
I tried telling myself that I had become sexually liberated; another view was that I had lost my morals and standards regarding sex. My shout on that is that after finding out how unfaithful Kevin had been and meeting so many men online and in real life who cheated or wanted to, that it was a bit of goose and gander for me. The bottom line, I guess, is that I have come to see sex for what it really is, simply a process, just like having a great meal, well maybe!
As Paul undid my bra and pulled the straps over my shoulders and Neil pushed the front of my top down, Sammi’s advice came to mind ‘if you want it, do it’ and that ‘if it feels ok it is ok.’
Still holding the two, what seemed to me to be incredibly hard, pricks in my hands, I stopped resisting, both physically and, more significantly, emotionally. I gave in I suppose as between them they bared my breasts.
“Oh yes Ms West,” Paul sighed cupping my left breast.
“Jayne they are fucking gorgeous,” Neil grunted lifting my right breast and running his tongue across it.
I sighed deeply, maybe even grunted as the two students gave me so much pleasure by stroking, squeezing, caressing, licking, chewing, kissing and sucking my breasts. I leaned back with my eyes closed and gave into the pleasure they were providing. As they feasted themselves on my ample boobs so I felt their hands on my legs. They slipped up my skirt, which in any case was more than half way up my thighs. Two hands found my thong covered lips and clit inside my tights and knickers and rubbed me there. I was near to a climax. One of them pulled my skirt right up so it was bunched round my hips and incredulously I even raised my bum for them so they could get it higher. Somehow, and I really have no idea how, they managed to get my tights down a little way, probably around the top of my thighs thus, exposing my thong. Unceremoniously, they pushed that to one side so they could get at my bare womanliness and my wetness; yes, so they could get to my real cunt and not the make-believe ones of my hands. It was almost surreal.
It got more so as I felt both of them thrusting their hard youthful cocks in my hand. They were starting to fuck my hands and fingers. Their cocks surged further into my hands. I held them tighter forming two surrogate cunts for them as they went faster and deeper. It was an incredible experience. Although I had masturbated Kevin many times and in my crazy period after the divorce came through, I did that to a couple of other guys, I had never had my hands fucked before and I knew I was moaning with pleasure from what their fingers were doing to me
They moved so they were no longer lying beside me, but instead were kneeling so that I could see both of their cocks in my hands. I simply held my hands still and gripped their cocks hard enough to provide the necessary pressure, but not so much that they couldn’t pump in and out.
And like that with their fingers in me and their cocks in my hands we all climaxed.
I had never seen so much cum as they spurted out. Alright there was the two of them, but each of them ejaculated so much more than Kevin or any of the other older, forty plus guys I’d been with had done. It was the spunk of youth I was thinking as my breasts were covered by their sticky, acrid goo.
After they left, I was mortified. Ridden with guilt and shame I simply cried for ages; I didn’t seem able to stop.
How could I, a middle-aged lecturer, have done what I did with them? Where would it lead, I asked myself as I stood under the shower a couple of hours later? I was trying to wash all signs of them away from me. The crying was an effort to purge myself emotionally and I was now trying to cleanse myself physically. But how can I cleanse myself I questioned as vision after vision of the afternoon’s events on my sofa flooded my mind? Visions of them stroking my hair, putting their hands up my sweater, cupping my breasts, removing my bra, taking my top off, rolling my skirt up, pulling my tights down and pushing my thong to one side? Sitting between them on the sofa I had let them paw me, caress me, suck me, kiss and lick me as they had pressed their wonderfully youthful and formidably hard cocks into my hands. I had let them finger me, rub my clit and my lips and push their fingers inside me, two from each of them at one time. And I had let them make me cum as I made them cum with my hands. And they completed fucking my hands by cumming on my breasts. God what was happening to me?