She reminded me of her. Chapter I

She reminded me of her

Chapter I

Nowadays I hardly ever think of it, but this girl I saw on the train reminded me of those times. If there is something truly remarkable about that moment of my life, it is the fact that I didn’t care about anything else than getting the attention of a woman, enough “to plant the seed in her secret garden”, whatever that means. Those were times when I used to let go, I wasn’t irresponsible or disrespectful to anyone. I’d got everything in place so nobody could get in my case. I simply let go, I let go off everything by looking for fresh water to drown in the name of lust.

So this girl made me think about that part of my life I don’t like to talk about. It’s not that I’m ashamed of it. It’s just that now I have a family to take care of. I have to protect them in every single way. It’s not thatwhat a man should do? Yes, but a man also has his needs. “No matter the age”, just as this pretty girl was saying. Talking to her friends like nobody was listening to their conversation. She and the others were speaking of how the man can be a sexual beast without caring about the stage of his life. And I think that’s true, no man can deny it. But it was the way she threw the words to the air looking at the eye of each one she talked to with a little smile on her lips. It’s rare to look at people who really see at other’s eyes when they’re speaking, maintaining control of their gestures when at the same time every word they say have some meaning.

I was caught by the way she talked with that softly raspy voice, feminine but not pitch-perfect, combined with the way she moved her hands grabbing her fair lusty hair while turning heads one side or the other just to make sure she’d got everybody’s attention. It drove me back to that night, to that woman. She wasn’t this young; I think she was pretty older than me in fact. But let’s say we reach a point in our life when we don’t really care about that. The pretty one impressed me because she showed such control of a situation that a person, woman or man, only reaches at some mature stage of her or his life. I remember I met this woman at the mainlibraryof the campus, after preparing a lesson. Very unusual, I think. You don’t meet women like the one I’m about to describe at libraries. She was attractive in the way a school student can find sexy a pretty looking teacher. With her fair-long brown hair, little waist, small but firm breasts and curves like the Venus of Michelangelo, her face told stories I thought I could find more interesting than any of the books at that library. Her pale face, with some light make-up on it, was round but with fair and almost perfect features adorning its profile. A mouth sculpted like the one of a little child but larger, big honey eyes and cheeks that could turn red at the very moment you’d touch her. She was wearing heels, not very high, that made her fit butt lift. I knew that when she took those shoes off, it would fall a little but I didn’t care. It was an awesome bottom for a woman of her age, I think. With a silkyand almost free to the air dress she walked like some muse out of an epic movie. And suddenly she turned her beautiful round-pale face on me. I went hard at once; I wouldn’t deny I’d been looking at her. She smiled at me and I beckoned her to have a little chat.

“Hi, Mrs…” I said.

“Welch. I’m Mrs. Welch, professor. We met at your lecture about…,” she began but I didn’t let her finish.

“Oh, yes. You’re Michael’s wife,” I said and suddenly her face reddened a little.

“Ex. Now I’m his ex. I mean, we were getting divorced by the time of your lecture, but to keep things right we thought it was appropriate to go with the flow of our social life,” she explained.

“I see. Totally understandable,” I assured her.

“Yes, yes. Anyway, I found your lecture pretty amusing. It’s rare to see young men getting things together so quickly and show such professionalism. I mean you’re young,” she told me.

“Yes, I know. But what I do can be done by anybody with ambitions,” I said.

“You think so?” She asked.

“I do. In fact, I think a man, young or whatever, can call the shots of anything he thinks he can have at his disposal,” I alleged.

“Anything? I’m sure there are things that even you, a brilliant young lecturer at the faculty, don’t have,” she assured.

“Maybe,” I said, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t try to reach them.”

She smiled at this. I was still very hard and a little anxious because if it turned out I had to get up of the desk, she would have discovered the massive boner I had hidden in my trousers.  Like a teenager, with her I just couldn’t have control over it.Shame on me. But yes, I had it, it was big and I was hoping to chill it out a little bit before getting up of that chair.

“So what are you doing?” she asked, leaning on the desk to look at my papers.

“It’s just a lesson I’m…” I couldn’t finish the sentence. I almost came in my pants when I noticed she didn’t have anything underneath the silky dress which color I don’t really care. Divorced people can have some strange behavior. And I thought it wasn’t possible but the erection became harder when I started to imagine her figure underneath the fabric. Her small breasts above those Venus-alike hips that were sustained by those fit legs. Yes, she was pretty fit. Something to do with a tennis thing, I heard. But I didn’t doubt about the softness of those lips hidden in such curves and even given that pretty tight ass, the skin of her lower back would wave if I banged her. I knew it. Those little waves. That’s one of the best things of penetrating a woman.

“Professor? A lesson you’re…?” she questioned me, and then smiled. “More amusing than your lecture it’s the fact that a young successful lecturer like you would lose the thread of his thought in such way.” She laughed a little.

“Well, that can happen when things get hard to follow given…” I couldn’t help to raise my hands a little to point at her lusty figure.

“When things get hard… Fine, I get it.” She said. “Well, I’ll leave you so you can finish your lesson, professor.”

“No, please. I didn’t mean…” I hurried to say. She smiled.

“So, what do you do when the situationget shard, professor? Do you loosen it a little bit or let it go completely?” she asked.

“I’d like to let it go.” I answer.

I didn’t need a reason to go. She neither. We left the library and rushed to the teacher’s toilet. I closed the door. It’s just the kind of chemistry that happens out of a sudden in life. That kind of things you just can’t explain. It happens and you have to enjoy it. And let it go.

Once in the bathroom I started getting my buttons off but she went straight to the point. She got my dick out of my pants and started working in it with her mouth.I’m not so humble not to admit that my dick is fairly big. I’m a tall and rather skinny man. But all the muscles that God didn’t put in my limbsare in my organ. It was fully erected and even though she barely could manage it with both hands, she did put almost the entire thing inside her mouth. From the round tip to the end of the fatty middle, almost reaching with her lips the base of it, where the beast pulls at the hairy skin. No one can blame society for being phallocentric. Our instrument has such a power of attraction that it brings women to a true kind of submission. She was on her knees sucking it without stopping from the beginning, not giving me even a chance to breathe, to assimilate the sensation. She kept doing it. Now I wonder how the hell she breathed, how deep her mouth was, how she’d got such skill. Yes, I had her on her knees by my dick but she was the one that had me in her power. I couldn’t help it. I try with all my will to resist, to giveplace to the pleasure, to the moment. But her pace was just exhausting. She was taking it all with her mouth, sucking and sucking as if it was the only thing she’d value in life. Even today, I can bring to my mind the sensation of it, my organ being drown and pulled. The tip of my dick touching her deep throat, then passing her wet tongue to end in her lips; then, she would have the tip being sucked by her tongue again to finally touch her holy throat, again and again. I’d never experimented such a feeling. I would say it was better than penetrating.  She kept going, as if it was some kind of food and she was desperately hungry. This woman didn’t stop to jerk me off or to pull at my balls or kiss my belly, or to put her hands on my ass. No. She just kept sucking and sucking until I couldn’t stop from giving her what she seemed to want so badly. My seed went out as if an explosion had occurred in my crotch. I felt it filling her mouth and being swallowed inside and down her deep-deep throat at once. She swallowed it all and then slow the pace of her work, giving that dying sensation of being abused, happily abused. I felt my member like if it was sore. But I knew it wasn’t. The thing is that I hadn’t met such a pro at sucking dicks if it is possible to say such thing.

I have sweat all over me. My shirt was wet. I knew that my forehead looked as if I had run a marathon. I didn’t care. I didn’t care about my clothes or how I looked. I didn’t care about the lesson or if she had just divorced a colleague or even if someone had to use the toilet. I didn’t care about a single damn thing.

When everything was swallowed and my dick started to get flaccid, she finally let go. With a smile on her face she took something from alittle purse I just noticed and looked at me.

“See you after midnight, my kids will be sleeping. It will be my turn, professor, ” she said giving me a card with her address. Then she get out of the bathroom leaving me with the most guilty pleasure I’d ever felt in my life.