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Tuesday, the heat was close, like an unwanted embrace. Staring at the faded magnolia walls, I wanted to remove more than my single-ply knitted cardigan. I chose it for modesty, and that raised a rueful smile. Fanning myself with paperwork, this white chiffon blouse was too much. Getting dressed this morning, I hesitated between a black brassiere or ivory. Black would give the horny fuckers something to think about; ivory was more in keeping with this carefully maintained persona.I was the vanilla plain Jane, the single mother and empty nester. Working at the university, I wanted them to think I kept cats for company and remained on the shelf as the woman that could not get a man. My hair was held back in an unflattering loose ponytail; I would never encourage a second look and opted for very little makeup every day.The airless office was thick with the scents of hot dust, old mahogany furniture and musky books. Tepid air wafted over my flushed face, and I glanced at the clock on the wall. The lazy sweep of the second hand moved as I felt. I loosened a button, and the oscillating fan provided a fleeting respite.“Jesus, Iona… it’s not meant to be this hot for May.”That was Bryony, prone to a hot flush at the best of times, the poor thing.I’d had enough.“Right, I’m going out for ice lollies and cold drinks. Can I get you anything?”“A block of ice to sit on.”We roared. I needed one, too. I carried the satisfying ache from the hard cocks that serviced me well last night.Tired and sustained only by the fading sexual high, the echo of my court shoes rang out through the stairwell. Each step was bowed slightly by scuffed footsteps and the passage of time. It was cooler here, and a breeze caressed my calves. I should be bare-legged; my customary stockings and suspenders were a habit I could not break. They were a sop to who I was, a clue as the sheer fabric swished with each step. My A-line skirt showed a little of my slender figure, yet flared nicely to present myself as demure and prim.The brutal sun made my hair hot, and the oppressive heat would not cease. Around me, students lounged under trees, occupying all scraps of shade. A prolonged breeze came to my rescue and soothed my face.“Morning, Miss,” and some pallid spotty fucker grinned. First-year students, eighteen, and old enough to know better. Flanked by two gawky, brilliant white creatures, they also leered at me. This was unusual because I did not seek attention; perhaps it was the chiffon, and in this bright light, it might be opaque.“Missus to you,” my harsh words pulled them up abruptly, “boys….”One harrumphed, and the other two laughed. I did not break my stride, and travesti istanbul they did not see my grin. I was called much worse last night with a hard cock in my drenched cunt. My potty-mouthed retorts were silenced by another stuffed in my mouth.I should have chosen a black bra and given them something to wank about later. No, there was a dividing line between my not-normal and everyday lives. Vivid images from last night shot to the forefront of my mind, and a quiver of desire trembled through me. It threatened to loosen my gait. I should not indulge it here as a vignette of intense lust. Last night provided a delicious surprise, a diamond in the rough, and he represented an excellent opportunity. It was a unique circumstance seldom available to me, if ever at all.I knew Jack in a different guise. He was a guilty pleasure, another dirty secret, and the inspiration for many mind-bending masturbatory orgasms. They say that fantasies and reality should never mix, and I snorted at that one as I walked back to the office.Opening the fridge, I stashed two extra lollies in the icebox for later. We devoured the ones we had; there was no way much would get done today.Bryony pressed the ice-cold bottle to her temple, “Iona, how many of these application forms are left?”I looked at them, and my experience made for an educated guess, “About a hundred.”She sighed in weary resignation and fanned herself with a form, “At this rate, they’ll take the rest of the day. Where’s Debbie?”Offering a consolatory smile, I shrugged, “I don’t know.”Bryony was our senior and menopausal. I was heading towards forty, and Debbie had it all ahead of her, a mere babe at twenty-four. A girl-next-door type, a pretty face with a good figure, and an object of lust for these randy students. Not that she gave any quarter, she was engaged to be married later in the summer.An hour later, we were wilting again. My extension rang, a short chirping sound; it was an internal call.I picked up, “Hello, Iona Donahue.”“Debbie?”There was expectant hope on Bryony’s face.“Yes, it’s roasting in here.”“Cromwell? What are you doing there?”Bryony frowned.“About a hundred….”“Yeah, we can carry them.”Bryony had that matronly quizzical expression that always required an answer.“Okay, what a great idea! Thanks, Debbie.”Placing the receiver down, I looked over to my very pink colleague.“Debbie’s in the computer science lab. They gave her a terminal in the machine hall, and guess what? It’s air-conditioned.”“The jammy cow!” exclaimed a flushed Bryony with a hint of annoyance.“Wait… the two lads there have gone to lectures. If you don’t mind the noise, Debbie said she can istanbul travestileri set us up to input these feckers.”I brandished a teenager’s hopes and dreams with contempt, “And we can stay there for the rest of the day.”She gathered her paperwork, and it made whatever she said next rhetorical, “Come on … let’s get going. If we crack on, we can bunk off early.”= 2 =I survived Tuesday, sticky and wearied by the heat, and queued for the bus home. For most, Monday is the worst day of the week, but not for me. Watching the orange and cream double-decker lumber towards me, distracting memories raised a winsome smile. How little they would know if anyone looked at me now.Paying my fare, I opted for the cooler shade and opened windows of the bottom deck. Out of sight, out of mind, anonymous, distant, and gazing at the street as it went by. Just myself, a dreamy smile and my memories.Last night, I had been there for an hour, watching; it was all I wanted to do. For years I kept my imagination and intentions separate for the sake of my marriage and my children. Whether it was a coincidence or not, the compulsion throbbing inside me swept away these philosophical points. I was not married now, and my children had flown the nest. Some wallow in guilt that pushes such lewd thoughts aside; others cling to the morality that keeps them on the straight and narrow. In my experience, they can be found in private using their fingers to rub it from their bodies – alone.I was alone in this place, too. My dirty little secret, the swingers’ club at the edge of town. A single woman here on a night like this, and you might think it required steely determination to do that. No, it required an unshakeable lust that I had to sate.Oh, and they considered me something of a regular.In my experience, a good dancer is a good lover, and these two were no exception. I found them like this in a side room, and their bodies shimmered in the hues of crimson shadow. Leaning against the doorway, I had to watch them. Sizing up the raven-haired man, he was lean, defined, athletic, and handsome enough. He was in charge, and I could tell by how he handled his quarry, a slender, smooth-skinned blonde. So slight against him as a willowy young man, Blonde gazed at me with narrowed eyes and melted to his touch.Some like to kiss, others choose to refrain, but one thing united them… lust. The allure of joining them gnawed away at my insides as their strong hands tempted each other. Raven had him convinced as I watched their descent into passion. They were both erect, their balls tight, and I watched Blonde’s grasp close over that tumescent shaft. The spectacle istanbul travesti and his first groan sizzled through my body as he eased towards the prize. Stroking and licking it, his heavy balls were not neglected.Watching me with blissful eyes, Raven reached out. I came here to watch men fuck other men, yet the compulsion was too great. I had to join them… I needed to relive the youth taken from me. Blonde glanced up at me as his lips wrapped around that sturdy shaft. I had to touch myself and ignite my lust. Rubbing at the smooth mound of my sex, I smeared its warm juices over my throbbing clit.Spontaneous acts like this always provided the most intense gratification.The scarlet satin felt cool and sensual to the touch. What was two became three, and as the Blonde’s lips pleasured that rigid cock, I took his into my mouth. It was fierce in heat and rigidity; it felt so lean and velvety in texture. His appreciative murmur of pleasure was my reward, and quickly, it became an addiction to hear his stifled moans. Looking up, the vision before me was all the inspiration I needed. Raven cradled the back of his head and eased his hard cock back and forth into Blonde’s willing mouth.Against my lips and tongue, he was fully erect as I caressed his chunky balls. Enlivened by the touch of strange fingers on my satin-clad sex, I turned to look back, stroking Blonde. He was a stocky man with a shaved head and a powerful physique. Reciprocating the wicked curl on his lips, I appreciated a bold and determined man in moments like this. In this low light, the pupils of his eyes were black and filled with a hunger for me. Pulling back my panties, my spine curled to present my ripe arse and the pillows of my juicy cunt; I wanted more than his touch. He was a brute with the touch of an angel, and I murmured for more on Blonde’s tumescent shaft; three were now four.My excitement was too much, and I knew what would happen now. All rationality would be found back home. My body exhausted, and my mind filled with everything I saw and did. For days afterwards, my libido would be insatiable. A carnal hangover from how fuck-drunk I planned to get. The yearning for that maddening need to climax provided all my motivation now. Raven’s voice had a deep timbre that liquified my insides. Following his assertive instructions, our limbs moved in a shifting kaleidoscope pattern. I lay prone, and my panties disappeared in an arc over his shoulder. I threw my bra in the same direction, reduced to stockings and suspenders.The stocky man cleaved my sex with his tongue, and his strong hands captured my thighs. Pulling on the back of his head, the thrum of my moans telegraphed through the cock in my mouth. It was Raven’s, a thick, malevolent implement, and I goaded its corpulent head, swirling my tongue around it. Gripping it, the strength of my fingers attuned his thrusts until I relented, and he rifled my mouth.
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