The Residency Issue Ch. 03

Anal

Any resemblance to existing institutions, or persons living or dead, is coincidental and unintended. This is a work of fiction.

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Lovemaking last night was abbreviated–we both needed sleep to recharge our batteries. When it occurred to me, I was impressed with the idea that I had apparently worn out my young stallion. Even after I woke up he lay quietly asleep, facing away from me. The groove of his back bone was so beautiful, as was his shoulder and upper arm. I ran a finger lightly down his back, in that lovely groove; I traced the comely outline of his shoulder. Deciding not to rouse him, I got up and used the bathroom.

When I came back he stirred and turned toward me. He gathered me to his side. I snuggled in tight and put my head on his shoulder. Pressing my suddenly hungry pussy against his hip, I trailed my nails slowly down toward his groin. He sighed deeply–I hoped it was for pleasure–and raised a knee, and let it fall to the side, exposing himself to me, submitting.

I thought, What a slut he is for me, how great is that? I told him, “What a good boy.” I ran my palm down to his morning wood, burgeoning now and getting harder. “Mm! A good boy who knows what his demanding sweetheart wants.” I ran my fingers lightly up and down the underside of his wonderful cock. I know my gut and boobs swung pendulously when I got up on my hands and knees, but I had a sudden idea and wanted to pursue it.

I swung a leg over him and straddled his abdomen. Shifting my knees along the bed, I walked/shimmied up toward his head and planted my cunt above his face. Seeing his eyes get big beneath me gave me a surprising rush of excitement and fluids. I’d pinned his arms to his sides, and that added to my excitement.

“Baby,” I said, “I’m going to lower my cunt onto your face and I want you to show me you remember what to do.” One hand on the headboard and the other holding up the fat lower fold of my abdomen, I dropped gently to his waiting mouth. His tongue pushed up into me, and OH! he found my inner lips immediately. The luxury, the divine pleasure of oral worship–this was amped up to 11 by the thrill of pinning my hot young lover below me and demanding he serve me. I ground away on his to-die-for handsome face–Oh, my wanton pleasure! He thrust his tongue as far into me as it would go, into his suddenly demanding queen. He made a meal of my inner lips and I was getting wetter and wilder as the moments passed. Soon I let go of my belly, held the headboard tight, and ground my pussy on the sweet boy’s face. I was approaching the point of no return; my breathing became desperate, halting, shallow…and then I was convulsing, out of control, gushing fluids on Paul’s face, the grinding, each ecstatic grinding stroke of my pussy overpowering. His surrender, his earnest effort with his tongue…I shook, and wriggled, and quaked, grunting and growling. My libertine, lusty body took me outside of myself; I convulsed around my excitable center as it delivered wave after wave of intense, debilitating pleasure. Somewhere in my mind I knew I was treating Paul’s face a little roughly, but when a woman’s in the middle of a blinding climax, nothing else matters.

I knelt there and dropped my head, breathing rapidly. Paul slid out from under me; I thought he’d gone to get a towel or something. But then I felt his hard cock behind me, tentatively introduced between my butt cheeks, pushing toward my pussy but not reaching. Wordlessly I pushed back toward him and dropped my shoulders to the pillows, presenting myself for the assault. I felt his cock slide up and back, against my soaking sex. Guiding him in was easy. He grabbed my hips and started savagely pounding into me. Now it was apparently his turn to have his way.

He pulled me strongly onto him with each stroke, and I was in heaven again. I’ve always found penetration in this position to be marvelously deep, and now was no exception. I wasn’t sure I would come again, but as good as he felt driving into me that way, I didn’t mind.

That issue became moot because a moment later he reached around and started to play a little roughly with my clit.

“Oh, sweetheart,” I breathed, “go easy.” I held his hand lightly. “Stroke it really lightly and quickly, barely touch it. It’ll make me–” I was going to say go crazy, but I didn’t need to. This stud’s instincts took over–oh god he’s going to go far in the realm of lovemaking. He held one hip and kept pounding into me while with the other hand he played with my clit … My God! I came again under this treatment, I think I screamed a little. Oh, the sweet marvel of losing your body to orgasm’s primal claim! I know I clenched up on him; I felt every inch of him as he frantically thrust into me. I reached down and held his hand motionless against my sensitive clit. A few more thrusts and he stiffened, holding my hip tight; he grunted like an animal and I could feel his cock pulse inside me.

He slowly slid bonus veren siteler himself out and collapsed behind me. I toppled over to one side, my breath slowly returning to normal.

“That was…” I said, “stunning. … Did I make you angry–or anything like that?”

Behind me Paul said, “No…you got on top of me, and that was pretty…I don’t know, unexpected. Then, the way you came on my face was wild, I can feel your, fluids, drying on my face still. And then you were kneeling there like that, with your hips up in the air….I’ve only done it that way once before; you were pretty easy to slide into.”

“Oh, believe me, I know,” I said. “And then you reached around to stimulate me…” I sighed–there’s nothing like post-coital bliss, especially when the coitus was energetic, hard. “We’ll have to try that again some time.”

Paul grunted, non-committal.

Eventually we gathered ourselves up and had a quiet breakfast of bacon, eggs, grapefruit, and coffee. Then the land line rang. It looked like Alma’s number.

“Hello?” I said.

“Vera, good morning, it’s Alma.”

“Well, good morning, Alma, how are you?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” she said. “Listen, I’m calling this morning–I wanted to ask you… were you and Paul in Gatlinburg yesterday?”

“Yes…,” I said, “we did some shopping and had lunch.”

“The only reason I’m asking,” said Alma, “is because the wife of one of our committee members mentioned seeing a young man with a woman there yesterday. She said the young man was headed to the University as a theater major in the fall, and the way she described him…it seemed like it had to be Paul.”

I made big eyes at Paul, who looked at me questioningly. To Alma I said, “We met a few gals yesterday. We did get to talking with some of them in one of the shopping arcades.”

“Lena is a shorter woman,” Alma said, “a little heavier, with a little frizz to her hair.” Alma hesitated. “I think she probably colors it.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound like anyone we met,” I said, completely aware that I was in no position to say, one way or another. “However, we did meet someone who said she had a connection to the Theater Department at UT. She gave us her number and seemed to want to introduce Paul to the faculty.”

“Oh, really?” Alma said.

“Yes,” I said. “Paul and I have talked it over a little, and he’s decided to call and see what he could find out.”

“Well, okay, good,” Alma said. “I’ll leave you to it, then. It seems like she could be a good person for Paul to know.”

“Well,” I said, “he and I have been discussing it, and I think I agree.”

We ended the call. Paul had the card in his hand, at eye level.

After we looked each other in the eye, I said, “You meaning to call right away?”

“I thought I might,” Paul said.

“Before you do that,” I said, “let’s talk about it first. Nora wants to help you out, or so she says.” Paul looked at me. “But I do think she’ll want something in return, don’t you?”

He nodded. “I guess.”

“How do you feel about that?”

He leaned back on the couch and sighed. “I honestly don’t know,” he said, “how much help she’d be. It’s not like I’m going and auditioning for parts.”

“No, you’re not,” I said. “But think of it this way: we know she’s very well connected in the department. Her husband and brother-in-law are both major players, it seems like.”

Paul nodded.

“You won’t be performing onstage, but you will be, backstage,” I said. “There’s going to be competition for the best roles there, too, right?” He looked at me, taking this in. “If Nora can influence her husband and her brother-in-law to advance you to, I don’t know, stage management, or supervision of some kind, that would be worth something,” I said. “I’m talking in terms of dollars and cents after you graduate. The more your résumé says, the more your early jobs pay.”

Paul pondered this.

He said, “But it would be like, because these ladies…like me, I can get ahead of others who might deserve it more.”

“That’s a good point, Paul,” I said, “but consider this: over the long term, you’re going to excel at what you do. I just know that about you, from the conversations we’ve had. Any difference a little favoritism makes will be short term. The flip side of the favoritism is the ladies’ obvious interest, which is getting access to you–your body, more exactly.”

“Or,” I said, warming to my theme, “you could turn down your advancement opportunities, or at least insist on proving your worth honestly, under their ‘tutelage.’ That way, if you’re willing to consider it, you could give the ladies a good time, save your conscience, and still do just fine, advancing in the department. You know it would work out that way.”

I continued: “Look at it this way: on the one hand, call Nora, let her take advantage of your good nature, so to speak, (and get some fun for yourself, if it appeals to you), work hard at your craft and let the chips fall where they may. bedava bahis Or, throw her number away and forget the whole thing. I will say that the long term is what will make this worthwhile. You and I can’t predict today what benefits may come your way down the road, after college. You stand to gain that, and have some fun in the meantime in the company of mature, appreciative women. BUT…the key here is how you feel about it. Do you feel like you’ll be manipulating them–which you shouldn’t, by the way–or do you feel like you’ll be selling yourself out?”

Paul breathed deeply, thinking. He said, “Well, I’ve had a nice time with you, and I do get excited about what Nora might be like, you know, in bed.”

“Of course you do,” I said, “you’re a healthy young man, and you’re getting beyond those infantile standards of youth and beauty that society harps on.”

The look on Paul’s face told me he’d decided to call.

I said, “You were pretty ready to call her yesterday…I can do it if you want.”

“I’ll call her,” Paul said. “That seems best.” He picked up the land line handset and dialed.

“Hello, Nora?” Paul said after a moment. “This is Paul Wheatley. We met yesterday?”

My, but I was tempted to listen on the extension, but, really, that was none of my business, unless I felt Paul was about to be taken advantage of. I thought he’d give me an accurate report of the call.

I heard what I think was excited sounds on the other end. Paul said, “Really? You would do that?”

“Well, yes,” Paul said. “I think that would be a good idea. OK … OK.” He held the receiver out to me. “She wants to talk to you.”

Surprised, I said, “Me?” On the phone I said, “Hello, this is Vera.”

“Vera,” she said. “Good morning, this is Nora Beckmann.”

“Hello.”

“Listen, Vera,” she started in, “first of all I want to thank you…I’m pretty sure you talked it over with Paul about calling me. I think it’s in his best interest to have a little advantage, a head start before the academic year.”

“I suppose it is,” I said.

“It definitely is,” she said. “So I made a proposal to Paul–I’d drive you both to the campus in Knoxville, get Paul a closer look at the campus theater, a more personalized tour than what most applicants get. We’d do some general campus-y things, like a mini-orientation for Paul, have a meal, and we can either stay at my house overnight, or drive back to the Park. I have to say staying the night is better. I have to come back to the Park anyway, to bring my friend Lena home.”

“You’re suggesting getting a meal, the three of us?” I asked.

“Oh no, there’d be another guest,” she said. “Nothing awkward or uncomfortable.”

I held the phone to my shoulder and looked at Paul. “I guess you want to do this?”

He shrugged. “It sounds like a good thing,” he said. “She wants you to come along?”

“Okay,” I told Nora. “Looks like we’re a go.”

Nora had a nice upper-echelon cross-over SUV; I sat in the back, ceding the shotgun seat to Paul. It was, after all, his tour. The terrain gradually flattened out as we drove west, but not before we saw the beautiful forested hills around Pigeon Forge. As we passed through I thought I should take more advantage of my excellent location, and pay more attention to the attractions I lived so close to. After all, they were a big part of the reason I moved where I did.

The drive to the campus in Knoxville wasn’t overly long after that. Nora kept up a steady conversation with Paul while she drove. Naturally, he was appreciative of the favor Nora was doing, and Nora kept up the “Any time I can do a promising young person a favor…” spiel. My feelings combined a curiosity of what would kind of moves Nora would put on Paul, and when, with a sense of the correctness of bringing me along (which showed a largeness or at least a little caution on Nora’s part), along with a search of my soul, asking myself, by what right can I claim Paul’s exclusive attention, other than jealousy? I’d only known him a few days, but we’d bonded, and I mean that in the friendly, deep personal way. Yes, we’d screwed like minks, and I certainly hoped to screw around with Paul some more, but we had become close over the hours we’d been together. I was curious about the theater in Knoxville, but only in a desultory way.

We proceeded to the theater after a quick stop for burgers. More thoughtfulness from Nora, I had to admit, since we needed fortification before doing whatever stair-climbing our tour was going to require. Maybe there’d even be ladders. I had no clue.

We crossed the courtyard in front of the theater on a warm day in early summer. It was an impressive building, as most theaters at major universities are, and we entered into air conditioned comfort through the main audience entrance. And the young man who met us was…eye-catching indeed. Slightly taller than Paul, he did not quite have Paul’s beauty, but he was quite handsome, with his tan, his ash-blond hair, cleft chin, and clear deneme bonus blue eyes. He wore an impeccable navy Polo shirt with narrow horizontal striping, and this served to show off his lean torso tapering down from his square shoulders. His tan “skinny” jeans were perhaps his one concession to his age and culture–it didn’t hurt anything that they showed off his lovely proportions below the waist. Light brown, soft-looking, tasseled loafers completed his look.

Well, no. His beaming, megawatt smile completed his look, and it almost never left his face. Nora introduced him as Alec, her nephew, and as he took my hand he beamed that smile into my eyes at close range. I hoped I didn’t look too blown away at our first meeting.

It seems Alec, having obtained his theater degree at a college in South Carolina, had been accepted to the UT graduate theater program, at the end of which he would receive his MFA. His concentration was acting, but had spent significant time in scenic design. He seemed genuinely pleased to meet Paul, smiling, encouraging his questions and answering them honestly and comprehensively. More than once he hinted that he wished he’d had someone to watch out for him when he started school. I wondered if there were scenes he’d rather forget, relationships that had proved costly to him, something like what Paul had encountered.

There was a great deal to see backstage. I really didn’t have an idea of the maze of gadgetry–control panels, intercom units, computer monitors, not to mention the thick lengths of rope draped along the sides of the proscenium. I tended to hang back from the group while the tour was going on; more than once, however, Alec specifically looked at me and explained one thing or another. He went out of his way to hold my interest as a full member of the party, which pleased me, I have to say. He would come up to me and listen intently, put a hand on my shoulder; once he even put an arm around me and carefully answered a question I had. It was very flattering; it almost flustered me.

Alec at one point showed Paul the main sound board, and you would of thought Paul had died and gone to heaven. Nora stood next to him, enjoying his rapture.

As usual, I hung back from the group, trying to keep calm in the face of the way Nora had claimed Paul. Alec stood beside me and said, “Aunt Nora sure seems to have taken an interest in Paul.”

I folded my arms. “Mm hm,” was all I could manage.

“I can see why,” he said. “He’s an awful nice guy, and quite good-looking, I have to say.”

I glanced at Alec to see if looking at him could tell me whether he was gay or bi, or something, but of course that’s absurd.

“Well,” I said, “you’re an awfully nice young man, and quite good-looking too.” I doubt if he needed it, but I wanted to acknowledge it, after what he said.

He looked deep into my eyes and brought his hand to my upper arm. With a tiny tilt of his head he said, “Thank you. You’re very kind.” And he continued to hold my eyes and my arm. In unison, we gave each other a little smile. He didn’t leave my side after that. I felt the warmth of Alec’s presence as he hovered about me; I got an odd, fluttering rush out of it, and I didn’t want it to end. As I let myself float along on his attention, my pussy would tingle from time to time when he would touch me or give me a conspiratorial look. Watching Nora and Paul became a private, shared pastime for us. I suppose, of course, Alec and I could be the same for them, but I don’t think we were ever as obvious as those two.

I didn’t have to work at being calm any more.

“Listen,” Alec said as the tour approached the wind-down moments, “Auntie Nora wanted me to tell you about dinner–she said she’d invite Paul, it would be the four of us. Nothing very fancy, but fun and relaxing. A good way to finish off the day.”

“Oh,” I said. I glanced at Paul and Nora, not quite knowing how to respond.

“Oh,” Alec said, “Auntie Nora was quite settled that we would go to a good restaurant and enjoy ourselves. She seemed like she wanted to make Paul feel welcome. To the department. She’s expecting it will be the four of us. That you and I will tag along seems a foregone conclusion.” He smiled and his eye twinkled–geez, he was easy on the eyes!–and I wanted to stop myself from speculating too much from the way he looked at me. Well! Alec was going to be my dinner date.

When at last we were in the lobby, apparently finished, Paul looked a question at me, did I know what was up? I nodded and tried to see if he was OK with everything. In fact, I’d been watching to see how he reacted to Nora’s claiming; he didn’t seem distressed…I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. It was irrational, I know, to feel possessive of someone I’d known such a short time, but there you are. However, as I think about it now, maybe it wasn’t all that irrational.

Nora, Paul, and I went to her home; Alec would follow after a quick stop at his place. Nora showed Paul and me to a spare room where we could put our feet up. This was another mild surprise, that Nora could be as gracious and accommodating as she was. I’m pretty sure she was waiting to dine out and push her poor nephew on me and have Paul to herself. That is how this lady’s dirty mind worked.

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