Gap Year : by (c) Lady Joyce Hamilton MM TV I had at least three hours to kill. I showered, shaved and tried on the gold satin dressing gown. A bit effeminate, that! I took it off. I looked at myself in the mirror again, naked, and wished for the thousandth time that I had been given a more masculine, macho body. I took up a pose, and tried to make my biceps swell. As usual very little! And almost no body hair, at my age, seventeen! My cock was all right, though, and at least as big as Jason's (though not as big as Uncle Silas'). I turned round and looked over my shoulder at my arse. With my hair tied back in a pony-tail I looked sexy but a bit 'girly', rather tarty. I opted for the plain white satin robe. I assumed he would want a boy who looked like a boy! The view from the window was dull for an urban lad... just the green acres of Hyde Park. We were too high to see the traffic in Park Lane, under the window. In the grey mist and drizzle there were no people in the park. I drew the curtains closed, and put on some lights. I wandered around the suite opening drawers and cupboards. All empty. I did not open the door to what was probably his bedroom. The hotel rooms were laid out as a lounge and two bedrooms, one each side, and each with its own bathroom. I found a copy of 'Vogue' lying half-hidden under the Bible in a drawer, abandoned by some previous occupant of the room, presumably female. I quite like fashion, and got rid of an hour or so browsing it. I tried my cock out, using a pic of a near-naked model and her boyfriend in his tight Calvin Klein underpants. I wondered if the bulge was real or fake. I reckoned he looked a lot sexier than her: she was so clearly air-brushed, enhanced etc. More natural and probable, somehow. I was not sure whether he was really sexier with his chest hair waxed off, or whether he would have looked better with his hair there. I decided I liked both! I opened my robe. A quick rub of the cock bringing myself close to coming but stopping short. I picked up a drop of cum from my cock's eye, stretched it out till the thread broke, and licked it from my finger. I was tempted to cum, but thought I'd probably need to impress my new Boss and it would be best to make sure I could shoot a big load first time. Save that for later! Good job I had one of my math books with me. I was soon deep in it. As usual the description of a mathematical process led me off on ideas of my own. Often I would find I had worked things out, developed ideas all by myself, only to read about them in text books later. Sometimes, however, I got there before anyone else, and was collecting these insights together in a school exercise book. I knew already I had a real talent for mathematics, and could develop original theories and techniques. On the dot of seven a knock on the centre door. My heart was suddenly beating. But it was not him. Just a waiter with a trolley. By the way he smiled, and looked straight at my crotch I guessed he was gay, and it was pretty obvious he knew what I was here for. He was the type that turns me on, big built and immaculately groomed in his penguin suit, trousers tight round the crotch. But he was out of luck today! And I'd lost my hard on while musing on my equations, so there was no bulge under my gown. Two bottles, glasses, a pie of some sort and a heap of oysters open on a silver tray. I had a slice of pie and a glass of red, and went back to my studies. It was just eight and I heard a key turn in the door. Again that tightness of sexual tension across my chest. It was him this time. He dumped a briefcase and a laptop on a settee and came over, hand extended. 'You're Julian. Hi!' His face is, of course, well-known from the glossies and tabloids, and I immediately recognised that strong chin and shock of shining black hair. But it was his immense physical presence that astounded (and excited!) me. Smiling, happy, he none-the-less dominated the room as soon as he entered. 'You've had a bite? Good! Give me a few minutes to freshen up and I'll be with you.' He opened the champagne, skilfully, poured two glasses, passed one to me, and left with the bottle and his glass. I sat on the settee. He was back within ten minutes, now wearing a dressing-gown like mine, only about ten sizes larger. I expected him to sit beside me and start to make love, and was really looking forward to his caress, but he pulled a chair up to the low table, and had a few of the oysters. As he chatted, with an easy charm, I learned he had been in New York all week and was just this moment back. I said I hoped he was not too jet-lagged, and found he had his own plane with bed, shower, and all the comforts, but still got lagged. As he talked his gown fell open momentarily and I had a glimpse of an incredibly large, muscular, hairy thigh. I shivered in anticipation, wondering how big the cock would be, going with that body. He lit a small cigar. My own cock hardened, making a small tent in my own satin. The black hairs on his chest went right up to his neck, visible under the top of his robe. I am attracted to big, muscular, hairy men. There was Jason, of course, but before that there was Uncle Silas. My father walked out on us when I was about twelve, and my mother brought me up by herself, which meant the house was often empty, and I had quite a lonely home life (probably why I became a mathematician). One thing to look forward to, however, was a visit from her brother, my Uncle Silas. We only had a two bed-room flat, and Christmas and Easter, when he came down from Liverpool, he would share my bed. It was not his fault, I guess. I am a very pretty boy, and at twelve I must have been devastating, with my golden curls, slender body and peaches-and-cream complexion. Also I slept naked (our flat was always over-heated.) Anyway, that first Christmas I'd been allowed to have a glass of wine with my Christmas dinner, and a few glasses of sweet sherry through the evening. Uncle Silas and Mum got fairly drunk with the young couple from the flat opposite, who dropped in after dinner. The couple left about ten, and Mum and I cleared up while Uncle Silas watched the television, still with a glass of scotch in his great hairy fist. When I came back, I found myself looking at his hairy chest. He had taken his tie off, and opened his shirt. I thought my Dad had not been as big and hairy as him. I shivered, and in retrospect I realise that I was excited by his masculinity... I wanted him, though I did not know it yet. I remember his smell, a mixture of scotch, tobacco, and male sweat. Ever since then that has turned me on. Sometimes in a bar, or at a party, I find myself going hard when that combination is close to me, and my memory slips back to my first sexual experience. Often it goes with that overpowering physical presence you may find with rich and successful men. I was in bed first, and Uncle Silas came into my room, standing over the bed with his glass still in his hand. He was clearly drunk, but had that wonderful smile as usual. 'Your mother's asleep already.' He teetered a bit as he removed his shoes and socks, and then I had my first view of his tremendous body. All muscle and hair! As he stood on one leg to remove his underpants, my cock stiffened at the sight of his cock, hanging like a great pink hosepipe, and the hard, surprisingly tiny arse, covered with a mat of black hair. He turned back the sheet (we didn't need anything else in our overheated flat), and embarrassed I rolled over onto my belly to hide my hard little cock. 'No need to be ashamed! Look!' And, indeed, a couple of shakes from his fist and his own cock was hard. Twice the size of mine, or more. My cock throbbed with the passion, almost painful in the balls, that only a teenage boy can feel. I wanted to jerk off. I turned over again, on my side, so my cock lay on the white sheets. I could see a little drop of cum. My first precum. This had never happened before, not until I'd actually cum. He put his glass down and was on the bed beside me. Now it all happened in a rush. But it is imprinted on my mind, and it all came back to me as Sir Tom smiled. I was in his arms, his hairy body enfolding my smoothness, and then his tobacco-and-whisky lips were on mine. His hand reaching between us to hold my cock. His other hand holding mine, and placing it on his own cock. Then his lips on my nipples, my navel, and finally round my cock. I came instantly, the biggest, best, fiercest cum I had had. My little cock stayed hard in his mouth. I found I wanted to suck him. too, to lick and kiss that huge, blue-veined masculinity. He was kissing me again now, on the lips. 'Please, Uncle.' I licked down over his hairy chest, and over his belly, and finally licked his knob. I managed to get the knob in my tiny mouth. We were laying side-by-side, and I could fondle his balls with one hand while rubbing his shaft with the other, as I knew he would like. (Because that's what I would like!). His knob was filling my mouth, and stretching my jaw. But I loved it, and the man-smell from him. As he got more excited, he was squeezing and kneading my bottom, and then he was moving his hips, as if fucking my mouth. He groaned, and there was a sudden warmth in my mouth. I swallowed, and swallowed. Night and morning we played. And I so looked forward to each visit and 'our little secret'. But he never fucked me, though he often had his fingers or tongue in my arse. I expect he was scared of doing some harm to my tight little hole, that would expose him. Anyway, when I left home for good, he gave me a thousand 'towards my university', and hoped we could still meet for fun. Oh Yes! That was a long digression, but it has helped me to understand why it was love at first sight for me with Sir Tom. I was looking at his chest, and his oh-so-hairy calves. I expect my admiration was obvious to someone as sensitive to emotions and personalities as I found him to be. 'But there's one good cure for jet lag!' He came over to me, extended a hand, and raised me from the seat. Then I was in his arms and he was carrying me effortlessly through the door to his room. I could feel his cock harden where my arse rested against it under his gown as he carried me. He laid me on the bed. His tanned face was wreathed in that so-attractive smile, and his teeth were perfect! I could smell aftershave and the cheroot he had stubbed out. I felt again that tightness of anticipation in my chest, and was sure he could hear my heart beating. His gown slipped from his shoulders to the floor, and he stood over me, masculine, magnificent. I should describe him, though his face is well enough known, and not only in the financial papers. And there are plenty of pics of him in the women's magazines, sun-tanned by a pool somewhere, a blonde bimbo on his arm. He was, of course tall, over six foot four, and heavy, over two hundred and fifty pounds, but there was not an ounce of fat on that toned and honed body. His arms were thicker than my thighs, and his belly had the traditional boxer's 'six- pack'. The only part of him that struck you as small was his arse, hard and pert, especially in the contrast with those wide shoulders. And what a cock! Huge and erect, veins running the length of the shaft, straight, and with a great red helmet. He knew he was good, and laughed at my admiration. 'Now you, Julian.' He reached down and undid my sash. I slipped out of the gown and lay naked for him, on my back. Like that first time with Uncle Silas I was hard. 'Lovely! That's lovely!' His arms enfolded me, and I felt his strength along the length of my body. His hairs were crisp to the touch of my hands as I caressed him, and I could feel them against my smooth belly and chest. One huge thigh slipped between mine, forcing them apart, and as we lay our cocks touched, embracing like us. He liked kissing, and we kissed for minutes, as our hands explored the shape and texture of each other's bodies. Jason was big and muscular, but Sir Tom Tupper was built like a weight-lifter. I could not get enough of him, and I stroked and felt, caressed and fondled, pressed and rubbed, combing my fingers through his black mat of hair on shoulders, and even on his arse. His lips left mine, but only to kiss my neck, and then each of my nipples, making them stand. I groaned. 'You like that, Julian?' He nibbled again. 'Mmmm. I love that Sir Tom.' 'Tom. Just Tom.' His mouth was on my belly now, his tongue drawing circles around my navel. I shivered as his pointed tongue licked into my belly button. Down now, over my belly, and then the point of his tongue tickling down my shaft. I was hyper-excited, and suddenly worried I was going to cum. I wanted this job, and now I wanted this man too, and I so wanted to please and excite him as he had excited me. His lips around my knob, and the wet warmth of his mouth as he accepted the length of my shaft. I held his head in my two hands as he knelt over me, sucking and gobbling. I heard myself groaning, and then, as I felt my cum rising, I was raising my hips to shag him in his willing mouth. 'I'm coming. Tom, I'm coming.' His efforts redoubled and I realised that, like me with Jason but unlike Jason with me, he was going to swallow. I came, and knew again the pleasure of an uninterrupted orgasm, continuous sucking, and the lovely feeling of a warm, soft mouth sucking and swallowing. Then there were the twitches of my still-erect prick as my orgasm subsided. but his tongue still flickered and his mouth was still warm, wet and welcoming. He lay for moments, my cock throbbing between his lips. It was still hard! I really was excited! 'That was wonderful, Tom. I've never cum like that before..' He sat propped up against the bedhead, and I sat beside him, my cheek resting on his barrel chest, tickled by the matted hair. His arm was round my shoulder, strong and protective. I found myself telling him about Jason, how I had loved him, and what we liked to do to each other, how I loved his strong body and springy-firm cock. 'Not as big as yours, though, Tom.' I was holding his cock with one hand (erect...he had not cum yet), and cradling his furry balls with the other. I licked his nipple through its mask of black, tangled hair. 'So he didn't suck you?' 'Oh, yes. But not so I could cum in his mouth.' 'What a treat he missed.' He raised my head and kissed me, his tongue flickering inside my mouth. I could taste my cum on his lips. So I told him how Jason had gone to The States on a sports scholarship to UCLA, and how I missed him. How I had intended to spend the year between school and my own university course studying...that I thought I could probably be a great mathematician. That already I was better than any of my teachers, who had given up trying to keep up with me. But then this opportunity of being his Personal Assistant... 'You knew what PA meant in this case?' 'I wasn't surprised. I knew where it was advertised, after all!' He laughed, and reached into a side-drawer. 'What do you think of this?' I recognised her. It was the brunette at my interview for the job. The older blonde woman, Ms Harmsworth, had done all the interviewing, but the other girl ...Sonia? ... had taken notes. She was probably at a party in the photo, black satin and lace dress, a drink in her hand, sparkling eyes. She was the one who had made me produce the pic of myself in swimming trunks, and had approved it. I thought I would be out of the running because of my 'girly legs' as Jason termed them. She had liked it though, and told Ms Harmsworth so. And they had made me lower my pants...... 'Sonia's very pretty. I thought so at the interview. So you go both ways, Tom.' 'As you do, apparently according to Sonia's notes. But look on the back of the frame.' I turned it over. The photo on the back was the same girl, but naked except for a suspender-belt, black glossy stockings and high, high, high heels. Astoundingly she had a very straight, stiff cock, silhouetted and stark against a scarlet velvet curtain. 'Jesus! She's fantastic, Tom.' I looked at her, entranced. So feminine despite her flat, smooth chest and that lovely prick. 'Fantastic!' 'She was your predecessor. She's gone to University now, as you will in a year's time. We had good times in our year together.' 'You want me to dress like that, Tom?' I realised now why I had been chosen, 'girly legs' and slender body, pony tail, soft complexion and all. I was already half-way there! 'I would like that, Julian. You don't have to, but you would look so pretty, and so sexy.' I might as well, I thought. The pay was fantastic, and it was so little to please him. Also, I quite liked the idea, even then. 'I wonder if I'll ever look as good.' 'Better. Your legs are wonderful! You'll start tomorrow. Ms Harmsworth will take you to some people who will help you get started. Here, you'll need this.' 'This' was a gold credit card that he handed me. 'Sign it later. It's for beautifying your body, hair, and above all for clothes. No limit, and I'll pay. I'll tell you if you get too extravagant. But I do like my PA to look a million dollars.' Again that wonderful smile. I was flabbergasted! Four thousand pounds pay a month, three thousand expenses a month 'not accountable' and now an open-ended credit card. What a gap-year I was going to have! and all my financing probs solved! Uncle Silas' thousand looked less important now. (And I knew it was really a way of protecting himself, of reinforcing our pact of secrecy. He needn't have worried, I still loved him a bit, and was so grateful for having shown me my gay-side so early.) I was still fondling his cock, and wanted to suck him. I kissed his hairy, hard belly, and then the knob of his cock. He moved slightly so his knob penetrated my lips. He was big, but I could get half his shaft in without gagging. I sucked as well as I knew how, tickling his balls too, and the hard bit between his balls and his arse, and his furry arsehole itself. He held my head between two great paws. 'That's good. So Jason never fucked you, Julian?' My 'No' was muffled by the knob in my mouth. 'So this little arse is still virgin?' 'Yes...' 'Well young Julian we'll do something about that, but not today. Practise with this.' He had reached into the same drawer and taken out a pink butt-plug (I'd seen them in sex shops when I'd dared to enter, but never had one.) He spread K Y from a tube on it, and slipped it into my arse. I gave a little squeak, but it didn't feel too bad. 'There. Keep that in mostly till I come back Friday. And sometimes practise with this. If anything it's a bit bigger than me!' It was a big black, penis-shaped dildo! 'And by Friday I will have a pretty Julie waiting for me to take her virginity. Ready and willing.' It may have been my sucking and fingering, but I think it was also the shape of my arse, and the thought that he would soon be having it. His cock was even larger now, and throbbing. I knew he was coming and sucked faster, harder, keeping my teeth well away. And he came, great spurts, much more cum than Jason, filling my mouth however hard I swallowed, dripping over my chin. I lay there thinking, 'I'm in love!' ............................................................ It only took a day to make me look like a girl, but the full week to make me feel like one. I had hoped Sonia would turn up again, but she was away to Oxford by now, and it was Ms Harmsworth who took me to the transformation experts. I was bathed, perfumed, waxed and epilated (every scrap of body hair, including my arms and legs), and my new, smooth skin pampered with softening oils and creams. There was a masseur and a masseuse, each rubbing the soothing oils into me, each laughing at my intermittently hard cock. Then, as a very pretty gay hairdresser changed my rough pony-tail into silken shoulder length waves my finger and toe nails were manicured, and varnished. The soles of my feet took an hour of pumice-stone to make them soft and feminine. Feminisation took all day. Ms Harmsworth apologised. 'There's no time to shop for your first clothes, Julie. But Sonia left these, and they should fit, at least till tomorrow.' So I left the beauty salon in a stylish black suit, modest calf-length skirt, and a short jacket over white blouse. My first lingerie was a new bra, panties and suspender set Ms Harmsworth had brought along for me, plain black satin. She had already decided I'd be a B-Cup, and had brought some rather cheap falsies with her. ('You'll want some more exciting things, my dear. Or at least Tom will want you to.') I loved the feel of those first fully-fashioned nylons, tight and soft on my newly- smooth skin. She had also got me a pair of black, 'sensible' shoes. 'Tom will want you in high heels... show those lovely ankles off ... but you'll need to learn how to walk in them. Not a good idea to start straight off in Bond Street!' Ms Harmsworth also showed me how to fit a 'gaff' to hide my almost constant hard-on. We went back to Tom's flat. I dined alone, having had a meal sent in. I ate it wearing my first nightie, a simple see-through black nylon. The rest of the week was a whirl of shopping, and my training as a woman. We had decided I'd have B-cup breasts, and I bought top-of- the-range falsies first thing, throwing away the cheap rubber things of the night before. Then I could buy clothes of course, and buy, and buy, and buy! Sir Tom's chauffeur was summoned to each shop and boutique, and we loaded the limo with parcels and bags before going on to the next one! I had to learn how to walk in high heels, then dance, and finally run a bit in them. The girls in the salon were very helpful, and showed me how a woman moves, how she uses her hands, and above all made me practise over and over with my make-up. I managed to get an almost feminine timbre into my voice (which is not in fact very deep or masculine naturally.) Girls have a way with their eyes and lips when in contact with a male, and I found that my natural instinct to flirt could be enhanced with practise in front of a mirror. By Wednesday I could walk into a boutique and be accepted as feminine by the shop assistants. .................................................. Saturday afternoon I lay in a hot bath, and then went through the routine of checking my body for hair, rubbing in the body lotion, brushing my hair. I slipped on a pair of high-heeled shoes, lovely gold straps, and looked at myself in the mirror. For the first time in my life I was pleased with my body, pleased with my image in the mirror. My 'girly' legs looked wonderful on this femme with her shining golden hair. The shoes did wonders for my trim ankles, and my bum looked pert and rounded as the high heels made it jut out. I looked forward to giving Tom the sex of his life! ............................................................... I had decided a 'virginal' appearance would be best for my first real sex. My lingerie was white satin, and I had flesh-coloured stockings (but very glossy, with lace tops). My gown was white satin and lace, and I chose silver high-heels. I made up with pink lipstick and varnish, and mostly relied on my own flesh-colours. I let my hair flow loose to my shoulders (the hairdresser had spent an hour earlier that afternoon getting this natural effect). No rings or broaches, but tiny silver ear- rings. Tom arrived on the dot of nine. I was in his arms instantly. Again that scent of tobacco and aftershave. God! How I wanted him. I found myself murmuring in his ear, 'I love you. I want...' 'And I want, too Julie. But dinner first.' He turned me round so my butt was pressed against his crotch. I felt his hands round my neck. ??? 'Look in the mirror, Julie.' It was lovely, a cluster of three emeralds set in a gold chain. 'Your birthstone, sweetie.' I stammered my thanks. He had showered and changed on his plane, and we went straight out. It was a new experience for me to be the centre of so much interest and attention. Of course the other diners were mainly interested in Sir Tom, being in the same room as this great and powerful man! And not in the bimbo who was probably his squeeze for the evening. He was all attention to me, though our conversation was enlivened by a constant string of friends and acquaintances of his who strolled over to his corner table. I was introduced to all of them as 'Julie McFee, my new Personal Assistant.' As we left the restaurant half a dozen paperozzi photographed us. I gave them my best style, and tried to get into the limo without showing too much leg! 'A club now?' 'I'd rather go home now, Tom.' I rested my hand on his thigh to reinforce my point. I'd rather have placed it on his crotch! 'Of course!' He tapped on the dividing screen. 'Home now Gulliver.' In the car he kissed me, but nothing more. In any case my gaff, disguising my terrible hard-on would have been in his way. ...................................................... I had spent a quick five minutes repairing my make-up, brushing my hair, and dabbing some perfume behind my cheeks and in the crease of my bottom. Oh yes, and removing my gaff. Tom had hung his jacket up, and removed his shoes and socks. He stood in the middle of his bedroom in his shirtsleeves, opening a bottle of champagne, his face wreathed in that wonderful smile. My hard-on was ruining the line of my silk dress, but I don't suppose he minded. The bottle opened with a gentle fart, and he placed it by the bed. In his arms again, I felt his hand on my cock. I reached for his, hard under the wool of his suit. I felt the zip at my back slide down to my waist as we kissed. Then I was in his arms again, wearing just the white satin bra, suspender-belt and panties I had chosen for this night. Oh, and glossy stockings, silver high heels and my new emeralds. As we embraced, I undid the buttons on his shirt, and kissed his nipples, hidden in the forest of black hair. I pulled the shirt from his waistband, and he was naked from the waist up. On my knees now, I unzipped him, undid the belt, and let his trousers fall to his naked feet. He stepped out of them, and I crushed my face to his white boxer shorts. The cock was hard under them, against my cheek. I nibbled the shaft through the cotton, and then, two-handed, slowly, so slowly pulled them down over his massive thighs. His cock sprang out and was in my mouth. I sucked his cock, licked his balls, and caressed his arse and thighs for several minutes. Finally he lifted me to my feet and kissed me again. He lifted me and carried me to his bed, laying me gently in the middle of it, and joining me there. We kissed again, more passionate now, me gnawing at his bottom lip, his tongue forcing its way into my mouth , licking there, raping it. 'Tom, I want...' His hand was on my cock, having pulled my panties aside. My hand was on his cock, stroking and petting it 'I want....' 'I know what you want, Julie, and so do I.' There was a pot of oil by the bed, ready for this I suppose, and he dipped his fingers in. 'I love those panties, Julie, but take them off for me.' Then his finger was playing around my anus, tickling and pressing it. I was ready for him. The butt-plug had been in all week, and I had been practising with the big black rubber dildo. I liked the feel of his fingers up me, as we kissed again and he masturbated me. 'I'm ready, Tom. Please...' 'My little sweetie.' I knelt for him this first time. I wish I had written down what I felt the first time I had a cock in me. There have been so many since it is difficult to remember fully. Now I have a diary and a photo album to keep track of my many affaires but I only started that a few months after the night in question. Anyway, I'm certain I knelt that first time. I can remember he was stroking my bottom with one hand while he worked fingers in and out of me with the other. I really did want him : I felt I was in love and wanted to give myself to him fully, to give him his ultimate pleasure. I was so young then! 'Please, Tom. Now!' His fingers withdrew, and I felt his knob between my cheeks, seeking the place. Then a light push, and it started to penetrate. The pain was sudden, and I did not expect it. I gave a little squeal and flinched away. The knob slipped out again. 'My sweetie. It won't hurt for long.' The knob was there again. A push. And this time I felt it right in me. It still hurt, but not as sharply. He was holding my arsecheeks, one in each huge hand. Then a slow, gentle push, and I felt him slipping in. Amazingly it all went in, and I knew he was completely up me when I felt his hairy thighs touch my arse. The pain was a dull ache now, and I knew I could tolerate it to give him his pleasure. My cock had gone soft with the tension and fear. Now he was pulling out, slowly, for the first time. That was nicer, more like having a really good, big dump in the morning. I giggled at the thought. As if encouraged by my girlish giggles, he was pushing in again. This time it was OK. I felt full, and there was no real pain. Again those furry thighs on my smooth skin. I hoped he wouldn't reach under me to feel my limp cock, and rubbed it myself, gradually getting it hard again. I was glad when I was hard: I did not want him to think I had gone limp while he was fucking me. Now he was fucking me robustly, and somewhere inside me there was a warmth and excitement communicating itself to my cock, erect again now. I stopped jerking it. 'Nice, sweetie?' 'Lovely! Just like that!' He was giving me three hard shoves, and then slightly changing direction for three more, then another slight change of position and three more. It was good now. Very good, and my arse moved back to meet each thrust so our bodies crashed together. He was incredibly virile, and I don't think anyone since has fucked me as fast and furious as he did towards the end of that first time. He had reached under me with one hand and was using my cock to hold us together, while his other arm was round me holding onto my (flat) breast. He was muttering endearments mixed with oaths, and I was just going 'Oh! oh! Oh!.......' I felt his stubble-chin on my shoulders, and he was licking and kissing me, his cock slipping in and out easy and smooth. 'Please, Tom. Now! I'm gonna....Oh, please, Oh! Oh! Oh! please, now!' I was coming. The warmth in my arse as he hit the spot over and over again, his hands on my cock and nipples, his lips on my neck, the feel of his body crashing into mine, his words, all was too much. 'Now! Now! Now!....' He must have felt my cum drench his fingers, and I guess that pushed him over the top because I heard him coming. 'Fuck yes! Oh yes! Oh sweetie. Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!' Each 'yes' was a spurt of hot cum deep inside me. Then his thrusts got slower and less powerful as his orgasm died down. Finally I collapsed forward on the bed, enjoying his great weight on me. We must have laid like that five minutes, both astounded by the fury of our orgasms. Then my arse expelled his cock with a spasm. I giggled. 'That was lovely! I didn't know it could be so good, Tom. Darling Tom!' He was asleep almost immediately. Men! ......................................................... I was awake early in the morning and slipped out of bed to have a quick shower, and redo my hair and make-up. I had still been wearing the suspender belt and stockings from the night before! He had wiped himself on my panties, and I threw them in the laundry basket along with the rest. I picked a see-thru dark-blue silk nightie from my wardrobe and the high heel slippers from the evening before. I looked at myself in the mirror. 'Not bad,' I thought. I jutted my arse out. 'And not a virgin!' I found myself thinking how good it had been, and was getting hard again. I lifted the hem of my nightgown and looked at my arse. I spread the cheeks. It looked the same as ever, no signs of any damage from that huge engine that had pounded me. A bit redder than before, perhaps. The same tight, puckered ring. I was still a bit sore there, but nothing worse! Then it happened! Suddenly into my head came the answer to the 'Hartstein Anomaly'. Physicists and mathematicians reading this will know this problem on the area where math meets cosmology. Hartstein took his theory just so far, but got stopped with two apparently contradictory equations. I had been thinking about them for weeks, and at that moment I saw the resolution! Luckily it was only five a.m. I grabbed a pad and paper and scribbled desperately, scared I would lose the insight as suddenly as it had come to me, but remembering to number the sheets as they mounted in an untidy heap beside me. I was writing as furiously as he had been fucking the night before. At eight I had finished. I knew this would make my name. I collected the papers carefully, and put them in a drawer under my math books. No longer a virgin. Beautiful as the dawn. And now I knew I was going to be a great mathematician, too. And the man I know loved sleeping in the next room! .............................................. He was still asleep. He had thrown the sheet back and was laying there, a magnificent, hairy Tarzan. I put the tray down and knelt beside him. Gently I held his cock and slipped it into my mouth. For the first time I felt him harden inside my lips. Before he had always been hard: this time I made him hard. I was erect too as I sucked and licked, and stroked his belly and balls. I had him close to coming in his sleep, and could taste the pre-cum now. I worked at it harder. Finally he woke, with a moan of pleasure. He grasped my head, and was about to say something when his orgasm stole up on him and burst forth. Again that lovely rush of cum for me, filling my mouth, making me dribble down my chin as I could scarcely swallow fast enough to accommodate all the wonderful vigour of it. 'Thank you, Tom. That was lovely. Now your coffee. I have cocoa in the mornings.' ................................................... We showered separately, and I dressed in my room. I chose a tartan wool suit, skirt about knee length. That and calf length black boots, the Victorian sort with spiky high heels and laced-up from the ankles to the knee. A black leather cheeky-chappy cap perched on my golden hair and a matching shoulder-strapped bag. I looked every inch the smart girl going to church. It wasn't to church, but for a Sunday walk in the Park. We called in at Mr Patel and looked at the paper. I was amused by the inside pages of the tabloids, with their pics of me and Tom leaving the restaurant Saturday night. 'Sir Tom's mystery girl!' Well, it was likely to stay a mystery as that 'girl' had not existed a week before. They would do well if they found out much about my past! Tom gave the newsagent's son a couple of pounds to take the papers back to the apartment while we went on to the Park. It was nice walking through the empty streets and then into the Park, busy with other Sunday morning strollers, joggers, children. Tom had his arm around me and we were chattering like any young lovers. People looked at us, partly I suppose because Sir Tom's face was so well known, but also, I think, because of his beautiful partner. And that was women as well as men! We watched children feeding the ducks. 'God! Julie! You look good enough to eat!' 'You know how much I'd like that, Tom!' I kissed him in full view of the strollers. 'Home. Now!' I loved his urgency, his complete lust for me! He let us in, and the moment we were inside the hallway he had me against the wall, my skirt raised. I saw him loosen his belt and drop his trousers. He pulled my black satin directoire knickers aside, and his cock was in me. I was bent, braced against the wall, unsteady in my high heels as he fucked me. But it was lovely! He reached under me and held my cock, hard for him of course. This time he was just taking me, and I was able to take him without preparation or foreplay. And it was good! I felt so feminine, and desirable. He came. Then he was on his knees, turning me round. His mouth on my cock, sucking. I came almost immediately I had been so worked up my his cock in my arse and his hand jerking me. I must have had a lot of cum because he nearly gagged, choking a bit. But he swallowed it all. 'Julie, you're fantastic!' 'You aint too bad yourself, darling!' .............................................................. Tom was usually away on business...all over the world, Monday through Friday. I was not bored. Apart from my studies and original work (I spent a full 8-hour working day on that if I could), there were the wives of his business and social contacts, many of whom lived nearby in the expensive quarters of West London. I could usually find someone to lunch with or chat to over coffee. I got to know Eliza Harmsworth quite well, and we often went to the theatre or a concert together after she finished work at Tom's head-office. She shared my rather serious tastes in things cultural, and we had my credit card! Tom had said early on that I was not his possession, and if I wanted to play with someone else, male or female, I should, but only that I should tell him. I was, I must admit, tempted by the husbands of one or two of my new friends, the bigger, more rugged and masculine guys, and could have fancied Eliza too. One or two of his contacts' wives were fantastic.But I felt I did not know Tom well enough yet to know how he really would react, so it was 'hands-off':for the time being. ..................................................................... So it was Tom at the weekends (often and very vigorously!) and nothing else. Until, that is, Tom suggested it. Tom was building a Casino in Thailand or Cambodia or somewhere out there. His partner in the venture was a Japanese called Tanaka san. Our apartment has a really well-fitted and large kitchen, seldom used for anything except toast and coffee. But it was good for when he had contractors in to organise one of his dinner parties. By the time Tanaka and his partner arrived, the chef and the waiter had prepared the table, and were both hidden away in the kitchen. Tanaka was an impressive figure, not tall, about six foot I should think, but broad, built like a tank. He was elegant and groomed in his hand- stitched grey suit. His partner was stunning, a little Thai doll. When she took off her white fur coat it was to reveal a slim and svelt body in a tight satin dress, the type called cheongsan, I think. The dinner was a failure. The caterers produced good and interesting food, and the wine was obviously excellent. But the men were deep in conversation, heaps of names, numbers, plans, and ignored us girls all together. And Mary (her full name was Mary Bumphatt, ludicrously and most unsuitably) well, her English was too limited for anything but the most basic chat. Halfway through the meal, the men got up (for a piss I guess), and Mary and I went to my room. As she emerged from the bathroom she was talking in her broken English. 'Sir Tom fucky-fuck good?' 'Sir Tom fucky-fuck very good. At least I think so. I've never been fucked by anyone else.' Her laughter was delightful. I could see she did not believe me. 'Tonight Tanaka fucky-fuck you. He good. Very good.' 'You sure?' 'Oh yes. Sir Tom fucky-fuck Mary, and Tanaka fucky-fuck Julie.' Back at the table I found myself studying the Japanese more closely. That bull-neck and broad shoulders promised a vigorous seeing to! If the dinner was a failure, what followed was success. Tanaka was not interested in my lingerie (unlike most men I meet, and especially the married bisexuals). All he wanted was my naked body, which I found both flattering and exciting. We stripped off quickly and into the shower. As he stripped I noticed two astounding things. One was the shape of his cock, hard as soon as I took off my gown. It was truly wedge-shaped, with a tiny knob, but a very broad base. The shaft widened down its whole length. 'Just right for arse-fucking', I found myself thinking. The second wonderful thing I'll tease you with and make you wait. He liked the water very hot, and we stood under the needle stream. He soaped me. I soaped him. 'No tits!' was his first comment. 'You like?' 'I like.' He applied pressure to my shoulders, and I was on my knees in front of him in the shower. I soaped his cock, balls, arse, lathering and caressing. The water sluiced over his bizarre flesh, and as his cock hardened I took his cock in my mouth. He held my head steady and shagged me hard between my lips. I found it exciting to be used for pleasure by an (almost) stranger, who had no interest in my pleasure, only his own. He pulled from me, and stepped out of the shower. I wondered if he would have used more words if he could have spoken in his own language. I suspected not. He was towelled dry before me. and was laying on his back on the bed when I entered the room. His cock was standing. I lay beside him and licked his balls. He was hairless, as smoothly depilated as myself. His balls were stretched shiny by a leather cock-strap.. He pulled me level with him, and I felt his hands running all over my body as we embraced, not kissing. Through the whole night he never kissed me. Then I was turned over onto my belly. I felt his fingers between my arse cheeks as he applied spittle to my anus. He was not going to use lube. I was glad he was smaller than Tom. His weight on me. His cock probing. Entering. A momentary panic as it hurt. I was not used to that. Then it was good as he fucked hard and fast. My cock was rubbing into the sheet and I felt I might cum. He grunted, and I realised he was pouring his spunk into me. I still had not cum. He rolled off me, and was asleep in seconds, lying on his back, snoring. I explored his body. Every inch was tattooed. A writhing mass of dragons, red, green, black, breathing flame, clawing each other. A huge beast writhed down his chest and belly, his cock forming its tongue. I was fascinated. In the night I was awoken, in the dark, by his hands on my body, and then his cock in my arse. I adjusted my position, half-lying on my side, so it was easier for him to fuck. And was rewarded by a good hard fucking. Still I did not cum, as my cock was crushed into the bed, and he had no interest in my cock. In the morning, when I awoke, he was already dressed and took his leave. No thanks! But seconds later Mary came in. She was delightful in one of my black see-thru night-gowns. On me it would just have covered my cock: on her it reached nearly to her ankles. 'Tanaka san good fucky fuck?' 'Yes. Sir Tom good fucky fuck?' 'Yes. Mary and Julie sucky suck?' 'Come here, Mary.' She was lovely, her tiny round breasts straining, nipples erect, under the see-through nightie. I was naked, of course. As we kissed my cock hardened, and I felt hers, too, straining against me. She laughed. Everything seemed a joke to her! She slipped the nightie off her shoulders and it fell to the floor. She stepped out of it. That was the moment I decided I would go the whole way (or at least part of the whole way!), and get myself proper tits. Her breasts were so pretty, rounded, brown, silky smooth. I leaned down and kissed one, nibbling at the nipple. I would ask Eliza to find a doctor to supervise a hormone programme. Starting today! She had the prettiest little cock, so different from Tom's. Small, darker than her light brown skin, hard and springy. We sucked each other. She came first, and me a second or so after. ....................................... My twelve months sped by, and the next summer my last PA task was to chose my successor. With Eliza, we selected a pretty boy with that beautiful colouring that comes of a white father and black mother. He was a talented poet, published, and was going to Cambridge at the end of his gap year. He would make a delightful girlie for Sir Tom with his slender frame, deep, sultry eyes, and sensitive nature. Late August Sir Tom gave his usual reception to say farewell to his partner of the year. Many of the great and good of the land, who I had of course met socially (some sexually as well) were there. I remember I was talking to Lady Highclere-Gore, formerly Tracie Duz, model and porn movie star, which just goes to show how far long legs and nice tits, and an accommodating arse can get you! Sir Tom came over and apologised for interrupting our girlie gossip, but there were two guests I just had to meet. Sir Brandon McSpey was a tall, well-built man who looked as if he might have been army background. Horace Spiggot was short, fat, balding. They were, of course, respectively Master and Senior Tutor of the College I was going up to the next week. 'Horace tells me your paper on the Hartstein Anomaly is one of the finest, most elegant pieces of work for the last decade.' 'You are too kind, Sir Brandon.' 'Not at all. Horace is the mathematician. He knows, my dear.' 'It was a fine piece of work, Miss McFee. I must admit the logic was nearly beyond me. I had to struggle a week to follow it. A fine piece of work. And they tell me you are entirely self taught. No university.' 'I go up to university next week, Mr Spiggot.' 'And which university will have that pleasure and honour?' I laughed. 'I'm going up to your college, sir.' Gob-smacked! I laughed again. 'You're teasing us, Miss McFee. We could hardly have failed to notice...So talented.' 'And beautiful.' Sir Brandon, the taller of the two men, was looking down into my cleavage, admiring my new tits. 'No, I'm sure there is no Julie McFee in the admissions list.' 'Ah! But there certainly is a Julian Robert McFee, which is how I applied two years ago!' Go-smacked. 'You mean... ' 'Incredible.. ' 'But true, gentlemen. Come with me, and I'll prove it.' Sir Tom caught my eye and winked as I led the two academics towards my bedroom. Inside I locked the door. 'Now help me out of my gown. It cost Sir Tom a fortune and I don't want it crumpled.' I held my arms in the air. It was Sir Brandon who worked the zip down my otherwise naked back, and started me on my next phase of life. But that's another story! FIN