We shared an economics class at university. She didn’t say much in class and never came for coffee afterwards with the rest of the group. I watched her a lot, and she would glance away quickly when she caught my eye. Her name was Laura. She had a girly, pretty face, and her body was just about perfect. She was very slim with soft curves, and high, full breasts, but she hunched over a bit when she walked and looked at the ground most of the time. I was very attracted to her. When the teacher said something to her and she stared down at her notepad, blushing, tucking her long frizzy hair behind her ears, I got butterflies in my stomach.
I pursued her for a year. She didn’t attract much male attention and I was fairly sure that I didn’t have competition, but it was hard to corner her. Eventually she agreed to talk about an essay assignment with me after class. That led to coffees together, then lunches in the canteen, and when I got the courage to kiss her, she let me.
Laura wasn’t a virgin, but she was inexperienced. It was months before she agreed to stay over. We lay beneath the covers with our clothes on that night. Each time she stayed over, we took off more clothes, until one night I tugged at her panties and she lifted her hips to help me. I looked under the cover and, after so much build-up and frustration, I almost came just looking at her. But I put the condom on, and she was wet and ready, and I held her close as we fucked for the first time.
We stayed together through university and rented a flat together. Laura did well and continued to postgraduate studies. I got an entry-level job at a publishing company. A job in publishing was my dream, but the work turned out to be mind-numbingly dull. It paid the bills. We lived like this for a couple of years and I was happy with life. Laura’s academic career was promising, but she hardly earned anything and I wanted to support her.
One day we went to a university fundraising reunion. It was formal, and Laura wore a new black dress. As we were getting ready, she came out of the bedroom, pulling the hem down, and asked me if it was too short. She looked beautiful. She spent lots of the evening talking to a guy called Paul. I didn’t know him very well at university, but he seemed nice. He was flirting with her a bit, and she kept smiling, looking down, blushing and wringing her hands. I trusted Laura and didn’t really mind.
I asked her about Paul later, when we were in bed.
‘He’s alright,’ she said. ‘We talked about lots of things.’
‘What sort of things?’ I asked.
‘Him, his job. He’s a researcher too. His travelling. He’d been to lots of places. Music he likes. That sort of thing. You know’. We were cuddling and she had her head on my chest.
‘Hmmm.’ I paused. ‘Was he flirting with you?’ It wasn’t an aggressive question.
‘He’s OK. Yes, I suppose he was. A bit. Not much.’ She looked up at me and smiled. ‘It’s you I love.’ Her hand trailed over my stomach, and downwards. I kissed her forehead. She moved her hand slowly on my penis, holding tighter as I got hard. ‘It was just talk,’ she said, ‘I liked it. It’s flattering to have attention.’ She rubbed her smooth legs against mine, circling her thumb and forefinger round my cock. ‘Are you angry?’
‘No, honey, I’m not’, I said, and I wasn’t. It was good to see her being sociable. She could be such a bookworm. She kissed me again and I slid my hand down her back and over her bum, my fingers between her buttocks. She carried on wanking me and kept up the rhythm, gently kissing my neck as I came on my stomach. She cleaned me up with a towel and we went to sleep.
I didn’t think much about that episode, but I wasn’t surprised when Paul reappeared in our lives. I came home one day and Laura was sucking his cock. I guess they didn’t hear me come in, and they didn’t notice me when I looked into the lounge. He was sitting on a folding chair, with his belt and fly open, her kneeling in front of him, topless. She was sitting on her heels, her back arched, her breasts pushed forward and her neck extended as she bent her head over his cock, gripping it with one hand. She looked graceful and feminine. He held the back of her head, slowly pushing up into her mouth, and I watched them until he stopped moving and she lifted her head. I slipped back out and went to the supermarket to buy dinner.
An hour later I was back at home, cooking a stir-fry. Laura was in the lounge watching TV. We divided the chores between us. Laura did the washing and cleaning and I did the cooking. It seemed fair. Over dinner I asked Laura how her day had been.
‘Fine, darling. The usual. Just getting through this literature review. It’s interesting actually. Did I tell you about it?’
‘Is that all you did?’ I asked. I probably did sound aggressive this time.
‘I guess.’ She looked confused. I didn’t know how to bring it up. I couldn’t eat my dinner. Eventually I said it.
‘I came back earlier. Uh. Paul was here. Paul. From the reunion.’ She was quiet and expressionless for a moment.
‘Oh.’ She put her cutlery down. ‘Shit!’
‘How did that happen, Laura?’ She looked blank again.
‘I’m sorry. Please listen to me. Look, just let me explain.’
She told me that they had met a few times since the reunion, and it was obvious that he liked her, but she didn’t have feelings for him. She found it exciting, and while she was concerned she might be leading him on, it seemed harmless. He had suggested coming round under the pretext of helping her with some work, and when he started making moves on her, she realised she had to give him something.
‘I’m really sorry. But he started acting aggressively and I was a bit scared. I didn’t want it to go further. I couldn’t cheat on you, honey. Not like that.’
I sort of understood. She hadn’t been with many men before me. By this point she had come round the table and was sitting on my lap, stroking my cheek, her big eyes wide and questioning. Any anger I felt evaporated. I wanted her more than anything. I undid the buttons on her jeans, and she let me push them down. She lifted her hips so I could undo my own trousers, and she sat back down, her back to me, adjusting her position so we were lined up, my cock against her cunt, and bit by bit she pushed herself down until her pubic hair touched mine.
‘I want see Paul again,’ she said.
‘Uh?’ I was cupping her breasts through her blouse. ‘You want to do what?’ She turned her head to look at me over her shoulder. What she meant was obvious.
‘It wouldn’t mean anything. I just… I just want to see him again. I don’t want to do it behind your back.’ I didn’t say anything, and she rocked on my lap. I buried my face in her shoulder and held her waist tightly as I came in her.
Laura arranged for him to come round one evening the next week. She checked it was OK with me so many times that I started to wonder if she actually wanted to see him. We couldn’t find much else to talk about. With only Laura’s nervous questioning to break the silence, the atmosphere in the flat soon became oppressive. I worked late to avoid her. I would have stayed at work for Paul’s visit, but Laura insisted that I come home to make sure she was safe.
The date was on a week night, and he turned up soon after we got home from work. We had been sitting on the sofa together.
‘How was your day?’, she had asked me, irrelevantly.
‘OK. You look nice.’ She did. She had put her hair up, and was wearing a short sun-dress and a cardigan she had knitted herself. She was barefoot.
The bell rang and Laura opened the door and led him through to the lounge. He was holding a bottle of wine in front of him, with both hands, and hovering in the doorway. He was wearing a woolly jumper and black jeans, and looked smaller than I remembered. I stood up.
‘You know each other, don’t you?’ Laura said. ‘Paul was in the same year as us. He was at the reunion.’ Yes, we agreed, we knew each other. He shook my hand, saying it was good to see me again. ‘Honey, why don’t you put Paul’s wine in the fridge and make some coffee?’ She turned to him. ‘How do you take it?’ Paul took it white with no sugar.
As I watched the kettle boiling and prepared the coffee pot, I heard them talking and laughing in the other room. I let the coffee brew for a few minutes and put it on a tray with some biscuits. When I carried it through, I saw them together, him on the sofa where I had been before he arrived, her on top of him, facing him, his hands on her tits and legs, her knees on either side of his hips, her dress bunched around her waist as she moved up and down, her arms round his neck, her lips on his. I stopped still. I went back into the kitchen and stood there. I could hear them, moving on the sofa, murmuring words to each other. I waited for some time, I don’t know how long, until they went quiet and I heard him stand up, saying that he had to go, and he left.
I didn’t know how what to do and just stayed in the kitchen until Laura came to find me.
‘The coffee’s gone cold,’ I said.
‘Shall we just open the wine?’ She asked. I opened Paul’s wine, and we sat down with some tumblers.
‘Ummm.’
‘You slut,’ I said, and laughed. She laughed too, and we couldn’t stop laughing. She wouldn’t have sex with me that evening, but she gave me a slow handjob in bed and nuzzled against my ear. I was relieved. Laura was still mine.
Life went back to normal after that. I had the next day off work and spent the afternoon making a casserole and a cake. When Laura came home we had a bath together and I washed her hair. I served dinner afterwards. We chatted about lots of things. It’s amazing what you don’t tell each other, even when you see each other every day. She told me a story about her winning an academic prize at school and tripping up on the stage when she went to collect it. She wanted to start learning Spanish again. We had a nice evening and went to bed early, and, for the next few weeks, the subject of Paul didn’t come up at all.
Then he came round one evening before Laura got home. I let him in and we sat down. I picked up my laptop.
‘I’m finishing off some work,’ I said. I was glad that I didn’t have to make conversation. ‘She’ll be back soon. Do you want anything to drink?’
‘No, I’m OK,’ he said. ‘Hey, about last time.’ I looked at him. He was sitting on the chair opposite me. He was a thin guy, with thin rimmed glasses and clean brown hair in a side parting. ‘Look.’ He paused. One of his eyes twitched. He pulled his chair closer to me. ‘I know…’
‘Paul, it’s OK,’ I said. I didn’t want to have this conversation. I wanted to leave the room. Paul seemed to be leaning forward, as if his chair might tip forward at any moment and he would fall onto me. I put my laptop on the sofa.
‘Oh. I just wanted to say,’ he started, pulling his chair even closer to me, so our knees were almost touching. He was engaging me in the conversation, making an escape unlikely, but I cut him off again:
‘There’s no need.’ He was about to start talking again and I took hold of his knee to push him away, but he kept leaning over me. I couldn’t escape. I was breathing deeply. He didn’t try to talk to me any more but he carried on staring straight at me. I slid forward off the sofa and moved my hand up his thigh. He undid his trousers and pushed them down, together with his underpants. His soft penis was about the same size as mine, and the head was fully covered by his foreskin. I reached forward, taking hold of it, weighing his balls, feeling the smoothness of the soft skin. It moved and lengthened, and I pulled the foreskin back. When it was fully hard, I leant forward over his knees and put the tip against my lips, my tongue against the little slit. It was salty and sharp.
The front door opened. I jumped back, sitting on the sofa, grabbing my laptop and putting it back on my lap. Paul had done himself up when Laura came into the room.
‘Hi you two!’ She said. ‘Did I tell you Paul was coming round? Well, let me change out of my work clothes. I’ll be right with you.’ Paul followed her straight into our bedroom, an obscene bulge in his crotch, and they shut the door behind them.
I don’t like it when Paul visits and I try to make sure I’m out. It doesn’t feel right, but somehow it has made Laura and me more honest with each other. Laura has opened up and tells me what she wants. Sometimes she crouches over me, her cunt over my face, and I lick her or push my tongue into her anus while she strokes her clit. Paul has stayed the night several times now, and he shares our bed, fucking her, enjoying my girlfriend’s tight little pussy while I lie next to them. On the outside, she is still the same shy Laura, and I love her deeply, and hope that one day she’ll marry me.