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This is the first chapter in what I hope will be a long running series. It begins a little slower, so while there isn’t group sex in the opening salvo, the remainder of the series does fit that category.
I had the opportunity of a lifetime ten years ago.
Although that’s not quite right, as it sounds as though it’s now in my past – when really, I’m lucky enough to still be living it every day.
I met Felicity when I was 25. My life had become that of a perpetual uni student to the point where I not only studied but worked there. I’d been tutoring and doing a spot of guest lecturing for a year as part of my PhD. I’d always liked getting in front of a crowd and performing and this new role suited me perfectly. I’d throw in a few jokes, talk about literature and political theory, and generally appear dashing. Or so I thought.
All of which makes me appear to have been a typical smug intellectual, and I suppose to an extent I was. Hey, I was 25, reasonably good looking, and modesty aside, quite smart. Despite this I genuinely loved teaching, and whether lecturing or tutoring I’d make sure to give my students a chance to shine.
Not that Felicity needed much opportunity.
In my first semester of tutoring, the course lecturer and I were having lunch with another tutor. Something led to conversations about sleeping with students (that something was a sleazy department head who had been promising a young woman better grades in exchange for sex – he’d just been fired). It turned out that the general rule of thumb was that faculty could date students – they just had to declare it, and not have any involvement with marking papers or exams for that student. It was a little frowned upon for lecturers to partake, but for tutors? Apparently, no problems.
And my mind went straight back to that conversation of 18 months prior the moment Felicity walked into the lecture hall.
She was incredibly beautiful, with that magnetic appeal some women exude. It was enhanced by her total lack of artifice or awareness of her impact on others. Nearly all eyes in the lecture hall swivelled to her and she had no idea. The tight sweater and slender lines of her body only accentuated her generous breasts as she walked to her seat. Crossing her legs, adjusting her glasses, leaning over to take out her laptop. I was lucky everyone else was either as distracted, or chatting with their friends as I absentmindedly tried to set up the projector.
By the time I was meant to start, I’d nearly regrouped. Each time I said something vaguely witty (you get to a point you can repeat jokes which land from semester to semester) my eyes would dart to her – and despite my less than calm and collected delivery, she laughed. By the end of the hour I had got through without tripping over my tongue, wrapped it up, and headed off to the first tutorial.
Where, fortune smiling on me, I had my second encounter with her – and learned that she was called Felicity but preferred Flick, that she was a bright though reserved student, and laughed with a silvery tinkle.
Over the next few weeks I found myself thinking about Flick more than was healthy. I turned over in my mind all the scenarios in which she’d declare her undying love for me, where I would rescue her from some vague assailant: the usual things that a high school boy in puppy love would dream about. Yet I was 25, she was at best 19, and I was her tutor. And despite everything, I generally tried to be… honourable I suppose you’d say. So while I might occasionally spend a little more time speaking with her before or after the tute, I tried not to make things too obvious.
Then came a knock at my office.
Well. Office sounds rather grand. It was a shared space for tutors to meet with students during their consulting hours, and was a glorified storage room.
Still. The knock came, I looked up, and Flick stood there. ‘Uh, John? I didn’t book a time, but was nearby, so thought I’d stop past.’
‘Oh. Hi. Flick. Sure.’ Shit. String a few words together PhD boy. ‘Yeah, come in. How can I help?’
She came in smiling. ‘I don’t actually have study questions. But this! How on earth could you make me read this?!’
I looked at the book she was brandishing. The Dressmaker.
‘Well, Australian Literature is a broad and encompassing church which welcomes all comers.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘Even those who write utter tripe,’ I finished. Her laugh was worth the look from the other tutor marking papers.
‘Besides, I don’t set the books, I just get to teach you and occasionally make snide comments disguised as critique.’
‘Yes, I noticed that yesterday. Seriously. How did they pick this gothic fan fiction letter of hate for country towns to turn into a movie?’ She seemed outraged.
‘I know. At least next week is better.’
Her brow furrowed for a moment. ‘Elizabeth Harrower? I got the book but haven’t read it yet. Hope it’s better than this!’
‘Oh it is. And if you like kaçak iddaa it, ‘In Certain Circles’ is even better.’
And so Tuesday quickly became my favourite day of the week. Flick started to “drop in” every week, and I started to fall in love. She didn’t stay for long, one week just poked her head in the door, waved and smiled when she saw I was speaking with another student, yet every moment was terrific.
Exams approached, and spring had sprung. As the weather warmed up, we had an increasing number of what Ben, one of my fellow PhD candidates, referred to as “inappropriate thought days”, and I went about humming Springsteen and the girls in their summer clothes. Phew.
Flick was still fairly reserved in class, though her hemline had gradually crept upwards. And our connection seemed to be growing, so I was surprised when I passed her in the courtyard one morning and despite looking at me, her eyes went forward and kept walking.
‘Hey, Flick! I’ve found my spare copy. Hold on a sec.’ I looked down to rummage through my satchel. When I glanced back up she was standing there, a slightly bemused smile on her face.
‘In Certain Circles. It’s good. I know you enjoyed The Watchtower, so thought you might like to borrow this one…’ I trailed off as her smile grew.
‘Don’t worry. This happens all the time,’ she said. And waited. ‘You’ll get there.’ And as she waited again, I realised something was a bit off – her hair was longer than Tuesday (a lot), it looked a little lighter, she had more of a tan…
My face must have registered the puzzlement I felt, as she laughed. That sound was the same at least.
‘I’m Lydia. Flick’s twin. And given you’re trying to hand me a book, you must be John, her lit tutor she’s always gushing about.’
The initial shot of feeling bewlidered was followed by a chaser of adrenaline. Gushed? She gushes about me? Lydia laughed again. She reached out and took the book, clearly a little more forward than her sister.
‘I’ll give it to her. We’re having lunch.’ Her eyes lit up. ‘Wait! Where are you going?’
‘Uh, I was heading to the library and returning a book.’ Pointing to my bag. ‘Overdue.’
‘Well, another hour or two won’t reduce the fine. Come on.’ And she linked her arm in mine, turning me around. ‘Let’s do lunch with Flick.’
‘Uh. Sure. Yeah.’ Great. Back to the one syllable words. Also I was wildly distracted. Lydia smelled a bit like Flick – and I only just realised that I’d absorbed how Flick smelled. As we walked, I pulled myself out of the daze and had managed to hear that gorgeous laugh another time.
As we got to the cafeteria I saw Flick standing in line. She looked up, glanced at us and away, then eyes shot back to me. There was a pause and then I saw her face fall a little. I clicked – something had felt off, and it was that I was right next to Lydia, arms nearly touching – and I’d not been that close physically to Flick. It struck a sour note, and I almost immediately stepped to the side as we got closer to her.
‘Hey! Flick, guess who I found? John was looking for you and he’s got a book for you!’
‘Oh, thanks Lyds.’ She took the book, looked at it, me, back at the book, and put it in her bag. ‘Can’t wait.’
Lydia looked at me with a conspiratorial smile, meeting my baffled gaze. ‘He picked up on it much faster than normal Flick. I think he must have a really good memory. Or he pays attention to his best students.’
Flick looked up quickly with her cheeks reddening, and Lydia spoke over her stammer. ‘So! What are we getting? I asked John if he’d like to join and he was thrilled.’
Flick was now steadfastly avoiding my eyes. ‘Uh, I was going to get a sandwich.’
‘Sounds good,’ I said, quietly and looking at Flick. ‘Eat out on the lawn?’
She smiled and nodded. I didn’t end up returning the book that day.
Flick missed the next Tuesday. I mean it was the week before exams so I wasn’t too surprised. Flick was smart, and worked for it. So she was probably busy. That was it. I tried not to think of her face when she saw me standing so close to her sister.
She was quiet in the last tute for the semester too. It was like being back to the start of the class, where she barely spoke. I was packing up my things – a book or two, my notes, and three papers for students who hadn’t shown up for the last two weeks and wouldn’t be collecting them. Finished, I slung the bag over my shoulder and left, feeling a bit flat.
Flick was in the corridor, standing next to the door as I came out. ‘Oh, hey Flick. All set for the exam?’
‘Uh, yeah. Pretty much.’ She handed me my book. ‘Thanks for lending me this. I really liked it.’ She was nervous, and I didn’t know how to react.
‘Not a problem. It’s just beautiful, isn’t it?’
‘Yeah… Ok, well see you later John.’
I watched her turn, and then called out. ‘Hold on Flick. Uh. So, I really enjoyed getting to know you a bit the last few months. Did you want to catch up for kaçak bahis a drink maybe?’ Ah crap. I never ask women out well.
Her face lit up and she grinned. ‘Sure thing.’ And then turned to walk off.
‘Flick? Um. Where?’
She laughed. ‘Open your book.’
She’d put a bookmark in. With her name, phone number, and ‘6pm’. It was on the uni bar coaster.
I’d been nervous before dates, but not like this. I lived pretty close to campus and was grinning the whole way back. I went for my casual smart date outfit (skinny black jeans, nice white shirt, and a jacket. And then tried on something else. Then back to the outfit. Then remembered I needed a shower. Before I left, I sent Flick a text.
*On my way. Nice touch with the bookmark. Great minds think alike!*
She replied almost immediately. *Phew. I didn’t know if you’d be coming! Hehe*
I realised I probably should have let her know earlier that I’d be there. *Whoops.*
The uni bar was a bit of a dive – the spilled beer of 30,000 uni students soaked into the carpet tiles. But it was still warm out, the sun was setting, so when I grabbed a table out the front it wasn’t too bad. I looked up to hear my name being called. Flick walked up, a mid-thigh sundress swishing around her long legs. I was gobsmacked. In class, she dressed casually and looked beautiful, for tonight she’d gone all out. A thin belt pulled the dress tight around her slender waist, accentuating her breasts – aided by a healthy dose of cleavage.
I stumbled to my feet. ‘Hi. Flick. Um. Wow!’ This again. Great.
She laughed. ‘Hey John. You look nice! Much less like a lecturer.’
‘Thanks. You look wonderful. Much less like a uni student.’ We smiled at each other. ‘What are you drinking?’
‘I think I’ll have a G&T with lime please.’
‘Excellent. Hold our seats, I’ll be back shortly.’
When I returned, I took a moment to look around – not only was Flick by far the most beautiful woman there, she was getting attention from just about everyone in the bar. Don’t screw this up John, I thought as I sat back down.
The next hour or so was a blur. I think we were both charged up on adrenaline and nerves, so it took two drinks before we’d settled back to our normal way of chatting. It felt great.
‘So Lydia gave you a bit of a shock the other week?’ She asked me, smiling.
‘Yes.’ I laughed. ‘I was pretty confused when you looked at me while I walked past and then ignored me. I think I picked up pretty quickly that it wasn’t you at least.’
‘I know! Normally people just get weirded out that we don’t recognise the other’s friend, or that we seem to be ignoring someone. I had a text from someone at work the other day who asked why I was so rude on the bus.’ She leaned in and whispered conspiratorially. ‘I think Lydia plays it up a bit actually. But she said it took less than a minute for you!’
‘There’s something about you which stands out for me I guess.’ We looked at each other. ‘That’s not all Lydia said you know.’
She buried her head in her hands. ‘Oh god. What did she say?’
‘Oh, just something about how you’re always gushing about your handsome lit tutor.’ She groaned. ‘Well, something like that anyway.’
‘I’ll kill her. She really said that? Argh!’
I laughed at the look on her face, how pretty she was when flushed red. ‘Yeah, but the feeling’s obviously mutual. I’m here aren’t I?’
She went even redder.
We went on for food, and after that a quieter bar nearby. Sitting in a booth, the evening ran away. It was nearly 1am before we realised how late it had become – it was one of those magical nights of constant talking and laughing that felt comfortable and right. Outside the bar, I kissed her. Soft, inviting lips and a welcoming mouth, by the end of it we were pressed full length together and I could feel her moving against me.
We didn’t sleep together that night. Or on the next two dates. Felicity wasn’t a virgin, but she’d never dated properly before, and as desperately as we wanted each other, we wanted to enjoy the build up.
Turns out that throughout high school neither her nor Lydia had dated anyone – the guys were either douchebags or overwhelmed by them. It was only at uni where they met people as individuals that they began to explore, and Flick being a little more reserved and focused on her studies, had only been on a few dates and one short fling. Lydia was a bit more out there – she’d slept with all of… What was it again? Two people. So not your typical crazy uni students.
On our fourth date, Flick came around for dinner. My housemate was out, I’d spent the day frantically cleaning and figuring out what to cook. When she knocked on the door, I was somehow both dressed, and largely done with dinner.
‘Hi lovely.’ She really was tonight, as always.
‘Heya.’ We kissed as she came in, and I slid my hands down her back to cup her butt. ‘Mmm. That feels good.’ So did she. I couldn’t feel a panty line.
I poured illegal bahis wine, we talked, and she browsed my bookshelves while I finished cooking. ‘I love seeing what people have on their shelves,’ she said, glancing over her shoulder at me. ‘Oh! Can I borrow this one?’
I couldn’t see what she held up, but for her, anything. ‘Sure thing. As you can see, I’ve got books to spare.’ I walked over, and stood behind her, hand round her waist and kissed behind her ear. She’d picked up “Portrait of a Lady”. ‘You’ll have to tell me what that’s like,’ I said.
She turned round and looked at me with wide eyes. ‘What?!’
‘Yep. I haven’t actually read all of these.’ At the look of indignation she gave me, I continued. ‘Well I’ve read most. Just not that one.’
‘Mmmhmm. Sure. This is all for show. Trying to show off for impressionable young uni students aren’t you?’
‘Got it in one.’ I turned her round and kissed her. ‘Is it working?’
‘Hmm. I’ll let you know later.’
After dinner, we moved to the couch. She didn’t sit beside me, but set her wine glass down and straddled me. We kissed, and my hands returned to her butt. Tight, round, and just perfect, she moaned into my mouth as I squeezed it. Her hands were in my hair. I slid my hands down her legs, and back up under her dress, settling them on her hips. Aha. A thong. That’s why there was no panty line. I groaned, imagining what she’d look like without the dress on.
I don’t know how long we were there, kissing and touching each other. I ran my hands over every part of her body, caressing her breasts through her dress, running my fingers up her back. She shivered. I grabbed her by the legs, and stood up, bringing her with me as I carried her to the bedroom.
We spent the next few minutes in that frantic and graceless attempt to take off each others clothes as quickly as possible. She fumbled with my shirt buttons while I tried to lift off her dress, before we laughed and slowed a little. My shirt was off, and pants unbuckled when I slipped her dress up over her head. No words. Her body was beyond anything I’d imagined, or hoped for, or feverishly dreamed of while standing at the front of the tutorial.
Her waist and flat, toned stomach, the line of her thong high up on her hips, her breasts even larger than I’d thought on her thin frame, and when she dropped her bra to the ground they sat up, perky and round. Easily a handful and a half each, and perfect.
I must have stared for a while, because eventually she blushed. ‘What’s wrong?’ She asked as she sort of half turned away.
I stepped forward. ‘Nothing. You are amazingly sexy Felicity. I can’t believe you’re here, and we’re together right now.’
She looked down, face still red, and I kissed her with passion.
Pants off. On the bed. A tangle of limbs. I slid down her body, kissing and nuzzling at her breasts, her long pointy nipples. Gently mouthing down her stomach and along the line of her hip, I stripped off her thong and softly ran my tongue over her folds. She gasped. A timeless minute or hour later she pulled me up, gasping from her orgasm. Frantically kissing me, tasting herself on my mouth, she grinned.
‘No one’s ever done that for me before. Thank you.’
‘Idiots. I can’t wait til I can do it again.’
Another tangle, I was in her mouth, my hands cupping her breasts as they hung beneath her, on her knees. I shuddered. I wasn’t going to be able to handle that for too long. My turn to pull her up, gasping. ‘Enough.’
‘Wasn’t it any good?’ She’d gone back into shy mode.
I’d felt her teeth, she was a little over the top with her hands, but it was the best blow job I’d had. Because it was her. Everything felt electric. ‘It was incredible. You are incredible.’ She grinned at me and we kissed again.
On my back, leaning up against the headboard. She straddled me again, breathless, and ground herself along my cock. We both groaned, I angled my hips down, and the tip slipped into her warmth. Slowly, ever so slowly, we eased together. Looking into each others eyes, my hands running up her sides and holding her to me, hers on my shoulders. It was intense beyond what I’d expected, and I could see she felt the same.
We rocked back and forth, holding each other, kissing, my mouth slipping down her neck and over her breasts. Her moaning grew as I pulled at her nipples. We flipped over, her legs wrapping around me as I plunged into her below. We came. Not together, not this time, but my thumb between our bodies rubbing her clit, she shook and clutched me to her. After a moment of letting her savour the moment, I resumed, and filled her as we kissed.
Twice more that night we made love, the second time slower and gently, the third time in the shower – rinsing her breasts, soap slippery skin, we started up again. And talked. It was 3 am before we finally fell asleep, in each others arms.
I’d never had something this good before. A stunning 20 year old woman who, it turned out, was insatiable in bed. Years of frustration at high school, two years of unsatisfying dates with guys who just wanted into her panties, and now we’d found each other, and she wanted nothing more than to explore.
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