Lucky Jack Ch. 02

"Oh God! It's happening! I'm cumming! You've made me cum!" She panted. Then with a final quiver flopped back and went limp beneath me.

I was close to my own climax, but not quite there yet. I just lay still on top of her my erection still deep inside her vagina, just savouring the throbbing and tiny pulses from her vagina walls as the rippling of her orgasm subsided. Wow! She had achieved vaginal orgasm just from our fucking... That was rare and something I could be proud of!

"Oh, Jack... You made me orgasm," She murmured huskily with a note of surprise.

I started to move, just to find a more comfortable position.

"Don't take it out...Please," She hissed "You can leave that there all night..." and tightened her grip with arms and legs to ensure that I was trapped in her hot velvet prison.

I still needed to get to my own climax, my balls were tingling with the urgency of my desire to release. I slid my hands up her body and cupped her lovely firm breasts; I could feel the hardness of her long upright nipples against my palms and gently pressed her whole tit with the palm of my hand causing her to gasp and the muscles of her vagina to contract squeezing my throbbing trapped prick.

"Oh, Fuck, Polly... You are wonderful..." I gasped.

Then suddenly she was gyrating her hips and humping furiously until her entire body was bucking and plunging ramming herself onto my rigid shaft so hard that I was convinced that we would finally damage each other, my cock was numb, my balls tingled and my thighs ached, then I could feel her body start to quiver and I knew that she was approaching another climax. I could hold back no longer and I felt the surge that heralded ejaculation and heard myself groaning loudly as my throbbing prick thrust and jerked and spewed streams of hot jizz into her.

"O-h-h-h-h-h! Oh, fuck that's good! I can feel your semen in me...filling me! " She moaned her voice gravelly with lust. "I never knew you could feel that!" Her whole body bucked and spasmed as she made it to her own orgasm and I erupted inside her again, the force of our fucking tearing what felt like stream after stream of my juices from my quivering, almost insensate prick deep inside her as she milked me dry, then I collapsed forward on top of her my prick still inside her.

We lay like that for a long time exhausted by our energetic fucking. Polly might seem very demure on the surface but she was hot to trot and had a capacity to orgasm quickly and often that far exceeded most girls that I knew.

"Christ Jack, you are so heavy..." she chuckled. "That was awesome...I never knew it could be like that...you made me orgasm twice! That has never happened before! And you filled me up with your goo...I just loved that!"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to crush you." I mumbled. So she was impressed with twice eh! I had better try for three times later. I started to climb away to allow her to breathe but forgot how narrow the bed was.

"Oh fuck!" I yelled as I slid off of the bed and landed with a thump on the floor. I scrambled back up and we clung to each other laughing until the passion returned and we were ready to shag again.

I don't know how many more times Polly orgasmed again that night but it was more than three for certain, in the morning my lips were sore, my fingers were stiff and my dick was limp but we were two happy and sated people who knew each other a lot better than we had the day before.

I guess that I should have been surprised or even shocked by Polly's easy capitulation, but the truth is I have always possessed some sort of strong sexual attraction for certain women. It takes me very little effort to get into their knickers, a corny chat up line, a bit of fore-play and they are usually begging me to fuck them... it's almost criminal how easy it is sometimes.

I don't consider that I am some sort of fantastic lover, the Don Juan of Hammersmith, but I have never had any complaints about my performance and the ladies seem to enjoy giving me a good time in return. A girl called Mary-Anne Jones from the village of Woodley Hill was my first real shag when we were both fourteen and since then I have tried not to go more than a few days without sex. Does that make me a sex addict? I guess that it probably does. Never-the-less having a respectable girl like Polly throw herself at me on our first date the way she did was a bit unusual... but certainly not unwelcome and exactly what we both needed that night.

*

*

Professor Allan Newsome's retirement party on the Saturday evening was held at the Sky Lark Hotel at Rochford to the north of Southend-on-Sea and was a fairly low key bash with about 100 guests mostly academics and senior lecturers from the university and their wives, a few retired colleagues and some favourite students. I don't think I was a particular favourite of Allan's; I had been one of his better pupils for three years but was bit surprised to get an invitation addressed to Jack Drake, Esq. It was a black tie do but I was fortunate that I had a dinner jacket of my own and had not needed to hire one. Mum had insisted on buying it for me when I was accepted as an under-graduate.

Taking Polly as my escort was a good move in several respects. She was a 1st Class Honours student which was sure to impress the important members of college staff; she was not just attractive but respectable as well not always an essential prerequisite for some of the women that Jack Drake was known to go about with, and thirdly she was travelling that night to her family home and would need to leave about ten o'clock to drive up to Sudbury in Suffolk. The latter gave me an excuse to duck out of the party early if I got bored which was likely, or was starting to get dangerously pissed which was probable as there was a free bar until mid-night.

Polly had done me proud. She had brought her own car and I had waited for her in the hotel reception and was a bit gob-smacked when she arrived. She was dressed in a figure hugging scarlet satin cocktail dress with a plunging neckline and back which hung to about seven inches above her knees and showed off her black embroidered stockings to perfection. She had dressed her hair in a complicated beehive style, her make-up was perfect, and she looked absolutely stunning.

I couldn't help thinking that my Mum and Gran would have been so proud to see me in my monkey suit with Polly on my arm, she was just the perfect sort of girl that they had in mind for me. It was probably just as well that they never met Polly because they would have had us marched down aisle in no time flat. I had to admit that if I could have taken her with me as some sort of fashion accessory to my job interviews I would have landed a position instantly.

She added an air of class and respectability to my rather dodgy reputation as a freewheeler, womanizer and pussy hunter. Nobody ever remembered 'Lucky Jack Drake' as a hard working two job grafter and student, with a good degree who had been a half-decent university team boxer. All they ever remembered was my reputation for chasing women and my involvement in that little local scandal over Angela Bryce the doctor's wife, the lily pond and the shotgun. It was all a storm in a piss-pot really but had caused quite a stir and at one point I thought I was in danger of getting sent down if I didn't end up in prison.***

The department had hired the conference suite for Allan's party and had laid on a really rather good buffet and there was a disc jockey in one corner pumping out background music and about nine o'clock the centre of the floor was cleared so that those guests who wanted to dance or could dance were able to do so to get away from talking university business constantly or bleating on about the change from student grants to student loans the main topic of conversation anywhere on campus in those days.

I was actually onto a winner there! One of the crappy things about going to a small county school when I was living with my Gran was that some of the activity lessons were a bit dumbed down to what I had been used to in London. Boys were made to play mixed games with the girls such as Rounders or Korfball and Thursday afternoon music lessons were taken by a shared music teacher, Mrs. White who looked after several village schools. We didn't have any musical instruments for a band, or enough musical talent for more than a trio anyway and so instead she held dancing lessons for the whole middle school. At the time the boys all thought that it was a bloody sissy thing to be made to do but after I got to university I realised that being able to participate at formal dances and proms was actually an advantage, women were impressed by that sort of thing, and getting a girl in your arms was never a bad thing.

I had been dancing with the wife of one of the lecturers from the Law School at Colchester whilst Polly was involved in an animated discussion with a group of post-graduates. I had got myself a lager from the bar and was returning to our table when I heard the laugh. It was a distinctive laugh that once heard you will never forget, deep and smoky with the slightest hint of an Edinburgh accent and so sexy that it sends a thrill through your body strong enough to make your balls tingle. A laugh that etches itself onto your soul.

Fiona McLean was in the room somewhere!

I put down my drink and stood discreetly scanning the function room, I had not seen her come in but I knew that she was here somewhere and the realisation had my insides shaking and my stomach was filled with bloody butterflies.

She stood at the back of the room in front of the lectern which had been used for the speeches by the side of the table which had been put in to hold the retirement gifts and cards. She was talking to the college principal and couple of other School of Business bigwigs but her eyes were fixed on me and as our gazes locked she gave me a small smile and the index finger of her left hand by her side twitched a signal that she would meet me by the rear exit door. The same covert signal she had sometimes given me three years ago in the college lecture theatre when she wanted to scold me for some misdemeanour after the session.

She looked no different now to when I had last seen her nearly two years ago. According to her profile in the college prospectus she would now be fifty-five but she was still a striking and attractive woman capable of turning heads in any room. I never failed to be in her presence without my balls tingling and the risk that the slightest uncontrolled thought would provoke an instant erection, so strong did I find her sexual magnetism. It had been that way since I attended her first lecture when I started the course at nineteen, she had made me horny that first time and always did ever since.

Fi McLean was quite tall, probably almost as tall as my 5'10" in her kitten heels with copper auburn hair, now streaked with threads of silver, which I personally found bloody sexy, usually worn pulled back into a thick, glossy pony tail held with a ribbon bow which always matched her outfit perfectly. That night her hair had been dressed in a complicated twist like a bronze pretzel at the back of her head and held with a copper and enamelled comb. As usual, her face was immaculately made-up with just the slightest hint of pale green eye shadow and a bold carmine lipstick that glorified her wide, kissable smile.

Her figure was what they used to call statuesque. She was made of bold curves from her rounded feminine shoulders and soft arms to her hour glass waist and broad child bearing pelvis and well-formed long legs. Her two most striking assets were her breasts which were full and pointed and always encased in the best, most expensive fitted bras which gave them the same classic outline as Marilyn Monroe or Betty Grable, but her arse to my mind was her most fabulous and magnetic attraction, rounded and firm and perfectly shaped without any sign of sagging or need for a girdle or other artificial support. Absolutely fucking fabulous! It was that arse which was directly the cause of the issues that existed between Professor Fiona McLean and myself.

I had been one of her students reading 'Fundamentals of Marketing' as part of my first year curriculum and during that year we had developed a peculiar, intimate and rather strange relationship.

The first time that I saw her was at the September introduction overview to the module. I had entered the lecture theatre and she was standing on the stage by the podium with her back to the auditorium wearing a shape hugging fawn coloured jersey dress and my attention was immediately drawn to her arse. I still believe that she had the best shaped arse that I had ever seen and I just wanted to reach out and touch it right there and then, long before she turned around and I could see her forward assets or get an idea of her real age. Don't get me wrong, I am not even the slightest bit ageist when it comes to women in fact I am sometimes dangerously attracted to mature totty. Older women have the most fabulous bodies, they don't yell, they don't tell and they aren't clingy.

The trouble with mature women is that they usually have husbands or children or both. That does not present me with too many moral issues to overcome, in fact a woman who is committed to her family, her home and future is seldom going to be looking for anything but a brief dalliance from a younger man. Married women are usually good fun, experienced and skilful in the sack and not looking for long term loving relationships, they already have that, they are looking for exciting sex and are prepared to put in the effort to get it and enjoy it.

The area around Colchester and Southend is packed with nice middle class housing filled with bored nice middle class wives, whose husbands commute to London every day leaving their women hanging about ripe for the picking. I had fast discovered that working at a supermarket was a bloody fantastic way to meet married totty, even before coming to university. Carry their shopping for them, pack their cars, remember their faces and names next time they come to the shop and compliment them on their appearance. It becomes an acquired skill to spot the ones who start coming two of three times a week or even every day and who begin to dress to impress. Don't waste your time on the ones with squalling sprogs or the women who always shop with a friend...you won't get a threesome... not from a Sainsbury's pick-up...you need to work at a health centre to get into that scene with suburban housewives.

Fiona McLean fell into a rarer, different category. What I like to call 'professional single women' they are often the very top of the range but are dangerous. They usually have high powered jobs, doctors, lawyers, university lecturers and the like, a high income and a place of their own which they like to keep very private. They are always well aware of their own sexual attractions and are prepared to use their assets to achieve their own carnal desires and gratification. They are always highly intelligent and will not fall for the crappy approaches of the amateur 'fuck and run' artist and will always be in complete control of any short term relationship they choose to get into, but of all the mature female types they are probably the most exciting as you can never be certain who is the hunter and who is the prey!

There were about twenty first-year students in that intake group that year and I fought my way to the front row of the lecture theatre seating contending for the last seat close to the podium with a chubby guy named James from Norwich. I decided that 'London Street Rules' were called for and a swift kick to the rear of the knee and a light shove had Tubby James flopping into the second row next to Melissa Wood; a win all round, Tubby was perfectly happy sitting next to Mel and Melissa was content if any boy was seated with her I take full credit for having introduced them that afternoon. More importantly I gained the closest seat to where Fiona Mclean was standing, only ten feet from her fabulous body.

I don't think I took in very much of Fiona's induction talk, but it was all in the handout anyway, I spent the entire hour and a half just devouring her body and particularly that fantastic arse with my eyes and fantasizing about this captivating woman who was older than my mother.

I was probably the only one of the student group who had bothered to acquire a copy of her course notes in advance and read them and so I was able to put on an impressive display of 'One-Up-Manship' during her question and answer session, snide bastard that I was, but I was still surprised when she picked me out at the end of the session...

"OK, Ladies and Gentlemen, that is it for now..." She had announced in that soft velvety Scottish accent that made my scrotum shrivel up with desire. "Go away and organise yourselves into five study groups of four...and I will see you next week and hand out assignments and study schedules." We were all starting to rise from our chairs when she added. "Ms. Kennedy and Mr. Drake... Please stay on for a minute or two I would like a word."

I sat back in my chair and studied her for several minutes whilst she spoke quietly to Lauren Kennedy and waited for her to get to me. I was quite happy just studying her tits and arse and shapely legs. After a few minutes she moved to her table and started to pack up her course literature standing elegantly with her legs taut and straight bent at the waist so that her already tight fitting wool dress was pulled skin-tight around her buttocks and thighs, I moved up beside her.

"Can I help you with that...er...Mrs. McLean? I asked. I was never averse to a bit of sycophantic brown-nosing if it would put me in a favourable light with a woman... in Fiona's case I was particularly keen to become 'teacher's pet'.

"It is MS McLean actually..." She corrected, "But I prefer Dr. McLean, or Professor McLean..."

"Sorry!"

She turned her head slightly and smiled. "Most of my students just call me Fiona..."

"Thanks, er Fiona...I'll remember that..." I started to help gather up the leaflets and photocopied documents and then despite all dictates of common sense, decency or restraint I lost control of my fucking mind and gently placed my hand on her firm round buttock.

To my surprise she did not flinch, cry out, move away or protest, it was as if my hand was not there at all...but it was and her arse felt fantastic. I kept my fingers still but could feel the thin elastic line of her knicker leg, she was wearing high leg briefs and I fantasized that they were beige silk to match her dress.

"Am I going to have a problem with you Mr. Drake?" Was all that she asked.

"Er, no...not at all..." I replied but kept my hand where it was, too terrified to move it. Maybe she had not even noticed that it was there. If I moved my fingers she might freak out and I would end up in a police cell and sent down from university on my first day.

She must have read my thoughts. "You can remove your hand now." She said calmly. "Then you can carry my box back to my study for me... "

"Sure, it will be a pleasure..." I said. "Was there something you wanted to speak to me about...er...Fiona?"

"No," She smiled mischievously, "I just needed a strong pair of arms to carry my gear and you looked less likely to make a fuck-up of a simple manual task than most of the other lads..." That was Fiona, very Scottish, blunt and to the point. I carried her stuff willingly for the rest of the year, she never asked me again I just made sure I was there to do it and she never refused.

I am not sure if Fiona and I ever developed a particularly close relationship over the next year but what we had was strangely intimate. She was a brilliant tutor and was a fantastic coach for all her students, not one of us got anywhere near a fail mark in the course not even Tubby James from Norwich, mainly because Melissa did most of his project work for him. They had become a couple as some students do very quickly and seemed happy if not dynamic, I think that their idea of an exciting sex life was fucking once every fourth Friday and again on Bank Holidays but they were well matched, she was clever and a fast study and he was somebody who couldn't do anything on his own. I did wonder who had done his work for him at school...maybe he had a sister.