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