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Not long after Viku Dicae went home to Moldova and in so doing gave her back control of sex life, Kiki started seeing Wistler on the side. Like her other lovers, Kiki got generous gifts from Wistler and expected more, but the relationship was turning into more girl-friend/boyfriend than slut/sugar daddy.

Wistler often told Kiki that: “Your unrestrained supply of sexuality and my unlimited demand and desire for you is defining the equilibrium point of my life!”, which is about as romantic as you can expect from an economist. Kiki became the focus of the man’s deepest thoughts, his preoccupation, his obsession, the erotic impulse that kept him alive as a sexual man while he spent his day toiling to teach and to make his intellectual contribution to the “dismal science”, which his colleagues increasingly believed was profound. The young economics professor was feeling rebellious himself now that he had tenure and his academic job was secure. His career was, assured, he thought, and he thought he had little to fear from approbation by his colleagues, in a department where sex with Kiki had already become a regular social event. Wistler had fantasies of a long-term relationship with her, emulating Keynes’ relationship with his ballerina life, to the envy of his colleagues. After all, hadn’t Keynes, the great economist, lived a scandalously dissolute life? (Well, yes, but Keynes was rich, upper class, mostly gay, and indispensable to his country. Wistler was none of those things.)

Wislter thought, quite simply and correctly, that Kiki was beautiful. He knew she was good in bed – the best he’d ever had or dreamed of! He had fantasies about her, fueled by the rumors of what she had done to keep Dicae sexually satisfied and away from the students. He lusted after her responsive and sexually expressive body the way a superb musician lusts after a particularly fine instrument. He admired her free spirit and her willingness to play the role of slut in a society where that role was not always valued. It seemed to him that this gorgeous young woman who made him weak in the knees was a sexual rebel, like he was a rebel against the orthodoxy of economic theory. She was living life on her own terms and rebelling against the conformity of the modern age. That’s what he wanted to do! What if they could settle into a modern open relationship, live together but have sex with anyone they chose? Everyone in his department would envy Wistler because, although they already freely fucked his wife on numerous occasions, she would go home with him at night (more often than not, he hoped) and he would have that gorgeous body anytime he wanted (he was getting way ahead of himself in the fantasy department now). For this dream to come true, he was showering her with expensive gifts he really couldn’t afford (he worked for the College, after all, not an investment banking house like Clarissa Aptos). But the amount he was spending on Kiki from his academic salary was, to him, an investment in a future relationship with the woman he was coming to adore. In short, he had fallen in love with the town slut.

From Kiki’s point of view, on the other hand, Wistler was a nice, good-looking guy, a good vanilla lay, who gave her trinkets. She liked to have sex with him. Other than that, she didn’t think about him much.

When she did think of him, there was one thing in particular about Wistler she really liked: his penis! That’s because it was normal size, about six inches. Years of disciplined kegel exercises combined with her natural attraction for well-endowed lovers gave Kiki a fantastically versatile pussy. She could take a cock that was huge all around, like Charlie’s, let it stretch her every which way, and after it was out of her it only took her a half hour or so of working her cunt muscles to bring it back into shape again, ready for the next lover. (Wide was no problem – length over a foot long was a problem.) Or, if her lover was smaller than normal, all she had to do was tense up her pelvic muscles and it felt just fine, tight for him and fine for her. Wistler was nice because his dick was entirely normal and that meant that Kiki could take it without strain, feel tight without any effort, get off on it because it hit all the right places, and not have to work to get her pussy back in shape after they were finished. Kiki had sex a lot, of course, and she put a lot of effort into doing it well. Sometimes, though, especially when she was having a busy week or a parade of ambitious or demanding lovers had marched through her bed, she just wanted to get laid without having to work too hard. Wistler’s penis was just great for a slow, leisurely fuck.

In general, Kiki did not like her lovers to stay overnight, because then they might meet other lovers who dropped by. So when Wistler started hanging around her like a puppy, she either made him go home soon after breakfast or she spent the night at his place. She remembered the first time he took her to his apartment – how bare it was, nothing but books and canlı bahis Ikea furniture but also how masculine. Only a man could live there. Paper were everywhere in the front room, covered with math formulas and graphs and tables of statistics. But that didn’t matter. The bedroom was free of clutter, spare, furnished in black and white, and immaculately clean. In the middle of the bedroom, under a mirror that had been installed on the ceiling, was a big bed, where Kiki spent almost all of her time when she was in his apartment.

It was there that Wistler usually took her after a date. Kiki was not used to real dates. Sometimes they stayed in town and went to dinner and a movie or sometimes a College drama department play or a concert of some entertainer on the college circuit. This often didn’t work too well, because it was a small college town and Kiki had grown up there, so they were always running into people she knew and who knew that she was the town slut or men who she had sex with and who made it clear that they wanted it again. When she was with a boyfriend, this was a little awkward, so they often went to the city, an hour away, and did something there , like a show, a candlelit dinner at an expensive restaurant, or perhaps a really special concert. Once they went to see Lady Gaga.

Wistler had a certain routine he liked to follow when they made love. He brought a sense of chivalry that marked every sex act he performed with Kiki. He usually began by telling her how nice she looked in her clothes (even when she was wearing her boldest slut fashion) or how beautiful she was or asking if she was comfortable. He began this way because she really was beautiful and he really did love the way she looked. Then he would make some intimate gesture, like brushing the hair off her face or stroking her leg. He would stare into her eyes and then he would kiss her, soulfully, deeply, and without tongue, at least at first. Then he would hold her tight and tell her how much she meant to him and when he released her he would kiss her again.

This was all very strange for Kiki – she wasn’t used to that at all but she liked it. It gave her goose bumps and made her heart flutter. The only problem was that it was so slow. It made her a little impatient. But at that point he would begin to French kiss her and to unbutton her blouse or dress, if she was wearing one. Since Kiki rarely wore a bra, once her top was open there would be no obstacle to fondling her or kissing those perfectly shaped, creamy breasts with broad pink areoles and little nipples, which by then would be hard under his fingers. He would take it very slowly from there, stroking her and undressing her as he went, always making sure that she was comfortable and warm, until by some means or other she was lying on her back. He would find some way to put the palm of his hand over her mons, giving her gentle pressure but not too much. Usually she would sigh and he would kiss her on the mouth one last time before nibbling at her front all the way down until he reached her pubes. There he would pause, position his face above her, kiss the insides of her thighs, breathe deeply the intoxicating aroma of her sex, kiss her prominent and pretty outer lips, tug her long and elegant inner lips gently with his teeth, and lap at her elegant pink hole as, invariably by this time, she began to juice. He would spend a lot of time worshiping her pussy this way.

She would moan and arch her hips, pushing against his mouth as his tongue pushed deep into her. Wistler could spend hours, it seemed, exploring her pink folds and rippling labia and changing scents and she enjoyed the long, concentrated, selfless oral pleasure that only he gave her.

Kiki had a very pretty vulva, it was true. But sooner or later, he always honed in on her jewel, that warm and responsive pearl that would come out from under its little hood to meet his tongue and lips. He would suck it into his mouth and pull on it with his lips until it was stiff as it could be and then he would flick it with the edge of his tongue. He took care to lick all around it, too, so that the stimulation was not always directly on her most sensitive spot and he watched her breathing and her little movements to follow her arousal. Sometimes he put two fingers in her, curling them to stroke the sensitive front wall of her tight channel, and felt her soften and moisten while he licked her beautiful, responsive clit. Sometimes he wrapped his pursed lips around it and sucked it in with short kissing pulses, pulling it out as much as if it were two inches long and he was stroking it with his fingers.

Other times, he would offer her his erect penis and she would hold it, stroke it, fondle it, and put it in her warm mouth. It felt just right when she sucked him in, because it was large enough to reach back to her throat and felt really good on her tongue but didn’t choke her. Sometimes she did this while she handled his testicles and sometimes she put his testicles in her mouth, one by one, while bahis siteleri she stroked his cock. A few times he came from it all and ejaculated into her mouth and she would patiently suck on him until he was finished, then lick him clean and start over.

They would usually progress to sexual intercourse at this point, and Wistler’s favorite position was missionary. This may seem conventional and boring but he loved it because when he mounted her he could see the expression on her face, and then he could watch her, kiss her and fondle her creamy, soft tits while they fucked. Her favorite position was cowgirl, because she liked to adjust his angle so the tip would rub along her G spot every time she pulled him out and reinserted his dick – it was just the right length for this! But that doesn’t mean that they didn’t like doggie for the depth of penetration or other variations as the mood hit them. And when it did, they might change slowly, let the heat die down, and climb back up again from a lower point, maybe even taking a break to lick one another, or for a 69.

Maybe what was unusual in their love making was that they got into the habit of interrupting it. They fucked like they were in no hurry and would stop, start, and would usually readjust several times before one of them would reach climax. The purposeful made their orgasm so intense, the buildup so great, the ladder so high, that when they reached orgasm Kiki could feel his ejaculations like squirts deep inside her and he could feel her contractions like a fist grabbing his cock. If they were lucky enough to orgasm together, they would hold each other, covered in a fine sweat, feeling each others’ heartbeat as their breathing slowed back to normal and their bodies floated back to reality. If they came separately, one would help the other along to a vocal, explosive peak and then be helped to the same a few minutes later.

For a long time after they climaxed, they would hold one another and experience an intimate moment, with his cock softening inside her and the secretions flowing out of her hole and the warmth of their bodies together. She might clean him with her mouth. He might get hard again. They would fuck at least twice.

This was all so unusual, so foreign for Kiki.

Wistler was so different from her other lovers and their impatience to get themselves off in her. Wistler made love to her. Other men fucked her. The type of man she picked up at bars, and there were still a lot of them, went straight for the penetration and expected her to keep up the pace.

Wistler, of course, was falling in love. And what was there not to love about the beautiful, shapely blonde with her special and mysterious smile with its turned-up corners? After all, every man who met Kiki wanted to take her to bed and she went with most of them. Wistler had started out admiring that, loving Kiki as a free spirit. Slowly, though, Wistler found himself daydreaming of an monogamous relationship with Kiki. Someday, maybe they would even get married, maybe naked on the beach – but not until they had lived in sin for a long time and scandalized the neighbors!

There was only one problem. She didn’t feel a sense of love for him in return, only appreciation for the way he treated her and a good feeling about the sex. Wistler achieved great results bringing her off with his normal-sized dick that didn’t leave her all stretched out for the next guy and pacing himself so that her needs came first. That was nice. It was nicer when there was a next guy.

Actually, there was a second problem – she kind of liked it when the guy took control. She loved the feeling of controlling the situation but for her the climax (at least until orgasm) was the point where she would surrender to him and let him do what he wanted to her! That was a big turn-on.

There was also a third problem, so maybe it was inaccurate to say that there was only one problem. Kiki wasn’t about to give up all her other lovers. She loved her fuck friends like Charlie, with his huge dick! (With Charlie, she couldn’t take on a next guy until her cunt muscles settled back into position – he expanded her so much she wouldn’t feel his penis flopping around.) And she certainly had no intention of getting married.

One day Wistler picked her up carrying an invitation to a faculty party at the President’s mansion in three weeks! “This will be like an engagement party!” Wistler chuckled, “because we will be showing the world we are together, a real couple!”

Kiki wasn’t at all sure that this was a good idea. After all, she had had sex with a whole lot of the professors and administrators over the years. She had been the slut pulling a train for many of Henderson’s sex parties for the economics department. She had been the prize at a very exclusive “seduction party” who had been “won” by the President himself, which is how she came to know him so well. She had been the teaching assistant and obvious sex companion of Viku Dicae, the visiting professor from Moldova. bahis şirketleri She had a reputation. Everyone in this town where she had grown up knew her as the “town slut”. Didn’t Wistler think that dating her in public was risky for his own reputation, his career, and for relations with his colleagues?

Of course not! Wistler felt invulnerable because he had been granted tenure. They couldn’t fire him! And why would they care that his choice of a girlfriend (maybe a wife? – no it’s way too early to think about that!) was a promiscuous little tart? Wistler was thrilled to be seen in public with her! “Let the old farts eat their heart out,” he would say, “because the most beautiful girl in the room is leaving with me!” he would say. This time, Kiki would add in her mind.

And so it happened that Kiki found herself dressed in a very elegant, demure black cocktail dress with a plunging décolletage but cut to just above the knee, which was a very long hemline for Kiki. Her hair was perfect, her manners impeccable and her makeup was subdued. As a symbol of respect for Wistler, to show that this was a social event, not a pickup opportunity, she even wore panties.

When they arrived at the big house where the party was held, Kiki began to feel intimidated. Funny she had never felt that way when her body was on display at Henderson’s parties, when she knew in advance that many of these same people were going to grope her and ravish her and use every part of her body for their pleasure. Now she was meeting them as equals, as Wistler’s date.

The crowd was distinguished-looking and so well dressed! In appearance, Kiki should have fit right in, so pretty and young-looking that she could have passed for an older student instead of a faculty girlfriend.

But the reaction when she walked through the French doors into the elegant sitting room was something else. Suddenly, the buzzing conversation stopped. The first familiar face she saw was Doctor Ghislain, who was standing next to an attractive woman nearly the same age, who Kiki guessed was his wife. Ghislain turned white and looked away from her. The President of the College was there in the back, standing a head taller than the other guests and looking in the other direction talking to someone. When the noise from talking abruptly stopped, he looked toward the door, saw Kiki on Wistler’s arm, and scowled. His wife was by his side, skinny, brittle-looking, severe, an expression on her face like she had just smelled something. Doctor Lipschitz was there with Clarissa Aptos, the lesbian banker, who wore here beautiful hair severely straight and wore a beautiful pink gown the color of Kiki’s vagina, a detail that was not lost on the many guests there who had seen it up close. Both of them just stared at Kiki.

Undaunted, Kiki held her head high and endured the ragged start up of conversation again, knowing that it consisted mostly of confused wives and clueless men, many of them unattractive and therefore of no interest, asking their partners and companions “Who is she?” and the confused, hesitant responses of stories being made up. Wistler was ignoring it all and acting as it everything was normal, but nobody was answering him when he spoke to them. Doctor Henderson sidled up next to Kiki and whispered “Are you crazy? Is Wistler stupid? Take my advice and leave now.”

She and Wistler retreated from the room, seemingly to find a drink, but their path crossed that of the austerely beautiful Clarissa, who paused in front of Kiki and growled under her breath “You have your nerve!”

The rest of their time there did not go any better. Wherever they went in the house, conversation stopped and confusion reigned. Men in the company of their wives desperately avoided making eye contact with Kiki, which only set off suspicion and more questions about who she was. None of them were willing to admit that they knew her but everyone who did acted like she knew them and they were trying to hide.

The night was a disaster!

The chairman of the economics department went up to Wistler while he was separated from Kiki for a moment and told him he wanted to see Wistler in his office on Monday morning. The chairman of the philosophy department frowned at him and shook his head, while the man’s pretty but scatterbrained wife had her head turned in another direction. The director of the program in comparative literature seemed livid with anger, for some reason Wistler couldn’t figure out. His friend who taught in the religion department wouldn’t speak to him. Even the bartender acted surly. Every once in a while an argument would break out in the background and a wife would shout at her husband.

They got home to her place around midnight after a thoroughly hideous evening. Usually they stayed at his place but that night they wanted to hide, they were so embarrassed. They were frustrated, humiliated, angry, and resentful. Wistler was scared for his career and the experience had confirmed everything Kiki had always believed about the stuck-up College crowd. The students looked down at the townies, especially her, now that she had shown what she was capable of sexually, and now it was clear that the faculty looked down at her too.

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