Expand Your Goth Boundaries
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The Goth And The GeekChapter 2 free porn video
It won't come as any surprise when I say I missed her. I got a text to say she had arrived at her digs safely, with a smiley and a heart emoticon. I responded with 'missing you already' and a heart emoticon. Final years of a degree are intense. I knew Lilac was hoping to achieve a 'First', and would be working hard, so I didn't expect her to spend a lot of time communicating with me. I was happy that most days I got a chatty email, and several times a week we spoke on the phone. A few weeks into the term I booked a hotel room and travelled down on the train. I met her flat-mate, an intense, bespectacled girl called Emma, reading Physics, who looked me up and down and nodded thoughtfully.
"Well – do you approve?"
The girl blushed hotly, but answered steadily enough, "Not that it matters, but yes. You're exactly what Lilac needs."
Lilac and I spent Friday and Saturday night, and most of Saturday together. Sunday morning, she apologetically begged off and sent me home.
I was a little worried. Not by her obvious affection and response to me – that was everything I could have desired. No. I was worried that she looked tired, worried and drawn. She'd lost some weight, which she could ill afford to do. I thought it was just pressure of work, and encouraged her to ease off. Though she agreed, I didn't think she'd really do anything about it.
At the Easter break, she went to her parents' for a few days before coming to Sheffield. I met her off the train that time and she flew into my arms; we held each other close for several minutes before heading off into the town centre for lunch.
When we got home and I ushered her into the kitchen, she just stood there with her eyes closed for several minutes, breathing slowly and deeply. With more sensitivity than I usually possess, I didn't say anything, just went to put the kettle on for tea. I was rummaging in a cupboard for biscuits when her arms wrapped round me from behind and I could feel the pressure of her breasts against my back.
"It feels like coming home," she said.
I turned in her arms so I could return the embrace. "I'm glad," I replied.
"I could wish it really was," she added, pensively.
"It could be, you know," I told her gently. "I'd be happy to have you here ... for as long as you wanted to be."
Her only response to that was to hold me close. I was aware of her warmth, the scent of her hair ... and my own arousal. But then she wriggled and pressed against my hardness.
"Gerry ... forget the tea. I think something's come up that has a higher priority..." She pulled away, grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the stairs. Not that I was at all reluctant to follow, it was just that it took me a few seconds to catch on, and then she was moving faster than me. In the bedroom she set some sort of record for undressing and then helped me as I was way behind.
As soon as I was naked, she pulled me, walking backwards, to the bed. She perched on the edge and I was about to go down on her, but she grabbed me by the ears. "I don't need any prep! I've been wet as a swamp since I saw you at the station. Come on and fuck me, now!" At which she rocked back, lifting and spreading her legs like something out of a porn film. Her pussy was engorged, pink and glistening; she was, indeed, ready for me and I slipped into her easily, producing a sigh from her and a groan from my own throat.
For a moment I just held there, revelling in the silken grip of her pussy, but she bucked her hips and the resulting sensation made me move, thrusting deeply into her. "Hold my tits, Gerry. Squeeze them. Pull on my nipples ... oh... !" The final exclamation being in response to my obedience as I pinched and pulled on her distended nipples. She was doing something with her pelvic floor muscles, something that squeezed and rippled on my penis. It was exquisite, and I was rock hard, having to work hard not to come, when she finally reached her peak. She jerked and twitched and I let go and came, hard, in her.
When her panting and gasping subsided, she croaked, "Oh, God, Gerry ... I needed that."
She lay limp, and I caught her legs as they flopped; picked her up ... she felt very light ... and moved her up the bed so I could lay down beside her and hold her close. After a minute or so, she turned toward me, hooked her leg over mine, and pressed against me. I could feel the result of our coupling smeared on my thigh. To my amazement, my limp cock showed signs of life as she gently caressed my chest.
"Oooh, look ... it's aliiiive!" and she took hold of me, stroked me, and brought me back to full hardness.
I chuckled. "Before your time, that film!"
"Come on, before yours, too," she commented, straddling me and lowering herself onto me. "Now that the tension is out of the way, we can take it a bit slower this time."
So we did; she was doing most of the work and she set the rhythm ... I was free to explore with my hands. Her skin, as always, smooth and silky, the curve of her hips, of her firm, pert, breasts infinitely satisfying. "You are so beautiful, so sexy," I told her.
"Thank you. And you ... make me feel ... wonderful, like no-one else." She was quiet for a while, apart from the occasional sigh. "Gerry..."
"Yes, Sweetness?"
"Do you, um ... ever ... when we're making love ... fantasise?"
"Not really. I mean, we've not been together that often and you really are sexy and special. Helen and I, we used to role-play sometimes. I think a lot of couples do."
She concentrated for a bit and we were both quiet. Oh but she felt so good...
"Yeah..." she said slowly. "You mean, when we've been together longer, you might want to ... um ... spice things up a bit?"
"I might, " I agreed.
"So ... you wouldn't mind if I wanted to pretend I was someone else? That you were someone else?"
"As long as we're both comfortable, I don't think I'll have any problems. Anything in particular you want to do?"
"Um ... well ... yeah, but perhaps it'd be better to talk about it another time." She sped up a little, and I felt the impulse to thrust up into her; an impulse I wasn't about to resist for long. Indeed, it was very shortly after that I felt her clamping down on me and I grasped her hips firmly and pushed hard against her. Then she was shuddering in her climax and I was coming and coming ... and she flopped on me, gasping for breath. She tried to roll off me, but I held her there, caressing her back, her bum, inhaling the scent of her hair, kissing her head.
"I love you," I breathed.
"Mmmm." It was a contented hum that I felt rather than heard.
It was a good time. I put off thinking about, well, potential problems, like ... would a gifted and attractive young woman be content with a rather ordinary, middle-aged, man in the long-term? And just enjoyed her. As sometimes happens, the weather at Easter was almost summery, and most days we were able to get out of the house and walk, often carrying a picnic. One of the days while we were out, she pulled me off the park into some dense woodland. We were only yards from several other walkers, but quite out of sight. She looked at me with what I can only describe as a wicked grin, spread our picnic blanket in an open space and started to disrobe. We were not far from a noisy stream, but I doubted that the sound would drown out Lilac if she really got going.
"I hope you know what you're doing," I commented, removing my own clothing.
"Oh, I've got a pretty good idea..." she smiled, pulling me down onto the blanket.
Perhaps it's the risk of exposure, or maybe it's just something primal about being out in the open air, but there's just no comparison between making love outdoors and at home in bed. Despite the intensity, I retained enough control to fasten my lips on hers as she came, muffling her scream. Despite the good weather, it wasn't warm enough to stay naked, which is probably a good thing in view of what happened; after cuddling for a few minutes, we were almost completely dressed when a Labrador Retriever came crashing through the shrubbery concealing our picnic site. Now a wagging tail isn't necessarily a good indication of a friendly dog, and dogs don't really grin, but his behaviour seemed to me to indicate he wasn't a threat and I held out a hand. After a short sniff, he clearly thought my hand was dirty as he began to lick it, sloppily.
"Blackie! Blackie!" a youthful voice could be heard. The dog stopped licking for a moment and looked over his shoulder, then returned to his self-appointed task. More noise of disturbed greenery, and a girl of maybe fourteen appeared in the same way as the dog.
"Blackie! Bad dog! Come!" She looked at us. "Sorry," she said, "he's usually much better behaved than this. I hope he hasn't bothered you..." the dog returned to his young mistress without much sign of penitence.
"It's okay," I smiled, "no damage done. He's a friendly chap."
"Too friendly! But thanks. I'll get him out of your way." She clipped on a lead and the dog followed her sensibly enough.
I looked at Lilac, who was giggling. "Well!" I had to chuckle, myself. "I suppose it could have been a lot worse."
That was a good day. At the end of it we were pleasantly tired ... but not too tired to make love again; after which, as we were on the cusp of sleep, I asked, "Will you promise me something, Lilac?"
"Mmmm?"
"Promise me you'll come back?"
"You really want me?"
I ignored the odd tone in her voice. "I really want you. How could I not?"
"Then, if I can, I will come back."
That pleased me more than I can say, and my night's sleep, at least, was refreshing; I woke raring to go. Which is just as well, as I had to do some work for once.
The remaining time of the Easter break passed without incident in a mixture of work, recreation and love, until I found myself once more on Sheffield Midland Station, watching the train bearing Lilac away back to university.
I wasn't thinking too much about my changed state – from bereft to 'in love' – though if I had I would not have questioned that I was, indeed, in love with this slightly odd, very beautiful and gifted, young woman. I knew she would have important distractions from our relationship during the last few weeks of her course, so I didn't expect too much in terms of communications. We spoke on the phone, emailed or texted most days ... at first ... and those contacts were warm ... at first. As I say, I expected that she would be busy with her work to complete her degree, so as the date of her final exams approached I wasn't surprised that communications became irregular. I was worried, though, when they ceased completely at the point I hoped she would be getting on a train to come back to me.
I don't know – don't really want to know – what happened in detail. I got an email – I didn't recognise the address and nearly treated it as spam, especially as it contained a link – but perhaps foolishly I opened it and recognised part of the link as being to a free porn site I had frequented in the past. I clicked on the link...
And watched Lilac, in her Goth persona, as she 'entertained' a succession of young men; sometimes two and three at a time. It was dreadful, and dreadfully fascinating, and there was over an hour of it clearly pieced together from much more than one occasion.
I was numb.
Elissa
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