by J. E. Keep
Her fingers moved to his shoulders and she squeezed them as her licking tongue explored the hair along his neck, enjoying the sensation of the hard bristles running under her tongue as her legs rose up, her hips rolling back as her body pleaded with him to go deeper.
So large and broad, the strong older man began to give into her demands, his hips bucking with a rising rate as he pressed his thickness into her deeper and deeper.
His harsh breathing grew louder as the slap of his sac striking her fleshy ass came on faster, harder, and he suckled her lower lip through the groans of satisfaction. She could feel his veiny length bulging within her, having grown to such a size with his desire for her nubile young body.
Despite her need for discretion and to protect her reputation, she had never had issues with sex, nor with multiple partners. Always a curious young woman, she’d explored many scenarios and men that she’d come to realize she didn’t like, and explored many more than she did.
Strong, married men absolutely made the cut, and she felt her body tense underneath him with that deep, carnal pleasure. Her arms wrapped so tightly around his shoulders, his body covering as much of hers as possible as she began to quiver beneath him.
“You feel so good,” she moaned loudly, her heart hammering against her chest. “Your wife is so lucky.”
She could feel him tense at that reminder, though it didn’t make him stop. Nothing could seem to make the man stock pounding into her cunt with such zeal to have her, and instead he only hammered her body harder. Faster. As if he could outpace the reality if he just fucked her sweet, tight cunt a little more, a little better.
She knew it was a cruel reminder, but she only meant it with all the sweetness of a full-fledged compliment. As her teeth nipped his skin, her breathing was faster, and her hands wandered down his naked back to his pelvis, “You make me feel so safe.”
Digging his fingers into her ass, he clutched onto her as he angled their bodies and pounded into her with all the expertise he knew how. She could feel the scrape of his stubbled jaw along her face, the heavy husk of his hard breathing as he pounded into her, he was all man in a way that her younger lovers or her older, more civilized trysts never were or could be, and he wanted to please her badly in that direct manner.
Her legs hooked above his pelvis and her back relaxed into the bed. He could see she was red-faced, and not just from the small, tender scrapes along her chin and jaw. Her breathing was hard, and she gasped out, “Are you good from behind?”
Her eyes were closed, and her hands still groped up and along his shoulder blades.
Kissing her hard he then nodded, “Yeah,” he said in his breathy voice, pushing from her leg lock and helping position her body so that the two could quickly couple again. With her sumptuous body on its arms and knees, he slid his thickness back inside her, giving such a satisfied groan it was as if he was entering her for the first time all over again.
With her skirt pulled up, her ass cheeks revealed, he gripped each and began to pump, pistoning his cock into her as the slap of flesh was now increased two fold as his hard hips struck her fleshy rear.
Her head fell towards the bed and he could hear her gasp, her breathing so heavy as he was able to push into her, harder and faster, hitting that tender spot within her as his sac pendulumed to her throbbing clit. She wanted him so bad, but no matter how hard and fast and well he thrust into her wanting form, her large, round ass banging against his hips, she couldn’t clear herself of the haunting image of Professor Turing.
Even as her body coiled and she reached that point of ultimate ecstasy, she couldn’t stop the tears from wetting the bed. “Maxxx,” she groaned needily, her voice quivering with the intensity of the stress enhanced orgasm.
The tightening of her quim about him as she found her satisfaction made him groan aloud. His fully hardened cock couldn’t take the extra pressure of those damp folds and he bellowed a low groan of his own, letting loose a heavy torrent of virile seed as he came along with her, the two of them falling over that precipice together, their loins spasming and tingling with such fire of sensation together until his were emptied and she was spent.
It was something wholly different for her. The need to prove to herself that everything was fine, the stress of her lover being fingered in a murder, and the desire for a man who could make all of those problems disappear. It wasn’t just gratitude, or a need for him to sympathize with her. In calmer days she might have seduced him to do just that, but this illicit act was about something far more primal than even the studied Eva could wholly understand.
As she came down from her intense high, her entire body felt spent and sore, and she was overcome with a need to be enveloped by someone else. It almost struck her as ironic that she was yearning for a father figure to care for and protect her, but her exhaustion kept her good humour at bay.
Falling down around her, his cock still buried within her folds, he put his arms about her body and held her as the two lay panting and breathing hard. He kissed the back of her neck, nudging her curled hair out of the way as he moved about to her shoulder until the two slid to their side and spooned in the after moments of their coupling.
She was grateful her skirt was pulled around her hips as she pulled him against her body, her form shaking as she tried to warm the chills away. His skin was so hot against her, yet even with her clothes on, she felt that strange sensation creep over her body and she kept tugging him closer.
For his part, Max didn’t try to pull away, and he only held her close, kissing her softly as the two lay. He had important things to be doing, but he was unwilling to tear himself away from this sweet young woman in her hour of need, so he instead murmured to her such soft, sweet nothings.
It wasn’t long before his comfort soothed her to the point of exhaustion, her body growing heavy against his arms as she lay next to him, half clothed and drooling his seed between her thick thighs. Her eyes fluttered closed as her breathing became steady and regular, slumber gripping her exhausted form.
Chapter 10
When she awoke it was pitch black in the room and no light at all seeped through the window. Night time had fallen and though she fell into sleep with Max, she awoke alone. Feeling more rested despite having not slept through the night, she turned on the light and found a note written by the detective for her:
‘Sorry Eva, duty calls and you’re safer with this murderer behind bars than loose. Stay put and you’ll be safe. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Max.’
She rubbed her head groggily, and despite the late hour, she opted to take a bath, letting the soothing, overly hot water ease away her worries and concerns. She hadn’t brought a change of clothes or, really, anything but for her purse.
Still, an hour or more passed with her in the bath, working through the emotional turmoil of the last couple of days, her mind reeling. Terrence was sleeping with Sylvia too? Then what did Turing have to do with anything? She found herself shivering, despite the fact that the water was so hot it burned her flesh, and she kept adding more scalding steam to the tub as it cooled.
When she finally stepped out, her skin was red, but she felt cleansed, and the routine task of fixing her makeup and lotioning her skin was welcome.
Leaving a note addressed to Max at the front desk and detailing her plans, it was still dark as she made her way to her usual church. Though her family wasn’t near enough to attend with her, their tendrils of influence extended far. She couldn’t displease them and, besides, she felt like she needed to be in a safe haven. To gather her strength and conviction, and when the service finally ended, she left with an extra spring to her step.
Moving to one of the public payphones, she dialed the detective’s number.
The operator quickly informed her that Max wasn’t available, though this time unlike the last she had no further details for Eva at all. Wherever he was, he hadn’t left instructions to pass on anything to her, it seemed.
Thanking the woman, and with her
shoulders back, she hailed a cab to take her back to campus; to Allan’s dorm.
Arriving there it wasn’t Allan that answered the door but his roommate, another buff man with dark hair, though not nearly so tall or attractive. With a cheesy grin he looked her over then jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “He’s still asleep,” he said, and she could see her sometimes-lover sprawled face down upon the too-small bed.
“Of course,” she sighed as she brushed past the other man. Even with her newfound bravado, her fingertips were light as they prodded Allan’s shoulder, her voice whispered in his ear. “Hey honey, get up.”
The other man left the two of them alone, shutting the door behind him. Despite his seeming deep sleep, it didn’t take much to wake the large man. His head lifted and he gave her a sleepy smile, “Teach,” he said and reached out to put an arm around her and tug her in, “am I dreamin’?”
She kissed his cheek gingerly before she was pulled towards his large body and she felt that unmistakable urge to forget her troubles in his arms, but instead she pushed away. “Oh babe, if it was a dream, I’m sure I’d be naked,” she teased. “C’mon, Teach needs your help with something today.”
The affable, large man couldn’t argue with that logic, “That’s true,” he said and kissed her back on the cheek as he rose up. Say what she will about the fellow, he always followed her instructions to the best of his abilities. “What do you need, Teach?” he asked as he stood up, only removing his arm from her to stretch out his thick muscles.
“I need you to make sure I don’t get hurt,” she smiled brightly, her small nose nuzzling along his jaw, unable to fully keep her desirous self in check around the handsome man. Especially not in his bed. “There’s been some crazy stuff going on lately, and a friend of mine’s in jail for murder, and,” she smirked a bit, assuming he would find it amusing, “one of the other professors might have framed him.”
All amorous and touchy-feely up to that point, the large man lifted a hand, brushing his hair from his forehead and staring down at her with sleepy, blinking wide eyes. It was a lot for the man to absorb.
“Alright,” or maybe not, he gave her a final kiss on the forehead and squeezed her in his arm. “Point me in the right direction, Teach. You know I’ve got you covered,” he said with simple certainty that confirmed his dedication.
She laughed, finally pulling herself away, her entire body heated and warm from his masculine presence. He did something to her that so few could, and it took her a while to battle that feeling away. “I just need you to come with me back to my apartment. I need to check something and then we’ll go from there.”
Nodding to her he pushed around her and opened the door. Though the gentlemanly thing would’ve been to let her out first, instead he went out and—with broad shoulders back and looking like he was about to tackle someone—inspected both directions of the hallway then stood aside to let her out.
She was amused by his overprotectiveness and she stayed close near him, treating him like a bodyguard. “I’m sure it’s not that dangerous, Allan,” she teased on the way back. When they finally arrived to her front door, however, she was grateful for him taking it so seriously as her nerves frayed.
Despite her amused words, Allen never let down his guard the entire way back. Even at her place he insisted on going first, taking the protective duties more seriously than he ever took the schoolwork she tutored him in.
On their way up the stairs to her apartment the little old lady who owned the home made a rare appearance. “There you are,” she said in her weak voice, her poor eyes travelling to Allen. “And you!” she said feebly. “Young lady, you cannot have your suitors making such a fuss here at all hours of the night!” she chided Eva. “It is just not appropriate in any regard! What would your parents say if they knew this gentleman was pounding on the door at all hours of the night?”
For his part, Allen looked confused.
“Mrs. Philmore, this is my friend Allan. He wasn’t here last night... and neither was I. I stayed the night at a girlfriend’s house. Who was here? When? What did they say?”
Eva’s heart pounded in her chest, thankful for Max’s advice and yet, at the same time, terrified that she had missed something important. Maybe Sinclair was out and he needed her.
The little old lady began to shuffle off, “How should I know?” she said, the rest of her words muttered and weak, indecipherable. Knowing the old lady there wouldn’t be anything more to get out of her like that.
Allan merely looked to her from the stairs and shrugged his heavyset shoulders. “Should’ve come got me sooner,” he said simply before pushing up ahead to her room faster, obviously his worries enflamed by the strange news.
Arriving up there beside him, she saw nothing out of order, but as Allan was moving about and inspecting her surroundings something caught her eye. A small bottle like the one Turing had, filled with the amber fluid he’d injected her with. This one, however, was near empty, with but a bit of the concoction left inside it.
She picked up a handkerchief, grabbing the bottle with wide fear in her eyes, though she had no idea what it could mean. “Someone was here,” she murmured, her heart thudding more powerfully in her chest. “I... Allan—” her panic gave way to a thought. It seemed so convenient that Turing, such a dextrous man, would drop something so obviously incriminating—the bottle even having his designation upon it—in her home after a late night visit.
Licking over her lips, she took in a breath, “I need to use the phone,” she murmured, rushing down to it and dialing the familiar number of her friend, Martin Hale.
The dorm where Martin lived, of course, had a general phone for all available, and when she got an unknown voice on the other end, he informed her that he didn’t know if Martin was in or if he’d be back shortly.
Groaning at their ineptitude, she quickly shrugged her coat back on. “Incompetence,” she scowled as she headed out towards Martin’s dorm. “It’s just plain lazy that he couldn’t check.”
Quick to take the lead again, Allan—still dressed in a pair of simple brown pants and an overly tight t-shirt—went ahead and began to head through the snowy outdoors towards the other man’s dorm. Allan, of course, knew Martin, though not closely. “So Martin knows what’s up with that thing you found?” he asked, looking back to her, referring to the bottle she discovered.
“Martin doesn’t have a clue about most of what’s going on,” she rolled her eyes, her face flushing with a bit of anger at his well-meaning chiding the day prior. “I just need to see something of his,” she murmured almost inaudibly as they arrived, making the familiar way towards his room.
Arriving there she found the door closed and locked. She got no answer from inside with her knocks, the meek man seemingly not there. Allan, however, stepped up and gently brushed her aside, “Let me, Teach. This is important,” he said, looking up and down the hallway, checking something.
She stepped away, fright causing her pulse to quicken, “Just... be quiet,” she murmured, trying to keep watch for the apt man.
She had to give him credit, for the task he was engaged in—busting down a door in an occupied dormitory—he was relatively quiet about it. As he put his shoulder into the hard wood, it gave way with but a single loud thud. Allan righted himself, looking no worse for wear despite having broken the lock on the door beyond repair. “There ya go, Teach,” he said as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.
“That’s... going to be hard to explain,” she said as she walked past the man, her eyes quickly going to the desks and tabletops she could see, searching for that invitation for the dinner two nights prior. She still had Sylvia’s letter in her coat pocket, and she was beginning to suspect that there was something more to it.
Martin was, among other things, an immaculately neat individual. His desk so well ordered it didn’t take her long to sort through such personal papers. She did not, however, come upon an invitation as she thought. Instead what she found was some
thing far more eye-opening.
Amongst Martin’s things in his desk, she found a letter. A letter to Sylvia Sinclair with no return address, already opened.
Her fingers were quick as she opened it, brows furrowed deeply and all but ignoring Allan as she read the contents.
‘Mrs. Sinclair,
Your husband is having an affair with one of his students. You’ve ignored my past letters, but this time I can give you advanced warning so that you may see for yourself the evidence.
This coming Friday, during your very dinner party it seems, he intends to rendezvous with her on your premises. I urge you to see for yourself and put a stop to this before it is exposed and shames you publicly.’
The letter was postmarked, with no return. It was mailed and clearly arrived at Sylvia’s at some point. The handwriting was eerily familiar.
Her hand trembled as she re-read the letter, leaving Allan out of the loop as she pushed through the papers, looking for samples of his own writing.
It wasn’t hard to find that, the man having a large assortment of writing, letters and papers in his desk. She found no other personal correspondence of interest, however one thing became unmistakably clear; the handwriting on the letter to Sylvia Sinclair was indeed his.
Her eyes stung and watered at his betrayal, but she pocketed the letter quickly, “You’ll regret that, Martin.” She took another look through for the invitation for the party, trying to find a sample of Sylvia’s handwriting.
There was nothing, no such invitation existed amongst the collection of letters from his parents and grandparents. If such an invitation existed, it wasn’t there amongst his meticulously assorted collection that included every bit of mundane correspondence imaginable.
She looked up at Allan, trying to think things through before she shook her head, “We’re going to Sinclair’s place. We need to be discrete about it,” she pocketed the envelope and the letter, moving to the door. “He should really get his lock fixed,” she said bitterly.