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A muscle bear chub encounters a former student.

Or else they are scared of failing to satisfy me.' She reached for and put on the bra, remarking, 'I have to have these specially made.' On went the slip and skirt, then the blouse. 'You need to decide what your attitude is,' she said. 'I'm not going to play games.'

I recovered my voice. 'I want to be with you.'

'Get yourself over next Saturday afternoon,' she bade me. 'The old gatehouse is my cottage. Come to tea and I'll make supper, and we'll see.'

I escorted her down the stairs and out to her car, where she turned to me and held out a hand. I took her, drew her to me and kissed her. She kissed back, then got in a drove away.

Of course, I was going to get there. I had thought endlessly about her, realising that I wanted very much to be with her, even if I never saw anything of that stupendous body again.

The caretaker lent me his bicycle, understanding I might not return it till the Sunday, or Monday. And after morning school and lunch I was off. Being young and fit it took me less than an hour, and it was fortunately fine.

The cottage was cosy. She had a fire going in the tiny sitting-room, with a kettle lodged on it and the tea things ready. There were even crumpets to be toasted and buttered. What did we talk about?

I don't remember, but we were at ease, becoming closer with each cup, each crumpet, each topic. I don't remember the supper, but I do recall that by then it was certain we would be going to bed together, because she understood that I was neither daunted by her size nor regarding her as some sort of assault course.

She also had a fire going in her little bedroom, mostly occupied by a double-bed. She wanted to undress me first, perhaps because I had seen her naked and she had not yet seen me. Then she wanted me to undress her, and I wanted that very much, as if only now was I going to discover her for the first time.

We lay side by side, embracing and kissing without urgency for a long time. I caressed her, running a hand over that amazing bottom.

'I like that,' she said.

I began to suck her breasts, drawing in the huge, almost black areolas and the jutting nipples. Her excitement built to the moment she opened her legs and I slid a hand down her stomach, through the great curling mass which began close beneath her navel.

I moved to lick her vulva, but she said, 'Use your fingers,' and as I slid them between the folds of the inner labia she took my cock in her hand. 'You can go inside later. But first in my hand and me in yours.'

I drew my fingers up and down her warm, welcoming quim, as she held my cock. We both began to rock back and forth, so that her clitoris moved under my fingers and my cock slid within her grasp.

We were in harmony, confident of coming both at once, but without hurrying. And after a while she said, 'I'm ready. I can feel you're ready. Together! Into my hand,' and as I ejaculated into her fingers, 'Here it is! Oh, sweet.' She gripped my hand between her thighs as the orgasm shook her. I felt as if I were pumping my very soul into her palm.

After a time, she brought her sticky hand to her face. 'Thank you. I love to make it happen like that, especially the first time.'

There was, indeed, something even more intimate in ejaculating into her hand than into her vagina. 'Yes,' I said, 'And I loved taking you to it.' Then we lay gently kissing and cuddling for a while, talking a little.

She had run a little school in India, and had a few lovers. She had been tempted to marry the last one, but he had wanted her to stop work, be domestic and create a dynasty. But teaching was her vocation and she had no wish for children. So she had broken off and come home, and had been depressed for a good while, but was now determined on a career, taking an external degree to better qualify herself. My admiration increased minute by minute.

At the right moment she said, 'I'm not a teaser. I want you inside. But we need some precautions first.'

She reached into the drawer of her bedside cabinet and brought out in her fingers

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