I must say, I really kind of flourished in my first few months at Uni. Meeting so many new people, and being in a completely different place without any safety net – it just caused my personality to force itself to the surface, I came right out of my shell, and the sweet yet outgoing and flirty girl that I am today made her first real venture out into the world. I also took a much bigger interest in clothes and fashion, and how I looked and my appearance in general, which isn’t hard to do when you move to a much bigger city and find so many more options and styles available to you. So I was in the process of a transition from pretty but plain, to gorgeous little sex kitten.
My God, I think I became popular – no, it couldn’t be, surely!! Lol
But I really must have been popular in my group, because after striking up a friendship with one of the “mature students” in our class – he was well into his fifties, was semi-retired and just generally taking a part-time Uni course to keep his mind busy and follow his passions – I managed to get him accepted into our circle of 18-21 year old friends, purely based on my say so.
I liked him personally, he had such knowledge of the world, and was so interesting, so easy to talk to, and he was pretty much the only person I found at Uni who I could sit down for an hour or two with and just discuss books and random bits of literature with, he was a good intellectual foil for me. We met in one of my classes, he was treated like a bit of an outsider by everybody, despite his best efforts to be nice and join in the group conversations and discussions. But a few weeks in, we were given a little project to do in pairs, and I felt a little sorry for him as he sat there and kind of waited for everyone else to pair off to see who he was left with. So I strutted over to him (I say strutted because my new found popular “gorgeous little sex kitten” persona had somehow lead to me developing a bit of a “sex-kitten strut” – or it could have been that I’d started to wear heels on a regular basis for the first time ever and was struggling to walk properly! lol), with my long blonde hair flowing, my big eyes twinkling, and with my cute little smile, and asked if he wanted to team up with me.
So we did, and after class we went to the main Uni building, had coffee, and chatted about the project and our ideas, which lead to chatting about loads of other stuff, and we ended up enthralled in each others words for about 3 or 4 hours. That night I went back to my student accommodation room, and I masturbated myself into such an intense orgasm. It wasn’t even sexual really, I was only thinking about him talking to me, there was no sex involved in my fantasy, I just found his intelligence and interestingness (is that even a word? lol) the biggest turn on ever. My school-girl crush had began for this older married class-mate of mine. And two days later it was my nineteenth birthday, and I was stunned to find a huge bunch of flowers arrive from him, with the simple message “I really enjoyed chatting with you. Have a wonderful birthday!”. He wasn’t helping me fan the flames of my crush at all!
My mind set became quite similar to the crush I had two years earlier, and I desperately wanted him just to notice me. I wasn’t expecting it to go anywhere, and part of me didn’t even want it to go anywhere, just like when I was 17, I just wanted him to reciprocate my crush in some form or another.
But my submissiveness really did start to take over this time, as time went by, even though at this point I can’t say I really knew what “submissive” meant, nor did I know that I could possibly be one. My relationship with Tom (not his real-name, but it’s better than calling him the older married guy from Uni for the rest of this story!!) was just the normal friends relationship for quite a while, albeit a little bit flirty when we were away from other people’s company, and it was certainly the slowest developing relationship I’ve ever had – like I said, I don’t think either of us had any real desire to take this anywhere.
He became quite a fixture within our friendship group – not into the clubbing and bar-hopping part of it, but whilst at Uni and for drinks or coffee, or lunch after classes, he was readily accepted into the group as a friend and perhaps a bit of a father figure. He didn’t throw cold water on our shenanigans, he was a nice guy, and everyone liked him and didn’t shy away from any kind of conversation just because he was there – sex, girls, guys, we made him endure it all, and he chipped in when he could.
It was approaching Christmas-time when during one such group conversation about girls, how girls dress, and in particular high heels, Tom stated that he particularly enjoyed seeing girls in high heels and he was amazed at just how high the heels had become on the young girls of today. The next day when getting dressed for Uni I subconsciously pulled out my sexiest and highest heels to put on, which were only four inches high back then, and then thought to myself “why am I wearing these?” as they were purely going out shoes and not really Uni day-wear. I then remembered what Tom had said the day before, smiled to myself, and put them on anyway, and at Uni that day I made the effort to make sure he noticed them.
I carried on wearing heels every day that I knew I would be seeing Tom, even using it as an excuse to do a bit of shoe shopping here and there, and I think he appreciated it and realised I was trying to impress him a little. And shortly after that he started throwing in other “suggestions” about things he liked to see, sometimes in group situations and sometimes in general private conversations, but never implied to be anything more than a passing comment. It was a bit of a running “joke” between us that was never spoken about. He’d say something, the next day I’d do it, we’d share a little smile, but it never went further and was never directly discussed. Anything from wearing red nail varnish, to wearing red lipstick, to wearing my hair down instead of up, or if he was being more bold when there was just the two of us he might make a comment about the short skirt or the low cut top that another girl was wearing, and just give me a cheeky smile, and the next time we’d meet I’d be wearing a skirt just as short or a top with just as much cleavage on display. It was all quite low key really, but for me it laid the foundations of my submissiveness for the future.
I think we were both really enjoying the general fun and flirty, and weirdly D/s, relationship we’d generated, but I don’t think either of us really planned to step it up a notch or anything, there were a lot of factors that stood in our way – the age-gap, his marriage, sometimes I was in relationships as I did date through my first year at Uni, even if none of them were particularly serious, it was a pretty “off” year for me in that respect.
But needless to say, slowly but surely it did develop. There was no leeway whatsoever in how it had been going along, so a change had to come along at some point. And it came one day when he was driving me back to my Uni flat after class, I got out of the car and was about to walk away when he called my name. I looked in through his open window, and he said to me, “don’t wear a bra tomorrow”, smiled, and drove away without giving me the chance to respond. It was a fairly significant change to the dynamic of our relationship – never before had he given me a specific and direct instruction, they’d all previously been thinly guised as passing comments and nothing was directly said between the two of us that anything was happening between us.
So the next day came, and off to Uni I went, in a pretty strappy top with decent cleavage on view, and no bra underneath. I was a little worried that it was too obvious that I wasn’t wearing a bra, I had tried to find a happy medium, I didn’t want it to be too obvious to everybody, I wanted it to be a little more subtle, but I did want Tom to be able to notice without too much effort. I don’t think I found that happy medium though – everybody’s eyes just gravitated to my chest as I walked by. I found out something else about myself that day as well though… I actually loved the attention, I really did! As all the eyes lingered on me, my heart started beating faster and harder, and I was shocked to notice that my nipples stiffened almost instantaneously. My inner-slut came out to play, and it was a strange, strange feeling.
I didn’t speak to Tom when I got to Uni, the first time I saw him was at the start of class, and we were sitting about 7 or 8 seats apart – the seating was in a general semi-circle so we were slightly facing each other and only maybe 4-5 metres away from one another. My phone then vibrated, I opened up the unread message from Tom, and it read, “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were enjoying the attention, you naughty girl!”. I replied with “do I have your attention?”, and he responded “oh, something’s definitely at attention!”, and finally I texted back “Then I definitely AM enjoying the attention!”
This was another first for us, we’d never sent each other text’s of a naughty variety before. This was definitely a new chapter in our relationship, and I was definitely excited about what the future may hold now we’d turned this corner and were both fully aware of, and acknowledging, that there was something between us… even if it had taken 6 months since meeting to get here.
To be continued…
Sunday, 20 September 2009
Thursday, 3 September 2009
The Journey... Chapter Three - Going Off To Uni
I really need to jump ahead to around my 19th birthday now to get to the next really big event, but that’s 18-24 months further down the line from where I’m currently at in my story time-line, and those two years are important to the long-term story, so I need to slow it down and tell the story properly…
After the events of my seventeenth birthday, I started dating a very nice guy I met at college, lost my “full” virginity to him on Valentines Day as I mentioned in Chapter One, and we dated for a good year after that. We had reached the point where we had both exclaimed that we loved each other, and we got along great, despite the fact that we were heading in very different directions with our lives. We’d been applying for University places, and were looking at Uni’s at completely different ends of the country because we both had separate career goals and aims in life, so we both knew that we’d probably have to break up at some point, whether it be by necessity or whatever, or one of us would have to make a big sacrifice for the other. But we let that slide by us, and just enjoyed each others company and lived in the now – the future was so far away! We developed a pretty healthy sex life after our first time, and quickly realised we not only both really enjoyed sex, but even more importantly, we really enjoyed sex with each other. So we were all over each other at every opportunity. Living with our parents, it was tough to find the right times, but we managed it. Many a time we’d be at one of our houses with our parents, and they’d announce they were popping out for half an hour, and we’d be ripping each others clothes off before they even got out the door so we could make every second count. My dad didn’t let him stay over with me in my room until after my 18th birthday, and even then, full blown let your hair down sex was out of the question – no screaming orgasms with my parents in the next room!! Lol.
We were also quite open with each other sexually, which is very unusual for such a young and inexperienced couple. We would read things in magazines or on the internet and we’d be like “hey, you wanna try this?” I very quickly realised my sexual inhibitions were a lot less than my general life inhibitions. Dressing up, fantasy play, we even had a couple of unsuccessful attempts at anal sex.
But the cracks eventually began to show as we started to grow apart a little, and argue a bit more than normal. And eventually we broke up. It was a fairly amicable break-up though, and we stayed friends to a degree afterwards.
My next boyfriend a couple of months later didn’t last long – he got really mad about some sort of slutty rumour about me that my ex’s new girlfriend had started, and wouldn’t accept my version of the truth, so he got thrown to the curb quick-smart, because I wasn’t dealing with that shit!
But I still had some fairly strong sexual fantasies about my 17th birthday, and thinking of that had certainly been the catalyst for many sessions of self-pleasure in the evenings in the 18 months or so since it happened. And, being a single girl as my two year college stint was drawing to a close, and having the older-man fantasy at the fore-front of my subconscious, I happened upon an older gent at the hotel bar I was now working in – I’d moved up in the world from chamber maid to bar-girl since turning 18 – and decided to give the older guy thing a proper try.
I don’t really have a bad word to say about him – we dated for around three months, and during that time he showered me with gifts and treated me very well. Overall, he was nice enough, and we had some decent sex, but he just didn’t seem to be quite as enthusiastic about it all as I was used to. Maybe it was just because I was very much in the youthful experimentation phase with my previous boyfriends, and he was a little past that stage, having already found what he did and didn’t like, and in more of a routine. I even started doubting my blow-job skills because he never even really seemed to enjoy that aspect of our sex-life. And I’d spent a year giving head to my ex very regularly, polishing and improving my technique with each and every one. We had our own little code language for it so we didn’t have to be too crude – we joked that I was a “qualified oral practitioner” – okay, I never said it was a SECRET code language!! Lol. He did very much enjoy giving oral sex though, and he did increase my liking of that. And he did really enjoy me being dressed nice and sexily, he loved me in sexy lingerie and negligee, and going from dating poor students to a man who’d been working for 20 years meant he had the cash to buy it all for me!! The benefits of the older man! Lol. He even bought me my first couple of pairs of stockings, although at this point in time they were limited to bedroom wearing.
But back to the story – me and my older man, we just didn’t gel right; even when my Dad practically disowned me for dating him, the taboo of dating him, although it possibly prolonged our relationship due to the teenage rebellious instinct within me, just wasn’t enough to hold us together and create any real feelings between us. Well I say that, he was actually besotted with me and told me he loved me – I just didn’t quite feel the same way about him. I thought he was a great guy, and I liked him, but I couldn’t go as far as love. I don’t know what it was – it just wasn’t like what I thought it would or should be. I guess it was because he just didn’t have a dominant bone in his body, and whether I realised it or not, that’s what I really wanted when I went down the older man route. I wanted a take-charge kind of guy, someone who could show me something different, show me a different way of life, and just “take me”.
So we eventually broke up – very amicably with some sex for the road – and I swore off men for my remaining month at home before I’d be off out into the big world, heading to Uni… young, free, and single! And I told myself I’d stick to guys my own age again.
I’d been accepted into two completely different Uni’s, doing two completely different courses. Uni A was about 250 miles from my home-town, and there I got accepted for a Finance Degree. Uni B was a mere 200 miles away and offered a completely different degree course in English Literature. I was still undecided about my life path – I had the sensible choice of the Finance degree, offering a good career utilising my strong numeric and mathematical skills that I’d got from my Dad’s side of the family. Then there was the less sensible choice; follow my love of books and the English language, study different writing styles and authors, and chase my dream of becoming a writer.
Just to clarify on the miles – if you’re reading in somewhere like the USA, 200-250 miles probably seems minimal, an afternoon drive to the next city or something. Here in the UK, it’s half way across the country and then some!! Lol. And forgive the lack of exact locations, trying to hold some key details back to keep some anonymity here!
Anyway – I’ve spoken about being a part-qualified accountant, so it’s pretty obvious which Degree course I chose isn’t it? Yes, that’s right, I went to Uni B for the English Literature course!! And yes, I’m serious, that isn’t a joke. I was 18, I wasn’t practical and thinking about getting a 9-5 job for life, I was going to chase my dream!!
To be honest, if I’d chosen the Finance degree, now with hind sight of actually trying to become an accountant, I’d probably be on loads more money now as I’d probably be fully qualified and flying, but I won’t complain about my chosen path – I loved the degree I did as I absolutely love the written word, and I love the way my life has turned out from taking this path in my life, and the experiences that Degree Course gave me along the way.
September came, and I threw most of my belongings into my older brothers car – he was driving me there as I had no car (or licence) of my own – and we hit the northbound road to my new Uni home, we got there and I moved into my first home away from home – one of the big student accommodation blocks of flats, where I had a pretty tiny room in a pretty tiny flat that I was to share with two strangers. Such a scary moment in my life, I was like a fish out of water. But everybody else is in the same boat, so everyone helps everyone out. And soon Fresher week commences, the cheap alcohol flows, and everyone becomes the best of friends!!
Fresher week was full of many firsts for me; it was my first week at Uni, my first week living away from home, my first week living in a big city, it was even my first time living in a completely different country! England is a different country to Wales, honestly!! Lol. I was really out of my comfort zone, trying to make lasting friendships with complete strangers from different walks of life and from all different parts of the country, it seemed like a million miles away from my home area, where I knew people, and people knew me. And it soon became the scene for my first ever drunken one night stand.
I think there must be more one night stands in the early weeks of Uni than anywhere else at any time, and if everybody feels the way I did at that time, I can certainly understand why. I felt lonely, frustrated, and isolated, and frankly cheap, meaningless sex was not only a release, and not only a way to pass the time, it was a way to numb those feelings for a short time. Plus he was incredibly gorgeous and a pretty damn good fuck! Lol. Even if he snuck off straight afterwards!! Boys!!
Another first for me that week – my first STD. Just a minor one and I got it cleared up in a few weeks, but I just want to take this point to say something, as I know there is a younger audience of the late teens and early twenties that read my blog. PRACTICE SAFE SEX!! Always carry a condom, both boys and girls, it’s better to be safe if you plan on having sex, and it’s horrible to ruin a perfectly good, enjoyable, and natural act by passing on infections!! Didn’t really need to tell that bit for the story, just wanted to get on my soap box for a moment and try and be Little Miss Responsible!! Lol
After that I kind of swore off guys for a bit – I decided I wanted to commit my time to two things, starting on the right foot at Uni, and finding a job in the big city. I did both, starting well at Uni, and getting a job at a big city centre hotel chain doing bar and waitress work at their restaurant, sticking to the work I’d known in the past.
But after all of that, once again I undo all my hard work by getting yet another big school-girl crush on a guy!! My life seems to be full of school-girl crushes, I get one every so often, even to this day, and it’s usually on somebody completely inappropriate. And boy was this one inappropriate – not only was he significantly older than me, he was also married!! And as time would tell, it would prove to be one of the best and worst things that has ever happened to me, combined into one, and I can tell you one thing above all else – I’d just turned 19, and the next year of my life sure wasn’t going to be a boring one!!
To be continued in Chapter Four…
After the events of my seventeenth birthday, I started dating a very nice guy I met at college, lost my “full” virginity to him on Valentines Day as I mentioned in Chapter One, and we dated for a good year after that. We had reached the point where we had both exclaimed that we loved each other, and we got along great, despite the fact that we were heading in very different directions with our lives. We’d been applying for University places, and were looking at Uni’s at completely different ends of the country because we both had separate career goals and aims in life, so we both knew that we’d probably have to break up at some point, whether it be by necessity or whatever, or one of us would have to make a big sacrifice for the other. But we let that slide by us, and just enjoyed each others company and lived in the now – the future was so far away! We developed a pretty healthy sex life after our first time, and quickly realised we not only both really enjoyed sex, but even more importantly, we really enjoyed sex with each other. So we were all over each other at every opportunity. Living with our parents, it was tough to find the right times, but we managed it. Many a time we’d be at one of our houses with our parents, and they’d announce they were popping out for half an hour, and we’d be ripping each others clothes off before they even got out the door so we could make every second count. My dad didn’t let him stay over with me in my room until after my 18th birthday, and even then, full blown let your hair down sex was out of the question – no screaming orgasms with my parents in the next room!! Lol.
We were also quite open with each other sexually, which is very unusual for such a young and inexperienced couple. We would read things in magazines or on the internet and we’d be like “hey, you wanna try this?” I very quickly realised my sexual inhibitions were a lot less than my general life inhibitions. Dressing up, fantasy play, we even had a couple of unsuccessful attempts at anal sex.
But the cracks eventually began to show as we started to grow apart a little, and argue a bit more than normal. And eventually we broke up. It was a fairly amicable break-up though, and we stayed friends to a degree afterwards.
My next boyfriend a couple of months later didn’t last long – he got really mad about some sort of slutty rumour about me that my ex’s new girlfriend had started, and wouldn’t accept my version of the truth, so he got thrown to the curb quick-smart, because I wasn’t dealing with that shit!
But I still had some fairly strong sexual fantasies about my 17th birthday, and thinking of that had certainly been the catalyst for many sessions of self-pleasure in the evenings in the 18 months or so since it happened. And, being a single girl as my two year college stint was drawing to a close, and having the older-man fantasy at the fore-front of my subconscious, I happened upon an older gent at the hotel bar I was now working in – I’d moved up in the world from chamber maid to bar-girl since turning 18 – and decided to give the older guy thing a proper try.
I don’t really have a bad word to say about him – we dated for around three months, and during that time he showered me with gifts and treated me very well. Overall, he was nice enough, and we had some decent sex, but he just didn’t seem to be quite as enthusiastic about it all as I was used to. Maybe it was just because I was very much in the youthful experimentation phase with my previous boyfriends, and he was a little past that stage, having already found what he did and didn’t like, and in more of a routine. I even started doubting my blow-job skills because he never even really seemed to enjoy that aspect of our sex-life. And I’d spent a year giving head to my ex very regularly, polishing and improving my technique with each and every one. We had our own little code language for it so we didn’t have to be too crude – we joked that I was a “qualified oral practitioner” – okay, I never said it was a SECRET code language!! Lol. He did very much enjoy giving oral sex though, and he did increase my liking of that. And he did really enjoy me being dressed nice and sexily, he loved me in sexy lingerie and negligee, and going from dating poor students to a man who’d been working for 20 years meant he had the cash to buy it all for me!! The benefits of the older man! Lol. He even bought me my first couple of pairs of stockings, although at this point in time they were limited to bedroom wearing.
But back to the story – me and my older man, we just didn’t gel right; even when my Dad practically disowned me for dating him, the taboo of dating him, although it possibly prolonged our relationship due to the teenage rebellious instinct within me, just wasn’t enough to hold us together and create any real feelings between us. Well I say that, he was actually besotted with me and told me he loved me – I just didn’t quite feel the same way about him. I thought he was a great guy, and I liked him, but I couldn’t go as far as love. I don’t know what it was – it just wasn’t like what I thought it would or should be. I guess it was because he just didn’t have a dominant bone in his body, and whether I realised it or not, that’s what I really wanted when I went down the older man route. I wanted a take-charge kind of guy, someone who could show me something different, show me a different way of life, and just “take me”.
So we eventually broke up – very amicably with some sex for the road – and I swore off men for my remaining month at home before I’d be off out into the big world, heading to Uni… young, free, and single! And I told myself I’d stick to guys my own age again.
I’d been accepted into two completely different Uni’s, doing two completely different courses. Uni A was about 250 miles from my home-town, and there I got accepted for a Finance Degree. Uni B was a mere 200 miles away and offered a completely different degree course in English Literature. I was still undecided about my life path – I had the sensible choice of the Finance degree, offering a good career utilising my strong numeric and mathematical skills that I’d got from my Dad’s side of the family. Then there was the less sensible choice; follow my love of books and the English language, study different writing styles and authors, and chase my dream of becoming a writer.
Just to clarify on the miles – if you’re reading in somewhere like the USA, 200-250 miles probably seems minimal, an afternoon drive to the next city or something. Here in the UK, it’s half way across the country and then some!! Lol. And forgive the lack of exact locations, trying to hold some key details back to keep some anonymity here!
Anyway – I’ve spoken about being a part-qualified accountant, so it’s pretty obvious which Degree course I chose isn’t it? Yes, that’s right, I went to Uni B for the English Literature course!! And yes, I’m serious, that isn’t a joke. I was 18, I wasn’t practical and thinking about getting a 9-5 job for life, I was going to chase my dream!!
To be honest, if I’d chosen the Finance degree, now with hind sight of actually trying to become an accountant, I’d probably be on loads more money now as I’d probably be fully qualified and flying, but I won’t complain about my chosen path – I loved the degree I did as I absolutely love the written word, and I love the way my life has turned out from taking this path in my life, and the experiences that Degree Course gave me along the way.
September came, and I threw most of my belongings into my older brothers car – he was driving me there as I had no car (or licence) of my own – and we hit the northbound road to my new Uni home, we got there and I moved into my first home away from home – one of the big student accommodation blocks of flats, where I had a pretty tiny room in a pretty tiny flat that I was to share with two strangers. Such a scary moment in my life, I was like a fish out of water. But everybody else is in the same boat, so everyone helps everyone out. And soon Fresher week commences, the cheap alcohol flows, and everyone becomes the best of friends!!
Fresher week was full of many firsts for me; it was my first week at Uni, my first week living away from home, my first week living in a big city, it was even my first time living in a completely different country! England is a different country to Wales, honestly!! Lol. I was really out of my comfort zone, trying to make lasting friendships with complete strangers from different walks of life and from all different parts of the country, it seemed like a million miles away from my home area, where I knew people, and people knew me. And it soon became the scene for my first ever drunken one night stand.
I think there must be more one night stands in the early weeks of Uni than anywhere else at any time, and if everybody feels the way I did at that time, I can certainly understand why. I felt lonely, frustrated, and isolated, and frankly cheap, meaningless sex was not only a release, and not only a way to pass the time, it was a way to numb those feelings for a short time. Plus he was incredibly gorgeous and a pretty damn good fuck! Lol. Even if he snuck off straight afterwards!! Boys!!
Another first for me that week – my first STD. Just a minor one and I got it cleared up in a few weeks, but I just want to take this point to say something, as I know there is a younger audience of the late teens and early twenties that read my blog. PRACTICE SAFE SEX!! Always carry a condom, both boys and girls, it’s better to be safe if you plan on having sex, and it’s horrible to ruin a perfectly good, enjoyable, and natural act by passing on infections!! Didn’t really need to tell that bit for the story, just wanted to get on my soap box for a moment and try and be Little Miss Responsible!! Lol
After that I kind of swore off guys for a bit – I decided I wanted to commit my time to two things, starting on the right foot at Uni, and finding a job in the big city. I did both, starting well at Uni, and getting a job at a big city centre hotel chain doing bar and waitress work at their restaurant, sticking to the work I’d known in the past.
But after all of that, once again I undo all my hard work by getting yet another big school-girl crush on a guy!! My life seems to be full of school-girl crushes, I get one every so often, even to this day, and it’s usually on somebody completely inappropriate. And boy was this one inappropriate – not only was he significantly older than me, he was also married!! And as time would tell, it would prove to be one of the best and worst things that has ever happened to me, combined into one, and I can tell you one thing above all else – I’d just turned 19, and the next year of my life sure wasn’t going to be a boring one!!
To be continued in Chapter Four…
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