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After publishing a piece on Literotica I receive feedback, most of which is usually generous and interesting. Sometimes, that leads to an exchange of emails; I thoroughly enjoy such correspondence. That in turn often leads to the request ‘Why not tell me about yourself Cat?’
So this piece is anticipating that request. This is Cat, my life, my aspirations, my concerns and my despairs. It’s me, all of me and a bit more.
Cat, My Jekyll and Hyde Bio
Part 1 – Early stuff.
Boring but necessary
I’ll start with some boring stuff to set the scene, but don’t worry there’s a lot of mucky stuff to come.
Born in Surrey in 1966, just before England won the World Cup, I understand. I was brought up in a rather privileged way. My family owned a small, but highly profitable publishing business and consequently I attended private schools and lived a rich life, with holidays in exotic places and first class, even Concord, travel when I was a young girl and teenager.
I did ok at school, not as good as I could and should have done, but I gained reasonable enough grades to get to an ‘acceptable’ by which I mean posh and red brick, for my family are also snobs, university where I read English, History and Psychology, gaining a lucky 2:1.
I met the man who became my husband not long after leaving uni and we married a couple of years later when I was just over 21. Two children, a boy and girl followed fairly quickly, and I settled into a typical married life. Husband earns the money, wife looks after the house and children. I had entered into the family business after college so was able to continue to work even after I had my children.
Richard, my husband, is a few years older than me and is a corporate lawyer with a leading London and US based practice where he is a partner. Hence he has always travelled a lot and worked long hours, but both of these have increased in the past few years. This has coincided with our children leaving home; is that a coincidence I often wonder?
Although the family business was sold some years ago I still work freelance, editing from home and attending the odd meeting from time to time.
I am a keen tennis player and have just taken up golf, I go to the gym as often as I can, I enjoy reading, the theatre and films and I try to do a crossword every day.
Cut to the chase, losing my cherry.
I was rather a late starter and didn’t lose my virginity until after the sixth form when I had just turned eighteen and was waiting to go to university. I had been dating a guy a few years older than me and as they do with teenagers our sexual escapades had become increasingly adventurous during that summer. As usual they had started with him ‘titting me up’, as the boys called it, first outside my clothing and then a few days later inside my blouse then my inside my bra. I can honestly say that the first time, and this wasn’t for another guy had already been there before, a man’s hands finds, squeezes and strokes a girl’s bare breasts is an amazingly erotic and totally memorable experience. I can recall that moment with every man who has done that to me, but then it’s not that many to remember.
Anyway, back to the main event. So Guy got in my bra one day, then undid it a few days later and took it off a couple of weeks later. Being topless, I still had my jeans on in front of him was fantastic and gave me some amazing and totally new feelings; it probably started the slight exhibitionistic tendencies I still have; I’ll come back to those later.
Both his parents worked, they actually had several fish and chip shops and made masses of money, which the snooty people around where we lived resented. They’d claimed it was due to them fiddling their taxes; the fact that they worked from nine in the morning to midnight six days week was not considered to have anything to do with their financial success. It gave me and my burgeoning left wing views a perverse pleasure to tell people that Guy Curvoni, yes they were Italian as well as fish and chip shop owners, was my boy friend.
So that summer we had the run of the house, large garden, tennis court, gym and pool most days, many evenings and a few nights! We followed the normal conventions of the time, up top first, then down below, so after baring my tits for him it was obviously only a matter of time before he approached my body from another angle. The first time I let him go ‘all the way’ up my legs I was wearing jeans, but even through the thick denim the sensations were tremendous and so much more than what I had been able to create from my masturbations, which that summer had been so frequent. Although I didn’t admit it to myself at the time, the next day I purposefully wore a skirt. That naturally did the trick and I felt that my body was about to explode when his fingers touched the damp gusset of my cotton panties. It actually did explode a few minutes later when he wiggled them inside the elastic and right onto my lips of my cunt and my clit. The fish and chip boy gave me fake hospital hastane my first real orgasm, well with someone else present that is.
The adventures continued over the next couple of weeks as he became bolder and I became braver.
My knickers came off one day, although perversely in an attempt not to give too much too soon I expect, strange creatures, teenage girls, I kept my jeans on with them and the panties round my knees.
He got his fingers in me, again others had been there before, but he was a better ‘finger fucker.’ He gave me what was my first full penetrative orgasm from something other than my fingers or the handle of my hair brush.
Then there was the topless day when he removed both my blouse and bra and then the big day, when for the first time I was naked with a boy.
As this was all going on I had very tentatively and demurely of course, rubbed his erection outside his trousers a few times. It was not until the day when he got my jeans and panties round my knees that I actually felt his cock. I was lying there with my tee shirt rolled up, my bra undone and boobs bare, with my panties and jeans round my knees or ankles when he took my hand and pulled it towards him. I didn’t know what he was doing at first but then I felt his erection; it was the first time I had touched a guy’s cock. I pulled away at first, but he put it back and my instincts just took over. Then, as he fingered me so I rubbed it not thinking I’d make him cum, but there was no mistaking the grunts and groans and the, what I now quite like, sticky warm feeling of his sperm in my hand.
We obviously talked about ‘going all the way.’ He’d been there, but didn’t boast or push me and in the end it really was my decision. A few times before the big day we’d been naked together and that was lovely. We would kiss a lot, rub our bodies together, cuddle and stroke the other’s body before masturbating each other. I can honestly say those few times were the most exciting sexual moments I have ever had. I still think that mutual masturbation can be as stimulating and satisfying as full sex, if done well.
In the end it was just a natural extension of what we’d been leading up to and my first fuck, the taking of my cherry, the loss of my virginity just happened: in fact it seemed hardly any different to being finger shagged. Shame in some ways.
However, I was pleased that I ‘gave it away’ nicely in clean surroundings and in a bed with a boy I truly liked a lot, fancied a hell of lot more and for six weeks of the summer of 1984 I believed I loved, but then you should love the guy who takes your virginity even if it’s temporary, shouldn’t you? By the way, there was no blood and it didn’t hurt!
Ok enough smut for a while.
Unlike a number of my friends and acquaintances, I didn’t get to like sex so much that I put it about almost at will to all and sundry. That was a worrying tendency of some girls particularly when leaving home and going off the university as I was. That said, sex was ample and very available and I, of course, availed myself of my share. Well that’s not totally true for during the three years I was away I only slept with three fellow students all of whom were, rather unfashionably, men. I didn’t indulge in anything with my own sex although a lot of that did go on amongst the students and some of the lecturers who tried to show just how trendy and forward thinking they were. I have to admit that when I was home Guy was still on the scene and we broadened and deepened our relationship as well, so I had my fill of sex during my uni days.
Leaving college and going into the small, thirty person family publishing business wasn’t a particularly fruitful arena for meeting men, which as a twenty two year old woman, was one of my main aims in life. Guy was still around and we got together occasionally, basically having sex more ‘for old time’s sake’ than anything else, although we stayed close then as we did for many years.
My father died just after I came home from university. As the company had been run by him, helped by an older brother and as my brother had no interest in business being a scientist based in Silicon Valley, I got a rapid promotion from junior editor to MD almost overnight. Guy who had now gained a degree in economics and an MBA helped me review the business and reach the conclusion it had to be sold. We retained a firm of lawyers who assigned a senior guy and a junior one who did most of the work; that was Richard.
As we worked together over the next few months preparing the business for sale, having endless meetings with potential buyers and then selling it, I got to know him well, maybe from a client, lawyer relationship perhaps too well.
He was thirty and had been educated in America, coming to the UK to Millfield to take some A levels, he got five! He had then gained a first in law from Cambridge and had spent a year at Harvard Business School doing some form of conversion course that enables him to fake taxi porno practice law in the US and the UK. Although a real intellectual clever clogs he had a charm and a self deprecating sense of humour; a combination of traits for which I am a real sucker; a brilliant mind is the quickest and simplest way to get into my panties!
More dirty bits.
“Well Cat, it looks as though you and your mother and brother are going to be quite rich come Friday doesn’t it?” He said to one evening around nine in my cramped office.
“Yes, thanks to you,” I replied almost metaphorically slipping out of my panties.
“Perhaps we should celebrate,” he suggested.
‘What like me sucking your cock,’ I thought as I said “What did you have in mind?”
“Well after Friday, you will no longer be my client, so we will be in a different position, won’t we?”
‘Yes, maybe me bent forward over this desk my skirt round my waist and my panties round my knees,’ I thought smiling as I replied “Do I get the message that you want to take me on a date?”
“Yes very much,” he replied closing the small space between us and taking me in his arms. He was an extraordinarily good kisser.
I found out during the week or so after the ‘closing’ of the sale that he was also very good at caressing my breasts, undressing me, making me cum with his fingers, using his mouth on me, everywhere, and, of course, making full love to me.
The sequence was quite similar to that with Guy when I lost my virginity.
Our first date was to see Les Miserable followed by dinner at La Caprice and a grope in the back of a taxi on the way home. Our second date was dinner at a local restaurant with some heavy petting in his car parked just round the corner from my house with another even heavier session in his car; he lived in Hertfordshire, some forty miles from my mum’s house where I was still living, the next night. I have to admit to directing him to a dark car park a mile or so away from my house, where I had been with Guy several times.
Up to then, Richard had tentatively touched my tits in the cab after Les Mis and, finding no resistance, had slid his hand up my skirt, diplomatically along the outside of my leg. Whilst that helped him establish I was wearing holdup stockings, it didn’t get him much further for I wasn’t up for being fingered in a cab, even by an intellectually brilliant lawyer.
Whilst being averse to having his fingers and hands in my panties in a cab, I didn’t have quite such reservations in his car outside my house or, particularly in the dark car park. So the next two nights between them saw: my blouse being undone, him caressing my boobs outside my bra, my tits being eased out of the cups, my bra being undone and him, the first night getting his hand between my jeans covered legs at the top and the second again establishing that I was wearing stockings under the thin, short, slightly flared skirt, this time, though on the inside of my legs, which I had quite willingly and invitingly I guess parted for him. The second night also saw his hands inside my panties and his fingers inside me. I played my part though, for my hands went inside his trousers and I stroked his beautifully hard cock.
“I’ve got to make love to you Cat,” Richard groaned his face pressed against my naked breast as he pushed his fingers deep inside me and I pumped his cock.
I had never stayed in a posh London West End hotel before, although I had stayed in very upscale hotels in other cities. Walking across the lobby of the Inn on the Park at the end of Park Lane in Mayfair I was nervous. That wasn’t because I felt out of place in such a top hotel, but because I was going to meet Richard in the room he had booked to, as we’d agreed, after we had masturbated each other in his car, ‘fuck my brains out’. Never having had either my brains fucked out or a guy say he was going to do that to me, I had been slightly apprehensive as I had got ready to catch the train to Waterloo from Esher station. Slightly apprehensive maybe, but enormously excited too.
I again wore holdup stockings, but this time with a black lacy thong and bra.
Since coming down from university and becoming a working woman I had noticed quite a change in the size of my breasts. At first I had put it down to ‘time of month problems,’ but when they started staying up round the between C and D size I had to accept I had now got big tits; I quite liked that. I’d always had nicely shaped mounds, but all through my late teens and early twenties they had been more of the half a lemon variety than the nearing half a melon, cantaloupe that is, not water, that they had become.
I bundled them into the thin net of the bloody expensive Janet Regar bra I had bought especially for this assignation; that was how I thought of this meeting to get my brains fucked out, great word isn’t it, assignation? The delicate looking bra provided the slight support my newly formed fuller tits needed, but hid little, for my nipples could family stroke porno be seen quite clearly through the thin material, and by God did it produce a fantastic cleavage! That gave me the resolve to always wear good bras in the future. The thong covered my thin slither of tawny, coloured pubic hair and, just about, my swollen lips, which I noticed as I went to put it on, were already damp. Looking over my shoulder I saw the whisp of silk slithering between my quite nicely rounded, even if I do say it myself, cheeks and vanishing between them. I left the panties off as I went to the bathroom to attend to my womanly excitement.
A black, sleeveless, quite grown up, knee length dress and a cashmere cardigan together with high heels completed my brains fucking outfit.
Being the mid eighties, this was before mobile phones really got going, so I phoned him from Waterloo Station.
“I’m in room 423, it’s on the fourth floor. You ok coming straight up or would you like me to meet you in the lobby?”
Not wishing to illustrate how nervous and really inexperienced I was at such adult things as having my brains fucked out in one of the top hotels in London, I casually agreed to come up to the room. Walking past the glamorous people in the lobby I felt deliciously sordid as I stood waiting for the lift doors to open. People looking at me, seemed to know why I was there; it was as if they all knew I was having an assignation with my lover. I felt weirdly wanton, a bit like I imagined a hooker would, a high class one of course!
It wasn’t a room; it was a bloody great suite. A lounge with three sofas round the largest TV I had ever seen and a small dining room with a glass topped round table that could seat eight, I know that, I counted the chairs wondering if he’d invited some friends as I thought perhaps men like an audience when they fuck girls’ brains out. And of course the bedroom. It was vast with a great big, American style, king sized bed and a white carpet with what seemed like ankle height pile, making me wonder where I would rather be fucked, on the bed or the carpet, both looked to be fantastic.
He took me into his arms and kissed me.
“I thought we could have lunch here first,” he whispered, his face in my champagne blonde coloured, shoulder length hair, which oddly has hardly changed in the subsequent twenty years, something that has only come into my mind as I compose this bio.
“First?” I asked in what I hoped was a coquettish tone.
He laughed as he kissed my head and lightly stroked my bum. “You know what I mean.”
I smiled and replied without really thinking “Yes you mean before fucking my brains out?
“Exactly,” he replied his hand finding my breasts. It felt wonderful and I pushed my chest against his hand and my stomach against the rapidly increasing bulge in his trousers. I felt him sliding the zip down at the back of my dress. Just as it got level with my bra strap he whispered. “Perhaps we have lunch afterwards.”
“Mmmmm,” was all I could manage for a reply as my dress slithered down my body and fell round my ankles.
“Oh my god yes, Cat,” he groaned looking at my underwear. “Now that really is underwear to be undressed in. Just right for having your brains fucked out.”
I had never been with a guy who talked dirty before. Dirty, but subtle and I liked it. I liked hearing it and I liked saying dirty phrases to him. I found that actually saying ‘fucking my brains out’ to be a turn on. You can learn something new every day can’t you I was thinking as he manipulated me through the lounge and into the bedroom still kissing me, I smiled and murmured.
“Does that mean you’re going to fuck me in my ear or something?” I wasn’t sure the subtlety or vagueness of my message actually got through to him or not, but he replied
“I’ll fuck you everywhere and anywhere you want,” he replied as we reached the bed.
He laid me on it his eyes seemingly devouring me as they flittered over my body. He started to undress standing alongside the bed. He wasn’t at all embarrassed as unhurriedly he slowly stripped off, something no other guy had done with me before. He joined me on the bed, his nakedness feeling like a magnet to my hands. As if outside my control they ran over his chest and back before zeroing in on where I really wanted them to be, on his nice, hard cock. The grunt and the pressure of his thrust in my hand told me that they were where he wanted them to be as well.
He got my tits out, worrying me a bit that he might stretch or tear the most expensive bra I had ever bought. He squeezed and stroked them, then licked and sucked them as his hands slid into my knickers. I was stroking him and slowly pumping his cock. We had been here before, we had done this, he had finger fucked me and I had let him use my hands as a surrogate cunt as we had mutually masturbated. That wasn’t why we were here though and we both knew that.
“I want you so much,” Richard moaned tugging on the elastic of my almost as expensive as my bra, thong. That also made me panic a little so I raised my bum up and helped him slide them off. “I think we’ll leave these exactly where they are,” he said referring to my stockings as he slid a hand up the nylon and right onto my embarrassingly soaked lips.
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