Mistaken Identity

by

Caution: This Erotic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Heterosexual, Fiction, .

Desc: Erotic Sex Story: An academic is mistakenly targeted by a female spy

The woman who sat opposite him looked like she should be in First Class, well dressed, exceptional bone structure. His eye surreptitiously travelled over what he could see and agreed with his head that she was definitely a model or an actress or a porn star. A porn star? Where did that thought come from? Well he knew where it came from. Twelve weeks after he had split up with his girlfriend and nothing, not a whisper, of an attraction. The lab. assistants were great company but none saw sex as anything but a biological imperative to breed. That's the trouble with biologists, they see all the instincts as there for a reason, not simply 'because'. Fight or flight; food stocktaking; sex; hell, even stamp collecting; there was an evolutionary reason for everything we did and it made life boring. He ignored it and continued to steal glances.

At Reading they both disembarked.

"Scuzz plez, you go to Oxford?" She said in a sultry, East European accent.

"Yes, you too?"

"Yeyez, could I travel wiz you to catch correct railway?"

"Train, and yes of course"

"Plez?"

"We catch, I mean we travel on a train, a railway train you see? The rails and the station and all the rest are what we call the railway"

"Da! Yes! I zee. You work in Oxford?"

"No, I'm going for a conference" He didn't mention what the conference was about, he'd been around long enough to know that "The Microbiology of Single Celled Organisms" wasn't everyone's cup of tea. Much less his specialist area: mitochondria in single celled plants.

So they caught the next train, travelled together and parted at the station, he was heading to St James' College, she was going to? Hell! He hadn't asked her where she was going. She had asked him about himself, his pets, his family. He had tried to ask her the same, but somehow it came back to him. His ego tried to tell him it was because she was interested in him; in which case why hadn't he made a move on her? His antennae said there was something that didn't quite fit. Why would someone who could put the Bond Girls in the shade be interested in Dr Peter Johnson-Smith, research fellow at Smethwick?

He walked to the college, savouring the atmosphere of Oxford; there were two reasons for this: his alma mater was Zachs (Zacharia-Beesholm College, Cambridge) and the chance to see Oxford was a welcome one, also his college had strict expenses rules about taxis; you had to be grade 4 or above to claim a solo taxi, grades 5 and below could only share. Having signed in, he found his room, not dissimilar to his old room at Zachs he mused, the old furniture, the unused (unusable?) fireplace, the antiquated central heating, the large ground floor window. Then he headed for the Eagle and Child; everybody does, he knew that; but, well, he was a tourist so why not? It was 1970, the Lord of the Rings was the must read for every student (read it, wondered where the animals were, no-one ate meat except the auks? Was Tolkien vegetarian?), he'd read all the Narnia and the Perelandra series. He hoped, perhaps, to be near the Inklings, perhaps he could correct some biological conundrum they were musing over and be invited to join the table and ... He stopped the ramblings of his unhinged mind (as he described it), found the pub and – who should be leaving but the girl on the train!

"Oh, hello. We meet again" was all he could say

"Yes" came her even shorter reply

"Are you leaving?"

"I was hoping to meet someone, but they have not arrived"

"Perhaps you could wait a little longer with me? I could buy you a drink"

She smiled shyly and accepted. Finding few seats they eventually shared a bench with only comfortable room for one, he was aware of the touching proximity of her bottom and thigh to his.

Slowly, in halts and starts, they began to discover each other's history. She was from Estonia, she had left in 1960, lived in Berlin, Hamburg, Paris, and Copenhagen; never settling. She was hoping to meet someone in Oxford who had a possible job for an Estonian speaker (translating Estonian texts apparently). This was his first conference as a Research Fellow, his presentation was the lead talk in the second session tomorrow. "Should shake things up a bit I'd say" Yet still he did not mention the subject, knowing well the glazed look that appeared on people's eyes, only saying that it was science.

"You must be very clever, I am not scientist"

"Well, ha ha. I suppose I am one of the leading people in my field" Flattery was always good, even from his parents, from this woman it was gold! "So your friend did not come?"

"Hmm? Oh, no, Maybe I contact her tomorrow"

She seemed unconcerned, a free agent perhaps, floating through life with no commitments. Well that would suit him.

They arranged to meet later for dinner and drinks, and then more drinks. Neither was drunk, both had few of the inhibitions of conventional people of the time when he offered to walk her home.

"The night iz young, may I come to your place?"

Now the rules at St James were strict, no visitors after 9pm. There was no obvious reason, it just seemed that rules were good. As they walked he asked how she felt about climbing in through the window.

"You zerious?"

"Yeess, silly I know"

"No, iz fun. I am mysterious floozy breaking your rulez yes?"

"Yes"

So they did just that. Calmly Peter walked in, greeting the porter, and then rushed round to his window and helped her through. As she slithered over the threshold he definitely saw more of her underclothing than he had expected.

"I hav fantasy"

"Oh yes?" 'My God, what?' he thought

"My fantazy is of handsome young man taking me roughly without warning. You can do this?"

"You want me to uumm force myself on you?"

"I vant you to make me do whatever you want. Undress me!"

Seemed like she was in control of this fantasy, but he had no intention of objecting. His hands shook as he started to undo her blouse; so much in fact that she did it for him. No! this wouldn't do at all! He spun her round and unclipped her bra, grasping both breasts from behind as the lacy cups fell to the floor. His hands squeezed and kneaded her and his body realised just how much he needed her.

"I can feel you are ready"

"That's Richard, he's very impetuous sometimes"

"Richard? I thought you were Peter?"

"Richard, Dick, my, my, cock" It pained him how hard he, a biologist found it to say 'penis'. As a child he'd came up with Richard as a nickname for it. His parents thought he was talking about an imaginary friend. When he said he was going to bed with Richard, they were fine with it. When he asked, at 10, if it was alright to hug Richard they suspected he might not be heterosexual, they did not think he meant masturbation, and assured him it was good to hug Richard.

.... There is more of this story ...

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Story tagged with:
Ma/Fa / Consensual / Heterosexual / Fiction /