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It had seemed the perfect answer. Go back to work. Not full time, but just enough to relieve the crushing boredom that my life entailed. Two grown kids at uni and a workaholic husband who was away from home at least a week a month at the New York office of the lawyer firm where he was a partner. On top of that he worked murderous hours, often twelve or fourteen hours and entertained frequently. But then he explained corporate lawyers have to. I suppose I benefitted from it in some ways, probably many. I had more clothes than I knew what to do with, I had fantastic holidays even though Richard was always on his mobile, ipad or laptop and I got to go to all the top restaurants, clubs and sporting events. I accompanied him on fully paid trips to New York, LA and most European cities whenever it took my fancy, I had a brand new car every year and we lived in a huge house that I hated, just outside St Albans.
So what’s the problem many would ask? There’s two actually: I am so bloody lonely and I so fucking frustrated I masturbate most days and have the wildest fantasies.
I have contemplated an affair or a fling a toyboy many times, but so far had resisted it.
All that changed when I went to work.
I wasn’t looking for an affair. I didn’t want a guy to be dipping his pen in the company ink and I certainly had no intention whatsoever of doing anything that might ruin my marriage. I hated the lonely and frustrated situation I was in, but was even more scared of being divorced. And in fact I didn’t have an affair but I had a series of such extreme and intense, dangerous liaisons it gave me all the thrills of an affair without having to make the excuses and tell the lies that affairs demand.
The incongruity of it was the guy with who I had these liaisons and how he got me involved in them. He was not at all my sort, if there is such a thing that is for since marrying Richard some twenty plus years ago there hasn’t needed to be a ‘my sort’ for I have been physically totally faithful. Emotionally I may have strayed with my fantasies, my thoughts of having a discrete affair or a virile toyboy. Certainly Richard would have considered my frequent, almost daily, masturbations as me being unfaithful and without doubt he would have thought that my occasional cybersex, sometime accompanied with phone sex as me being a philanderer as well as a slut. In my heart and mind when I let my imagination flow I knew that deep down he would be correct in thinking that. But then he had never objected and had even encouraged me being the ‘lady in the drawing room and the whore in the bedroom.’ And on top of that he had for many years now used his hobby to provide both of us with some wonderful sexual experiences by photographing me as I undressed and then played with myself.
As chat up lines go it was certainly different.
“At least give us your knickers to sniff then” he suggested with a mischievous glint in his eyes after I had told him that I wasn’t interested in giving him a blow job.
I had been working at the newspaper as a Senior Sub-editor for a month or so and had slowly got to know everybody including Stevie Taylor. He was the IT King at the local newspaper group where we both worked. Amongst the women in the company I had heard that he was known as ‘the Office Bull’ because he had a reputation for bedding a lot of women. He was also known as sleazeball; I preferred the latter description. What was so strange was that although he made my flesh creep he also turned me on in almost equal measures. I put it down largely to him being so different to anyone else I knew.
He was a bit of a loud mouth, was arrogant and assumptive as well as being foul mouthed and crude. That said he had a degree of charm. He was Irish and had a lovely brogue and the cutest twinkle in his stunningly blue eyes. He was tall, around six two and looked fit and trim. He had black, wavy hair that he wore quite unfashionably long and he was good looking. He was witty and humourous, was noted for his generosity and treated everyone the same whether they be the tea boy or the Managing Director. He was in his late twenties and had apparently got a first class honours degree in computer science; he was frighteningly intelligent. At first there was nothing that suggested he would be my ‘saviour,’ the man that got me back to start fucking around and the guy that helped me solve in the mist dramatic way my frustration.
We were working together on a short-term project to archive past articles and stories on a new computer system. I was being paid quite an outrageous bonus for the extra work as it had to be done outside the normal working hours of the newspapers. That meant either, early morning between five and eight or evenings from six to twelve and late. As the offices were in Harpenden just a ten minute drive away and as I was alone so often the anti-social hours didn’t bother me.
“Nooooooooo I will not!” I sighed as I dismissed his request.
This was on the Monday evening of the second week of the project. I had agreed to do most of the casino siteleri early morning work for he had said.
“I’m fucking terrible getting up in the morning Cat; waking that is not getting it up for I love early morning sex.”
I didn’t reply. He went on.
“But then I don’t usually get to bed to two, well sleep that is if you know what I mean” he’d explained leering at me.
“Yes I know what you mean.”
“What about you and your husband do you do it at night or in the mornings?”
I ignored him.
“Or do you do it both?”
“Leave ir Steve.”
“Or maybe neither Cat, are you on a low sex diet?”
We were doing our evening shift and were the only people in the office at that time of night. As usual, he was taking every opportunity to introduce sex into the conversation. Although I’d worked for the Company for over a month now this was the first time I’d ever had to work closely with him and it was a little bit unnerving.
“I bet you wear really sexy knickers,” the pervert continued. “A thong? A tiny G-string? Open crotch? Yes…that’s it!” Stevie chuckled when I glared at him, “I bet you’re wearing cheap, red tacky open-crotch knickers!”
“Fuck off you pervert” I snarled.
“Oooo I love it when you talk dirty to me. I bet you love wearing them.”
I am not!” I maintained. “Now let’s get back to work”. I knew I should ignore him but he just kept going on and on like yappy terrier. In a strange way, though, I enjoyed it. Maybe that was because nobody nowadays talked to me like that or showed much interest in me. Richard was away so much and worked such ridiculous hours when he was home that there was little time for sex. It seemed that recently we only had sex when he took photos of me and I was beginning to think that he needed that to get it up!
Stevie was incorrigible; all he seemed to do whenever I saw him at lunch or whatever was talk about sex; his conquests at the weekend, his potential conquests, magazines that he’d seen, porn on the internet and girls he wanted to have sex with.
“I just adore ash-blondes” he smirked at me looking at my shoulder-length ash-blonde hair.
“Yeah I’m sure.”
“Course I do and when the hair is on a MILF I get hard just looking at her.”
“Oh shut up, you say that to all the women.”
“No only to ash-blonde MILFs.”
As I look back now it was probably ‘sexual harassment in the workplace’, but Stevie was one of those people that oozed charm and charisma meaning that everyone just laughed along with him and he got away with being outrageous. Just just why he seemed to zero in on me I didn’t know.
“So what type are you wearing then?” The fairly good looking, well-built sleazeball continued verbally beating me down.
“I’m not telling you!” I retorted knowing that I was becoming flustered. I wondered if it would be simpler just to tell him. This was the third night in a row this week, for us to work together until midnight. Stevie had finished his part of the job so had spent the last hour or so asking me to go into the toilets for a ‘quick shag because his nuts were busting.’ He said it in a way that made you wonder if he was really serious or not. Anyway I consistently refused his lecherous requests and that didn’t seem to faze much and certainly didn’t deter him.
It wasn’t that I was completely repulsed by him for I did find him slightly, exciting I suppose is the best way of describing my feelings, but I couldn’t, could I? I was married so I was ‘unavailable’ and I couldn’t risk him mouthing off about fucking me. After all I was one of the senior management team, I worked as a correspondent, journalist and sub editor and so many people knew me and Richard that word could easily get around and to him. ‘Fuck’ I thought as I was driving home in my BMW 330 ‘I am making excuses for me fancying him and am working out reasons not to give in to his advances. I should just accept I don’t want the jerk.’ But I knew that wasn’t true and was beginning to think that if I was certain that I could get away with it then I would be sorely tempted!
“I have always fancied big boobed, older birds like you?” He suddenly blurted out referring to my quite rounded and, if I do say it myself, pretty good figure. At the time I was forty three. I am five feet six tall, weigh just over nine stones, one hundred and thirty six ounds, and have a thirty five inch D cup cup, twenty five, thirty five inch figure.
“I’m not even your type.” I muttered as I kept furiously typing so I didn’t have to think about him and what he wanted to do with me.
“So” he grunted sipping his coffee. “What is my type, then?”
I shrugged my shoulders, “Common, slutty, trampy, easy women that wear too much make-up and not enough clothes…..tarts!” I felt like I’d won a small victory when he finally fell silent for a moment or two.
“I’ve got to admit,” Stevie heaved a sigh as he eased closer to me slowly enunciating every word slowly into my ear, “Actually….I have fucked a lot of women like that…but I like a challenge too slot oyna and I’ve literally fucked the arse of women…… just like you!”
He was so close to me now I could smell him. It wasn’t a bad smell but not a pleasant one either…just ‘his smell’. He had dark shaggy hair, hardly ever shaved and dressed very casually which made him stand out in the fairly conservative office. His choice of clothes always looked like someone else did his shopping for him. Nothing ever matched and he did like bright colours which is unusual in a man. He probably thought he looked a bit like Brad Pitt or that singer in Oasis.
I on the other hand am always smartly turned out dressed in professional business attire; usually from Topshop or M& S with a few designer names added for extra effect. I didn’t wear my really good stuff for work.
“What do you mean ‘women like me’?” I nervously asked as I typed so fast it looked like I was using a foreign language — thank God for ‘spell check’.
He smiled, guessing that he was making progress. It was an easy-going smile. A confident smile. A predator’s smile. The smile I presume a lion smiles just before it sinks its teeth into a zebra at a water hole.
“Women who are married, but bored and are looking for a bit on the side, but are scared because hubby might find out. Married birds who are frustrated and gagging for it. Women who have deep dark desires that they want fulfilling; but don’t know how to go about it.” His voice had now dropped several octaves and was becoming very husky, could have been the result of him being aroused or the 40 cigarettes a day he smoked.
He was leaning over me, his face was close to mine. I got that smell again, his smell! It was cigarettes and strong aftershave.
“They’ve usually got the looks, the career, the clothes, the house, the big flash car, the holidays abroad but….” He paused as I stopped typing, my fingers frozen to the keyboard. “But deep down they need some passion put back into their lives!”
‘My God!!’ I thought…..’He could be a psychiatrist! He’d just described me and my life to a T.
I have my enjoyable, but unrewarding career a six bedroom, four bathroom house that I hate, another one in Florida, a BMW 3 series, and enough investments to mean I will never have to worry about money, but….but…but…something was missing; it was all so hollow and shallow. I had assumed that I would go through life with Richard and our children living happily ever after, but that wasn’t what was happening. Life was not turning out that way.
Stevie was now sitting so close to me. His knee was pressing against mine and he slid his arm along the back of my chair.
“Seriously Cat I have always fancied you” he almost whispered.
“Don’t be silly” I replied feeling tingles starting all over my body.
“It’s true from the moment I saw you the day you started I wanted you. And I want you now.”
I felt his fingers run into my shoulder-length black.
“Don’t” I whispered, enjoying the sensation of his fingers on my scalp.
He dropped has hand to my shoulder and squeezed it.
“I somehow don’t believe you really mean that” he said quietly pulling me against him.
“I do” I muttered without any conviction. He knew that and took hold of my chin turning my face towards him.
‘Oh shit he’s going to kiss me’ I thought feeling both excited and worried at the same time.
His mouth closed on mine and he did kiss me. I didn’t react at first, I held back, I didn’t respond. But then as he squashed my boobs against his chest, his tongue probed at my closed lips and his lips squirmed on mine I found the resistance and strength to push him away.
“No, no Steve” I groaned.
“What’s the matter, don’t tell me you don’t want me to?”
“What no you do or no you don’t?” He asked still holding me round the waist. That felt nice, but I knew I should move and went tom but he held on.
“Oh Steve, please don’t” I sighed.
He was reading me like a book and seemed to know full the conflict going through me.
“No one will ever know Cat, you haven’t heard me ever say anything about any woman here.”
“That’s not the point” I whispered letting him pull me back against his chest as I dropped my head onto his shoulder.
“You feel guilty about is that it?”
“Yes” I whimpered.
“Don’t worry they all do, its all part of being a wife and a MILF” he responded not totally diplomatically or helpfully. “It’s how you should feel, that’s good, it shows your loyalty, but it shouldn’t stop you getting some extra pleasure and enjoyment” he went on making me feel a tiny bit better.
He stroked my back and let his hands run down the pale pink silk top and onto the tightness of my bottom in the mid-grey, thin wool pencil skirt. He gripped my cheeks and pulled on them so that my pubic mound was pressed against him. He was fully erect and that made me gasp with a combination of surprise and excitement. I had this odd sensation of feeling so proud that I had canlı casino siteleri made a guy fifteen years my junior get an erection; daft really.
He kissed my cheek and pulled my face so it was square onto his. We looked into each other’s eyes. He smiled and then moved his face slowly towards mine. I felt my resistance leaving me as his lips found mine and he kissed me. I responded to his kiss. I kissed him back and let his tongue open my lips. It probed inside my mouth and we kissed deep and passionately as almost involuntarily I swear my tongue duelled with his and slid into his mouth. He knew as well as I did that I had given in, capitulated and had surrendered to him.
I could feel the heat from his body, the strength of his arms round me and the power of his erection pushing into the soft, slight swell of my tummy. His fingers were on my breast and then quickly inside my blouse and caressing the soft flesh of my boob. He was so gentle I could hardly feel his touch, but it also felt like a thousand watts of electricity surging through my skin as he tried to peel my bra back.
I suddenly jumped up pushed him away and announced, “Enough! I need a cup of coffee!” Then I fled out of the office to the tea room. My hands were shaking as I filled the kettle with water. I felt pleased that I had stopped him. It was wrong. I didn’t want him or an affair. I was married and I didn’t put it around and if I did I had other suitors, more my own age and more ‘my type’ than this flash, lecherous sod who I had just been kissing.
I sensed that he was standing behind me in the doorway as I stared out of the window into the twinkling darkness of.
“Why don’t we try this instead of tea?” He said holding up a bottle of vodka and two glasses. “We’re pretty much finished for the night”
I agreed and sipped the vodka and water he poured for me.
“So you going to?” Steve asked.
“What?” I asked thinking he meant let him fuck me.
“Give me your knickers.”
“Don’t be silly.”
“I’m not, I want them.”
My mouth was as dry as a digestive biscuit but I managed to utter. “Why do you want them?”
Stevie quietly chuckled.
“So I can sniff them and wrap them around my stiffy and wank into them while I think about you bending over your desk with your skirt up over your bare arse and your legs wide apart…begging me to fuck you. Come on Cat my balls are bursting you can’t leave me like this.”
I whispered. “You’re disgusting….you know that, don’t you?”
“I can be as disgusting as you want me to be.” The laugh in his voice getting louder, “Every perversion can be catered for!”
I was trembling as I slowly turned my head towards him. He’d finally worn me down after three full days of pestering and sexy talk. Was it the vodka talking, was it that which was directing me, was the booze making me act the way I did.
“You wouldn’t tell anyone….would you?” I asked immediately regretting what I had asked. My voice was barely audible now as I considered his proposition.
“Fuck no!” He chortled. “It’ll be our little secret…..I bet you’ve got lots of little secrets.”
“When would you….you know….actually do it?” My heart was thumping and I actually felt sick as I uttered the words.
“As soon as I get home!” He was now grinning like a fool and rubbing the bulge in his baggy jeans.
Actually I realised I would like to watch him masturbate. As a teenager I’d sometimes hidden behind the bedroom door to watch my brothers masturbate then rush back to my own room and play with myself. And Richard had regularly ‘entertained’ my penchant for enjoying watching a guy jerk off.
“I don’t know…..” My words tailed off as I poured the boiling water into my cup. Still not looking him in the eye I checked my watch. It was nearly eleven and we were nearly finished for the night. I was trembling as I sipped my vodka, which he had replenished. Stevie stared silently at me continuously rubbing his erection – which did look rather large!
I have no idea what got into me or prompted me to say.
“Wait here then.”
My mouth was so dry that my voice was hardly audible and sounded very croaky.
I shivered as I brushed passed him on my way to the ladies room.
I was struggling to breathe as I lifted my skirt and eased my oyster coloured, satin thong down my thighs. My brain felt like a huge marshmallow as I tried to decide if I was doing the right thing, although I knew really that I wasn’t; but then what has right got to do with it when extreme sexual arousal is concerned. It was years since I’d last done anything like this. Could I really give a horny work colleague my knickers to masturbate into?
But for some crazy, unexplainable reason it was strangely liberating as I walked along the corridor back to the kitchen…..knickerless.
Stevie was looking apprehensive when I opened the door.
“Here, but I want them back.” I said as I dropped my panties onto the table, without thinking about the consequences.
“You little minx!” He laughed as he picked my small thong up and examined it, running his finger along the warm damp crotch. I tried to look blank as he put them to his face and inhaled deeply, but my nipples suddenly popped out like a pair of thimbles.
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