I stacked my plate on Tom’s and began clearing the table.

“Tomorrow is a training day. I need to be at the office by 7 am and I can’t be late,” I lied, setting the foundation of an excuse for refusing sex later, again.

”Uggh, This new job is consuming you, Blu...and it’s killing me...so long since we last fucked,” he said with a weak smile that somehow rendered the complaint pathetic.

“It’s Monday, you’ll be watching the game anyway.”

I married Tom for all the things we had in common.  Football was not one of them but I learned to watch the game and at times even found it exciting. Sex was also not one of them. At the time, after a string of unsatisfying relationships, I accepted that orgasms and satisfaction were elusive for me. I didn’t blame Tom, other men hadn’t done it for me either. Fantasies of fulfilling sex waned as I grew content with mundane sex augmented by my hand-held shower head.

Years later, Tom and I continued to share a lot of things, but fulfilling sex was still not one of them. The difference was I began to care. Carl, owner of the real estate office I recently joined, was the reason. I know having an affair with the boss seems trite and oh-so-cliched but I didn’t care. Hold me in judgment, I still don’t care. Reason doesn't enter into it.

The Monday night game was unusually boring and by halftime I was upstairs getting ready for bed. I enjoyed the time to pamper myself and anticipate the possibilities for the next morning. It would be only my fourth time together with Carl since the first time we kissed in his office.

God, how that kiss excited me, how it unraveled my commitment to sexual fidelity. I never even thought of cheating on Tom before that kiss. The very next day, Carl gave me a tour of a commercial building that was nearing completion. Before the tour was over the sexual tension between us boiled over and we began kissing again, feverishly kissing. He moved a hand to my breast and another to my ass. I felt his hard bulge pressing against me.  My hand moved to it. I soon found myself on my knees sucking Carl’s beautiful, hard, upsweeping cock and swallowing every drop of his thick, savory cum.

I feared I had gone too far too fast but the next day Carl said he couldn’t stop thinking about me and wanted more. A few days later we spent an afternoon together in a fully staged vacant house listed for sale by the firm. I knew it was wrong, we were both married, but my body responded to Carl in ways I never thought possible; in ways I not only never experienced but never even dreamed about.

I was immediately addicted and intent on allowing Carl to redefine my world. We were together again in a hotel room on Friday afternoon. I had too many orgasms to count; on his tongue, on his fingers, and on his unbelievable cock.

Carl didn’t orgasm easily but we had the whole afternoon, and I was willing to earn it. He first came in my mouth, again on my tits, and finally deep inside my vagina. By then I was a spastic wailing mess. I got him hard again by caressing his cock and telling him he could cum on my face! I never felt so slutty before. Unfortunately, he was taking longer and we ran out of time before I could get him off that fourth time. The afternoon had gone by so fast! I couldn’t get enough of him and when he asked if I could meet him early at the office Tuesday morning I said yes.

I wasn’t thrilled by the idea of a secret tryst at the office. It made me feel like a whore. As that feeling marinated over the weekend, I embraced it. There had never been anything whorish about me, but I realized I loved being Carl’s whore. It was somehow a completion of my womanhood.

He didn’t speak to me all morning on Monday, not even a flirting glance or smile. My emotions vacillated between feeling rejected for my whorish wantonness and accepting he was being cool to keep our affair under the radar of office gossip.

After lunch, the text came to my phone: “So hard not to talk, not to touch you. 6:30 too early?”

“I can’t...” I replied. Counted to ten and sent a second, “...wait”

“Dirty tease.”

“You had me at hard.”

I removed my eyeliner and lipstick and lowered my body into a warm relaxing bath.  I carefully shaved my legs to make sure they’d be super smooth. My first full Brazilian was done at the salon on Saturday and I was satisfied that I showed no sign of irritation or stubble. I liked the way it looked. It was naughty and exciting. I would be careful to keep Tom from seeing it since he wouldn’t understand, or worse, maybe he would.

My fingers were drawn there to enjoy the strange new sensation of feeling my bare pussy. Imagining what Carl’s reaction might be when he first saw it spurred me on to a gentle orgasm.

When I laid my head on the pillow there was such a maelstrom of thoughts and doubts swirling inside that I feared I would never fall asleep. Fortunately, I drifted off quickly.

The next thing I knew I floated to the surface of sleep and opened my eyes in darkness that fizzed to greenish grey just minutes before the alarm was set to sound off. I reset the time for Tom who had arrived in bed after I was asleep.

I took a shower, mostly to wash the sleep out of my hair. I rubbed my favorite lotion from head to toe, the subtle fragrance actually eliciting a sense of arousal in me that continued sporadically while I applied my eyeliner and lipstick. Even as I brushed my hair I felt myself again get tingly and dewy between my legs. I got dressed and was going out the door with a traveler of coffee just as Tom’s alarm clock was going off upstairs.

When I arrived at the front door of the office Carl was waiting to let me in.

“Right on time, Blu.”

“Too precious to waste.” I would like to have kissed him but we had already established that there would be no show of affection wherever it might be seen.

We went directly to his office. “After you,” he said, holding the door for me to pass into the room.

I was disappointed he didn’t kiss me after closing the door. He left me standing there while he moved around his desk to sit in his chair. He put his hands together on top of his desk with a posture as serious as if he was about to tell me I was fired.

“What’s going on, Carl?”

“No stockings today, Mrs. Colletti?”

“Wanted to feel the autumn coolness on my legs.”

“Are you wearing panties?”

Sensing an erotic little game I relaxed a little.

“A thong.”

“What color...no wait, take it off and hand it to me.”

I casually removed my suit jacket and hung it alongside his on the wall rack next to the door. I turned back to face him, hiked up my knee length pencil skirt and reached under with both hands to hook my thumbs over the waistband of my thong to pull it down over my hips to my knees. I lifted one leg clear while I steadied myself on the bookstand next to me with the other. I needed to again hike up my narrow skirt to lift the other leg. Knowing I was on show I purposely kept my heels on. That made removing the thong more difficult but I managed to free it without too much loss of grace. I took two steps closer to his desk and reached across with the thong balled into my fist.

“Red,” I said and dropped it into his open palm.

“Nice,” Carl said opening the wad and holding it up with both hands. I knew he could feel the dampness. The visible wetness of the front patch made me feel uncomfortably exposed. I thought he was about to hold it against his face but he instead laid the thong out on his desktop and looked back up at me.

“I’ve never seen you wear a button up blouse before.”

“I don’t usually.”

“Why not”

“Because of this.” I pointed to the gaps in the placket between buttons from the strain of the fabric across my breasts.

“I think it’s sexy.”

“I think It looks slutty.”

“So then why did you wear that blouse.”

After a pause, I said, “Because I’m here to be your slut.”

He motioned with his hand for me to move back. I backed to where I stood while removing my thong.

“Take off your skirt, slut,” Carl said, barely able to contain his confident smile as he leaned back in his chair.

Hmmmm different, both times we had gotten naked it started with my top. Like most men, his focus had been on my tits but during our hotel room afternoon, he commented just as much on my long straight legs.

The anticipation of the response I was hoping to get when Carl saw my newly waxed pussy churned my wetness.  I lowered the side zipper, undid the hook and let the skirt puddle to my stilettoed feet.

“Oooh, I like that.” He sat suddenly upright. You know I love your tits but I’ve never seen a bottom half like yours, Christ, those legs, but now...”

I knew immediately he was referring to my completely nude pubic area. I did it for him.

I lifted the tails of my blouse in a mock curtsy.

“You are absolutely gorgeous.”

His compliment gave me confidence. I readjusted my stance, hip distance, boldly widening the gap between my thighs and feeling a coolness in the slight parting of my slit.  My wetness surged again and fought a fleeting fear that I might actually drip.

“Please,” he said, motioning me toward him with two fingers.

I walked around his desk, a prance of sharp high-heeled steps. He pushed his chair back creating a space for me. I had wanted him to stand, to stand and kiss me. It was so unlike him to not have yet kissed me. When he remained seated I knew what he was going to do. I wanted that too, his tongue down there. Another wet impulse surged inside me. I couldn’t believe how my body was responding without a touch or even a kiss. I leaned against the edge of his desk, my hands gripping the desktop on either side of me.

He rolled his chair towards me, his knees wedging between mine, forcing my feet further to the sides. Never taking my eyes from him, I tried to control my breathing even as I failed to control the pounding of my heart. I bent my knees, lowering my bottom to the edge of the desktop. With my weight supported I moved my knees wider.

He smiled at me, a soft warm smile holding my eyes until he raised his left hand, palm up with index and middle fingers extended, unhurriedly moving towards my cleft.

“My God Blu, how you glisten.”

Transfixed, I watched the tips of his two fingers glide up along the slit, plowing a furrow, releasing a flood that ran down his fingers in a sheet. The feeling was exquisite, making me roll my spine to curl my pussy upward. He put the fingers in his mouth and closed his lips tightly around them.

“Ah, my compliments to the chef!”

“Ha! You are so corny.”

“I can’t help myself.”

He slid off the seat onto his knees, moved closer and brought his tongue to my slit. He dragged the stiffened point of it upwards, deeper into me than with his fingers. It was like a tap for my nectar. My extraordinary wetness betrayed my vulnerability but when he pushed his face tight against me, licking, sucking, nipping and tugging, I felt more desired than ever and only grew wetter.

The noises became comically graphic. I imagined three cats at the same bowl of warm milk before, sudden and fast, my orgasm started. It was not much of a release, it was all strain and tension, squeaky noises and garbled squeals. It was a different orgasm than with penetration, but it made me really want to be penetrated, needing greater release. The moment it passed I was ready for his cock.

When he stood he finally kissed me. I responded passionately to his wet face and lips and wrapped my arm around his neck. My other hand went to his bulge, spidered over its location before wrapping it in gabardine. He allowed the kiss to linger and tail off before pulling away. I expected him to open his pants but he didn’t. He took me by my hand and guided me around him to his chair. It was an executive desk chair upholstered in black leather. When I first sat it felt cold against my nude bottom. I squeezed my legs together.

He put one hand in my hair gripping it tightly and sliced the other between my legs twisting its breadth to move them apart before pressing two fingers into me.

“Oh fuck!” It wasn’t what I had wanted but it felt so good.

When I leaned back and instinctively lifted my pelvis toward his invading hand the chair suddenly reclined surprising me into a sharp laugh. He removed his fingers from me and released my hair.

He repositioned my legs, hooking the spikes of my heels onto the now raised footrest. I held my knees together bent straight up teasingly expecting him to once more spread them apart.

Instead, he undid his belt and pulled it completely free from the loops.

“Just this one arm,” He said having already heard my aversion to being bound. He then threaded it under the chair arm and lashed it twice around my arm nearest him before cinching the buckle.

He pushed back on the headrest of the chair to it’s fullest position of recline. The bottom of the seat shifted further forward and up as did the footrest.

During the diversion of binding my arm, my legs relaxed a bit.  He moved his hands toward my open sex.

I snapped my legs together trapping his hands between my thighs but not enough to keep him from maneuvering to catch a bit of flesh between his thumb and forefinger.

“Open or I’ll pinch.” He gave a demonstrative squeeze.

With a smirking smile, I relaxed and let my knees fall to the sides.

He leaned in for a kiss, a facial kiss, and exactly when his lips met mine, his fingers met my pussy. Three of them, like a miniature washboard directed in circles, ruffled the composure of my folds. My knees fell wider. I sucked his tongue and gently bit his lip. He lightly spanked my puddle of sex, pushed two fingers inside my eager opening, withdrew and inserted three.

I held as still as I could. I looked over at the bulge in his pants. I wanted to open them and reach in for his cock to take it in my mouth, to do my part, but with my arm bound I was helpless. With his fingers inside me, my body seemed to hum making it more difficult to be still.

“You are the most responsive woman I’ve ever met.”

Carl undid the bottom buttons of my blouse allowing the tail to split open to clear my lower stomach. When he pushed the braid of fingers into me again. It was alive, twisting and curling in a deliberate massage of my sensitive threshold and beyond. He broke the kiss and stood over me, watching me, never stopping his left hand from delivering steady pleasure. I looked from his face to his fingers and back to his face.

I was all attention and anticipation, like a kid on the first upward drag of a roller coaster his skilled digits the chain drawing me along for the ride. His eyes held mine, his fingers moved over and into me with a steady rhythm that kept pulling me into a sexual trance. The sloppy slurping sounds seemed loud and obscene...and lovely.

Then suddenly he started strumming the washboard of his fingers over my wet pussy with all the speed of a flamenco guitarist and I was in a full rollercoaster soar. My legs opened so wide my thighs formed one horizontal line. I could smell my sex. The wet splashing sounded guiltily erotic.

He went just as fast when he again began stabbing three fingers into me, pumping his whole arm in a rapid staccato enough to cause considerable strain in his neck and forehead. I gripped his wrist with my free hand but made no effort to stop him, the feeling was too good, the erotic splashing pure music. There would have been no stopping him anyway.  He didn’t stop even as my orgasm took possession of me.

It was an exceptionally powerful possession, a spastic shaking, muscle straining, back arching, heart racing grip that lifted me and slammed me back into the chair more than once. My legs shook and wanted to straighten but my hooked heels forced my body into exaggerated writhing and jerking. One of his hands clamped over my mouth. The other hand continued to drill me, the tips of his fingers like spark plugs.  My body gushed. The furious invasion of fingers went from strumming across my pussy, to rapid penetration, back to strumming, my shocking wetness thrown everywhere.

My free hand was on my breast, massaging myself, squeezing the soft flesh through my blouse and bra as my body returned to me. Two additional buttons of my blouse were open. Did I open them? Only one remaining button held the material straining across my heaving breasts as my body arched and twisted in the chair.

My abused gash grew as sensitive as an open wound. Carl’s strumming slowed to a three finger massage of gentle figure eights. Pleasant as it might have otherwise been I was excruciatingly sensitive. I moved my hand to his wrist and held him still.

“Damn.” He carefully lifted his other hand from my mouth.

“Ditto.”

“Ditto?”

“Yeah what you said. Was I screaming?”

“Yes, and so fucking wet.” He lifted his hand and let it drip onto my exposed belly.

“Let me taste.” He brought his fingers to my lips and I sucked them firmly. “Not too strong.”

He licked his palm clean. “It’s good, I like it.”

“Do we still have time?”

“For what?”

“A real fuck.”

He smiled. “Yes, I don’t think it will take long”.

“Then go, hard.”

He released the belt holding my arm and pushed down on the footrest uprighting the chair while lifting my legs free.

I stood and bent over the desk lowering my head onto my folded arms and mashed my breasts against the desk top. The fabric of my blouse strained against the single button. Still in heels, my ass was quite a bit higher creating an uncomfortable swale in my arched back.

I stood back up, removed my blouse as I began to bend over again. Carl unhooked my lacy red bra with a flick. The bra fell forward and I tossed it aside. Totally naked I bent forward again onto my elbows this time. I had never been more eager for a cock. My legs were still shaking from the fingering orgasm and in eager anticipation of his cock.

Carl moved in close between my spread legs and opened his pants. I could feel the flaps of the waistband sliding down along the skin of my bottom and legs. When he pushed his briefs down, the shaft of his cock fell against the crack of my ass.

My stomach fluttered and more tremors traveled my legs. I expected a good sharp slap on my ass; in fact, I wanted a spank but I remained silent.

Wasting no time Carl lined up and wiggled the head up and down along my abused opening five or six times. I thought my legs might collapse from the tease before he decisively pushed into me.

“Oooh, yeah, oooh God, yes.”

Carl withdrew part way and drove into me again. I moved both hands forward to grip the opposite edge of the desk but stayed up on my elbows. My hardened nipples grazed the desktop bringing a smile of self satisfaction because it made me feel so sexy. He grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled my head back as he drove a third stroke into me. He ground himself into me pushing hard as if he were making sure I knew he was there. I absolutely knew, it hurt a little but it felt so good.

He backed completely out, I almost panicked, but like he was some kind of mind reader delivered two sharp slaps on my left ass cheek before reinserting to the hilt. He reached under and took a firm hold on my breast and with the other hand still pulling back on my hair he really began to fuck me.

He was right, I could already tell it wouldn’t take long, his excitement was no act, his hard member swollen bigger than ever. My wetness easily taking all of him with pure pleasure. He never let up on pulling my hair as he hammered his cock into me with unrelenting speed and power. Following a sharp squeeze, his other hand released my breast and moved to the front of my neck, then from my neck to my shoulder, pulling me back hard against him with every thrust. My head reared by his grip in my hair. It all felt so good. I don’t know how long he fucked me like that; not overly long, but long enough.

When I began cumming again he moved his hand over my mouth and increased his frenzied attack. My orgasm took complete hold of me and tightened its grip even as the sensation of his load going into me added both to my feeling of fullness and sloppy ease. Part of me didn’t want it to stop, another part welcomed the crest of passion.

His stroke rate naturally began to slow and his grip and strain on my hair relaxed. Only when he peeled his hand from my mouth did I realize I must have again been noisy.

My body contracted and his softening member slid out of me. A few more involuntary contractions occurred and his sperm began running down my right thigh. I remained bent over the desk on my elbows with my mind’s eye following the trail as it flowed towards my knee. I was oddly calm about dripping onto the floor.

I didn’t want to move. The receding energy of my orgasm and the soothing post-sex tranquility gave me no desire to be any other place.

Suddenly Carl was in front of me on the other side of the desk, all zipped up and tucked into place. He got down on his knees and kissed me.

“Blu,” he said placing his hands over my forearms on the desk, “I never really knew what sex was until I was with you,”  and kissed me more.

“Ditto.”