I couldn't keep it up. I was so hot and bothered all the time that I could scarcely get my work done. Several times as I futilely tried to concentrate on the computer screen I noticed a musky scent wafting through the air of my cubicle and nearly panicked at the thought of my co-workers catching a whiff. And was my husband getting suspicious that something was up? Surely the way I ambushed him every night on the way in the door, ripped his clothes off, then screwed him silly on the couch struck him as a bit out of character for me. I vowed that playtime had to stop before it was too late.

Unfortunately, my mind and my muff weren't on the same page.

The downfall came after weeks of excitement and increasingly risky behavior. Our forty-one-story building is one of those new designs featuring an eco-roof with a raised garden and jogging track overlooking a dizzying landscape of glass and steel towers, concrete canyons and Hermann Park in the heart of the Houston Medical Center. Tucked in a grove of olive trees is a small building housing the elevator equipment room. I had tried the door many times looking for new ways to be naughty, but it was always locked. One day, though, as I strolled through the garden on my break I checked the door one more time – and it opened easily under my hand!

I chuckled evilly at the discovery. Time for another round of Hide-and-Seek.

Ignoring the sign that said "DANGER – ELEVATOR EQUIPMENT ROOM AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY" I slipped quickly through the metal door and snapped on the lights. Inside was a small stark foyer with a metal desk and chair on a clean concrete floor flanked by rows of humming gray cabinets and massive motors and machines that apparently raised and lowered the elevators. It was all very industrial and steampunk and nobody was around. Perfect!

I quickly disrobed until I was quite naked and took several selfies by the machines, with levers and pulleys artfully concealing my indelicate bits. I quickly composed another silly poem and texted the whole batch to Ryan:

I'm ready! Come find me!
I'm waiting for you,
My nipples are taut
And my nubbin is too.

Among the machines naked 
I'll caper and flit.
Will my tricks keep me hid 
for the least little bit?

If you should find what you seek
Before time does expire,
Then do anything to me
That your heart may desire!

Two seconds later I was in a full-blown panic. What was I thinking? What if someone saw those pictures? What if he was to find me before the ten minutes was up? Would I actually let him...

It took less than a minute. The door crashed open and there Ryan stood leering in triumph. I squealed in surprise and scrambled to cover myself. How had he found me so quickly? It seemed impossible. There was no way he knew of this place!

Ryan seemed to have read my mind. "I was on the track when I saw you come up the stairs and disappear through the door of this building. I had just enough time to wonder, 'Why did Bree go in there?' when I got your text. At last--I found you before time expired! Are you going to renege on your promise?"

"You cheated!" I exclaimed. "You peeked while I was hiding! It doesn't count!" I crouched behind one of the machines and glared angrily over the top as he sat on the desk right beside my neatly folded clothes.

"Bad girl, your teasing has gone far enough and now it's time to pay up. Come here."

But I crossed my arms over my chest and stubbornly stayed put.

"Bree, If you ever want to see your clothes again, come here!" he commanded more forcefully, glowering expectantly. 

I cursed and threatened and pleaded, but in the end what choice did I have?

"Okay," I said. "Screw it!" I never say 'screw it' but it was the most defiant thing I could think of at the moment. I came out from behind the machines, covering myself as best I could, and gingerly shuffled towards the desk. When I reached for my clothes, Ryan snatched my wrist and yanked me face down across his lap.

"Hey!" I struggled in sudden fear, but his forearm held me down.

"Hold still," he said, then Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Four swats in quick succession, two on each vulnerable cheek. I squealed in impotent indignation, kicking and squirming, struggling to get up, to get away. But it was no use. He was too strong.

Finally, I gave up and resorted again to pleading. "Don't do this to me. What do you see--a two-year-old?"

"What I see is a stunning enchantress with a bombshell body who enjoys driving the guy who wants her insane with desire." His hand gently caressed my hair, then 'Smack!' He spanked me again. "And I see a naughty, impudent imp who richly deserves punishment."

My nipples hardened and I started to suck in air to protest. He cut me off with another stinging strike to my bottom, then slowly and deliberately rained a succession of sharp blows on my defenseless posterior. I yelled and wriggled and tried to fend him off, but, unbidden, a heady warmth spread through my belly and my clit tingled in response to his enthusiasm and I wasn't altogether sure that I wanted him to stop.

Finally, Ryan paused to rub a gentle hand over the sensitive, raw skin that he had so inflamed. "I see you seated on my lap, my hands cupping your breasts, squeezing your nipples as I devour your mouth." 

His manhood was a rigid rod of iron tenting his trousers. Gently he continued to rub my bottom with his palm, and it felt soothing enough that I relaxed a little. That was a bad idea on my part. As soon as the tension went out of my body he spanked me again. Smack! I swore underneath my breath as he chuckled gleefully behind me.

"I see you bent over this chair, your perfectly toned bottom bare to my hungry gaze, your thighs spread on either side of my face and your pussy poised above my tongue." His finger found the hard nubbin of my clit and began to leisurely circle it while I moaned and squirmed. He no longer needed to hold me down.

"I see you kneeling between my legs, the huge bulge in my pants testimony of my arousal. I see you carefully undoing the button on my trousers with trembling fingers, then tugging my zipper down until you can reach in to spring my rod from confinement, thick and pulsing, rock hard and ready."

His finger on my clit increased its speed and pressure, occasionally dipping into my furrow in search of the lubricating fluids that flowed in abundance.

"I see your sweet mouth wrapped around my cock, your head bobbing as you take all of it into your clenching throat, your tongue running circles around the head, teasing me, coaxing me, goading me..."

He growled in frustration as his unoccupied hand struggled beneath me to free himself, then unceremoniously dumped me to my knees and pushed his penis against my lips, forcing it in. My conscience told me to struggle, to fight him, to run away, but it was if I was tied by invisible threads. I felt him growing bigger, harder; and I wanted nothing more than for him to fill my mouth, to fill my body, until nothing of me was left inside, just his magnificent dick.  Oh, God!  He was every bit as perfect as I’d imagined.

He thrust into my mouth, triggering my gag reflex as the swelling head of his member pressed against the back of my throat. Reflexively, I grasped his shaft and began to bob my head, slow at first, then faster, my tongue swirling around his glans, relishing the clear fluid that leaked from his opening, straining to take all of him in.

When the first jet of semen shot down my throat I clamped my lips around him and sucked for all I was worth as he grunted with pleasure above me. Spurt after spurt of hot, viscous goo shot into my mouth and, not knowing what else to do, I swallowed it all, barely pausing to breathe until the tension in Ryan's body released and he slumped, sated for the moment.

The world stopped. The machines hummed and motors kicked on and off.

I couldn’t believe I was doing this. I couldn’t believe it was actually happening, after six years of faithful marriage. Ryan was still breathing hard, his body slumped in the metal chair but his eyes bright and alert and fixed on my nakedness. I should be thinking of my vows, but all I could imagine was how marvelous his cock would feel sliding in and out of my oh-so-ready vagina.

“Sit on the desk,” he rasped. I complied. “Now, open your legs for me.” My knees fell apart and I felt my engorged labia gape open. I was completely in his control. Every muscle in my body tensed with anticipation. My breath caught in my chest.

“Touch yourself.”

“Wh-what?” I quavered.

“You heard me. Touch yourself like you do at home when you’re very alone and your body is crying out for relief.”

How had he known? Nobody knew that about me, even my husband. Whenever he asked if I pleasured myself I always lied and told him, no, but I knew I couldn’t fool Ryan. Could I actually perform the act with a man watching from only two feet away?

Every muscle in my body tensed with anticipation. My heart thundered as my fingers danced a tattoo down my tummy then slipped into the slick seam separating my swollen lips. Gathering some of the copious lubrication, I set my hesitant fingertips to circling my clit, and even through my embarrassment, I marveled at how rigid, how painfully sensitive it was. The "V" at the top of my furrow was so engorged with arousal that only the very tip peeked out. My flesh felt hot and heavy under my hand and I cupped myself, pressing my fingers into my folds.

“Stroke harder.” His voice was deep, confident, commanding. A perverse thrill shot through me, and I shivered.

His eyes followed my hand as I rhythmically kneaded the hard button of my clit. He leaned in close enough for me to feel his breath as a firm hand raised goose bumps on the inside of my thigh. I moaned at the cool touch of his caressing fingers and spasmed when he cupped my hand in his and forced me to press harder.

“Oh, God.” My exclamation tore out on a ragged breath, and I pressed my thighs together against the throbbing ache in my womanly parts. I wanted him with a desperate, clawing yearning that I had never experienced before, and it turned my blood into liquid desire coursing to every throbbing cell in my body.

“Don’t stop,” he said, tapping the inside of my sensitive thighs with his fingertips. I spread my legs a little, and he ordered, “Wider.”

I heard my pulse in my ears as I parted my thighs further. He moved to stand between my spread legs, looking down at me. He was hard again, his prick jutting skyward through his open fly, proud and fully erect.

I stroked myself, letting my fingers wander to dip inside before tracing upward again coated in the evidence of my overwhelming desire. I smoothed the silky wetness over my clitoris, into the short, neatly trimmed strip of hair on my mound.

Wordlessly, Ryan squeezed his glans while he watched me rub my clit. I was using my palm now, fingers busy in my vagina, nearing my end. Being like this for him, my legs open, my pussy exposed and gleaming wet while he stood there fully dressed, spiked my arousal high and higher. I had done things for him that I’d never done for my husband and that knowledge excited me beyond anything I’d experienced before.

My thighs tensed, and I planted my heels firmly against the desktop. My orgasm wound ever tighter inside me, ready to spring and uncoil me from the inside out. A grunt of frustration escaped through gritted teeth as my hips rose of their own accord into the air. I was going to come, I was so close, I was going to come while he watched me, without him ever touching me, and I was so close —

“Stop,” he barked.

Startled, I froze.

"I did not give you permission to come, Bree."

I lay stunned in mid-stroke, the first waves of my release already quivering through my body. Ryan stepped closer, grasped his rigid erection, and slipped inside me. His first thrust was to the hilt, filling me completely and causing me to cry out with pleasure. He held himself there, seeming to struggle for control, knowing that if he kept moving, that if he gave himself up to the exquisite tightness, the heat, he would explode.

When he began to move again it was if an intermission had ended. He was wild, untamed. The metal desk creaked in protest as he drove himself deeper. And when he came it was as if both of us crumbled like sand, washed away in waves of passion until nothing was left but a shell spinning languidly in the diminishing flood.

Ryan finished dressing first. "We'd better not leave together," he said.

He paused at the door to make sure the coast was clear, and then looked back.

"I'm sorry. So sorry." And I could see that he was. "He forced me to. I didn't have a choice."

Then he was gone, leaving me wondering exactly what he meant. And who was "he?"