I let him kiss me. When I do that, when I let a man kiss me and I like it, I kiss him back in escalation and give him my tongue. I can’t seem to help myself. If he joyfully takes my tongue and selflessly gives me his in return the sensation sends emotions cascading over the full length of my body and I am done in.
Sensations elicit emotions.
Of course, there had to be some emotion already or I would not have permitted that first kiss. It doesn't take much, something he said perhaps or simply looking handsome. Maybe he listened as much as spoke in a balanced conversation we had, then again, such as with the very moment I am trying to relate, it might have been all of those things added to a sudden and unexpected twist in a long history of working together. So much has led to this need to seduce my boss, Judd.
I’ve worked with a lot of men but I’ve kissed none of them, although more than once I had wanted to. I’m not stupid, I need to work with these men and the women around them. I also need to consider my husband. I love him very much. He did me in with our first kiss and opened my life.
Emotions and circumstances lead to a kiss. What comes first?
It doesn’t matter, does it? Chicken or the egg. Silly really, it doesn’t matter, one thing follows the other: a lift home from a Friday after-work gathering, my husband away for the weekend on business, Judd's wife off visiting her parents. Then he provides a considerate escort to my door. We're beyond flirting, none of our emotions are effectively disguised. I make an offer for him to come in for another drink. One thing follows another.
When it happens, when the emotions cascade through my body following a great kiss, my brain floods. I press against him, undulate against him as our tongues caress. The hands of some men might move to my breasts. Others, like those of this one, move to my ass and pull me closer. I feel another part of him respond, thicken and stiffen against me and that sensation releases another wave of emotions.
Before long my hand goes to it and finds that irresistible hard bulge. I can’t help myself, emotions of passion flowing so freely and all. I press my fingers to it and make every attempt to gather fabric around the glorious shaft and when I do, he is, like me, all done in.
Tick tock tick. All done-in in less than a minute during which our lips have never parted. There is nothing coy about me at the moment. My passion is winningly on full display like raw hunger. By giving myself so freely I had him won.
Every hard cock feels exciting to me through the fabric of pants. It might be the excitement of anticipation but they all feel larger through fabric, this one especially, and I want it.
I break the kiss as I lower myself to my knees, both hands already working on his belt, opening his pants so they slide down with me. I caress him through the thin material of his shorts, pressing his shaft against him. I kiss along the underside of my thinly shielded prize, once, twice and a third time, taking in the heady scent of his masculinity before I pull down on his shorts. His cock snags like a barb and I reach in and take it out, stroking and caressing it while I pull his shorts fully down.
I lock my eyes on his. I try hard not to smile, try not to let my giddiness show. I enjoy the brief tease while still gripping the base with one hand, making the rest of it wag between our gaze. The way he looks at me makes my pussy tingle. I open my lips and take it in. My tongue struggles to remain active, fluttering and pressing in spite of the fullness in my mouth. I close my eyes, relishing the sensation.
He is a gentleman, not forcing me deeper onto his shaft so after a moment I force myself until I feel the first hint of a gag. I bob on the length, my tongue surely registering my enthusiasm until I need a break and come off to lick the entire length while looking up at him once again.
I like that he is still watching me. I like that he seems to still be getting even harder. I start sucking him again. I’m sure by now he knows I am doing this as much for my pleasure as his. His pleasure is my pleasure. Working him with my hand and my mouth and my tongue earnestly trying to make him cum.
I made my husband cum that way after our first real kiss. It only took minutes. He also was a gentleman, warning me when he was about to cum. I made sure he didn’t leave, gripping the back of his leg pulling him close, gripping the base of his cock, I surprised him by swallowing every bit. I like it in my mouth, I like to feel the way it throbs and spurts, I like the taste of it and the way it seems to spread to every corner, coating my teeth. At first, when I was younger, I needed to drink water right after to rinse it all down but now I don’t mind leaving it, except when I worry about my after-breath. Bourbon or Scotch seems to take care of that anyway, either the smell or the worry.
What I don’t like is taking it on my face. Oh, I do it on occasion, my husband’s birthday for instance, or maybe Valentine’s Day, but I don’t like it and rarely give in to it. Taking it in my mouth feels empowering, I remain in control, on my face feels so demeaning.
So I wasn’t about to do it now or ever with my boss, and when he tries to pull me off his cock I resist. I hold him with one hand behind his thigh, the other squeezing hard on the base of him.
“I want all of you,” he says.
I can tell he isn’t close so I pull my mouth off.
“What?”
“I want to fuck you.”
I stand up and begin removing my clothing and suddenly we are both practically tearing our way to nakedness. When we get there we throw ourselves into another kiss. Both of his hands again return to my ass. With surprising strength, he lifts me until my face is above his kissing down, passionately without reserve.
Sex is sex, but with a different man it is refreshing, exciting, and I keep kissing Judd as he continues to stand while holding me tight. My legs are wrapped around his back and he returns my kisses with interest and passion as if there is nothing else he wants but to kiss me. His mouth tastes good, his breath fresh and inviting.
My body gradually loses position, slowly sliding down, until my bottom settles on the hook of his erection. I squirm, settle more, arch and curl to stroke my wetness along the top of it. I feel my pussy glide along its length as it saws into the crack of my ass. Oh so incredibly good. His hands still hold me, squeezing me against him. He feels strong. I feel so sexy.
He lifts me again, this time I reach down between us to take hold and guide him to my opening. When he relaxes to permit me to slide down again he is there, proud at my entrance, and I slide down onto the rigid shaft. All the way down. The end of his long shaft bluntly pressing deep, crowding my cervix.
He bounces and strokes into me. After four or five strokes I get comfortable. Relishing the feel of the way his arched cock hooks into me. Vickey was right. The slender length is good. The arch is good. The hardness is incredibly good. I hang on, fighting against my onrushing orgasm, as he holds me and thrusts.
I arch my head backwards as my body spasms gently, he buries his face in my breasts, and my orgasm passes unnoticed. Good, I don’t want him to cum, not in my pussy, not yet. But he is close, so I pull up and away and off.
Catching him off guard I am immediately on my knees and have him in my mouth again, helplessly beyond control. His first shot fires hard against the roof of my mouth. He pushes deeper for the second one, allowing me to feel the throb of it with my lips pressing tightly around him. I swallow as he cums, but still, it coats everything; my tongue, the inside of my cheeks, all my teeth. The taste is good, not so different from Pete’s.
He pulls me up to standing, kissing me as passionately as ever. I am surprised. I had swallowed everything but enough remained that I knew he could still taste. He was kissing me as if he were trying to taste himself. I was taken aback, Vickey said that was something he didn’t do.
He lifts me again, walks to the couch as I cling to him, then lowers me. He takes immediate hold of my legs behind my knees and positions them back and up as he drops to his knees and pushes his tongue right into me. He licks and slathers my open cunt with complete abandon. My god, it feels good. His eagerness feels good. The hope of him going down on me is why I avoided him spoiling the pot. I was glad I did.
One minute turns to two. When he pushes my knees higher I slide sideways against the sofa back and fall prone, twisted by his hold on me, but eager for no interruption. Totally exposed to him his firm tongue probes deeper and deeper, then lower, circling my rosebud before prying into me there with the pointed tip.
He's taking more of me than I want to give, at least just yet, but it feels good and I almost give in to deliriously let him have anything he wants before chiding myself for being a rim whore and pushing my legs down. I force one foot to the floor, and the other against the back of the sofa, splaying my legs wider but denying him my rosebud. His mouth and tongue return dutifully to my center.
He soon moves on, kissing his way to my breasts. His fingers are at my pussy, caressing it, slick with my wetness, pushing into me, probing, twisting, curling, going back to rubbing inside and outside my labia, pushing in repeatedly. My tide again on the rise.
His mouth goes to my nipples, pinching with his lips, flicking with his tongue, nipping with his teeth, sending sparklers to my pussy.
He lifts his head, my fingers still in his hair. I open my eyes, the light seeming brighter than before.
“I’ve wanted to see your tits for so long, Jane. Now I can’t believe I’m kissing them, I can’t stop kissing them. You are so beautiful.”
His words, the first between us since he said he wanted to fuck me, further raises my tide. When he takes a nipple between his teeth again and tugs on it while pushing his fingers inside me my seawall is breached.
My hand covers the back of his and I ride it, spurring it on one moment as I grind my pussy into it, pulling it away when overwhelmed, then putting it right back again. It's a perfect storm and the waves keep crashing.
Before the waves subside to gentle rollers his lips again go to mine, his tongue searching for mine. My hand leaves his hair and reaches down to find him gloriously hard.
“Fuck me.”
He drags me off the couch onto the floor, onto my back. I smile up at him. “Hard.”
He pushes the coffee table further away, positions himself between my legs and mounts me missionary, propped up on his elbows until he is tightly buried. Deep. Nice.
He slides his arms beneath me and holds me and begins to thrust deeper, in and out, full strokes. Slowly at first, but gradually increasing pace and force until we cling to each other. With my arms and legs wrapped around his body, I am riding him as much as he rides me into the carpet.
I cum repeatedly, violently, but he is relentless. Between my orgasms, I feel sexually exhausted and my mind drifts as Judd continues to stroke into me. I worry about rug burn, I think about Peter, I wonder about Vickey, but then Judd, somehow attuned to my distraction, slowly rebuilds the pace and I am swept along again on slick friction into still another orgasm so deep, so encompassing that I want to retreat. Yet I cling on, responding to his every thrust.
Breathing hard against my neck I sense a change in Judd’s urgency and know my reward is near. He skips a beat, adds a few erratic plunges and buries himself deep, unloading with rough grunts as if there is pain in it. It pushes me into another helpless orgasm.
A moment later he lifts his head above me with a look of genuine panic. “Oh, shit, was I supposed to not cum in you?!”
“It’s OK. I liked it. You came hard. I need a bourbon, then a shower.”
“I should go,” He says and begins to stir.
I tighten my arms around him, “And let me drink alone? Don’t you dare. Besides, I need you to wash my back and apply lotion.”
“But Vickey is...”
“It’s after midnight," I say confidently, "you wouldn’t still be here if she were home.”
He relaxes again. I turn and snuggle in his arms with his chest against my back and our legs draped together. After a long while he asks, “Have you ever been with a woman?”
“Why would you ask that? Have you ever been with a man?”
“No, never,”
After another long silence, I say, “I could see myself with the right woman.”
“Vickie would love you.”
“I love Vickie.” I say quietly.
A full minute or more passed as he held me wrapped in his arms with his face in my hair.
“You love my wife?”
“We talked quite a while at the company Christmas party."
“Oh, OK, yes.”
“Then two days later when we met for coffee.” I sense his body tighten and my own heart begins to quicken as the deception unfolds.
