Totally unexpected, that’s the only way to describe it. I hadn’t been prepared for him taking part of my heart. I hadn’t even realised there was a part of my heart left to take.

I know him from work. He’s my boss of sorts, his position in management. I see him in meetings and read his memos; they always make me smile, he has such a way with words.

I say work, but my time’s given on a totally voluntary basis. I do it for the love and experience. I also do it to occupy the moments that should be spent with my husband, but time has driven a wedge through the connection we once shared. I guess I could’ve worked harder to remove the distance between us, but the excitement of a new connection was whispering its mischievous song in my ear.

And so, after weeks of flirting at the office I found myself at the door to his home.

I’m still amazed that I thought I could go there on a professional level. I thought that the sexual tension that had been building between us could be kept under control; we were both adults after all. He knew my position and I trusted him to be a gentleman, and to understand that I wasn’t available for anything other than friendship.

My mind had played out so many naughty versions of the meeting, yet I still thought that I had it under control. I had convinced myself that I could keep that side of things down. My intentions were pure, or so I thought.

It was for that reason that I didn’t walk away. It was why when he opened the door to his flat I walked in. His smile was infectious and he had a cheeky twinkle in his eyes. His cheeks were a little red and his hair was even wilder than usual. The place smelt of the wonderful aroma of the food he was cooking.

After a brief hug, which sent shocks around my system, I followed him into the small kitchen. I told him, “You don’t have to feed me.”

He responded by saying, “It’s my pleasure, and a lady needs to be spoiled.”

I’ll admit I was shocked by the obvious effort he’d gone to, and also a little surprised that he could cook so wonderfully. I have to say I loved watching him cook; I could see his obvious enjoyment in what he was doing.

We’d started off by talking about work, but soon the room had settled into a comfortable silence. He went about his preparations and I watched him with fascination.

He poured me a wine and I internally flinched. I hadn’t wanted to disappoint him and his effort, but I really hate wine. He laughed when my face showed obvious displeasure as the tang of alcohol hit my taste buds.

I tried to argue with him about it being fine, but he insisted that he nip down to the off licence to get me a bottle of vodka. He had told me to make myself at home and that he wouldn’t be long. It felt strange being left alone in a home I wasn’t used to, but he’d told me to relax, so I pulled my tin out of my handbag and rolled myself a joint.

I’ve always been a curious girl, so I took the opportunity to have a look around his flat. Taking my lit reefer with me, I wandered into the living room. You could tell that he was a male that lived alone; there was a very masculine feel to the room. That’s not to say that it didn’t feel cosy. It looked like a nice space to spend time.

He had a large bookshelf against one wall. I scanned through the titles, not really knowing any of them. I pulled out a book and flicked through the well-worn pages before placing it back. I turned on the cd player, but switched it off when the depressing sounds of some indie band started blaring out the speakers. I moved onto the record player and started the turntable, placing the needle gently onto the vinyl.

The loud yet beautiful sounds of the horn section played out before the violins started. I took my joint and sat down on the comfy looking, well used, brown leather armchair. I placed my half smoked spliff in the ashtray, which was balanced on top of music magazines and newspapers on the coffee table.

I relaxed back and closed my eyes, allowing myself to get lost in the music, so lost that I hadn’t heard him walk back into the flat. I hadn’t seen him stand and watch me. The evening sun streamed through the window, lighting my peaceful face and making my hair look even lighter and softer than usual.

I hadn’t heard him walk across the room to me. It was only when I felt his hand gently touch my face that I opened my eyes and looked into his.

Time stood still.

All I was aware of was my hammering heartbeat and the depth of my breathing. It was going to happen. His face was so intimately close to mine. The uncertainty of whether it was the right thing to do was battling against the force of my desire.

There was only ever going to be one winner.

His lips were so soft against mine. It was so gentle that my mind fought to understand if the feelings were real, or if my yearning for him to kiss me was playing tricks with my senses. There was no doubt with the second kiss that it was really happening.

The bristles of his unshaven face scratched my delicate skin and his lips pressed firmly against mine.

There was none of the awkwardness that may be expected from never having known each other; it was like our lips were meant to be together.

His hands cradled my head, as his tongue danced with mine. My arms embraced him, desperately pulling him to me in an attempt to make us even more as one. The feeling was incredible and will stay with me forever.

He dropped to his knees. His hand touched my face and he told me how beautiful I looked. I should have stopped it then, but I was completely lost in the moment. I let his hand stroke up my stocking clad thighs. I watched as my skirt pushed higher revealing the lace tops to my nylons. I listened as he groaned in delight when the sweet smell of my desire escaped the confines of my white cotton, juice dampened panties.

I gasped a shocked thrill when he buried his head between my legs and inhaled my womanly scent. His grip on my hips tightened and I moaned at the pure salaciousness of the moment.

“Oh fuck! This is wrong, we shouldn’t be doing this.”

My words may have been encouraging him to stop, but at the same time my hands were pulling at his head, lacing my fingers through his hair and pushing my soaked, panty covered, pussy harder against his face.

His hands grabbed my hips pulling me lower, so he could spread my legs as wide as he could get them. We shared the same look of unbridled lust and longing. I smiled a dirty fucking smile and he knew that I wanted it as much as he did.

My hand grasped the soft leather arm of the chair when his mouth sucked on the drenched material. My hips involuntary bucked as his tongue pressed through my cotton covered lips. He found my swollen bud and slid his fingers beneath my panties. He pushed them inside me; I moaned so loud.

“Oh Jesus, fuck!”

My body writhed and squirmed beneath his touch. I was close and there was no stopping the inevitable. His fingers probed deeper and harder. With his tongue still pushing through the material of my panties, he hummed against my throbbing nub.

My screams poured out, as I shook and trembled my way to climax. The warm gush of fluid that signalled my orgasm rushed out of my quivering tunnel when he pulled his fingers from within me. The cotton performed the job of soaking up my womanly secretion.

After giving me a moment to come down slightly and allowing my eyes to focus, he brought up his fingers that glistened with my juice and admired their glazed appearance, smelling my feminine musk. He presented his fingers for me to lick clean. My tongue reached out to lap at his digits and his tongue joined mine. With his fingers between us, our faces only inches apart, we both took delight in tasting my sweetness.

Before long we had rid all amount of my desire from his fingers and when he removed them out of the way, our tongues met each other’s in a deep and passionate kiss. My taste on our tongues only fuelled the desire growing between us.

When we eventually broke the kiss, I was panting as he told me, “Take off the panties and get on all fours.”

I could have teased and made a show of removing them, but I was too desperate with lust to show that much self-control. I whipped them off and handed them over to him. He brought the balled-up material to his face and took in a deep breath, before stuffing them in his pocket.

I was ready and waiting on all fours with my hands gripping the back of the armchair. I looked back over my shoulder to see him undo his belt and free his rock hard cock from the confines of his skinny jeans.

It’s moments like that in which I wish I had control over time. If I did, I would replay that moment over and over again. I would live in that moment forever. The feeling of his rigid masculinity driving deep inside my soaked cunt, stretching me beyond anything I had ever known. I felt complete.

If I thought the feeling couldn’t get any better, I was proven wrong when he instructed me to reach down and rub my clit whilst he hammered into me. His grip on my hips became vice-like and as he bottomed out and his balls slapped against me with each thrust, I knew I would soon be feeling the hot jets of his cum pumping into my wanton pussy.

My cries escalated as my need for release increased. Desperate moans purged from my innermost depths. My existence became nothing but that moment, that feeling of pure release. It tore threw me in a soul shatteringly perfect way, all my nerve endings firing at once. Breath held and body tensed, I came with an intensity that is indescribable in words.

With my pussy clamping hard around his cock and my trembling cries of joy, he was unable to hold back the torrent of cum that spewed into my tremulous cavern. Spurt after spurt filled my insides, before we collapsed, spent and breathless, but exceptionally happy.

When we’d both recovered, he went off to see if anything of the food could be saved. I picked up the half smoked joint from the ashtray and re-lit it. Taking a huge toke, I wondered if I should feel guilty about what I had just done. With his cum still safely nestled inside me and my pussy still happily pulsating, there was no way I could deny it, I was glad it had happened.