Playing with another man's wife at work

It started when we were thrown together at a ten-day corporate training session. There was a kick-off party after a sixteen-hour day and one too many beers. We stood outside sharing a cigarette and somehow the conversation turned to oral sex. I couldn't remember the last time I'd had a blowjob and a decade had passed since anyone had sucked her clit.

She was happily married, and I was less so. We were both missing something in our lives. Sexual tension built between us and began to fill the void. There was an attraction we needed to explore, if there was a way. We found the way through the slow building of trust.

Every night at that corporate boot camp there was beer or wine, walks, and conversations. On the last evening, there was another party. After dancing and drinking, we went to her room. We made out, but fell asleep without making love. Anne slept fully clothed. I slept naked, spooned behind her, telling her she could trust me.

I honored her trust during the night. But the next morning, there was no hiding my erection. She watched with hungry eyes as I whipped on my clothes.

In the weeks that followed, we began to go out together for lunch. We talked about our kids, our lives, what we liked, what we missed. Eventually, we started to play. Sometimes, she wore wrap-round skirts, slit up the side. I ran my fingers along her thigh, under her pantyhose. In darkened corners, I massaged her clit until she moaned her orgasm into my mouth. Other times, she wore slacks and I worked my hand down the front and deep into her panties. I loved feeling her moist lips, the nub of her clit against my finger as she squirmed beside me.

I didn't care if I came. My pleasure was in giving her pleasure, seeing the beautiful agony on her face.

After a month, we found a hotel room. I sat on the bed and watched as she knelt on the floor, stroking and sucking my cock for the first time. After I gushed onto her chin and breasts, I pushed her legs over her head and licked her pussy. We traded trust and pleasure back and forth. The next week, I finally penetrated her, sliding a finger into her pussy and massaging her G-spot while licking her clit. I licked and finger fucked until she came once, twice, three times.

Another month passed before she offered her pussy to my cock. I'd already brought her to orgasm twice with my tongue and fingers. She came a fourth time as I pushed deep inside her, bucking and calling out my name. When I spurted white hot, it triggered her final gut-wrenching orgasm.

It was sex, raw sex in the middle of the day. We worked side by side in our sterile office. Then twice a week we drove out for lunch and spent thirty minutes playing sex games we'd missed out on in our other lives.

One cold winter's day, we sought a quick, cheap place to indulge ourselves, somewhere warmer than the backseat of a car. Not far from our office was the trailhead for the Ice Age trail. Standing guard was an old train station that had been converted to a "comfort station" for hikers and bikes. There were large lockable rest rooms, bright and discrete.

Because it was winter no one was using the trails. The comfort station was deserted.

Anne and I entered the Ladies' room and locked the door. We kissed fiercely, our tongues wrestling, hands fighting coats, coats and scarves falling to the floor. I lifted Anne onto the counter and dropped to my knees. She held her skirt over her hips. I used my penknife to cut an opening in her pantyhose.

The room was warmer than the arctic air outside, but still below freezing. Steam issued from Anne's pussy as the nylon parted beneath my blade. I fucked her with my tongue and fingers. After she'd come once, I positioned her on the counter's edge and showed her my hard cock. I made her ask for it, then forced her to wait while I fitted a condom.

Slap, slap, slap in the cold, her hands white-knuckled as she balanced herself against my thrusts. More steam, scented with the aroma of our sex, rose from our sweaty bodies. She cried out. I grunted and shuddered.

We clutched and kissed, against the cold, against the outside world. Then I held her jacket as we hurried to reassemble ourselves, our lunch hour nearly spent. When we stepped outside, a pair of cross-country skiers approached the trail head. Dressed in our business attire, we waved, as if we were ordinary people not desperate lovers.

There are no drugs more addictive than adrenalin and endorphin. Combining the two leads to ecstasy.

Initially, the rush came from having an affair with a coworker, daytime sex in nearly public places.

Later the rush came from pushing boundaries.

After six months, it was fingering under the conference table during a meeting. Working late, the only two people left in the building, I ate Anne's sweet cunt on that same conference table until she begged for me to make her come. She trusted me and gave me that power, the power to take her over the edge.

Sometimes I would call her at her desk, two cubes away, and bring her to orgasm with my words and my voice. Afterwards, we'd meet me in a conference room and I'd make her show me how wet she was.

We pushed the limits at our lunchtime trysts. While I dined on her pussy, my fingers teased the furrow between her ass cheeks. Her eyes rolled at that dark pleasure. One day, I pushed my cock inside her there, something she'd never allowed another man, not even her husband, to do. She wailed and called out my name.

We searched further, exploring spanking games. She wanted it so hard that my hand left its imprint on her firm, round ass. After lunch, Anne would wince when she took her seat at our staff meeting.

We shared a business trip to Japan. Sitting side-by side, I dipped my fingers between her legs, even before we took off. As we taxied on the runway and lifted skyward, she shuddered, her thighs clenching around my hand. Later, while our fellow passengers slept, we fucked, slick and hard in the lavatory. To my chagrin, a half dozen people were waiting when I stepped into the aisle. She locked the door behind me and followed minutes later. We both slept soundly until the plane landed. She never said if she was embarrassed or elated.

In Japan, we found each other every night. Her ass was black and blue before the week was out. Every day was a search for something new to stimulate her - a different toy, a new exposure. My role was to take control, to pleasure her until she was spent. Or at least I thought I was in control, until I realized that my power came from the trust she bestowed on me.

A few months later, we traveled together to France. The plane ride was uneventful, no lavatory romps, no masturbation at take-off or landing. But one afternoon we finished work early and opened the windows on our fourth floor room. She leaned against the windowsill watching the tourists walk to Versailles. I lifted her skirt, pushed her panties aside, and fucked her slowly from behind. We came together, our cries mingling with the voices of the pedestrians below.

It was our last time.

When we returned home, our luncheon trysts ended as abruptly as they'd begun. For Anne, after eighteen months, the pleasure we'd shared was not enough to assuage the guilt. The trust we'd shared and the power we'd played back and forth couldn't replace what she felt for her husband.

I experienced my own awakening. The eighteen months of moments I'd shared with Anne didn't match the eighteen years of commitment I had with my wife. But Anne had honored me with something I was missing in my marriage. Trust. So, I began a new quest, this one for unconditional love.

But that's another story. --

The End