I got married to Tim at nineteen and within months of my wedding I began cheating on him with a guy from work. It was an affair that lasted almost three years. I’m not sure why it came about because it was a long while ago now, and I’m certainly not going to try and justify it, except to say that at that age the thrill of doing something I shouldn’t probably had a lot to do with it. So I’m just going to write down how it happened the first time and you can figure out who seduced who.
At that time I was working in the office of a local plumber, mostly just answering the phone and filing, pretty boring office junior work really. In the week there were three girls in the office but on a Saturday morning we took it turns to come in on our own for half a day to cover for urgent call outs and that sort of thing. Usually that meant that once the engineers had gone out on calls we were on our own, and I liked that, if only because on that one Saturday morning in three I was in charge to all intents and purposes and I actually got to make decisions, albeit minor ones. But then on one of my Saturdays the storekeeper, Jake, came in to do a stock check, and that’s when it all began.
It was midsummer and hot and thundery, so I had the windows and door of the rather cramped office open to try and get a bit of breeze through and that meant I could hear Jake rattling about in the stores. I didn’t mind, his presence made the day somehow feel less lonely and I smiled to myself at hearing his cheerful but out of tune whistling as he foraged through the bins. So when I’d finished a batch of filing and it was near enough to break time I shouted through to him to see if he wanted me to make him a coffee when I made mine.
He did, and so I made two cups and called him through to join me. There was no ulterior motive at this time, certainly not on my part, except that it’s always nice to have someone to chat to during a coffee break. He came in and plonked himself down in an empty typist’s chair beside me and we simply sat and chatted, just inconsequential chatter about nothing in particular. He was older than me, somewhere in his mid-thirties, but he was always good company, armed with a wicked smile and a great sense of humour. He always managed to make people like him and I was no exception – although there is a hell of a difference between liking someone and fancying him. Anyway I liked him and I thought he just liked me, with nothing else attached. But it seems that maybe I was wrong.
Just as we were finishing our coffees the phone rang and I swivelled my chair around to answer it, rudely leaving him facing my back. Dealing with a panic stricken customer who had found a leaking pipe pushed Jake out of my mind and so by the time I’d talked her through turning off the mains water and calmed her down with a promise of an emergency plumber the moment one became available I’d virtually forgotten his presence. But after I’d finished with the call and was writing out the details on the service call log I was given a very pleasant reminder.
Because of the hot weather I was wearing a loose low cut blouse, with my long hair pinned up out of the way to let the air get to my neck. But the air wasn’t the only thing that got to it. As I bent over the desk writing in the log I felt fingertips suddenly and very gently begin to stroke the nape of my neck. I hadn’t noticed that Jake had stood up and silently come to stand directly behind me. I jerked with surprise and the stroking stopped but the fingers still rested on my neck and then, when I didn’t complain, they began once more to softly caress my skin. That was the point when I should have stopped it, but I didn’t. It wasn’t because I was overawed by an older man, or anything like that – I can be a stroppy bitch when I need to be. No, it was simply because it felt so good, and the thought that it might lead to other things never crossed my mind, even though stroking my neck is almost guaranteed to turn me on. Instead I pretended not to notice and finished filling in the log entry, making it last a whole lot longer than it needed to.
My god, it did feel good, gentle fingertips just skittering over my skin, barely touching but sending shivers of pleasure down my spine anyway, with not a word exchanged between us. I couldn’t pretend to be writing forever, I got to the point where I had nothing more to write down and I was simply sitting there, bent forward. Should I have sat up and told him to stop? Of course I should, but I didn’t. Instead I sat back in my chair, bent my head submissively forward and rested my hands passively on the chair arms, all clear signs for him to continue, and so he did.
But maybe he interpreted my passivity in slightly different way to the one I intended. I’d thought I meant for him just to carry on with what he was doing, but he took it as permission to go a little further. Years later I know how the male mind works, but in my youthful innocence I expected him bahis firmaları to understand. Or maybe he understood my wishes better than I did.
For a while he just carried on stroking the back of my neck with one hand, but then his other hand joined in and they began stroking either side of my neck, down under my ears and onto my throat. It felt so good there was no way I could tell him to stop. Before long my breathing began to deepen and I could feel my insides turning to jelly. I was getting turned on, very turned on, but then that was apparently Jake’s intention, and I should have seen it coming.
Soon his fingertips were inching their way further down, still stroking around my ears and under my chin, but widening their range to include more and more of my front. I knew where he was headed, but even before his fingers found the first sign of my cleavage I knew I didn’t care, I just let him continue. He was very cautious, letting just the very tip of his fingers caress the top of my breasts, as if he wanted to be able to deny it if need be. He was testing the waters, judging if I would object or not to an exploring hand. He must have noticed my breathing getting heavier, he must have noticed my eyes closing and my lips parting but still he took his time, touching just a little more of my skin each time until he was just very slightly pushing my blouse further out of the way to gain access. By then I wouldn’t have objected at all, in fact I was rapidly getting to the point where I wanted to grab his wrist and push his hand into my bra, but I didn’t have the nerve. I just let him keep on stroking my skin, each hand concentrating now on the top curve of one of my breasts.
He was standing closer, reaching slowly further down my front until his fingers abruptly found the edge of my bra, and only then did he pause. For once I understood. Once he had pushed his fingers under my bra there was no going back, no pretending there wasn’t a sexual element to what he was doing. Up until that point he just might have convinced someone, including perhaps himself, that it was all innocent, but not afterwards. As for myself, I was long since past the point of no return. I might have begun innocently enough but that innocence had dwindled as my arousal had grown. At that moment I wasn’t too sure how far I was prepared to let him go, but touching my breasts was certainly on the menu. I reached up and silently unfastened the top two buttons of my blouse, explicit permission to go further.
He leaned further over me so that his fingers could explore more, sliding them down inside my blouse and then inside my bra, not quite cupping my breasts yet, but very nearly. I could hear his excited breathing almost in my ear and I knew he was as turned on as I was. I undid another button and then leaned forward so that I could reach around and unclip my bra. He took his hands away to let me lean over, but the moment I leaned back both his hands went straight back down my front. No hesitation now, no inching down bit by bit, he simply pushed them under my loosened bra and cupped my breasts, holding and massaging them. He rolled my nipples between his fingers, squeezing and tugging just enough to hurt. It was the first time anyone had done that to me but it felt good, so bloody good, and I just let him do it, hearing his little growling noises correspond to my excited sighs as we both enjoyed what he was doing. I was getting more and more turned on until I had to force myself to remain passive.
But then he bent over a little further and gently kissed the back of my neck before trailing his lips down the side. The feeling was wonderful, erotic shivers raced up and down my spine as my hands gripped the arms of my chair. I tipped my head to the side to encourage him to do it again. He did, this time letting his tongue do as his lips had done, his rapid breathing cooling the moisture and adding to the sensation. This added to what he was doing to my breasts pushed me beyond meek compliance, I wanted to kiss him, needed to kiss him, to feel that tongue slipping between my lips and exploring my mouth. I wasn’t quite ready for everything yet, but I think I was getting very close.
I spun my swivel chair around, intent on standing and kissing him, not really thinking of any consequences. I just wanted to hold him close and have him hold me, to feel his body pressed against my own and his mouth on mine. But by spinning my chair I brought my eyes level with the front of his jeans and I was immediately and acutely aware of the bulge he made no attempt to hide. Almost instinctively my hand went out to touch it, to outline and stroke the erection that lay beneath the denim. He felt hard and big and beautiful and I found myself searching for his zip, finding and pulling it down. I glanced up, perhaps seeking his permission, and then, when he made no objection I pushed my fingers into his clothing, seeking, finding, and freeing his cock. All thoughts of kissing him kaçak iddaa were now forgotten; I just wanted to play with what I had found.
He was big, bigger than my husband. I don’t mean he was silly big, although he seemed so to me in my inexperience, but his thick circumcised cock was certainly nothing to be ashamed of. I wrapped my fingers around it, running them up and down its length, feeling the heat of it, the hardness, and the corrugations of its veins. It felt and looked beautiful and I just gazed at it as I played, feeling his hands land on my shoulders to steady himself. But then a lovely little bead of pre-cum appeared on his tip, glistening brightly. I looked at it for a moment or two and then obeyed my urge. I leaned forward and licked it with the end of my tongue, just making contact with his cock, tip to tip. He tasted good, very good, and I wanted more. I leaned forward again, but this time I opened my lips and took his cock into my mouth, licking and sucking on it, seeking more of his fabulous juice. I loved it, the size of it, the hardness of it, the warmth of it, and the smoothness of its circumcised head. Before I knew what was happening I was giving him a blow job, my hand holding the base of his cock while my mouth enveloped as much as it could take, sliding back and forth along its length. Now I was intent on sucking him off, making him come in my mouth so that I could taste all of his delicious cream. He was clearly not about to object, he started gripping onto my shoulders, his hips moving vaguely back and forth, lightly pushing himself at me, and very soon I could hear him gasping, his muscles tensing as his climax drew near. I prepared myself for his flood, my tongue going back to close my throat and my fingers gripping him just that little bit more firmly.
But it never happened. Just when I was sure he was about to shoot we both heard a van pull into the yard and we leapt apart guiltily, each frantically trying to make ourselves decent and composed before the returning engineer walked into the office. Jake disappeared hastily back to his stores, trying desperately to stuff his erection back into his jeans at the same time, leaving me with just the memory of his cock in my mouth. I could have cried, I was so hot and frustrated at not being able to finish him off that I could hardly get my thoughts together let alone straighten my clothing. In fact I had barely got the top button of my blouse fastened before Carl came bursting in, all good humour and enthusiasm. I was still feeling flustered and my heart was still hammering wildly as I took the paperwork of his last call from him and issued him with the details of the lady with the leak. How fucking appropriate, I thought bitterly, I’d pretty much got a leak all of my own that could do with plugging!
Carl left as quickly as he came, his van pulling out of the yard before I’d even had the chance to file his work sheet. That was it, a lightening visit that had completely spoiled my day. At least, as far as I could tell, he had neither seen nor suspected anything. Mechanically I stood up and filed his work sheet, my body hurting from frustrated need. I wanted Jake to come back so that we could continue, knowing that it would take Carl the rest of the morning to respond to that call and so he wouldn’t be back. But then I knew that Larry, the other engineer that day, could be back any time and cut us short us again, and anyway part of me was only too aware that I’d been doing oral sex on a man who was not my husband, and that part wanted it to not have happened at all, and certainly not to continue. But that part, my conscience, was massively outvoted by the intense arousal I was still feeling. I was so mixed up inside I didn’t know what I wanted.
It was quite a while before Larry came in, time in which I pondered what had happened and what I felt about it. Not a single word had passed between Jake and I throughout the whole thing, and so I had no idea of his motives. Was it a spur of the moment thing that got out of hand, or did he really want me? I had no idea of his thoughts and no idea if he’d want to carry on, but by the time Larry did turn in I’d decided that I wanted Jake to want me and that if he did I’d let him go as far as he wanted and damn the consequences. I was just too bloody horny to do otherwise.
I gave Larry the last two calls of the day, and so when he went that was it, we wouldn’t get disturbed again before we closed up. I shuddered with excitement at what I expected would happen, and waited for Jake to return and begin touching me up once again. But he didn’t, and nor could I hear him banging about in the stores. I waited a little longer and then, still feeling hot and bothered, I closed down the switchboard, putting it onto answerphone, and went in search of him.
I found him easily enough; he was still in the stores, but at the little desk in the corner entering up the stock ledgers and looking very guilty when I came in. kaçak bahis He spun his chair around to face me.
‘I know, I know.’ He said quietly. ‘That shouldn’t have happened, I’m sorry.’
That wasn’t quite what I’d expected – or wanted – and so I stood and looked at him in dumb surprise.
‘If you promise not to say anything about it, I’ll promise it’ll never happen again.’
I kind of smiled inwardly, realising he was scared for his job, but making a fuss was the last thing on my mind. I tried to figure how to reply.
‘I’m truly sorry.’ He repeated. ‘You’re a stunning looker and I got carried away. I am sorry.’
‘I’m not.’ I told him, finding my voice at last. ‘I enjoyed it.’
He looked at me in astonishment. ‘I’m glad.’ I could see the thoughts churning round in his head. ‘But we mustn’t let it happen again.’
I didn’t want to hear that. ‘Why not?’
‘Because…’ He hesitated. ‘Because you’re so much younger than me and I don’t want to take advantage. And anyway, you’re married.’
‘You wouldn’t be taking advantage.’ I told him, making it plain that I was there to be had.
‘It wouldn’t be right.’
I was in no mood to be refused by a man who had started something he wasn’t prepared to follow up on. His sudden attack of nerves simply made me more determined. Now I’m older I wouldn’t think like that, but I was nineteen and not as mature as I liked to think.
‘It wouldn’t be wrong.’ I contradicted him. ‘Because it would be nice.’
He sat and simply shook his head, but I could see him wavering. I went and stood in front of him and began to unbutton the front of my blouse again. Just as I should have done earlier, that was when he should have said no, but he didn’t either. I didn’t stop at just the top two or three buttons this time either, I undid them all, from top to bottom, and then pulled my blouse free of my skirt and let it fall loose and open, showing off the curves of my breasts over my quarter cup white bra. I stood there with my blouse hanging open and looked at him. He was tempted, I could tell, but he wasn’t moving.
‘You liked them before.’ I reminded him.
‘I like them now.’ He admitted. ‘But you ought to keep them covered up.’
I shrugged my shoulders, letting my blouse slide down my arms to be shaken loose and land on the floor. He didn’t move, but his eyes revealed his thoughts. I carried on, determined to have my hands on that cock of his again, and reached back to unhook my bra, letting it follow my blouse to the floor. I was breathing heavily, partly from arousal, but now mostly from nerves. I’d never done anything like this before. There I was, naked to the waist in front of a man getting on for twice my age, openly inviting him to touch me. He still didn’t move, but he couldn’t take his eyes from my breasts.
I looked back at him, shiny eyed with excitement, and then, when he still didn’t do anything, I cupped my breasts and jiggled them, bending forward to offer them to him. Now I could hear his breathing as heavy as my own. We were both turned on and it was only his conscience and the fear of consequences that was holding him back. I was suffering from neither, my conscience was subservient to my urges and at age nineteen I didn’t even think of any possible consequences.
‘Don’t you want to touch them?’ I asked him huskily.
‘Yes.’ He acknowledged, without moving.
‘Then touch them.’ I moved in even closer, my knees bumping up against his and my breasts now within inches of his face. It was a now or never moment.
He made a strange little noise and put his hands on my shoulders, pushing me away. For a moment I thought that I’d blown it, but then he stood up, grabbed me, wrapped his arms around me and pulled me to him, his mouth finding mine in the same quick movement. The kiss was short and bruising, hard enough to bend my head backwards, but with lips hardly parted. He pulled away as quickly as he’d begun and held me at arm’s length, still fighting his own desires.
‘You randy bitch.’ He grated.
‘That’s your fault.’ I told him truthfully.
We stood in front of each other, both breathing heavily and both seemingly wondering what to do next. I looked up into his eyes, seeing the conflict there. He wanted me, if only he’d acknowledge it, and I wanted him. After a minute or so I reached out and took his hand, guiding it to my naked right breast and then placing my own hand over his to hold it in place. He didn’t resist – he didn’t help, but he didn’t resist. I squeezed his hand onto me, moving it over my breast with my own, massaging and manipulating myself with it while he stood and passively let me. It felt good, really good, but I wanted him to take over.
‘You do it.’ I told him, and then lifted my hand away, hoping against hope that he’d do as I asked.
He hesitated, for what seemed like forever he hesitated, just resting his unmoving hand on me. Mentally I held my breath, and then his fingers squeezed my flesh and I smiled up at him. He smiled back, a wry smile of acceptance.
‘You randy bitch.’ He said again, gentler this time.
‘But you can settle that.’ I whispered.