Caroline, Sweet Caroline

Caroline and I had worked together for over four years. In that time we had gotten to know each other very well. It might have helped that we went to the same college and knew each other from that time forward. Now here we were, both 27 years old, and working at the same company, although in very different divisions.

She was in the computing science department. I was in accounting. Still, through some small twist of fate, our offices were just around the corner from each other. Through the years we had ascended up our respective corporate ladders and had landed our own offices, as opposed to having to slave away in Cubicle Land, as we liked to call the shared office space.

When we were in Cubicle Land we saw a lot of each other. To be fair, we saw a lot of everyone on the floor. That's what happens when there are no walls taller than five feet. When we got our offices, nearly at the same time-another twist of fate-we decided to celebrate our promotions by going out to dinner together.

"When should we go out?" I asked her.

"How about on Saturday night? The UCLA game is on and we can go out to Maloney's and have a beer, eat and watch the game."

That sounded like a great idea and I readily accepted. Caroline is one of those rare females who like to watch sports. I always considered that the edge that put her over the top in comparison to most of the women I know. Her looks don't hurt her, either. She stands five feet, six inches tall, which puts her about two inches shorter than me. Her shoulder length auburn hair is light and moves easily with the wind, she often sways her head when we're outside and the effect is mesmerizing. She has a medium build, which to me is perfect. I hate the women who are too thin, the I'll Just Have The Salad type of woman.

Still, it's obvious that she works out, at least lightly. When she wears a sundress or short skirt, I can't see any evidence of cellulite on her thighs, and their shape is quite streamlined. Her breasts aren't large, probably in between a B and C cup, but they are perky and stand to attention. I don't think she'll have a problem with sagging when she's older. Her nipples can get as big as pencil erasers. In our office the air conditioner is always on overdrive, and on the days she wears silk blouses, I can see her pointing north all day.

"Is Skip coming?" I asked. Skip is her husband. A real geek, as I remember. He was a comp-science major at UCLA, and hooked up with her early in our freshman year, before Caroline and I met. I never understood what Caroline saw in him, but that all happened before I knew her so I can't intelligently comment on their relationship.

"No," she said, "he's got a conference at Sun Microsystems this weekend. I thought it'd be nice to have dinner, just the two of us, and talk. We haven't had one of our nice, long talks in a while."

"Deal," I said, "Saturday night it is."

I was on pins and needles, anxiously waiting for Saturday to arrive. The rest of the workweek was pure torture, although I did get to see Caroline every day, which made the time pass a little better. On several occasions she mentioned how she couldn't wait for Saturday night, how excited she was. That only further fueled my excitement.

"Excited for the game?" I asked. Our football team had a knack for being perennially mediocre, but the new coach had instilled a winning attitude in the program, and this Saturday's game was a contest to determine who would be in the lead in the PAC-10 conference.

"Not just for the game, silly rabbit. I'm excited to see you. We haven't done anything outside of work in a while."

That was true. When we were undergraduates, we used to hang out all the time. Thinking back on it, I didn't see a whole lot of Skip back then either. He was always busy with schoolwork, internships, and interviews-the kind of thing that landed him a nice six-figure-salary job. I guess I was Caroline's surrogate boyfriend. We never did get intimate, but we did hang out a lot and do things together. If I happened to be dating someone, Caroline never failed to befriend her so that she would feel comfortable when Caroline and I went out together.

Ever since we started working together, however, our time has been spent concentrating on our respective jobs. We saw each other regularly at the office. We spent breaks together talking about life and loves, my loves, anyway since she was married and had nothing to say on that front. I had dated a steady stream of girls for the last five years, but none became too serious. Caroline accused me of having commitment phobia, but I insisted that I had never found the right person.

Once, she asked, "Why haven't you found Mrs. Right yet? What kind of girl are you looking for?"

I gave the question some thought, and when I couldn't find the answer, I jokingly replied, "Someone like you, of course!"

She got quiet and didn't have anything to say in response to that. Sensing a little uneasiness, I lightly punched her in the shoulder to show her I was kidding and said that I didn't really know what I wanted in a woman.

"Well, I hope someday you find her," she said, with her eyes down-not looking at me.

"Me too," I replied, and that was the end of that conversation.

Saturday morning I got the phone call that anyone who is going out on a date dreads. The one where the other person says they can't go. That's got to be one of the worst phone calls imaginable, just short of someone telling you that a loved one died.

"Hey Carl," I recognized her voice instantly and my heart sank, "I have some bad news."

"Don't tell me," I said, trying to hide the deflated feeling I was experiencing, "you can't go tonight."

"Yeah, that's right. I can't go to Maloney's. My mother's sick and I told her that I'd be home in case she needed anything."

"Of course, stay home, your mom...well, she's your mom!"

"You don't mind?" she asked, sounding a little surprised.

"Of course not, we can spend time together some other night."

"Yeah, but I was really hoping to watch the game with you tonight. I really enjoyed it when we used to go to the football games together in college. Remember that?"

"How could I forget?" I said, "Some of my best college memories were drinking beers and getting rowdy in the student section with you."

"Good times," she mused. She sounded like she was reliving the memories just like I was. "Hey! I've got an idea! Why don't you watch the game over here?"

"Are you sure that's a good idea? I mean, your mom's sick and all..."

"So what? She's really independent and strong willed. She won't call me unless she's on her deathbed, and I think she's only got a strong cold. Chances are we won't be interrupted. And if we are, I'll just do whatever errand she needs me to do and be back in no time. She's just down the street and the pharmacy is less than a mile away. You're a big boy, I trust that I can leave you alone at the house for a few minutes, if I have to."

"Okay, let's do it. Should I get some food on the way over there?"

"Nah, how about I just order pizza?"

"Pepperoni, mushroom and olives?"

"Just like old times back at the dorm," she said, and I could imagine her winking at me the way she does at the office when we recall something from the past. "You remember the way over here?"

"Sure do," I said, "See you at five? Kickoff's at seven so that should give us plenty of time to eat and drink before the game."

"Five it is."

The next six hours crawled by. It seemed like six days. Finally I got into the car and headed over to Caroline's. I had that excited feeling in the pit of my stomach, butterflies or something, and I told myself that I was a fool for feeling this way. This was Caroline, after all, the definition of the F word: Friend. Any chance I had at romance had died long before I knew her, back when Skip made his move. The thought began to depress me, but I pushed it away. I was not going to ruin a good night of food and football just because I wasn't going to get any.

When I got to the house, Caroline answered the door. What she had on made my jaw drop and my mouth water. I drank her in from the bottom, up. She wore high heels, an odd selection since we were staying home, but I wasn't about to complain. Her skirt was black and ended about mid-thigh, exposing just enough to be alluring, but not too much to be considered inappropriate. But the cincher was her silk white blouse. It was of high quality material, and it was basically as thin as it could possibly be. Even though they weren't erect, I could see the outline of her nipples through the fabric. Her hair was down around her shoulders, which was a nice contrast to the way she always wore it at work, which was up in a bun.

"Hello stranger," she said in a sultry voice. She was leaning against the door with one hand above her head. I couldn't have pictured a more beautiful sight to begin the evening.

"Hello lovely lady!" I was smiling from ear to ear.

"Care to come inside?" she asked.

"Boy, would I?" I said. I couldn't think of anything else witty to say. She didn't seem to mind my stupid reply.

"Don't just stand there in the cold, then, come on inside where it's warm." There was that wink I envisioned when we were talking on the phone. My heart melted. I knew that I was in for disappointment if I started thinking 'those thoughts' but I couldn't help myself. At that point she could have asked me to jump of a bridge and my only question would have been "which one?"

She took my coat and hung it in the closet. I felt underdressed compared to her; I only had my Levis and a cotton, long sleeve shirt. At least it was collared.

I think she sensed my uneasiness because she then said, "Don't worry, you look fine," and gave me a big smile.

The first thing I noticed was the dining room table. It had two candles lit in the center, with two place settings already prepared. They weren't across the table from each other, but rather were on adjacent sides so as to be closer to one another.

"Isn't that a little bit, um, overkill for pizza?"

"Oh, I sort of decided that I was going to cook for you. After all, I kept you from Maloney's tonight, and I know how much you like the food there, so I thought that I might as well treat you to some of Chez Caroline's fine cuisine." She said that last part in a fake French accent that made us both laugh.

Dinner was fantastic. She had made garlic roasted chicken breasts, with greens and mashed potatoes. We had red wine with our meal. I'm not a wine drinker, so I only had two glasses. I lost track of how many Caroline had, maybe three. She wasn't drunk, but she was definitely a little flushed after dinner-a little more carefree with her words and actions.

"Well," she said, throwing her arm around my shoulder as I put the dishes in the sink, "it's game time. Let's sit and be merry." Her breast was pressed against my arm, and I could feel her nipple stiffen with the contact. I turned slightly towards her and put my arm around her as well. We walked this way to the sofa and sat down together, still holding each other. She turned on the television; it was already on ABC, which was televising the game.

"Is your mom all right?" I asked.

"She'll be fine. I just checked in on her before you came. She took a dose of Nyquil and she'll be out all night. I tucked her into bed already. We won't have any disturbances."

Her face was very close to my neck when she finished speaking. I could feel her warm breath on my skin, making it tingle. I could feel my heart beating faster, pumping blood throughout my body, especially between my legs and into my member. I tried to adjust so she couldn't see my erection.

"No need to hide from me, I won't hurt you," she whispered into my ear. Her hand drifted south and touched me through my jeans. She began rubbing it and I started to protest.

"Caroline, I don't think we should..."

"Yes, we should," she replied, breathing hard. "We should have a long time ago. I just didn't have the courage to let you know how I felt. And there was always Skip."

"Oh yeah...what about Skip?" I began to ask.

"Fuck Skip. That limp little shit." I was shocked to hear the words come out of her mouth. "There was a time I thought that I loved him. But he obviously cares more about his work than me. I mean, I work too, we make a good living, but he's still always on the job and not on me. Then I find out that he's impotent! He didn't even tell me before we got married. I'd never have married him if I had known that!" She said all this in between kissing the nape of my neck. She said it in a low voice that sounded upset.

"So he waited until after you were married to tell you? That's not right," I said in between returning her kisses with my own, which I planted on her cheek and neck.

"Worse, he never told me. I had to go to the doctor after we couldn't conceive and he said everything was okay with me. So it has to be Skip. When I brought up the idea of taking a fertility test to him he just said 'I'm not the problem' and refused! But he had that look that said he thought that he might be impotent but didn't want to find out for sure."

She was stroking me through my pants very vigorously. I was hard enough to cut glass. I reached up and fondled her breasts through her thin blouse. Her nipples were rigid to my touch.

"Why don't you take this off?" I suggested, and she began to unbutton her blouse. The game had started but neither of us noticed. When she pulled of her top, I just admired her beautiful breasts. It was all that I imagined, beautiful, lightly tanned, perky-as if gravity had no power over them. She had wonderful pinkish/brown nipples, which were erect and calling out to me. As I bent over and began sucking and licking her tits, she proceeded to undo the buttons on my jeans. She started to pull it down and it got stuck around my knees. I kicked them off without ever breaking contact with her breasts. She was moaning heavily, expressing her pleasure with each breath.

"Yeah, that's it Carl, keep sucking me baby, keep sucking..."

Like I needed to be encouraged. I slid my right hand down her smooth belly and felt the hook at the top of her skirt. With one smooth motion I unhooked it and she did the rest, wiggling her hips and making the skirt slide down to around her ankles. She was wearing a white, lacey silk thong that was nearly transparent. She had shaven herself. She had obviously given this evening a lot of forethought.

I slid my fingers inside of the fabric and could feel the smoothness of her pubic area. She must have shaven right before I arrived, as there was no hint of stubble. I felt her lips, they were the kind I liked, not too loose and they didn't hang too far, but there was a nice, soft ridge that I could caress and manipulate with my fingers. I traced the outside of her pussy with my index finger, massaging the folds of skin around it gently. She moaned her delight and told me without words that she enjoyed what I was doing. I kept up the motions, not rushing things, I wanted her to enjoy this moment.

"Inside," she finally said, "I want you inside."

While palming her pubic mound, I carefully inserted my middle finger into her slit. When I heard her take a breath through her teeth, I knew that I had done the right thing. She was moist inside, she felt like wet silk-smooth and pliant to the touch. Her passage was trying to ease my finger's progress by providing ample lubrication. I could feel my palm getting wet with her juices.

While probing her with my fingers, I had maneuvered my index finger to join with my middle one when she had 'opened up' enough, I kept applying pressure with the upper part of my palm, pushing and stimulating her clitoris. She began bucking her hips forward in time with my motions, giving new definition to the term "finger fucking." That's exactly what she was doing.

Suddenly she stopped, eyes wide.

"Oh, oh my God! I don't know what you're doing, but stop, right there."

"Am I hurting you?"

"No, but you're touching me, Oh God!, you're touching me right there."

She started to move slowly, while I held my hand and fingers perfectly still. I was touching the frontal part of her inner walls. I guessed that I had found The Spot. A stream of expletives and praise flew from her.

"Oh yeah, that's it. Fuck. Shit. Oh yeah. Fuck..."

After a minute, I could feel her pussy clench on my two fingers, and the walls inside began to pulsate with a life of their own. She was gasping for air when the spasms hit, and then a look of pure pleasure spread across her face. She grabbed the hair at back of my head and clenched hard enough to bring stars to my eyes, but I didn't move. I didn't say a word. When the spasms subsided she relaxed her grip on me.

"Oh my fucking God, what the hell was that?"

"What?" I asked, perplexed.

"What you just did? What was that?"

"I'm not sure," I said, "but I think we just found your G spot."

"Well I'm going to call it my Carl spot, because no ones ever found that but you. Oh God it felt like my nerves were all on fire. I couldn't help myself."

"Glad you liked it," I said, pulling my fingers out of her sopping wet gash and bringing it to my face so I could smell her.

"Oh yeah I liked it," she answered, "but we're not done yet."

She moved her head down to my groin and began to lick the head of my cock. Now it was my turn to feel the fire in my nerves. I repositioned myself on the couch so that I was lying on my back and she was kneeling beside the couch, her hair obscuring my view of her bobbing head. As if she read my mind, she moved her hair aside with her free hand, while the other one stroked my shaft in time with her licking and sucking. She gave me The Look-you know the one where she never loses contact with your dick, never breaks stride, but looks at you like she wouldn't suck any other cock in the world-and I shuddered. She stopped abruptly.

"Are you going to cum?" she asked.

"Uh, no, not yet. It just felt really good for a moment and that look...did I ever tell you how beautiful you are?"

"No, but I'm glad to hear it."

"No, I mean it Caroline. You have to be the most beautiful woman in our firm. The most beautiful I've ever met in person, that's for sure. Skip's a dickhead if he doesn't treat you right. If you were mine, I'd treat you like the beautiful princess you are."

"Yes, Skip's a dick. But fuck him. I can be yours, now and forever. I can't divorce Skip, our parents would disown us and this big trust that I'm going to inherit would be default. But I can be yours and you can be mine, if you want."

"I'd like that very much," I said.

"We can get together every time he gets out of town. That's every weekend, practically. And he knows that you and I are friends. We'll just have to start going out more on weeknights. If that's okay with you."

"Yes. I'd like nothing more."

She placed her lips around my shaft again and began pumping, sucking, and licking me all over again. After a few minutes I put my hand on the back of her head and stopped her motion.

"Are you ready for me?" she asked.

"More ready than I've ever been for anything in my life," I answered sincerely. She was the most beautiful, perfect woman I'd ever known. It hadn't occurred to me before because she was always forbidden fruit. My mind had not allowed itself to think those thoughts. But I was thinking them now. And it was all true.

"Oh Caroline, if we'd only met earlier."

"I was thinking the same thing. Oh well, we have to deal with the cards we were dealt with," she said while climbing on top of me and placing the head of my cock at her entrance.

She lowered herself slowly, letting just the tip enter her. I was on fire. It spread from the groin throughout my body and I let her know by pushing my hips up and trying to thrust into her. She stopped my by letting herself move up with my motion.