My Long Affair Pt. 01byFitchman©
The following are the "Prelude," and chapters one and two of "My Long Affair":
At the age of 23, Kate found herself managing a very upscale and, therefore, unpopular clothing store at a pretty trashy suburban mall. She was waiting for the results of her medical school admissions tests and, although sales work would have ordinarily been an adequate diversion for a very attractive young woman such as herself, the items sold in this store were so high-end that she spent most of her time alone in the store simply waiting for someone to come in. When someone did come in, it was usually a more mature (that is, richer) woman who could afford these fancy dresses and suits.
Of course, Kate tried on all the most expensive dresses. Designed for far more matronly figures than hers, the dresses sagged loosely over her A-cup breasts, her tight little round butt and flat tummy like sequined sacks. She tried them on at night, wearing nothing underneath; her nipples would get hard and poke through the satin fabric so lewdly it made her laugh. She spent her days gazing at the busy Victoria's Secret across the hall and saw the handsome men and sexy women go in and out all day. She imagined she worked there instead and could buy all the sexiest bras and panties in the store with her employee discount.
When David came into the store, something attracted her eye. He was older, yes, but not old. Handsome, well built, at ease, sexy, confident, polite - she wasn't really sure what it was - but when he asked her a question she flushed and stared into his eyes. Suddenly, she was flirting with him, and she could tell he was lingering to talk with her more, placing his hand on her arm briefly. She was getting hot, maybe even wet, at this casual connection that seemed to envelop them both for an instant. She would have asked him out, she would have kissed him right then, but for the wedding band on his left hand.
Instead, she looked him boldly up and down, focusing on his crotch much longer and more provocatively than she would have with an unmarried man. He was flushing too, his face red and a bulge growing in his pants. He liked her stare, and the fact that she saw his erection and went on flirting with her. It was so promising, like an offer to do more. He wanted her, wanted to put his arms around her naked body, kiss her everywhere. She saw his desire and it fueled hers. She wanted him, wanted to rub his hard cock on her pussy. It seemed so safe to flirt so openly since, in the end, they both believed anything more was off-limits.
Kate readily imagined him going home, stripping the clothes off his wife and screwing her, all the while thinking of her and the look of desire in her eyes and how hot and hard she had made him. She herself wanted to rush into the changing room, pull up her skirt, and rub her gushing hot pussy. He was still talking to her, unashamed of the massive and obvious hard-on in his pants, excited that she was staring at it, staring himself at her erect nipples poking through her chemise and shirt. She found she was waving her hips side to side, wiggling back and forth, savoring the friction of her tight thong panties against her crotch. She wondered how wet her pussy was getting. She desperately wanted him to see her cum, and she wanted to see him cum.
Much to her annoyance, another customer asked her a question and she had to turn briefly away. When she turned back, the man was gone. After a few minutes of heavy breathing, she calmed down and refocused her attentions on her work.
Weeks went by during which I often thought about the mystery married man (as I came to think of him) who had come into my store and gotten me so hot. Sometimes, late at night, I pictured myself kissing him, undressing for him, licking him, rubbing my wet pussy up and down against his hard cock. These fantasies aroused me so greatly that I pictured much, much more. I saw him pressing his hard and lubricated cock against the entrance to my ass, something I had never allowed before. I imagined him between my thighs, licking me to orgasm in front of a crowd of on-lookers, I imagined myself bound tightly and naked while he kissed me, licked me, penetrated me, ravished me both softly and roughly.
In this high state of arousal, I found myself conducting "research" - looking at websites featuring unusual sexual activities (unusual for me, anyway) and fantasizing about doing some of those things, things like group sex, multiple partners, double penetration, public sex, lesbian sex, bondage, even sado-masochism. On a whim, I bought some clothespins at the grocery store one day and that night put a couple on my nipples. It was nasty, and the nastiness made me hotter. But, like my infatuation with my mystery married man, my fantasies were not really meant to come true. I was in the safety of my home, after all, just thinking, looking, reading, and touching myself. If my mystery married man hadn't made me so hot, I never would have even fantasized about these lewd activities. But now, a part of me longed for them, for the deep satisfaction I knew that my mystery married man would be able to give me or for some sexual substitute. I grew more aroused and more frustrated with every passing day.
I knew one woman who was a bit of a slut; well, not really a whore but the kind of woman who slept around quite a bit and had the frankness of someone who had "done" a few things and was not sorry about it. One day I asked her for coffee. I told her right out that I was considering being a little more adventurous sexually and wanted her advice.
"Oh, yeah? Like how adventurous, what kind of stuff?" She asked excitedly.
I blushed bright red. I hadn't exactly considered telling her anything about myself, but she wasn't the type to go talking nor likely to be shocked by any of my fantasies. "Well, for example, I have never before considered having a threesome, you know, with another woman involved. But now I'm thinking I might be open to giving it a try sometime."
"I've only done that once," she said. "It seems like such a big thing, you know, having this woman there in the room with you. It's no big deal being watched, but then do you ignore her or kiss her or eat her or what? Because you never imaged doing any such thing before, you know? But then, you're nude and horny and you're sucking on your guy's you know what while she is there just watching intently and the next thing you know you feel this tongue slipping around down there and it just feels so great that you go with it even though it's a girl that's doing it to you. Then your guy is on top of you and he feels so great deep inside you and she's biting your nipples and that feels really great. Then she kisses you and you taste yourself on her lips and it's not so gross and you start thinking maybe you should return the favor by eating her. You get down there, and you're really hot, and your guy is, maybe, behind you, you know? And she doesn't smell bad at all. She just smells sexy, really sexy. You realize that diving in will kinda be like diving into a refreshing pool of cool water, and you find you want to. And it's great. And afterwards you think, gee, that was fun, everyone had fun, your guy is totally grateful and why was I so worked up about this?"
"Have you ever been with just a woman?" I asked.
"After that first time, yes, I've been with just a woman a couple times," She said. "But you see, after that first time, I realized it's just about feeling good and having a good time. You can't worry about whether it means you're gay or whatever. Nobody cares about that. Nobody is judging you or gives a damn that you are doing this thing because it's nobody's business. I don't consider myself a lesbian, I love being with men and maybe someday just one man, but now I want to enjoy myself and have fun and feel good and nobody is getting hurt. I always practice safe sex, though, and I will only sleep with someone I like and who treats me as an equal."
That statement pretty much summed up her whole attitude about sex, and while I didn't necessarily agree with it all the way to end of the earth, I had to admit it was a pretty refreshing attitude and it made me feel much better about my fantasies. After that conversation, my fantasies about my mystery married man got more involved and much more specific and real in my mind. I found I was rubbing myself every night and wondering if I would ever see him again, how I could find him. Married or not, I wanted him badly. I wanted to do things to him, and with him, which I had never done before.
He came back into the store one Friday evening as I was closing up. I may have gasped when I saw him, I may have cum when I saw him. He wasn't looking at me, just browsing the displays, and, unable to stop myself, I approached him and blurted out that it was nice to see him again. When he looked at me, this time I saw something different - deep hunger and anxiety and I knew at once why. He had come to devour the thing he was starving for, and that was me. As we talked and joked uncomfortably with each other, I could see his reassurance return and his cock harden again in his pants. I melted; oh, how I wanted to touch him. All at once, I wanted him to rip off my clothes and screw me right there on the floor of the store. For a second then, I almost chickened out.
I blushed deeply, and went on telling him about my plans to attend medical school the next year, about the apartment I lived in alone, that I wasn't seeing anyone, even about a concert I had recently attended where I had lost my panties. Anything to keep him engaged, his eyes on me, to make my message plain. Now he spoke confidently, even though he had a obvious hard on in his pants, about how he really wanted to go to a concert and that he would especially like to go to any concert where I would lose my panties, or anyplace else where I lost my panties for that matter. I laughed and sat on a stool. I parted my legs slightly and saw him checking to see if he was wearing any panties now. If he saw them, I'm sure he could see they were wet. I placed a hand on my thigh and stroked it up and down. What looked like a small wet spot appeared on his pants where the tip of his throbbing cock was located. I took the plunge. I ran one hand up to my pussy and started tracing my pussy lightly through my panties. His eyes grew wide, he was staring, and stopped mid-sentence. I apologized, saying I could not believe I had actually done something so lewd right in front of him.
"Please," he said, "Don't apologize. I have been thinking about you for weeks now. I cannot stop wanting to kiss you, and more than kiss. It makes me so miserable that I can't have you, but I had to come talk to you again." I hugged him, and even now I could feel his hard cock pressing against me and could feel my pussy flush.
I whispered in his ear: "I've never wanted to fuck anyone as badly as I want you, I want you to do everything to me, over and over, and I will do anything you say if we can only be together. I don't care that you are married. Whenever, any time, you want me, you can have me, under whatever circumstances you say. Please, don't go home and just rub your cock while thinking of me."
He said: "I've cum a hundred times already thinking of us together."
And I answered: "So have I."
Now everything was out on the table. He asked me for my cellphone number, which I gave him. He said he would have to call me. Then he kissed me and I melted into him, forcefully pressing my breasts and pussy against him, against his hard cock, a passionate kiss although our mouths never opened.
"I will call you," he said. And then he turned and walked out of the store.
* * * *
I got home and into my apartment and ripped off my clothes, even though my windows shades were all wide open. One hand flew to my breasts and began savagely twisting and pulling my nipples, while my other hand went straight to my drenched pussy. I didn't care who saw me. I was uncontrollably aroused. I fell to my knees and rubbed furiously at my clitoris; my other hand started fingering my ass. My cell phone rang. I sprang up and flipped open my phone with my wet hand.
"Hi," said his voice.
"I'm so close to cumming, please listen to me cum," I answered.
"No," he said, "please don't cum yet. I want to see you. I'll see you once a week - only once a week - for as long as you want. I won't see you any other time. I won't leave my wife or ever marry you. I've had a vasectomy so I can never make you pregnant. If you are unhappy with this arrangement, you can move on any time you want. You can date anyone you want anytime. But you must promise to keep our relationship a secret forever."
"Yes, yes," I promised.
"One more thing is very important," he started, "I have good sex with my wife, although I have to admit there's not a lot of it. But I've imagined and want so much more with you than just a roll between the sheets. If you just have plain sex with me, I know we'll both get bored with each other. If we're going to do this, I want to play, experiment, try some new things, some different things. Do you know what I mean?"
"Oh god, yes, please, you have no idea what sexual fantasies I've been having since I met you," I blurted out.
"Really? Like what? Tell me," he asked.
"Like you tie me to a tree in the woods and fuck me in the ass, or maybe even make me lick another woman while you fuck me from behind," I whispered into the phone.
"Oh, well, how about we flip a coin?" he laughed, "you're so beautiful and so sensual, just talking to you makes my cock so hard and hot; I'm holding it in my hand now and it's dripping pre-cum."
"I'm rubbing my pussy right now, imagining you with me, my pussy is drenched. I'm in front of an open window and couldn't even wait long enough to close the curtains. Anyone could see me, and I'm imagining that you are there watching me right now. Please, I'll try anything you want," I promised.
"I have a lot of fantasies," he warned, "and I'm going to try something new with you every week. Now, stand at the window for ten full minutes and rub yourself before cumming; imagine I am watching you now, because in my mind I am seeing you, naked and hot, rubbing your hot pussy. Let anyone who sees you see how hot you are and how much you want to fuck me."
"Ohhhh, god," I groaned, standing up at the window.
"Are you free Wednesday?"
"If you will fuck me then, yes."
"Then I will meet you on Wednesday at 10:00 in the morning, in the lobby of the Radisson resort down the interstate off exit 32; do you know the one?"
"Yes, I've heard of it, I can meet you there," I answered, and David hung up.
I stayed at the window, imagining him watching me, pulling on my nipples, and plunging my fingers in and out of my sopping wet pussy. As cars drove by, I could swear one or two slowed to watch me. In the windows of the apartment building across the street, one or two people may have been watching me. I thought about how hot this was making me and how I liked being naughty. I thought about things David and I might do together, the things I might suggest we do if I could summon the nerve to say them aloud. Something told me this man would not be shocked, but rather delighted, to hear my lewd and kinky fantasies. Now I wanted it all, and I was going to do it all. Just as I reached my tenth minute at the window, I came, hard, loudly, and my juices flowed down over my hand. Exhausted, I leaned forward and felt the cold glass against my nipples as I licked my drenched fingers.