That Most Decadent Summer

He was behind me, so when he leaned over the back of the sofa and kissed me, our heads were the wrong way round if that makes sense. That was a little awkward due to the position of our two bodies. But what wasn't awkward was that my breasts were so easily available to him and he immediately cupped them squeezing them and pinching my nipples through the cotton of the blouse and thin bra. I had thought of removing that, but I knew he was a bit of an underwear fetishist so I kept it on.

"Cleaners been?"

"They come in the mornings."

"Any staff here?"

"It's Friday, pub night."

"So we're alone," he said easing another button undone on my blouse.

"Yes, totally."

"So is there any reason then, madam, why I shouldn't fuck you, here and now?"

Reaching up and finding the bulge in his, linen I noticed, trousers I replied. "None at all," as I ran my fingers up and down his strong erection.

"Get up then," he ordered in that nicely domineering tone he took when we about to have sex.

I did as he said and stood up. He put his hands on my shoulders and manoeuvred me backwards, away from the three couches where I had assumed we would have sex. He pushed me back and back until I felt the edge of the boardroom table pressing into my legs just beneath my bum. I rested myself on that.

"Open your legs a bit," he said as he unbuttoned his shirt. I did as he asked. He removed his shirt and undid his trousers and removed them, his boxers and his socks.

I have never known a man, but then I haven't 'known' that many, as comfortable with his nudity as Kevin. He seemed to flaunt it at me and boy was that a turn on, especially when I was still fully dressed.

He was magnificently erect. His sturdy cock reared straight up his stomach from the thick mass of dark pubic hair covering his mound and stomach. As always with him, seeing his body and especially his cock aroused me even more. He moved close to me and I took his prick in both my hands and gently rubbed. A little sigh slid from my lips for it felt so good.

With me supporting myself by resting against the edge of the table, we kissed for a while. He undid the remaining buttons on my blouse and sucked and licked my nipples through the thin, lacy, diaphanous bra.

"Mmmmm, lovely," he grunted.

"What the bra or what's in them?"

Smiling he replied. "Both," as he yanked both of my boobs out from the bra. He sucked my bare, hardened nipples as I continued stroking his cock.

"Has the legal eagle fucked you in here like this, like I'm going to?"

"No, of course not."

"Does he still shag you."

"Not since Villa d'este," I replied arching my back and pushing my breasts more firmly against his pleasure giving mouth.

"So what do you do about sex when I'm not around?"

"Oh this and that," I said trying to deflect the conversation away from that topic.

"A toyboy, I assume."

"Leave off, I couldn't handle that and you."

"Maybe a toygirl then."

I laughed, rather falsely probably as his probing questions got nearer to the truth. I kissed him and rubbed his cock more firmly to stop the questions. Suddenly he pushed my jacket backwards and half way down my arms entrapping me, it was like I imagined a straight jacket. I felt restrained, but oddly that felt nice. He pulled the blouse out from the waist of the skirt and sucked my nipples and my breasts, causing red marks to appear immediately on the upper part of each breast.

"Leaving your mark are you?" I said croakily as I cupped his balls and squeezed them firmly but not with too much pressure. I rolled them in the palm of my hand. That felt good and he seemed to like.

He took hold of the hem of my tight skirt and with a tad of help by me raising my bum from the table, he edged it upwards. Past mid thigh, over my upper thighs and onto the black, lacy stocking tops of the hold-ups.

"Fucking hell," he groaned running his fingers over the luxurious material.

"You like?" I asked continuing to squeeze his balls with one hand whilst rubbing his dick with the other.

"Of course I do, they look fabulous," he replied easing the skirt up even further. It went past the stockingtops onto that patch of skin above them and upwards and upwards. Slowly, but inexorably the hem, with both of us watching it, moved to where my wet, slightly open, due to my parted legs, pussy lips should have been covered by my panties. They weren't though; covered by my panties that is.

"Oh my fucking Lord," he groaned, kissing me. As he broke the kiss, he went on. "You dirty, filthy wonderful bitch," as he saw my bare pussy for I had not put any panties on after my shower.

"A little present," I smiled putting my arms round his neck, kissing him and squashing my tits against his chest.

He took hold of his cock and said. "You ever see Nine and Half Weeks or The Postman Knocks Twice?"

"Yes both."

"So have you and Perry Mason acted out the main scenes?"

"What?"

"Has he or anyone fucked you on a table Clare?"

"No," I croaked.

"Well that's all gonna change right now."

It excited me to realise that he was going to do that, but I should have guessed. I had noticed that he has a penchant to fuck me in unexpected places and positions and had often wondered why, but had never asked. Like the first time bending me forward over the work surface and taking me from behind. Like on the terrace, him sitting down with me straddling him. Like when we went to bed he would do something different to laying between my legs: maybe laying me back on the edge with him kneeling on the floor my legs over his shoulders or, me bent forward over the bed, a la the kitchen scene. In hotels he would fuck me standing up, perhaps facing a mirror or window. In his car we never lay on the back seat, but found other positions. It almost seemed an obsession with him, but I didn't mind or care for I was getting more and better sex from Kevin than Charles had ever provided.

So, when he held his cock and slid it slightly between my lips as I perched on the edge of the table, I wasn't that surprised.

He slowly slid himself right up me, but didn't really start fucking me, that is if a cock inside a woman can be categorised as anything other than a fuck. With Kevin that time I think it was something other than a fuck. I had no idea what it was or what it could be called, but it was lovely and hugely exciting

He was standing naked between my legs. I was still wearing everything except my panties. My jacket was wrapped round my arms, my blouse was completely undone and my boobs had been pulled out from my bra. My skirt was round my waist and my stocking clad legs were slightly parted enabling him to have his cock in me. He didn't thrust or surge, but simply held himself rigid deep inside me. He played with my breasts, I stroked his cock and balls. We kissed, he licked my nipples and breasts and I gripped his gorgeous bum; even from all those years ago I recalled what a great ass he had and boy he still had that.

"Ok?" He asked.

"Mmmm, lovely," I sighed back loving the feel of his teeth chewing gently on my nipple.

It was as though suddenly we were watching a film. As if everything went into slow motion. He was bent forward sucking my tits so I could see over his shoulder. And what I saw over it surprised and shocked me. I felt guilty and ashamed. I was concerned and worried, but oddly I was also excited and enthralled when I watched the door slowly open and I saw Amanda framed in the doorway. Kevin's back was towards the door, I was facing it. Our eyes met as Kevin, who obviously hadn't realised that the door had opened, slurped at my breasts, gripped my bum and muttered.

"I'm going to fuck you right in the middle of your board room table so every time you have a meeting you will remember being fucked on it."

I was mortified as I watched Amanda watching us as it dawned on her who was fucking me. In a way I was mortified, but oddly I was also shaking with excitement. She still stood there watching us. I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to break this hugely erotic and amazingly exciting situation. I didn't want to address the issue with her in discussion and I didn't want Kevin to stop what he was doing. It was an improbable and impossible situation. There was no real solution, no way out, no resolution. In such situations I tend to turn to irony as the answer. And that is precisely what I did.

All I could think of saying was to repeat that amazingly erotic phrase she had said to me in that hotel bedroom all those years ago.

"Why not take your clothes off and join in with us Amanda?"