A Storm of Submission

Sheryl chuckled, and I blushed, as we both watched him walk back into the office.

Sheryl looked in my direction. "Mark is quite the man, isn't he?"

It was jarring to hear him referred to so casually. Jim had never called him by his first name. I supposed those were the perks of being a client, and not a subordinate.

Additionally, I wasn't quite sure how to respond to the question, so I simply nodded.

She put her hand on my knee, and lowered her voice, "It's okay dear. You're a red blooded woman just like me. I've seen the way you look at him."

My eyes widened, a pang of worry over the knowledge that someone else had caught me enjoying his presence. I blushed, and found myself admitting, "He's certainly impressive, but he's my husbands boss. So i need to be careful." I chuckled, hoping to ease the tension.

Sheryl playfully replied, whispering, "That makes it even more exciting, then."

I nearly gasped at her boldness, replying, "You're bad."

She shrugged, "Our husbands are our husbands, but every woman secretly lusts over the Alpha male." She took a heavy sip of her wine, adding, "It's one of the oddities of female sexuality, I suppose."

I was taken aback by her forwardness, as she continued, "Mark is a very dominant man, physically and mentally. It's hard not to be excited by him."

I was somehow feeling defensive of her compliments. Yet another person, this time a woman that I seemed to respect, a married woman, enthralled by Mr. Thomas. "Maybe that behavior is compensating for something." I blurted, in frustration.

An amused look appeared on Sheryl's face. "Allie dear. Phillip and I once went on a double date with Mark and a girl he was having some fun with. We came back here after dinner and drinks. Let's just say the noises coming from that room." She pointed towards the master suite.

"That girl sounded like she was having a religious experience."

I blushed, and absurdly, I felt a heat brewing between my legs once again.

"Is Jim very hung?" Sheryl suddenly asked, taking me completely off guard. She chased the absurd question with a sip of her wine, smiling.

"Sheryl!" I nearly screamed, reactively slapping her other hand on my knee.

Before I could verbally respond, a flickering of light outside the nearby window distracted me, and suddenly a panic swept over my body. I stood, and walked over to the large pane of glass, covering my mouth in horror as I took note of the scene outside. The excitement and arousal from moments ago washed away, and those feelings were replaced with anger. I turned, and saw Jim standing in the office doorway, wide eyed and apologetic.

Mr. Thomas strode in behind him, speaking loudly to the room, "Valet just called, they are shut down, and the streets are shut down as well. I believe we've lost track of the time."

Jim began laying sheets onto the pulled out couch bed, moments ago having pushed Mr. Thomas's credenza out of the way. We had to make room in the office, in an effort to turn it into our temporary bedroom. I guess I should have been thankful that we at least had a bed, makeshift as it was.

"At least we closed that dea-" Jim tried to offer, nervously. He had the good sense to be nervous, at least. My husband was a smart man, certainly smart enough to know I was in no mood.

"Just stop, Jim." Internally I was secretly happy that my husband had managed to secure the contract, but that took a distant back-seat to the major issue I had with having to utilize Mr. Thomas's apartment as a hotel. My worst fear from earlier in the day, fully realized. Jim was great at his job, to be sure, but he wasn't always great at taking my concerns seriously.

I tossed the excess gym clothes that Sheryl loaned me onto the bed cushion, and walked into the adjoining bathroom to wash. Thank god the Parker's had brand new toothbrushes lying around, the thought of not brushing my teeth made me cringe.

"You better hope this storm is a light one, Jim. Because so help me god, if we are here through the weekend-" I slammed the bathroom door, probably harder than I should have considering it wasn't my home.

The shower was needed, divine, actually. It was a high pressure nozzle and the water's heat did wonders to allow me to relax, at least a bit. I snapped on a pair of Sheryl's yoga shorts, and threw a tank top on over my large breasts. Despite their size, my boobs had little in the way of sag. To be honest, it was something I was proud of now in my mid thirties.

"No panties." I muttered into the mirror. "Just great. As if this situation wasn't risque enough already." I felt a sudden rush of heat between my legs, and a mild stiffening of my nipples, initially unsure of what caused it. Getting off birth control, which I had used seemingly my entire adult life, really seemed to cause an uptick in my sexual cravings. My eyes widened as I remembered that tomorrow would be peak ovulation for me, and I desperately hoped the weather would let up early to allow Jim and I to venture home.

My foul mood didn't improve as I scrolled through 'Storm of the Year' headlines on my phone. Worse, the pull-out bed was wiry, and less than comfortable. I shifted around under the sheets as Jim obsessed over his own news feed lying next to me.

"This is absolutely wonderful Jim. Thank you so much for this lovely weekend getaway." I couldn't help but voice my displeasure towards my husband, the sarcasm obvious.

He sighed, the glow of his phone screen lighting up his face. He reached towards my knee, sincerity in his voice. "I'm sorry honey. I don't want to be here either. Please, try to cut me some slack."

I shook my head in resignation, knowing that acting like a bitch would do nothing to improve our situation. Further, I was guilty in losing track of the time as well.

I sighed, "I'm glad you closed the deal."

I could hear the relief in his voice, "Thank you my love." He leaned in, kissing my cheek, adding, "Hey, by the way. What were you and your good friend Mrs. Parker talking about tonight?"

I smirked as I recalled Sheryl's enjoyable company, replying, "Mr. Thomas, mostly. She calls him Mark." I paused, feeling a warmth between my legs as I remembered what she told me about the man. "I think she has a bigger crush on him than you do." I joked.

"Impossible." My husband replied, with his goofy smile.

I felt suddenly inflamed, not by Jim's smile, but by something else. I spontaneously rolled atop him, tossing his phone out of his hand. I positioned my dampening crotch atop his, and leaned down to kiss him.

The arousal was sweeping over me, almost unfamiliar in its strength. My heavy breasts hung within the cotton of my shirt, my nipples stiffening as I leaned forward to bring my chest closer to my husbands face.

"Suck on them baby." I spoke, voice low and excited.

I peeled my shirt up and over my head, tossing it next to us. My large, natural breasts bounced naked into view. I felt the chilly air of Mr. Thomas's apartment come in contact with my skin, goosebumping my flesh, and dampening my pussy.

My husband had no choice but to instinctively grab them, taking my heavy tits into his mouth.

I ground my inflamed mound down into Jim's crotch, finding the stiffening member beneath his boxers. I used his modest length to stimulate my dampening intimacy, rubbing back and forth in excitement.

His eyes shot open in realization, and he reached up his hands to gently push me back, "Allie stop. Wait."

I stopped my motion, looking down at him in concern, "What's wrong?"

He was breathing heavily, and red faced, replying, "We- can't do this here."

"What do you mean?" I immediately felt the anger returning, fearing what he might suggest.

"It's not, appropriate. What if, Mr. Thomas hears?"

I sat there for a miserable moment, atop my husband, topless, and nearly dumbfounded by his concern.

"You're- you're joking. Right?"

He began, "This is basically a work environme-"

I moved as fast as I ever had hopping off him, reaching for the shirt and stuffing my arms back into it.

"You're a real asshole, you know that right?" I wanted to scream, but I kept my tone under control, somehow.

"Allie-" He tried.

"I'm ovulating, you total, inconsiderate-" I, again somehow, stopped myself. An ashamed look swept across his face as he realized his mistake.

I continued, "It would be nice, Jim. Just once, if you would put your wife's priorities ahead of your work." I picked up a pillow, throwing it hard in his direction. He caught it, facial expression hinting at legitimate embarrassment. "Especially in the fucking bedroom." I finished.

I awoke rather groggily, having tossed and turned all night. The springs and cabling from the pull out support had offered almost nothing in the way of rest.

I slowly sat up and reached for my phone, noting that it was already eight in the morning. The weather report started my day on the wrong foot, deflating me almost immediately. The snow hadn't let up as anticipated, and was still blanketing the entire county. I shook my head, burying my face in my hands and subsequently wiping my eyes awake. The sound of Jim's snores reached my ears, and immediately encouraged me to get out of bed. I was still seething over my husbands behavior from the previous evening.

The bed wasn't the only inhibitor to a good nights rest. Throughout the night there was a needful ache emanating from between my legs, and the man who should have quieted it had decided that wasn't an option for him. The memory of Jim's shortsighted refusal angered me greatly. I decided it best to try and forget it, heading into the bathroom to freshen up.

I used what little make-up I had in my clutch to tidy my face, and brushed my teeth, eventually walking back into our makeshift bedroom. I looked for the trash bag that had my dress, and more importantly, my bra, crumbled within it. It was nowhere to be found, only Jim's slacks and button-down were laid haphazardly over the side of the couch. I looked high and low, behind every nook and cranny, back in the bathroom. Where had it gone?

I hated that I had to speak with him, but I shook my husband awake nonetheless. "Jim, where is the bag that was by the door?"

He blinked his eyes open, confused. A moment passed, and he seemed to recall, "The trash bag? I dropped it down the chute while you were in the shower."

I stood there, in awe of his absent mindedness. He was likely on his phone last night, discussing work, and just went through the motions of disposing of some trash. He didn't have the slightest inkling that he had chucked my clothes into the dumpster.

I was done fighting with him, done being mad. I didn't even tell him my clothes were in that bag. I simply nodded, and walked towards the door.

The delicious aroma of coffee filled my nostrils upon walking out into the loft space. I knew that my breasts were readily legible beneath the thin cotton fabric of Sheryl's shirt, but the last several hours had pushed me well beyond the point of caring. Mr. Thomas had already been in the habit of touching me, groping me with my husbands seeming permission. Getting a look at the form of my breasts, beneath a shirt, was hardly pushing the envelope.

I saw him standing in the kitchen, his lower body concealed by the bar-height island counter. I noted that he was wearing his own snugly fitted tee, his large arms and broad shoulders moving as he stirred what looked to be an expensive champagne into some orange juice.

I also noted an incredible spread of bagels, toast, fruit, breakfast meats, and roasted coffee, laid out across the marble counter top.

He turned, noticing me, smiling. "Good morning Allie."

I was feeling suddenly in better spirits, and smiled back, "Good morning." I paused, taking in the quantity of food on the table, adding, "Wow. This looks amazing Mr. Thomas."

"It's Saturday Allie, please." He seemed to scold me. He pointed towards the coffee, adding, "Grab some."

"What do you mean, it's Saturday?" I asked, picking the warm mug up off the table.

He replied, "You're my guest, and it's the weekend. Call me Mark."

I was taken aback by the gesture, both the food and the hospitality. I couldn't help but notice a certain sexiness about him as well. Mark was always rugged, commanding, but apparently he was also a man capable of preparing a delicate meal, and it was an interesting realization. I looked out the window towards the winter wonderland below, snow rapidly falling. I was happy to take a sip of a hot, caffeinated beverage, which helped to cleanse my palette. The apartment was well heated, but standing this close to a glass pane in an active snow storm still caused me a little chill. My nipples stiffened against the cotton of my shirt, and I blushed, remembering my state of undress.

"Did you sleep well?" He asked.

"Yes, thanks." I lied, not wanting to complain.

He seemed to take in my body with is eyes, an impressed look on his face. He added, "You look even more beautiful just rolled out of bed." Mark smiled as he offered me the strong compliment.

It felt satisfying to have a handsome man offer me a compliment on the heels of my husbands fumbling rejection.

I smiled wide, and playfully responded, "But you can tell I just rolled out of bed." I paused, adding with sincerity, "Thank you Mr. T- Mark" The first name would take some getting used too.

He chuckled at my stumbling over his name, grabbing a flute, and moving beyond the edge of the counter. My eyes widened when I realized his own state of undress. Mark was healthily filling out a pair of black boxer-briefs. The bulge at his crotch was very substantial, and his manhood bounced around beneath the fabric of his underwear, the material stretching taut against his thick legs as well. He saw me appreciating the size of his crotch, and proudly smiled as he placed the champagne glass down next to me. I couldn't help but blush deeper, embarrassment running deep as my body temperature spiked over the risque proximity we shared.

"What is this anyway?" I blurtingly asked, searching for any distraction. I placed my coffee down and took the champagne flute in hand.

"Mimosa. My special recipe." He smiled, still standing dangerously close to me.

I blushed, and teased him, "Isn't a mimosa just orange juice and champagne?"

He chuckled, admitting, "Yes. But it's usually not that kind of champagne." His words implied a caliber to the bottle, which I had already assessed as high quality. The taste of the drink confirmed it.

"Delicious." I complimented.

"I'm glad you think so."

We stood there for a moment, his delicious scent just noticeable enough to entice me. I took another sip of the mimosa, a nervous sexual tension running through my body. Stupidly, almost instinctive, I noticed myself glancing down at his package again. It was almost as if I suddenly lost control of my actions, eyes magnetized by intrigue. He saw me once again appreciating his concealed manhood, and ever so slightly widened his stance to give me a better view. My eyes widened at the outline of his cock, long and thick, running down his thigh. Suddenly, all the repressed arousal from last night bubbled up from within me. My face grew flush with excitement. My nipples hardened, pushing the fabric of my shirt out for Mark's eyes to see. The heat returned between my legs, intense and needful.

I turned to the window, hoping to conceal my body's betrayal, taking another heavy sip of the cocktail in my hand.

My eyes widened and my heart quickened as Mark slowly turned with me, placing a hand on my hip and assuming a position behind me.

For some terrifying, inexplicable reason, my body immediately welcomed his touch. My pussy began to dampen, and I closed my eyes as I felt his hand caress my side. Suddenly I felt his manhood, warm and heavy, rub into the top of my butt. My eyes darted wide as a redness swept across my face. I began breathing heavily, realizing that only two layers of fabric separated our naked bodies. It was a deeply troubling, but equally exciting moment.

"I've been meaning to apologize." His deep voice gently spoke from behind me, his hand still rubbing my side, his heavy bulge still resting on the curvature of my ass.

I pretended to be in awe of the weather, mystified by the heavy snow falling right outside the window. In reality, I was focused only on my composure, and on desperately trying to stifle a brewing excitement in my loins.

I cleared my throat, before managing, "Apologize for what?"

Goosebumps exploded across my body as his other hand slowly reached up to wrap around my waist.

"My behavior at the Christmas party." His deep voice began raising the hair on the back of my neck as his breath met my skin. He added, "I shouldn't have touched you like that. Not without your permission."

His large, strong, hands moved across my tummy, slightly lifting the base of my shirt in the process. I could feel his incredible size hardening against my ass, my eyes widened with an overwhelming sense of arousal, my heart hammering in my chest over the deeply inappropriate moment I was sharing with my husband's boss. The intended irony of his apology while in the middle of an even more dangerous act. It all served to turn me on in a horrible way.

"-It's okay." I heard myself mutter, delirious. Another whine incomprehensibly escaping my lips, admitting a horrible truth, "-I, I like it - when you touch me."

The fabric of my yoga shorts continued to dampen, and my body was electric with terrifying lust. It was a feeling of sexual excitement unlike anything I could remember experiencing. Mark's hands continued to roam across my trim belly, slowly ascending up my body. The rational voice that wanted me to scream for him to stop was getting fainter and fainter, drowned out by my sexual urgency. Mark's masculine touch was intoxicating, and exactly what my body had been craving.

I gasped when I felt his strong hands finally take hold of my bare breasts. His palms squeezed into my tits as his fingers flicked across my diamond hard nipples, creating an indescribable sense of sexual need from deep within me.

"This is much better than coffee." Mark whispered into my ear, deftly massaging my breasts up and down from within my shirt. Another aroused whine escaped my lips. I cleared my throat, eyes closed, savoring his incredible and dangerous touch. The man had set my body on fire in an instant.

I jumped in a panic, nearly with a scream, at the intrusive sound of a buzzing alarm.

I blinked my eyes back to reality, and shuffled my shirt into an appropriate position as Mark let go of my body. He moved a few paces into the kitchen, and grabbed hold of the culprit, his phone.

A flash of anger appeared on his face as he read the reminder on his screen, scowling, "Only your husband would set up a conference call on a Saturday morning, in the middle of a blizzard."

I was in a daze, unable to reconcile the intense excitement from a minute past with the sobering reality of this intrusive moment. The rational side of my mind made a momentary comeback, and the dutiful wife in me replied, "He's always working hard, my husband." I took a deep breath to center myself.

It wasn't a completely hollow compliment, as there was truth in the words. However the fact that I had offered it on the heels of falling so quickly victim to the seduction of his boss, made it feel as such.

Mark smiled knowingly, and walked back in my direction, gently rubbing my ass as he passed by. I blushed, remembering the erotic intensity from only a moment ago.

He turned, speaking, "Well, I need to wake him up and put him to work. There's a lot to do today." He stopped for a second, adding, "I expect you to enjoy those mimosas Allie. I made them for you. The television remote is over there." I watched him, muscular back, broad shoulders, and tight rear end, as he strode into the office. I couldn't help but giggle as I heard his voice booming in the other room, no doubt encouraging Jim to wake up and get to work.