Be Careful For What You WishbyLisaStone©
As it happens with many young couples, when my husband and I are deep into sex he often brings up the subject of watching me with another man. He first suggested it to me about a year into our marriage. By that time, we felt we were firmly entrenched in our marriage and were quite sure of each other.
While my vision of it invoked the pleasures brought on by two mouths and four hands bringing me constant, non ending ecstasy, I think his idea was to sit back and watch as another man took me, then joining in for "sloppy seconds." In either case, we both knew it would never happen and it would remain nothing but a fantasy that made us blow our minds with orgasms. I have always known that from day one and felt save with those assurances.
Until three years ago.
Ron and I had married just a couple of years out of high school, just enough for me to be sufficiently trained to get a job in an attorney's office and for him to get into the construction scene. All of my sex had been limited to him but I was not so naïve as to believe that I was his only one. Maybe his visions of those other women caused him to have thoughts of sharing me.
A couple of years after we were married our office took on a case that required outside assistance. Into my life stepped Eric. About ten years older than me, he was a young hotshot already making himself a name with international contracts. And he was an absolute hunk. His grandmother was from Brazil and in addition to a slightly darkened complexion, he had also inherited fluent Spanish and Portuguese languages. That was part of his tools of trade. He was also an avid soccer player, evidently part of a very high level but unprofessional league. I think that accounted for the slight, hard body.
I was as taken with him as all the other females in the building. However, any involvement was far from my mind when I agreed to work a bunch of overtime to give administrative support for the case. We simply needed all the money we could get.
After the first week he was there, he started touching me slightly and giving me little compliments. I won't lie to you and say it didn't affect me. The little tingle that slid down my spine was unmistakable. Even though Ron showed me lots of attention, my senses seemed to be heightened by Eric's touch. Maybe it was because of the constant prodding I was getting from my husband concerning another man.
I had a habit of taking my shoes off at my desk, especially in the late evening as the long day wore on. I guess Eric had seen me do it a number of times. Finally, one evening about eight he stopped at my desk and, without saying a word, pulled a chair up next to me and motioned me to give him my bare foot.
Tentatively, I did so. He saw my hesitation and laughed it off.
"I used to give my Mother a foot rub every night when she came home from work."
I had no idea rubbing one's feet could become such a long, exacting process. He took forever, teasing me as he did. After a very short while with those wonderful hands, I relaxed.
I don't know how long this went on before it dawned on me that I was wearing a relatively short skirt with sheer thigh high stockings. He had my leg in an elevated position and slightly bent outward. Surely he could see a lot if not everything I had to offer. Which was not much. Under my skirt I was wearing a transparent blue thong that was practically non-existent. His hands remained on my feet, though, and he continued giving them a long, slow soft massage that was beginning to shoot straight up my legs.
If I had any concern about what was going on, it evaporated when he gently tapped the bottom of my foot, got up, and jokingly said, "Next!!"
About thirty minutes later I was doing a fairly sizeable job in the copy room down the hall. I wasn't a bit surprised when Eric stuck his head in and gave me even more work. It had become pretty standard for this late at night. That night, though, he didn't leave right away and assisted me in what I was doing. It was a small space and very shortly he started touching me casually, an arm around the waist, a hand on my hip as he had to reach around me, ever now and than a slight brushing of my breast. It became more evident as it went on, but I chose not to pay a lot of attention to it.
I just made sure I didn't do anything. It came to the point that his arm was always around me, his hand constantly on my hip, and when I sat on the little stool that was available his hands were on my knees, sometimes massaging them slowly. He never said anything off color or made a gesture that frightened me, just small intimate stuff. Even as concerned as I was, it got to the point where I'm not too sure I wasn't starting to enjoy his attention.
I moved down off the stool but the gently touching resumed. It was around the waist at first, just rubbing the lower part of my back, sliding his hand down on my hips some, back up the full length of my back, and so on. It actually felt good, but I was really starting to wonder where this was going and was preparing myself to stop it somehow.
Finally, he slipped his hand around the front of me and gently started rubbing my stomach. I pulled away slightly and he stopped. I assumed he had the idea and that it had come to an end. Instead, he took advantage of the very confined area, which kept me at his arms length. Again he made an advance, running his hand slowly up and down my leg outside my skirt for a few minutes, not roughly but very casually. Then the hand slowly started to inch my skirt up my legs, his fingers very slowly bunching up the thin cloth. When he touched my bare leg I knew for sure then I had a situation and didn't know what to do.
"Eric, please." I said to him quietly. I tried stepping away but his left arm was around my waist and he didn't let go.
To my dismay his hand slowly continued touching my leg. He was in no hurry and may have been trying to prevent alarming me any more than I was. My heart was beating like crazy and I could tell he had become intense. I took his hand and removed it from me, stepping away as far as I could in the confined space.
"Stop, Eric. I think I should go." I was hoping the look I gave him was enough to end it.
It took him less than a minute to react. Never taking his eyes off the task we were doing, he carefully slid the stool over next to me and sat on it. Unwittingly, I had trapped myself in the small confines of the room. The only way out was to go over the top of him.
His arm went back around my waist and this time he didn't try to mask his intentions. He went straight down to my knee with his hand. In order to grab it I had to lean over slightly. I looked around at times to see if anybody just happened to "drop in" to the office. It was not out of the question and the door was wide open. Feeling like a trapped animal, my heart was beating fast and tears began to form in my eyes. How had I gotten into this? What had I done or said that would make him think I would allow him to do this?
My reactions and self-examination didn't stop his hand. In spite of my hand trying to stop his, it had very slowly continued its advance up my leg. He suddenly reached the top of my stockings and his hand hit my bare leg.
"O-o-o-o-h." His hand jerked and there was an audible gasp. He looked at me with slightly closed eyes. The flesh on flesh contact had definitely moved him.
I flinched, too. Even though he had been touching me for some time, it was different when his hand actually touched flesh that high on my leg. I was in a combination of shock and dismay by that time. My three thoughts were where is this going, how do I ever get out of it, and why am I not as repulsed as I should be?
I know that he was a really attractive man, but he had no rights to me. What he did have was a really slow, soft wonderful touch and I was feeling every bit of it. I have a tendency to become wet very easy and if it had been my husband sitting there teasing me I would have been soaking wet by this time.
As it was, through my constant but quiet objections and my ever increasing attempt to dislodge his hand, I was more than aware of the reaction from my body. Whether my morals objected or not, I knew myself well enough to know that the moisture was forming. My disapproval of the situation didn't change the fact that I could feel it. This was not going well at all!
That old saying, "The silence was deafening," would have fit us perfectly. I was screaming at him to stop without saying a word and he was telling me how excited he was without speaking, relating it to me through his now shaking fingertips.
His hands were slowly going higher and higher, touching every part of my right leg. There were slight touches with the other leg, but only a few brushes. He concentrated on that one leg, moving slowly up. It was starting to become a blissful torture for me. I was rocking my body back and forth a little, either in an effort to get away or an unwanted reaction instinctively keeping in rhythm with his touches.
His arm had tightened considerable around my waist. I could only hear my heart and his breathing and don't think by that time I could see anything. We had both forgotten about the work at hand and were only feeling each other out to see what was happening next. How could I have allowed this to happen?
"Please, Eric. I don't want this." My voice was breaking with a soft sob. I was still leaning over in order to keep my grasp on his wrist, but his hand had advanced high enough that my bent over position was less noticeable than before.
He smiled softly and said, "Okay," but his hand remained high on my leg. After what seemed like an hour, but was only a few minutes, his hand went under the leg band of my thong and slightly touched me, barely sliding his finger between the lips of my labia. As I suspected, I was very wet.
"Oh, my goodness," was all he said. He started stroking me very softly, brushing me with his fingertips, feeling the dampness and apparently enjoying my attempt to stop him. He teased me unmercifully before he moved to my clit. My knees almost buckled.
"O-o-o-h-h-h." This time it was me emitting a small unintended sound. No matter how upset I was or had anticipated this move, I jumped and let out a real low moan that he had to have heard. I had become extremely sensitive there.
He was masterful. His touch was knowing and unbelievable soft. He brought me up to a level I couldn't believe and just left me hanging there for a long time. Despite the fact that I started slowly stamping my foot up and down to try to drive off the sensations, my hips were moving with his hand and I was ready to explode.
I looked up one last time to see if there was a rescue in progress. Since there was obviously not, I pleaded one more time.
"Please, Eric. Don't do this to me." It was very soft and quiet, my last stand, more emotional than physical as I finally released his wrist.
Rather than answering me, he simply increased the speed and pressure on the sensitive little bundle of nerves. It was more than I could stand and I came. I put my head down on my arms to stifle the sounds when it washed over me. My hips went from following his hand to jerking like crazy and I was moving up and down and twisting back against him.
Using his left hand, he pulled my skirt back and up to my waist and held it there. I could only imagine what was in front of him to see. White legs, stark in contrast to the dark colors of my hose and panties, trembling with orgasm.
"Ni-i-i-c-c-e," His voice was appreciative. "Not enough women wear stockings any more." I could feel his erection as he pressed against me.
He kept it up for a few minutes and I knew I was on my way to coming again. I couldn't seem to stop it. Just as he slowed down and I thought it was over, his hand left my clit and his finger went inside me. It was like it was starting all over again. Eric sensed my total surrender. "Relax and enjoy it, Lisa. You look and feel so good."
It wasn't so much that I was following his instructions, but more that my mind couldn't control the physical part of me any more. Folding my arms over the edge of the table, I put my head face down on it, started gently stomping my foot again as my body convulsed, and started to come. The orgasm washed over me like a flood rather than a light rain.
"A-a-a-h-h-h-h," my mouth moaned softly into my folded arms. Nobody could hear it but him, but he heard very well. All gentleness disappeared and he assaulted my pussy fast and hard. From the sounds coming out of him, he was immersed with personal satisfaction from watching and hearing my reactions to his touch.
Other than looking up occasionally to survey the room, my thoughts were only on his fingers. My repulsion of the situation was gone. My conscience—vanished! The only thing I was aware of was the constant high-speed ramming my pussy was getting, then the short trip they would make up to my swollen clit for a while, then back down and in, roughly entering in long strokes. I was caught in the middle, had no control over it, and he wouldn't stop.
Finally, he slowed down to a slow, deep stroking. He removed his hands and I was surprised when he spoke in a very soft voice.
"What do you want me to do?" His head was next to mine, his voice soft in my ear.
I couldn't believe the jolt that went through me. Was he asking me for permission to go on?
It was too late. We both knew that something special had started and it was not at all unwanted. When I didn't answer him he took the silence as approval.
I heard the unmistakable rustle of his zipper going down. He lifted my skirt up again, pulled my thong to one side, and I felt his head as it gently nudged me. Slowly, slowly, oh so slowly, he moved it up and down my channel. The wetness was providing so much lubrication it felt like silk.
He spoke, breaking the silence and giving out the invitation.
"Do we stop now?" he asked me.
My only answer was an unintelligible moan. Maybe I was trying to maintain some sort of dignity or innocence?
"Do you want to go home?" He asked again.
After a few seconds, I could only shake my head. I still had my head buried in my arms as if trying to hide from my situation.
"You've not answered me," he said. He knew he had the power here.
"No," I said very quietly, intoxicated by the moment in hand.
He had his answer.
It was like he froze in place for a few seconds. Then he sort of plunged, stroking in and out only a few times before sending the entire length into me. I thought I had been ready, but it caught me by surprise.
"A-a-u-u-h-h." It just sort of swooped out of me. I don't know if he was bigger than Ron or not but he seemed huge at that point.
I guess he was past the point of foreplay or being able to hold back because he went into an immediate pounding of me. Every stroke almost came out of me, then plunged deep into my reaching pussy. Each time he mined deep, I could feel his balls against me and he would grind down against me.
He was breathing hard and making little noises and I started to whimper. I was moving back against him to meet his strokes and for the first time he paid attention to my breast. There was no gentleness about it. He pushed my skimpy bra up from them and started rolling my nipples roughly between his fingers and thumbs.
Through it all was the soft encouragements from Eric. He continued to set the pace, his hands going back and forth from manipulating my nipples to gently riding the motions of my hips as they rose and fell with his strokes. He was standing almost straight up most of the time, bending over me only when he wanted to kiss my neck and pay more attention to my breast. His attention to my nipples was always at the very perfect time. I realized that the man was a sexual god. How could any woman not get off on him?
For some reason, it was about this time that I thought of Ron. And it was a strange thought.
"Is this what you wanted?" I knew it was a question that would never really be asked or answered.
All I cared about right then was that he was deep in me and it was wonderful. I was totally out of it. His strokes were full and fast and I knew I had an orgasm steaming very quickly up the line.
It was all I could take. My stomach convulsed, I froze momentarily in place, and I came for him like I had never before. Wave after wave came across me as I shook all over. I could feel him pumping hard into me, cupping my breast painfully but with intense pleasure, and then he exploded within me with a strange moan. He bucked forward so deep within me that I thought I could feel his semen spurting against my cervix. Not that I had ever quit coming before, but the pressure of his orgasm kept me shaking and spewing little sounds. This was not sweet love. This was not intercourse. This was a hard, hard driving fuck between two people and it was unbelievable!
He wasn't so much getting any part of my heart as much a total abandonment of my body and senses to him. Whatever it was, I couldn't seem to stop coming and started some pretty senseless sensuous chatter. He was almost punishing me with his force and moaned constantly. My body drove back to meet him with every stroke. It wouldn't stop for either of us. It was far away the longest and most intense orgasm I had ever had.
Come was running down out of me, spreading out on my inner thighs. I felt insatiably nasty. At the end, he crashed down hard on top of me, totally spent. After a few minutes, he slowly removed himself from me, turned me around. His mouth found mine for the first time and never left it for minutes, long and hot, his tongue and mine becoming one. I realized that, if I wanted him, he was mine as much as I was his as I writhed to this new touch. Through this, I wanted more and would have screwed him all night if we had the time and he the energy.
Instead, he just walked out of the room as if nothing had happened. I was left with come pouring out of me and down my legs.
And that was that.
When I went home that night Ron was already in bed, for which I was thankful.
However, a couple of hours later I awoke with the distinct prodding of a hard cock against my ass.
"Wow! You're really wet." Even through my groggy and tired state my eyes flew open.
He plunged into me like a starved sailor. Then, here it came.
"Tell me about fucking another guy."
I hesitated, but knew he wasn't going to let it go.
Then, in excruciating details, I told him about how I had just fucked Eric. I even used his name and Ron knew who it was. He came like crazy, telling me it was the best story yet.
He didn't believe a word of it!!
Over the next four weeks Eric and I had sex again three times. Once on the couch in the meeting room, once on the floor in the office, and once down in the parking garage in the back seat of his car. These times, he spent a huge amount of time paying attention to my lips and breast. And if I had been overwhelmed with his cock, it was nothing in comparison to his oral sex. It was slow, creative, and devastating.
Without fail, within days if not the same night after each of these events, Ron and I would have sex. As he was drove deep and hard in me, here would come that question again. I would tell him about Eric in detail. He would blow his mind every time, loving the stories. I think he especially enjoyed them because he knew I was talking about a real person with real possibilities. And of course, he never believed them.
Eric left soon after that, on to a different assignment in a world far from me. Strangely enough, I wasn't a bit reluctant to see him go. Enough was enough, and I was afraid this was somehow going to eventually affect a life I didn't want to change.
Over the next couple of years we've had a child. Our sex life remains active and Ron's hunger for my stories of illicit affairs has never subsided. In addition to that, he has a very close friend at work who is married to a very cute, but certainly not beautiful, girl.