Caught Cheating Pt. 01

It was almost an anxiety that built in his soul, but a person couldn't define such a feeling. It was remote, a hollowness- like the tension of someone standing to close behind in line or walking towards you on a baron street.

The six-sense feeling that something was about to happen- a tension. Andrew's eyes followed the small damp trails that crept down the middle of her spine, like the trail of snake cascading off her shoulders and following the bumpy valley.

The beads of sweat were collecting at the soft gentle curve of her pale bare ass, accenting the dimples just above her hips that deepened with the rocking movements forward. He thought to himself, she is always cold. But she was sweating, her back, under her arms, her brow.

His wife never perspired, but her pores were glistening. The anxiety of his mind was overbearing his soul. Andrew's attention sharply brought back to the iPad screen as a low guttural moan from his wife rocked his core.

"Oh fuck, fucking Christ, I'm gonna cum...i'm gonnna cummmmm againnnnnnn," his wife exclaimed.

When Andrew walked into the house after work, a note sat atop his iPad. The combination of his iPad with the sticky atop were on the countertop nearest the entryway from the garage. Setting his leather brief case down and hanging his coat, Andrew sensed he was alone. The rest of the house was silent, a single light in the living room was on; but the silence of the big house was deafening. Since their youngest had left for college over seven months before, the normal dance of after school activities and sporting events had slowed to a crawl and replaced by the occasional dinner shared around a television or with faces buried in their phones. Their evenings had taken different paths hidden by the façade of yoga, book clubs, long work hours and the occasional business trips.

After twenty plus years of marriage the ties that bind, had walked out the door and were now billing them 15K a semester. The note wore the traditional bold print handwriting of his wife, Sarah- "check your email, dinner is in the fridge."

As he lifted the note, he swiped his finger across the screen and immediately his heart raced. The picture wasn't foreign to Andrew. Her dark olive toned flesh had been the foundation of every fantasy he'd had over the last year. His eyes and fingers had memorized every inch of taut youthful flesh and sexual curve.

The picture was a youthful beauty. Her face pressed to the bed, widen hips and full firm ass lifted. The tone of her slender legs accented by her toes pressed to the hardwood floor, the messy fall of chestnut curls partially hiding her face, arms and hands outstretched. The sides of her breasts pushing outward between her torso and soft bedding, the outline of her smooth sex and core of her sexual desire slightly glistening.

It was his favorite image she had sent him over the months of their affair and sexting, but his response to seeing it didn't conjure the same emotions. His heart trembled not from desire, but the anxiety and fear of finally being caught.

Her face looked familiar when Jack had introduced her as his quarterly intern. Jack hadn't passed on the intern program in over five years. The running joke around the office was his penchant for curvy brunettes. Andrew had known better. Jack and him had been friends since law school. He realized Jacks preference for men after a failed attempt by Jack courting one of Andrew's fraternity brothers.

Although times have changed, becoming partner at their firm wouldn't have been likely if the office was aware of Jack's preference. But Andrew was comfortable in his own skin, and had no interest in exposing Jack's sexual nature- so he played along with the water cooler talk with the rest of the guys when Jack expounded his quarterly quest to conquer a young intern. But Samantha's dark chestnut curls and alluring brown eyes weren't unfamiliar. He recalled the remarks of his Dan Keating, the father of his oldest daughter's best friend.

As Andrew looked down quickly It was a fall day about six years. Andrew's oldest daughter Kaitlyn was playing for the sectional soccer championship against the nearby rival Yellow Jackets.

As the unknown girl wearing shorts that barely covered her womanly hips and round firm ass, full c cup breasts cradled by a soccer jersey two sizes to small, rocking with each step on the sideline warming up, Dan leaned over and whispered, "Jesus Christ, I'm gonna need a cold shower after this game if that girl plays."

Andrew just smiled, never one for guy talk and a wandering eye. Sure he wasn't dead and certainly noticed her beauty; but raising two daughters kept his senses usually in check. Fast forward six years, and standing before him in a pinstripe pencil skirt and matching suit coat, was that same girl; but now twenty-four. The coordination of several buttons loose below her neckline exposing the soft valley between her breasts was purposeful to flaunt the heavenly assets of her womanhood.

She was very aware of her sexual beauty and prowess. back at his desk and the paperwork he was finishing before the end of the day, he simply smiled back at Jack, "Pleasure to meet you Samantha, don't let Jack work you to hard."

Jack didn't puff his chest around Andrew with the same bravado as the other partners. Although, they never had an actual discussion of Jacks sexual preference, there was a silent professional understanding.

The sounds came from his private bathroom adjacent to his office. His moans were soft, mimicked by her breathing as she arched her back pushing back against him, hands pressed to either side of the small sink. The stark white shirt still buttoned fully, tie falling down to the small of her back, his trousers down just above his knees. The tight skirt hiked to over her hips, blouse disheveled.

Her panties were loosely draped down around a lone ankle, the tails of his shirt were parted slightly at his naked pelvis, his pubis visible pressed tightly to her smooth ass. His hips rocking forward, fingers curling into the taut flesh of her firm ass. Her ass was the death of him. It's heart shape, fullness, the tension of the muscle and tight flesh, barely moving as he spurred forward. His quick movements were fueled by his want and the approximate ten minutes they had for this little trist.

He looked forward, her eyes meeting his in the reflection of the mirror, those full moist lips with a devilish smile. Her blouse slightly loose, the lace fabric of her bra peeking out as one nipple was pushed upward over the cup of her bra, still moist from his mouth previously kissing there.

Right as the words left her lips in a soft low whisper, he felt the release of tension. 'Fuck me Daddy, oh fuck me Daddy.'

The explosion of his manhood was almost immediate, his shuddering hips pivoting against her ass. She purred with delight as she pushed her ass back against him.

He leaned into her and kissed the back of her neck. "Sorry baby, I couldn't help myself."

Apologizing for not pulling out, it wasn't the first time, and it was almost becoming habitual. She instinctively reached down cupping her sex as he withdrew. The cum drooling from her delicious grip. As he stepped back and reached quickly to retrieve his pants, in part to cover his naked form, but also he was never comfortable being naked around her. His physique wasn't the concern.

He was tall, lean, toned- certainly in better shape than 90% of the men his age. But he had a penis complex since he was younger and realized he was smaller than average. As he buckled his pants, she turned and kissed his cheek, before planting herself on his toilet. He gave her a smile as he closed the door and backed out of the small bathroom.

Catching his breath, he straightened his hair and tie, adjusting the garments of clothing- always a nervous tension when they stole these lustful moments at the office. Walking over to his desk, as he pulled his chair out looking down he became aware of the white smudge on his fly. He retrieved the kerchief from his pant pocket and tried to wipe it, but it only made the smear more noticeable, contrasting his dark slacks. He dabbled the hanky on his tongue before trying to wipe at the smudge again, simultaneously Jack stormed into the office.

A file folder in hand- 'Andy, I need a second look at this deposition, Mark is livid about the framework of our argument- we are backed against the wall man."

As Jack looked up, he took pause at Andrew blotting his crotch with the handkerchief.

He stopped just a step in the door way, he casually blasted out half sneering- "Jessica's?"

Referring to the restaurant that catered the meeting earlier in the day, but as Samantha opened the bathroom door, buttoning several buttons and adjusting the fall of her blouse; Jack's eyes snapped to her then back to Andrew. Andrew quickly tried to deflate the situation and certain innuendo that was floating in Jack's mind.

His deep voice beckoned to grab Jack's attentions, "yea egg salad, a dry cleaners worst nightmare."