First

Every summer for several years we've attended my husband's office party, enjoying the food, drinks and many laughs. Being a medium-to-large company, it brings together co-workers that don't normally have the time or opportunity to interact on a regular basis. It's an adults-only event -- nice to have a 'date night' without children -- and held on a Friday at a posh golf club of which senior managers are members.

For Steve and myself, it's good to sample such rare surroundings less than an hour's drive from where we live. Guests sit at round tables, making it easy to carry on conversations between ten or a dozen people, and this year David, an upper-middle manager, was at our table.

We'd socialised with David at previous company gatherings and, though they work in different departments, Steve and David regularly run into each other for projects. David is a good-looking mid-50s black man, who runs marathons and has a fun sense of humour. It's easy to forget he's about twenty years older than me.

The seating arrangements were usually for partners to sit together but this time the girl/boy/girl/boy arrangement was different. Instead of Steve sitting next to me, I had David to my left, Sherry on his left, and then Steve on her left. I can't now recall who sat to my right -- but you'll probably understand that lapse very shortly.

We had a good crowd on the table; lots of funny stories, ribbing each other -- and plenty of drinks. Drinking was not a problem as the company supplied buses from each office to the golf club and back again at the end of the night. Like most people, we hired a cab to get home from the office car park and, with our children sleeping at their grandparents, we didn't need to be home at a certain time.

It was quite late when that particular evening took a strange turn for me.

Having enjoyed the meal but certainly not finished drinking, a lively conversation was going on to my left involving David, Sherry, Steve, and a few other guests. I turned left in my chair and leaned in to catch the ongoing funny story. Wanting to get my voice heard above the loud banter and laughter, I leaned further across and put both my hands on David's right thigh.

Having supplied my input, I sat back a little but left my hands on David's leg. It was then that I realised I was not feeling his thigh under my left palm but the head of his cock. I vividly remember that my first thought wasn't 'Move your hand away' but 'Oh my god, this thing is big.'

When I eventually moved my hands into my lap, I glanced at David and saw light amusement in his eyes. I guess we both thought 'That was unexpected' or something similar.

As the laughter and banter continued, my mind was stuck on David's cock. I was actually stunned and questioned myself: Did I really feel what I think I felt? If so, was it really that big? I wanted to look down and see if there was a giveaway outline against his pants, but I didn't think I could achieve that without being noticed.

Even so, I couldn't shake off my curiosity.

I swallowed hard, built up my courage, and leaned forward again, returning both hands to David's leg. Don't get me wrong, I've always been happy with my marriage and never entertained being unfaithful to Steve. But, right there and then, the brief contact of my palm against the end of David's cock, had ignited a curiosity too powerful to dismiss.

Looking back, I suppose I was fuelled by the alcohol in my system. Whatever the cause, I had to feel it again. I convinced myself that it wouldn't be a serious breach of Steve's faith -- after all, I'd be touching it outside David's pants, not his actual flesh. The initial touch had been accidental... and I simply wanted to know if it was as big as it seemed.

Leaning close to the table, my hands were out of view. While I pretended to be listening intently and seemingly poised to make a comment, I again found the tip of David's cock with my left hand. I somehow managed to maintain an innocent expression and followed what people were saying, but I was totally aware of David's prominent cock head.

Where it was positioned on his thigh, his cock was obviously very long, and the head beneath my palm felt much larger than any other I'd touched.

I wasn't a virgin when I married Steve. I'd had a few experiences and Steve's cock is plenty big enough to satisfy me. But what I felt that night was so much bigger than any man I'd felt. No doubt that's why I took liberties, feeling up David at a dinner table in a room full of people. It was completely out of character -- not the person I am. I'm happily married, love our children, have a job I like, and totally enjoy my respectable life.

Suddenly, afraid of being caught, I slid my hand back into my lap. I then noticed something else about myself: I was wet.

I was wearing a button-up long-sleeve lady's Oxford-style shirt, a black plaid circle skirt, and a lace bra/panty set, plus my husband's favourite stockings and suspenders. One personal feature I must share is that I stand about five-seven, but my legs are long in proportion to my body. I love to wear skirts like my black plaid circle skirt: it sits high up on my thighs, enhancing my long legs, but not looking trashy or slutty.

My underwear set that night was open lace in a light lavender colour. The panties -- small triangles in the front and back -- were a snug fit, riding a little up my crack and showing off my ass cheeks. Steve loves these sets, but at that moment, I was not thinking about him or reflecting that what I'd done was wrong. I was shocked at how wet I felt between my legs and how quickly I'd gotten into such a state.

Damn, all this must stop.

But, as those words ran through my mind, David said something that I couldn't hear over the table laughter. He then grabbed my chair, pulled it closer to him, and leaned in to tell me the joke I'd missed.

When he turned away to rejoin the conversation, he guided my hand under the table and placed it on his upper right thigh. There, like an out-of-body experience, I felt the heat along a pronounced silhouette. With my fingers, I followed the outline of this man's covered shaft. I, a married woman, was running fingers along the immense length of David's cock. Shameless!

For the rest of the evening, as we sat telling stories, drinking, and poking gentle fun at each other, I would frequently reach under the table to feel his impressive cock. It would enlarge at my touch, impressing the hell out of me with its size. Even through the fabric of his underpants and trousers, I could feel a thick vein as he stiffened.

As the night started to wind down, David eased my hand away. He needed time for his cock to soften so he could walk out without a large semi-erection tenting his pants. Happy to have experienced touching him throughout the party, I was content to leave it at that -- though I planned to share a hard passionate fuck with Steve when we get home. I'd definitely think about David's cock as Steve pounded me.

Buses waited to take everyone back to their offices. Steve had gone to the bathroom and as our bus continued to fill up he still didn't appear. I began to get anxious but David suddenly grasped my arm and said we'd better get aboard. The bus had double seats on either side of the aisle and David pointed out empty seats at the back.

Expecting Steve would be next to me, I sat in the window seat and was surprised when David took the adjoining place. It was only then that I learned his wife had opted to miss the party this year. As we indulged in small talk, I saw Steve walking towards us. He slumped heavily into the empty seat in front of David. Steve couldn't drink as much as he used to but he'd tried that night.

I stood to lean over the high back of Steve's seat, making sure he was okay. He said he just wanted to sleep on the ride back. Assured that my hubby was okay, I suddenly felt a hand stroking the back of my leg. It was so daring and sexy, I didn't give David any indication that he should stop. But, convinced that Steve was going to sleep, I sat down, glanced at David, and mouthed, 'Behave' before adding a smile.

I think half the passengers were asleep before we reached the motorway. Soft music piped over the speakers made it that much harder for some to stay awake. But David was awake -- and so was I.

As the bus entered the motorway, David caressed my hand. I was concerned -- I didn't want to get caught in a situation with David, not on this bus, not with people sitting so close, and with my husband in the seat in front. But, I thought it was okay for him to stroke my hand because it was dark and the tall seats blocked a lot of view. And, we were in the back row with a sort of stowage compartment across the aisle.

I was taking in this information when David guided my left hand to his lap -- onto his bulge. I did not resist. In fact, I instantly rubbed my fingers along the outline of his cock through his pants. In seconds, I was enjoying this resumption of dangerously feeling his manhood.

I stared at his crotch but it was too dark to see much, except for when car headlights flashed into the bus. It was wrong, but I mentally shrugged, knowing it would end when we pulled into the office car park. It would leave only a memory for me to relive.

Again, I noticed my pussy was wet. The more I traced David's cock, the wetter I became and I fantasised about what it looked like. Would it stand up tall or point away from his body at 90 degrees? Was it shaved or hairy? As I fingered the outline, quietly daydreaming, I felt it stiffen and it adjusted position within his pants, lying sideways instead of pointing down his thigh. It was growing into a proper erection.

I felt the head and shaft swell and there seemed to be less fabric between my fingers and his hot rod. David leaned in, and asked if I noticed any change. I was still outlining this cock but paused for a couple of seconds before whispering, "Have you moved your underpants?"

David put his mouth to my ear. ''Yes.''

That sent shivers through my body and a rush of warm wetness through my pussy. I pressed my flat palm along the length of his ever-hardening shaft. Just that single layer of his pants was now between my hand and his large cock.

As it grew longer and harder under my stroking hand, David gently caressed the cool flesh above my stocking top on my left leg. I noticed every motion of his hand along my leg but was specially tuned in when his hand traveled along my inner thigh.

He leaned in and whispered,  "What kind of panties are under that skirt? Boy shorts?''

He waited for an answer. When he did not get one, he tried again, "Thong?'' He looked for a reaction, but I gave him my best poker face. He whispered another try, "Bikini?'' I just looked at him in the dark, trying my best not to react to his guesses.

David tried a new tactic: "Show me.''

At first, the lack of subtleness stunned me. He wanted me to lift my skirt and show him my panties. I quietly said, "I don't think I should.''

He slowly worked his hand up my inner thigh. Realising where it was headed, I grasped his hand. Then, after a quick look around and satisfied no one was looking our way, I reached under my skirt, hooked the string sides of my panties, lifted my ass, and pulled them down my legs. Working them onto one shoe, I brought them up, looked around again, then neatly folded my damp panties and left them on his thigh.

As I leaned back in my seat, I watched him touch the flimsy garment before lifting it to his nose. I was embarrassed, knowing he would be smelling my wetness. He then put my panties in his jacket pocket and did some adjustments to his pants. He gently placed my left hand back on his lap.

He was fully erect.

His cock was straining against his pants, so hard and throbbing, and I went back to my enjoyment of feeling him through his pants. But now, I was fully aware of the cool air wafting under my skirt onto my naked wet pussy.

Things in my life went very wrong at this point.

Although I was enjoying the feel of David's prominent erection through his pants I was pulled out of my thoughts by slow movements along his pants. I watched in disbelief as David very slowly unzipped his pants. I froze, taking a slightly firmer grip on his cock over the pants, as David pulled back the right flap and moved my hand to his pelvis area. His skin was warm and soft beneath my hand but, suddenly, my hand was tapped by his erection. It pointed toward his navel and he did not need to encourage me to reach for it.

Curiosity? Desire? Whatever was controlling my actions, I wrapped my hand around the hot rigid erection of the largest cock I'd ever experienced.

In the dark back of a bus, with my husband sitting in front of me, the creamy white hand that wore my wedding ring took long slow deliberate strokes of David's magnificent shaft. It felt wonderful and the head was wider than the shaft, defining the term ''mushroom head.''

Never before had I seen a dome that wider than the width of a shaft. It was mesmerising. I strained in the dark to see his thick hard black cock in my grasp before I reached deeper into his pants and grabbed a handful of his balls. He was shaved smooth. I loved it. So sexy. The size and smoothness of his balls matched his cock. The more I rubbed and felt, the more I wanted to feel. When David pressed his fingers against my pussy entrance, I didn't stop him this time. I wanted to explore and enjoy his gorgeous cock and if he wanted to enjoy my bare pussy in exchange, I was not stopping him.

As I felt his finger press into my pussy, I stifled any noise of pleasure my body begged to release. I worked my hand from the wet leaking tip of his cock down the length, along his balls, and all that way back up again. The more I pressured and rubbed, the more David leaked. He was definitely sexually aroused.

But, when I noticed the distinct musk of a wet pussy, I forced David's fingers out and closed my legs. It was too dangerous to risk anyone recognising the distinctive smell. The look on David's face -- the desire and need for relief -- was priceless. He needed me and I was loving it.

His cock was so hard and warm, I felt proud... proud and really horny. I continued to stroke him and figured we had about ten minutes left on the motorway, then fifteen more in the town before reaching the office. I wanted to get David off, as much for me as for him. The problem was how to manage it in a crowded bus.

Turning in my seat, I changed to using my right hand, stroking firmer and quicker as I looked around, needing to be assured no attention was on us. The bus was relatively quiet, the soft music mixing with the soft hum of the wheels. I increased the tempo, even faster and longer strokes, and his pre-cum coated my hand. David struggled to keep his breathing quiet. He was closer to the edge -- but not yet close enough.

I continued picking up the pace, increasing the firmness of my grip on his thick shaft. I cannot fully express how erotic it was for me, jacking off a man, not my husband, in the back seat of a crowded dark bus. I'd never experienced anything as erotic.

When David started fingering my nipples over my shirt, I knew we were almost where I wanted him to be. And when he moved his hips, trying to fuck my hand, I knew he was close. At that moment, I changed from a loving wife and mother, into a cock loving whore.

Another glance around, I then laid my head on David's lap and took that large warm smooth black cock head in my mouth. That first moment when my lips and tongue made contact, I felt a sexual high never experienced previously in my life. I quietly sucked on it like a baby sucks a dummy and increased the firm grip on the downward stroke.

I continued sucking his mighty head as I stroked, working him closer and closer toward climax. My breathing became laboured with the large mushroom head in my mouth, but I concentrated on being quiet and in control. I never attempted to take more than the head in my mouth, it was too risky. The shaft was long enough that I could continue stroking with the head in my mouth.

When I felt David's hand on my bare ass, I sucked harder, trying to draw his cum out. After yet another firm downward stroke, I eased my grip to slide back up -- then came my reward, the release from deep in his balls up his long shaft, into my waiting mouth. The first squirt of warm thick cum prompted me to stroke quicker, encouraging him to release additional loads for me. But it was unnecessary. In the quiet dark of the bus, David released shot after shot of thick cream into my mouth.

My concentration was tuned on swallowing, taking, and swallowing the reward of cum I was so desperately working to get out of him. The head of his cock never left my mouth and I didn't flinch or gag as David found relief in my mouth.

When I felt his body relax and his hold on my bare ass lightened, I knew he was finished but I continued to softly suck on his helmet, licking up any remaining fluid. Sighing, I slid my hand down his amazing length to his balls where I caressed them, milking them, in a daze of pleasure. But I suddenly returned to reality and removed my hand from his pants and my mouth off his cock.

Sitting up, we both started to straighten our clothing. I was still trembling with sexual excitement, and my pussy was soaking, but I stood to look over the seat at Steve. He was still asleep, as was the person to his right. I couldn't see heads looking in our direction --  we'd got away with it.

For the rest of the ride, David and I sat quietly, my hand back on his lap, slowly outlining his large flaccid cock, enjoying the taste of his cum in my mouth. He gently stroked my thigh. Looking back, I'm glad he didn't attempt to stroke my bare pussy -- I'm sure I couldn't have kept quiet.

As the bus pulled up at the office, I should have insisted David return my panties, but I was enjoying the naked feel under my skirt. We all shuffled out and Steve was only half awake but agreed with David to share a cab.

David suggested Steve sit in the front and almost instantly he laid his head back and closed his eyes. Soon after starting the thirty-minute drive to my house, David pulled me into the middle of the seat and put a hand back on my bare thigh and began easing under my skirt.  At first, I resisted -- but not for long!

I surrendered to his touch and spread my thighs for easier access. David didn't delay. He parted my lips and I felt a finger gently slide up and down. I was already wet -- no, still wet -- easily accepting his finger deep into my pussy and his upward strokes rubbed my swollen clit.

I scooted my bare ass to the edge of the seat, spread my knees wide, and kept an eye on Steve in the front seat. The deeper David probed, the wider I spread my legs. David was also on the edge of the seat, his right hand between my thighs, and also keeping an eye on Steve who seemed to be half asleep.

David did not hold back. He finger-fucked me hard, working faster and deeper and I held on to the edge of the seat. I strained to remain quiet but suddenly saw my image in the rearview mirror, my face contorted as David pushed me closer to a shattering climax. Then I noticed the driver's face in the mirror, looking right at me, directly at my face as I edged toward orgasm. I was not moving off the edge of the seat. Not for anything!

With my legs spread to the limit, David added a second finger. In the mirror, I had a look of sexually contorted surprise, and, as I edged closer to orgasm, my mouth locked in a wide oval shape, a silent scream of pleasure. The cab probably smelled like sex but I didn't care.

David must have known how badly I wanted to cum. He'd had his relief in the bus but I'd anticipated having to take care of myself at home --  Steve showed no signs of ability to take care of my needs. But, when David touched my aching pussy, I wanted his hand to satisfy my needs. On the edge of the seat, I gave myself to David's finger deep in my pussy. I remember closing my eyes and silently mouthing 'Fuck me.... fuck me....fuck me,' over and over.