Jekyll and Hyde Ch. 03

I got to feel much more wanton very quickly. I undid his belt and fumbled his, by now, quite familiar dick out from his boxers and the tail of his shirt. It was very hard and wonderfully warm. He undid my belt as well and also slid my zip down. He got his hand inside and was quickly arousing me with his fingers towards my first orgasm; I was still a quick cummer.

I went to sit on his leather couch thinking we could cuddle and hold each other and gradually lead into havingsex as I lie on my back on the couch. But no, that wasn't in the script, it wasn't on the agenda. Mixing metaphors horribly, it was also not in the plan.

"No come here," he almost growled getting hold of me and pulling me behind his desk. There was still a little method in the madness that was consuming us, for through a crack in the blinds we had a view right down the outside office from behind his desk.

Just roughly enough to complement the circumstances, he yanked my jeans down, nearly to my knees. I was wearing a thong purposefully for him for I don't usually wear them with jeans, the thong and the seam of the jeans traversing the crease in your bum can get a little uncomfortable.

"You sexy bitch," he, again, almost growled looking at the slither of black lace and silk that just covered my pubes and sneaked sexily, I thought, between the cheeks of my bum. "Turn round," he instructed me as. Willingly, eagerly even I did as he asked.

He had a large wooden desk becoming the status of a senior director in a marketing consultancy. Rosewood I think it was and it was kept beautifully polished so it was as shiny as glass. It was quite cold when he pushed me face forward onto it so that my boobs were squashed against the wood making smears on the shiny surface. I was at ninety degrees or so at the waist, with my jeans round mid thigh. He didn't take the thong off, but merely pulled it to one side. He ran his finger deliciously along the crease between the cheeks of bum, pausing meaningfully on the place that hadn't yet featured much in our relationship, and right onto my soaking, pulsating, bloated pussy. Then, not to put too fine a point on it, he fucked me bent over his office desk. We both knew only too well that would be a constant reminder of this every time he or I were in his office in the future. And that was sordid, very sordid, deliciously so.

Back to trying to analyse things.

It got worse though. Or maybe better, dependent upon your viewpoint.

I have often looked back in recent years, after Patrick and I finished, to try to discern just how much was really just lust and sexual adventure and what was real love. I still haven't found a full answer to that.

Of course there was loads of remorse after that first full sex in the office. Both immediately after he had cum, later that evening when I was home and for a few days after. My thinking was that what we'd done was dangerous, rather sordid, a bit like teenagers, but so fucking exciting I could hardly wait for the next time. That wasn't long in coming either.

I hadn't wanted it to turn out as it did. I didn't really want to become an office 'bike.' I wasn't really expecting my deep love affair with Patrick to revolve mainly around me being fucked in the office and fucked in his car. But then with married people who go off the rails, sexually and romantically, where else is there?

That first time in the office was probably the most sordid position I had ever been in, but then I haven't been in that many, yet on the other hand when I think of Craig, no don't let's go there. Face down on my bosses desk, my blouse open, my tits bare, my jeans round my ankles and my panties pushed to one side, I had been groaning and moaning with pleasure as he had made me cum and now I was bathing in the warm afterglow of a strong orgasm as Patrick softened inside me. He pulled himself out and I stood up. His eyes ran up and down my near naked body and dishevelled clothing. He took me in his arm, kissed me deeply and with a broad grin on his face said.

"That was fantastic Cat, almost as fantastic as you look right now. Perfectly and absolutely wonderfully fucking sordid." It was exactly the right thing to say to reassure me, but I wondered if he would have felt the same if he could have seen what I could feel, his sperm slipping down my thigh!

I was finding out new things about myself. I realised that not only had I got the capability of being a devious and calculating cheat, but also I was becoming a 'thrill junky!' Being prone to analyse most things I do, I worked out that the thrill and excitement of the affair, the going to hotels and now having sex in the office, were as equally exciting and important really as the sex itself. But wasn't the sex an expression of our love? I got a little stumped there for other than sort of working together at a distance, having the occasional lunch and dinner, our relationship was sex. There wasn't a lot more, but hey, don't get me wrong I wasn't complaining.

We enlarged our repertoire.

There were nights, well evenings actually, when we didn't have the 'late passes' to use a hotel; we had perhaps an hour when we needed to encapsulate all of our love and lust for each other. Whilst not a cheapskate by any means, Patrick baulked at shelling out a couple of hundred pounds for an hour or so in a hotel bed with me, or anyone probably. So when it was not possible to use the office as people were around in late meetings, we needed somewhere else. The question was where?

More naughty stuff.

'Let me give you a lift home,' Patrick messaged me about three one afternoon.

'You can't it's miles out of your way,'

'So what, it's worth it for an hour or so together isn't it?'

'Of course.'

It wasn't actually that far out of his way. It just meant he would have to almost past Hadleigh Woods, albeit on another road to get the St Albans and then retrace the ten miles or so.

'Ok, so what time were you thinking of leaving?'

'Get your coat.'

'What?'

'I'm just round the corner, come on.'

I was now able to leave the office without explaining where I was going so meeting him wasn't a problem

It was just getting dark when we turned off the main road and into a narrow lane which was a short cut to the village I live in.

"Anywhere around here we can stop and er, um, chat?" He smiled at me.

"We can chat anywhere can't we, but I doubt you really meant that do you?" I asked leaning across and resting my hand on his upper thigh.

"You know me too well, no of course not."

I hadn't 'groped' in a car since Craig, I realised as we got into the back of Patrick's Merc. After he'd pulled the car into a car park in a wood, to which I had directed him, even though I had no idea just how safe it would be, we had kissed and talked. I didn't want to get into the back on the grounds that if another car, or worse, the police or forest rangers drove into the car park how could we explain that?

"We don't have to, we're doing nothing wrong and we are consenting adults," he replied with impeccable logic, reassuring me, so I eventually, but rather reluctantly agreed.

I don't know just how much of the extreme excitement and immense pleasure was down to my feelings for Patrick, the slight frustration I was experiencing through not having had sex for more than a week or the fact that we were in car, but what I experienced was sensational.

I resisted at first, just as respectable, well brought up married women are supposed to do. I don't mean his advances, I relished those. I don't mean him kissing me, having his tongue in my mouth or caressing my breasts, I enjoyed those. I don't even mean him slipping his hand up my top, cupping my breasts in my bra and then wiggling his fingers inside that onto my boobs and nipples, after all that's what 'boys and girls' do when they sit in the back of a car. It wasn't, either Patrick slipping his hand up my skirt and pressing his fingers on the gusset of my panties. No, my resistance came when he scooped my boobs out of my bra, when he pushed my skirt up round my waist, when he tried to pull my knickers down and when he whispered in my ear.

"Cat I have to have you. I have to fuck you."

"Oh God Patrick we can't, it's too risky."

It was risky. It was dangerous. The chance of being caught, literally 'in the act' was high. But by Christ it was exciting. We couldn't undress of course, we couldn't get naked. But Patrick could get his cock out, I could take my panties off, I could straddle him and he could, just like that, fuck me. And that is precisely what we did. Clearly, I realised as I lay in his arms on the large back seat, not all German cars have sexual design faults.

More soul searching followed that of course, but I coped, probably better than I had with Craig and with when Patrick and I had sex first time in the office.

So for the next few months our affair revolved around the occasional evening in a hotel, the fairly regular once a week or so shag in the office and yes I did have him take me with me sitting on my desk as he stood between my legs, which were wrapped round his hips and fucked me. And of course in the car and a few times at our houses, but they never worked too well, nerves I guess.

After that first time I lost my reservations about being caught and inhibitions about being undressed and then fucked in his car in a car park. I actually enjoyed it and each weekend I looked forward to our, usually, Tuesday evening car sex.

My new found cunning and conniving, scheming and slyness came into play at these times.

"Just sit there," I said after we had parked and climbed into the back.

I pushed Patrick into the corner of the usefully large back seat and knelt with one knee on the seat on the other side of the car. I was wearing a knee-length, quite loose, blue dress, with a lowish top and three buttons running from the neckline to just above my waist. Staring directly into each other's eyes, I slowly undid the top button. He smiled at me.

"Mmmmm nice," he said as the next and the third came undone and the top of my dress parted a little, thus showing a goodly expanse of my boobs.

Taking hold of the opened sides of the top of the dress I pulled them sideways, across my boobs and let go of them leaving my bare breasts staring invitingly at him.

He reached out for me.

"No, don't touch," I whispered pushing him back into the corner.

"Christ Cat, you flash your tits at me, then say no touching."

"Well not yet," I smiled reaching down and taking hold of the hem.

"And, by the way, young lady, where's your bra gone!" I didn't reply and instead reached down and took hold of the hem of the dress.

Holding his gaze I slowly pulled the dress upwards. I eased it further and further up my legs, along my thighs and then stopped.

"Why have you stopped?"

"No reason," I replied, sliding it further up so it was bunched almost round my stomach.

"Jesus Christ, when did they come off?" He asked looking at my uncovered pubic mound.

I had taken my underwear off before leaving the office and had the garments safely tucked away in my wags bag in the front of the car.

"Never mind, are you pleased?" I asked cupping one of my breasts,

"Pleased I'm absolutely fucking delighted, but why?"

"Because silly," I replied fumbling at his belt "You can now fuck me without me having to get undressed."

That became another feature of our sexual repertoire. On the evenings when Patrick was going to give me a lift home I would go to the ladies half hour or so before we were due to set off. I would remove all but the essential parts of my make-up and during the day I would carefully avoid wearing perfume, real mistress thinking there, but then why provide any evidence for the wife! I would then slip into one of the cubicles and remove my bra and panties. Usually I would meet him a way down the road. Walking out from the office and then down the busy road naked under my outer clothes really was a massive turn on. After that and then being in his car for an hour so in that state of semi-undress of which he was clearly aware had me primed and ready for the stimulating sex we would then have in the back of his car.

As our affair progressed so we became both more adventurous, but also sad. We knew that it would go nowehere, other than perhaps us being arrested for offending private decency.

*

Addendum

There's more to come and soon. I hope you have enjoyed reading it and have gained a similar amount of 'pleasure' from that as I have from recalling my affair and writing about it for you.

Yours

Cat