Le Sexe Superieur Ch. 14

I meet Wilson at The Duchess, an English-themed restaurant known for its cozy and semi-private dining booths with plush seating. The menu's heavy with roasts, ales, and stews, while the walls are warmly wood-paneled and carry coats of arms. The lighting is seductively low and charming waitresses wear dresses nicely gathered about their bosoms.

I'm first to arrive, and kill time by poring through the food selections. Ten minutes later, my assistant arrives, with a worried look and apologizing for being late. She's dressed for the cold, with a thick pea jacket of navy blue, which she soon removes, revealing her trademark thick, cable-knit sweater (of a more adventurous deep-red color this time around). Her trousers are appropriately tweed and her shoes very plain black oxfords. The tiniest of diamond-like earrings grace her pierced ears. Instead of pulling her hair back into a bun as she does in the office, she's let it down.

As usual, Wilson wears no makeup, styled eyebrows or lipstick. The natural Swedish look.

I'm dressed with a form-fitting maroon all-velour top and a matching slim, knee-length skirt - which all nicely profile my nip-bra, man mound, and hip-enhancing girdle. My tight nylons are opaque black. I've added some tasteful makeup, dangle earrings with filigree, matching necklace, and a dark-toned red lipstick. My strap shoes have sexy, slender three-inch heels. To be honest, I feel quite come-hither.

Hadley had watched me dress with interest, kidding me about my "business dinner."

I take my assistant's hand as the headwaiter escorts us to our booth ... and I hope there's no one in the restaurant who knows me or my wife!

As we sit and are given menus and order drinks, Wilson smiles: "Andrea, thank you so much for this. And by the way, I really love your outfit tonight. I feel rather plain next to you. Should I have dressed up more for this?"

"Oh, no. The way you dress in the office is very fine, but I do appreciate your letting your hair down. I like it."

"Well," says Wilson, "I was so careful about not attracting attention from the boys in the office. They're actually very nice to me, and there was only one guy who asked me out. I told him I was already in a relationship and that was that."

"You're in a relationship?" This is news to me.

Wilson laughs softly. "No, no. I've always been a pretty private person. But I was married briefly while still attending college. Another student; Briana. I was so immature. But the real problem was that he was so irresponsible about money. His parents gave him lots but he spent it like water; had no idea what a budget was and never wanted to pay bills on time. When I called him on this, he'd kiss me off. We ended up fighting too much. A year and a half and we were history."

"So," I ask, "was he nice to you, otherwise?"

"Well, he was otherwise a lot of fun; had a great sense of humor. Was into hunting; even had a short beard, which is so odd these days. Sexually ... "

I perk up.

"Sexually, it was all about him. He wanted to call all the shots, and I rarely was satisfied. That's what I like about you, Andrea, if you don't mind my saying so - you listen, you don't try to dominate. You're a very nice combination of the male and female essences. And, I'll admit, I like your looks - Briana's beard was a turnoff."

Wilson's hand moves over mine, holding a menu. She looks into my eyes. I'm almost embarrassed.

Then she laughs again. "Oh my god, I'm coming on to you again. Maybe part of it's because you're my boss and I see you as a father figure. That could be it. Forgive me!"

I smile. "My dear Wilson, let's just enjoy our meal; I very much enjoy your company. You're a very attractive and intelligent woman."

"Thank you. That means a lot."

And so, we order, we drink - she some Guinness, me some mead. We eat; we talk shop. We get a little tipsy. I compliment her again on her work ethic and smarts, and how quickly she's slipped into the assistant's role.

She finds it hard to not touch my arm from time to time when she's making a point, and ever so naturally her thighs contact mine under the table, like a friendly puppy dog seeking contact. She's just so completely guileless; such a friendly and warm person that I know there's no artifice involved.

Over desert, I admit (after two glasses of mead have me feeling rather affectionate myself) that "cupping your breast in the office was so warm and sexy. I thought about it for a long time afterward."

She smiles. Just smiles. And says, "Could I borrow you tonight for a while? Would your wife mind?"

Wilson's apartment is Swedish-spartan with white walls and textile hangings, and the rugs are nice and thick and warm. She doesn't even go the wine and snack route, saying simply as she wastes no time undressing me, "I want you inside me, Andrea. I want to feel you inside me. This is what I thought about every time I saw you in the office. I know I must seem overly direct, but it's the truth. I hope I don't scare you away!"

"No, dear."

She's interested in the nip-bra (she's never seen one on a man before), and the artificial man-mound, and my curvy girdle. "Ah-ha," she exclaims as her fingers explore me as she helps me out of them, "so this is how it all worked!"

"A man wants to look his best," I quip.

We head into her bedroom, perfectly arranged to a T. I'm totally bare, except for my earrings. With a giant erection bobbing about (even beginning to drip a little), I begin to disrobe her, viewing her pert, girlish tits with interest, and unbuckling and slipping off her thick tweed trousers. Off come her plain cotton panties and beneath is the cutest of cunts, with an inviting line of pubic hair.

She seems so happy to be presenting herself in the buff. Is this the way women in Sweden are?

And then she leaves me standing there as she goes over and finds a tiny shopping bag which she hands to me. Inside I find the sexiest stretchy black lace panties, cut for the male anatomy. Which I slip into, managing to push my prick aside to fit it in, sideways.

"Why thank you, Wilson. So thoughtful of you ... ."

After admiring the way her gift graces me, Wilson goes to her knees, pulls one side down and proceeds to lick my shaft up one side and down the other. I'm so aroused I arch my back and stand on my tiptoes. Now I find my penis' head's within her warm, encircling lips.

"Wilson, Wilson ... Please stop right now." She looks up.

"What I mean," I say, "is that I'm so close I'll cum in your mouth, but let's save it for the main event!"

She completely disregards my entreaty, and is now stroking my member while vigorously moving her mouth and tongue over its rosy head until I can no longer help myself and begin thrusting into her mouth ... and I explode.

"Oh, god, Jesus god," I exclaim as I spurt wildly. When I finally open my eyes I see her lips and hand are all coated with cum and I'm breathing like I've run a four-minute mile.

She's quite pleased, but says, "Oh Andrea, I just couldn't stop myself. Please forgive me, forgive me. But didn't it feel good?"

"Yes and yes and many more times yes."

We take a shower together in her small stall, she soaping me and my dick and I soaping her and her cunt and small tits. This excites her to no end. Then I rub my man nipples against her modest ones. I find this incredibly erotic and find myself getting quite aroused. She wants to fuck right there in the shower, but I insist on waiting ...

We towel each other down, and my dick is bobbing high again. Back in the bedroom she finds a decorative little box, and sets it down on the bed.

I'm sitting on the edge of the bed now, and she playfully pushes me back a bit so my calves are tight against the edge of the bed. She's playing with her clit a little now, and then she climbs onto the bed and kneels across me, one knee on either side, facing me - a sexual position I'd never imagined before ...

She slides her cunt down over my happy dick. I am inside her delicious warmth now. I've come home.

She opens the little box, and inside are some chromed little spring clips whose purpose is soon made clear. She first opens a pair and releases them tightly over her soft nipples, squeezing them. And then she does the same to mine. Peyton had done this once to me, but not when we were fucking. The pain is sharp and insistent and erotic.

We're just sitting there now, with her arms around my neck and mine around her waist.

"This is what I dreamed of, Andrea." She closes her eyes and lays her head on my shoulder. The clips on our nipples contact each other with little metallic sounds.

She probably could remain that way for minutes, but my dick needs a little stimulation. So I make a little pushing motion after a while. This brings her back to the world. I involuntarily begin to thrust into her a little. She reaches down to play with her clit, which inflames me, and I begin to fuck hard, and she reciprocates by bouncing up and down on her own.

Soon, I hear her breathing get deeper and faster, and then there's a gasp, and she's yelling, "Andrea, Andrea, oh please, please, don't stop." And I'd swear she's having multiple orgasms. But finally she does ask me to stop.

But I haven't cum yet, and I'm hot to, but with the previous blow job having taken a little out of me, I ask for some lotion and lay on my back and begin to stroke myself like a crazy man. While I'm so occupied, Wilson playfully takes one of my nipple clamps in her teeth and pulls on the nipple. This is all it takes, and I come again, this time getting some jizz in her hair. So it's back to the shower for us again.

I've forgotten the time. It's quite late and time for me to return home. With a passionate kiss, and a little effort to re-establish my makeup, I leave, having known Wilson body and soul. My nipples are still smarting when I walk into my and Hadley's bedroom back home.

Wilson and I do it once more, even more lustfully. Unfortunately, I have fallen totally in love with her. But this just can't be, and I tell her so. I'm married with kids.

"I'm so sad we're not on the same page," she says. "I don't think I can work with you with this sort of dilemma, I'm sorry."

And so, she leaves the department, telling everybody she's returning to college. I'm depressed at the turn of events, but at least my marriage is intact. I continue to run the department, one of the few male department heads in the city's bureaucracy.

One night after working late, temptation gets the best of me, and I drop by Wilson's apartment unannounced. There I unexpectedly meet Brooke, her new live-in companion, who fortunately isn't disturbed by my visit. I notice that under his skirt is a naturally large penis, not an artificial man-mound. And he seems to have naturally large nipples, too. I'll bet he's keeping Wilson happy.

Throughout the rest of my life I never forget her saying, "I want you inside me." There is no greater poetry.

***

(This marks the end of Le Sexe Superieur, which I hope you enjoyed. All of my writing after this point will consist of much shorter stories of one chapter only - that I can write at one sitting. They will be more varied.)