Maybe I Should Tell Him

Her hair was piled up on top of her head, giving her a more mature appearance. Now she could pass for 25, or so. Those unforgettable green eyes were back, painted to perfection, just like before.

The whole package had an instantaneous impact on me, the kind of impact that manifests itself in a guy's cock. This time, however, I made no attempt to conceal it, as I led her into the employee's lounge, a much more comfortable place to conduct a meeting—of any type.

I started out talking about her experience, but she quickly steered the conversation toward the inevitable.

"I don't have a lot of experience with married men, but I'm willing to learn," she told me, letting me know with her eyes that she was aware of the elongated bulge in my jeans. We were both sitting on the leather sofa at the time.

"You know, Meredith, that sweater … that's not something you'd want to wear to a job interview. You know that, right?" I told her, pretending to keep the alleged purpose for our meeting on track.

"Oh, I shouldn't be wearing this? Is that what you mean?" she giggled, running her hands over the front of her tight sweater, before reaching down and grabbing it at the bottom. I watched her quickly pull it up over her head with one smooth motion.

"Better?" she asked, her smile full of innocent mischief, her tits practically spilling out of their minimal confines.

"Better for me, I guess," I mused. "You've got beautiful breasts, Meredith."

"Thank you, Kevin. I can tell you like them," she added, glancing down to my crotch.

"What man wouldn't?"

"Speaking of beauties," she said, her hand gently gliding up my thigh and coming to rest on my hard-on, "what does a girl have to do to get a peak at this beauty?"

"I guess a kiss might do it," I joked.

"That's all?" she said. "Here."

She leaned over and kissed me, her luscious tits pressing into me. The formalities of the "meeting" were over. She kept her hand on my cock. Her lips were soft and warm. Our tongues met. I was sure I was in the middle of a dream that would end any second and that this nearly topless young playmate throwing herself at me would be nothing more than a married man's wet dream.

"OK, now I get to see it," she said, helping herself to my belt buckle, and then the snap on my jeans, and then the zipper. She asked me to stand up and when I did, she worked my jeans down to my knees. As far as I know, I've never been able to dream standing up. This had to be really happening.

"Hmm, she hummed, admiring the way my cock made a tent in my shorts.

"Oh, Kevin!" she sighed, rubbing her hands all over me. And then, tugging my shorts down my legs: "Ooh, you're so big!"

I stood there, looking down at her as she fondled my cock with both hands. She was a vision of sheer desire.

"I've never tasted a married man's cock before, Kevin. Would you mind … if I …"

I shook my head, admiring how her eyes sparkled and how bare her jiggling tits looked in her little bra. And then I was admiring the way her lips felt on my cock. She took the whole head of my dick into her mouth and sucked so gently on it. Not in any hurry. Just soft, gentle sucking. It was divine. I have no words to describe the sensations Meredith's mouth produced on my cock. The whole time she was sucking me, I kept thinking how badly I wanted her out of her jeans and on her back.

I told her to stop; I wanted to see her naked.

She giggled getting out of her clothes, especially when I helped her take off her thong panties. For some reason that really amused her.

We screwed on the sofa, or at least we started off screwing on the sofa. I was on top of a naked wriggling snake that moved with my every thrust. Soon her head was hanging off the front of the sofa, and then her shoulders. We rolled onto the floor, my cock deep inside her. She screamed my name over and over, her hands clamped onto my ass making it impossible to come anywhere but inside her.

I never knew cheating could feel so good.

PART SEVEN

Sunday afternoons, this time of year, Kevin likes to watch football on television. Either a couple of his friends come over to our place or Kevin goes to one of their houses. Today, Kevin's friend Scott was hosting. So, when Charlotte called, I was by myself and had just finished vacuuming.

"Angie, I ran into Henry again."

"Last night?"

"Yeah. I told him I spoke with you and then I mentioned the name Charles Metzger. And his eyes lit up like the fourth of July! And are you ready for this, he pulls out a pair of airplane tickets—round trip to San Diego—and says these are for ‘Angie.'

Charles wants her to fly out to California for a party he's throwing."

"You're making this up."

"I swear to God I'm not, Angie."

"Oh, my God!"

"Do you believe this?"

"I want to go, Charlotte."

"I figured you might, that's why I took the tickets."

"Oh, Christ! Charlotte, I had so much fun with Charles. He's so different from Kevin. Wait a minute! Kevin's never going to go along with this. Shit! For a minute there, I could actually picture myself flying to California," I snickered, blinking back to reality.

"Hold on. What if …"

"I love it when you get creative."

"What if you were invited to a family wedding or a school reunion or something the same weekend as the party?"

"You mean, like somewhere out of state?"

"Yeah. It could even be in California, although that'd probably sound a little too suspicious."

"When is Charles throwing this party? Do you know?"

"In two weeks. You'd fly out that Friday morning and return late Sunday night"

"Is that enough time to arrange something?"

"Maybe. I have a friend in Vegas. She could give you a call. She could be an old college roomie who's getting married and insists that you have to have a part in the wedding. You wouldn't want to break her heart, now would you?"

"Absolutely not," I chuckled.

"Angie, this is so delicious. You know you bring out the devil in me?"

"I'm getting wet just thinking about this whole thing."

"Shame on you!"

"Yeah!" I giggled, reaching my hand into my panties to see if I really was wet.

I was.

PART EIGHT

I went in to see Henry this morning and tell him I couldn't get in touch with Angie, but much to my surprise, he told me not to worry about it.

"It's all set," he said.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I ran into someone else who knows Angie," he told me. "A girl friend of hers. And it's all set. Angie's up for it. I'm going to see that you get a nice increase in your bonus this year, Kevin. After all, you're the one who introduced Angie to Charles in the first place."

"Uh, thanks, Henry. Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

I think I must have staggered out of Henry's office. I was confused and extremely eager to talk to Angie when I got home.

When was she planning to tell me about flying out to California and why would she think I'd go along with it? These were the questions I needed answers for, but, as it turned out, I never got around to asking them. Angie got a phone call that night from a friend of hers in Las Vegas —someone she knows from college. Apparently they're pretty close; she wants Angie to be in her wedding.

"When is it, honey?" I asked her.

"Weekend after next. Is that OK with you?"

Vegas? The weekend after next? How interesting. The same weekend as Charles' party. I could feel my temperature rising, but I bit my tongue and walked into the other room without answering her. She followed me, repeating her question.

"Is that OK with you, honey?"

"Is anything going on that weekend" I asked her.

"No, our calendar's free as far as I know," she said.

"Let me check," I said, and when she was out of the room I made a phone call.

"Meredith, I'd like to see you again. Are you up for it?"

She was.

"Great. What's on your calendar the weekend after next?"

"Nothing, yet."

"How about a date?"

"Ooh, I'd love a date with you, Kevin. Are we talking about Saturday night, or what?"

"I was thinking Saturday night-Sunday morning."

"Oh, Kevin, that sounds delicious! But how are you going to get away from your wife?"

"It's taken care of, Sweetie. Talk to you later."

Angie was watching television. I sat down beside her and put my arm around her.

"What's up, honey?" she asked, patting my leg.

"I was just thinking about that wedding …"

"So, you're OK with it?"

I gave her a hug, "Yeah. I don't see anything on my calendar that you have to be here for."

She grinned and kissed me. "Oh, honey, that's wonderful. You really don't care if I go?"

"I want you to go. And have a good time."

"Thanks," she said, kissing me again. Her hand moved up my thigh.

I kissed her back. Our mouths opened, welcoming each other's tongue.

We made love right there on the sofa.

TO BE CONTINUED …

[Author's note: The next story is called "Party Girl." I hope you enjoy it.]