Secrets Ch. 01

Phillip glanced at the clock, over an hour to go until lunch. Folding his newspaper, he dropped it on the desk and sighed. He had to admit, this was the easiest job he had ever had, but also the most tedious. He was not the most hard-working of men, but even so he needed something to occupy his mind. When Phillip had arrived that morning, his in-tray was bare. Fortunately Joy had bustled in at that point with the mail, reciting her daily litany of appointments and deadlines before bustling out again, leaving a few morsels in the in-tray for Phillip to deal with.

She had also left him with a slightly stiff cock. To look at her, Phillip's secretary was an unremarkable woman in her late forties; short blonde hair and sensible shoes, slightly on the plump side of average. But her eyes always held a twinkle, and her voice had a lilt suggestive of hidden depths. That, combined with the sweet, earthy scent she always wore, was enough to engender all kinds of fantasies in Phillip.

As usual, it had taken him barely an hour to deal with his workload. Then he managed to fill another twenty minutes or so with his first scan of the newspaper, just reading the articles that caught his eye. Still bored, he went through the paper again, this time reading everything he had skipped the first time. That was marginally more interesting than doing nothing. Finally, he had resorted to the business section; some of his colleagues read nothing else, but to Phillip five minutes of that was as good as a cup of cocoa before bedtime.

Phillip still had an hour to kill and nothing to kill it with. Idly, he picked up the paper again and found himself flicking through the classified ads near the back. God, he thought, how bored must I be to do that? But then a new group of adverts caught his eye, a section headed 'Personal' that appeared to offer something different to the usual garden sheds and dining-room tables. The words 'Hot Chat' appeared over a smudgy black and white photo of what was clearly a model, below which was a number. Phillip sneered. He'd read all about chat-lines, how sad lonely men got their rocks off talking to sad lonely women, all of them pretending to be someone else. But in a corner of Phillip's mind a small voice was telling him not to be judgemental; don't knock it until you've tried it.

Phillip sneered again. He was the kind of man to whom it came naturally, his face falling into that cynical, sarcastic expression by default. Still, he thought, in the interests of fairness, I should do some research before I condemn these pathetic losers out of hand. He dialled the number, careful to use his own phone rather than the landline. He could just imagine himself explaining that phone-bill to his boss!

The number rang several times and Phillip was about to hang up when he heard a recorded voice.

"Welcome to the Singles Bar," the female voice purred. Phillip snorted derisively. "Press number one to chat to horny girls, online now!"

Phillip didn't wait to see if there were any other options. He pressed number one. The next step was to "record an introduction for other callers to hear." That stopped him for a second. Shit, he thought, what if someone recognises my voice?

It actually took him several attempts to get through the menu system and record his message. He decided he would be 'Gary', a suitably anonymous name.

At last, 'Gary' got to hear other people's messages. He found the way it worked quite interesting; everyone recorded their own personal message, then you got to hear everyone else's messages in order. If you fancied talking to someone you had the option to send them a message, or even talk live. Most of the callers seemed to be men, but there were a smattering of women. Phillip heard nothing to change his opinion about the kind of people who used chat-lines, though that small voice was still in the back of his mind. You ARE the kind of person who uses chat-lines now, 'Gary'.

Suddenly, a recorded voice was telling him he had a message from 'Julie'.

"Hi Gary," Julie was saying. "You sound nice. If you would like to chat, come on back."

Phillip held the phone away from him and stared at it in astonishment. One of these sad creeps actually had the nerve to try and talk to him! He quickly ended the call, but that didn't silence the voice in his mind. What did you expect 'Gary', that's what people do on chat-lines. They chat.

Five minutes passed. Nothing happened. Thirty minutes until lunch. Phillip found himself back on the chat-line. There was Julie again. "Gary? Hi, I sent you a message, but you didn't reply. I just wondered if you would like to chat." Oh, that's just pitiful, he thought. She's so fucking desperate. He cancelled the message and quickly moved on.

Then he came across something different. A husky female voice, no name, but just begging some horny guy to come and have some fun with her. Phillip sniggered like a schoolboy as he recorded a message for her.

"Hi baby," he breathed, putting on his best porn-star voice. "I've got ten inches of rock-hard throbbing meat for you. What would you do with that?" A couple more key presses and the message was on its way.

Phillip listened to the rest of the callers while he was waiting for a reply. There were a few new ones, he supposed people must be leaving and joining the line all the time. There was one in particular that intrigued him, some woman offering "no-strings fun to generous guys." It sounded to Phillip as if she was looking for a sugar-daddy. Or maybe she was a hooker? That made sense to Phillip, for a hooker to advertise on a chat-line frequented by lonely, horny men. Though he couldn't for the life of him imagine any of these losers having the guts to approach any woman in real life. Strangely, Phillip felt a kind of bond with this woman; like him she was there for a purpose, not just to get her jollies. He thought of sending her a message, but he didn't know what to say to her. He didn't want her to think he was as sad as the rest of them.

Phillip moved on. Now it was just the usual bunch of weirdoes. The woman he had sent a message to seemed to have disappeared. Maybe he would message the hooker after all. To his surprise, Phillip realised he had an erection, quite a powerful one too.

Then Joy walked in. Phillip had been lounging in his comfortable office chair, almost horizontal. He suddenly sat bolt upright, fumbling to end the call while at the same time trying to hide the tent in his trousers.

Joy gave him a sideways glance, but made no other indication that she thought he'd been doing anything odd. Phillip scooted his chair close to the desk just in time, before Joy leaned across him to empty his in-tray. His nostrils were filled with her scent, and he could feel his cock twitch beneath the desk. Joy straightened up, her breasts only inches from his face. Phillip daren't move, he was so aroused now that the slightest movement might send him over the edge and he would come in his pants.

Luckily Joy chose that moment to turn away and hurry from the office. Through the open door he could see her putting on her coat to go to lunch. Inwardly, Phillip let out a huge sigh of relief. As soon as Joy had left the outer office, he got up and locked the door then sank back down into his chair, unbuckling his belt and pulling down the zip to relieve the tension. His cock was still straining against the material of his shorts, so he quickly eased them down his legs, allowing his best friend to stand up straight.

Phillip took himself in hand, closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. He had been holding his breath ever since Joy had come into the office. Almost imperceptibly, Phillip's hand began to move up and down as he slipped into one of his favourite fantasies.

In his daydream, Joy was sitting on the corner of his desk, staring at his throbbing tool in wonder and delight. Slowly and seductively, she began to pull her skirt up along her thighs, at last revealing the pale flesh at the tops of her sheer black stockings. This was the Big Question in Phillip's universe; never mind 'Is there a God?' or 'Why are we here?' All Phillip wanted to know was 'Does Joy wear stockings?'

Now she was straddling him, sitting on his thighs with his cock standing proud in front of her, rubbing against the front of her skirt. She took hold of his member then, gently squeezing him, a drop of pre-cum trickling onto her hand.

Phillip reached up to cup her breasts, surprised at how firm they were for a woman of her age. He could feel her hard nipples through the material of her blouse; of course, she wasn't wearing a bra. Joy placed her own hands over his and together they explored her breasts, kneading them, squeezing them.

Joy then inched her way up Phillip's body, tearing open her blouse and letting her breasts spill free to rub against his face. He took one large brown nipple in his mouth and gently nibbled on it, at the same time becoming aware that his erect cock was resting against Joy's pussy. One of Joy's hands was fumbling about between their bodies, and when he felt her wetness against his cock he realised she had pulled her panties to one side.

Joy lifted herself up then and Phillip momentarily found himself suffocating between her fleshy mounds before she lowered herself again, effortlessly sliding her wet pussy onto his shaft. Joy's entire weight was pressing down on Phillip's pelvis and he could barely move. But he didn't need to, as she began to rock her hips back and forth, grinding herself against him.

As she rode him, Joy lowered her face to his, slipping her tongue between his lips. He could detect a faint taste of peppermint on her breath as she explored his mouth, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling his face against hers. Now she was starting to pant, her lips still sealed to his, her breath hot in his mouth. Phillip slid his hands down to her buttocks, squeezing them together and pulling her down onto him, arching his back to thrust himself deeper inside her.

Suddenly Joy pulled her mouth away from him and let out a single gasp. Her muscles spasmed as she came, tightening around his cock as it began to spurt, milking him of his cum. Phillip clenched his teeth while his balls emptied, gradually relaxing until he found himself once more horizontal in the chair. Alone, of course.

Phillip sighed and thought of his wife. Little chance of a fuck tonight, Anne would be at one of her interminable charity meetings, 'Save the Donkeys' or 'Feed Starving Children', some bloody stupid thing like that.

* * * * *

Anne envied her husband. Phillip had an exciting job, a successful career; he was always at meetings, managing projects, all kinds of things that Anne was only dimly aware of. What did she have? Yes, she had her charity work, but even that left her with time on her hands. She could try and get a 'proper' job, but she had no training, no qualifications and no experience. Anne had been married all her adult life, devoted to being Phillip's wife and Melanie's mother. But Melanie didn't seem to need her anymore, she was always out with her friends; even when she was at home she was sullen and difficult. And being Phillip's wife wasn't exactly stimulating; they never talked, never went out together, all Phillip wanted to do when he got home was watch TV. Or the other thing.

Anne had never particularly enjoyed sex, in fact she had never had an orgasm with her husband. Once or twice a month she would masturbate, but the wonderful feelings she got from her orgasms were soon cancelled out by the guilt she felt. Anne had been brought up in a rather prim and proper home; sex had never been mentioned, except when her parents had felt it necessary to lecture their children on the perils of intercourse. Anne had been firmly indoctrinated with the idea that although sex was not, in itself, dirty, it wasn't something that decent people enjoyed.

Anne was sitting at the desk in the small room she used for her charity work, the room that Phillip sneeringly referred to as her 'office'. Well, it was her office, there were shelves with files and even a waste-paper basket. She might not have a secretary, or attend meetings with important people, but Anne felt her work was important, in its way. She looked at the blank screen in front of her and sighed. She should really be doing some background research before her charity meeting tonight. Phillip wouldn't be happy of course, he didn't like her going out. Not that he paid her any attention when she stayed in.

Anne spent the next hour looking for the information she needed, making notes as she went along. Everything was going well, until she accidentally clicked on the wrong link and found herself at a strange website. She was about to back out, when she realised it was some sort of online shop. Anne loved shopping, it was her one weakness, and as long as Phillip was earning money, she would spend it. Anne clicked on 'Enter' and waited for the main page to download.

At first, Anne didn't know what she was looking at. Apparently it was something called a 'Purple Porpoise', and cost £24.99. She stared at it for several seconds, then the penny dropped and she felt her cheeks redden. Anne tore her eyes from the garish purple 'thing', and looked at the menu options at the side of the screen. 'Sex toys', 'Lingerie', 'Videos & DVDs'. This was clearly some kind of online sex-shop! Quickly Anne closed down all the open windows and sat staring at the screen. Her face still felt flushed, and she could feel her heart racing. She took a deep breath, and allowed herself to calm down.

Carefully and methodically, Anne logged back on and continued her work, forcing her mind back on track. Five minutes later, she found herself looking at the Purple Porpoise again. Unbidden thoughts filled her brain; what would it feel like, would it be warm, cold, soft, hard? How would it feel between her legs, sliding up and down her labia? In her mind, Anne could see that obscene, bloated head nestling between her pussy lips. My goodness, she thought, I feel so dirty!

Quickly Anne shut down the computer. A shower, that's what I need, she thought, hurrying to the bedroom. Not a cold shower, I don't need that, just something to cool me down a little.

As Anne removed her blouse and bra, she caught sight of herself in the bedroom mirror. Her breasts were large and heavy, and inevitably at her age, just a little big saggy. She stood facing the mirror, cupping a breast in each hand, and began to squeeze them. Gently at first, then more roughly, mashing them together, pushing them out of shape. She stopped then and watched, fascinated, as her nipples hardened, becoming erect like tiny penises.

Anne unzipped her jeans and let them drop to her ankles. As she stooped to take them off, her thighs rubbed together, sending a tingle through her body. She stood naked in front of the mirror, feet slightly apart; one hand pinching a nipple, the other stroking her belly. She stayed like that for some time, swaying back and forth as her hands moved across her body. Suddenly, Anne came back to earth with a bump. What am I doing, she thought. What would Phillip say? What would Melanie say if she knew how her mother had been behaving?

Anne went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. The water was cold at first, but Anne didn't care; she hoped it would calm her down, maybe wash away her dirty thoughts. She looked down to see icy rivulets running down the slope of her breasts, raising gooseflesh. Her nipples were becoming hard again, and there was a taut feeling in her belly.

The water began to run hotter now, and Anne began to lather herself. At first, she kept her mind on mundane things. What would Phillip want to eat tonight, would Melanie be staying in or going out again? Melanie was in her final year at school, and Anne was a little concerned that her daughter might not be spending enough time on schoolwork.

By now, Anne had lathered herself all over. Once again, one hand was cupping a breast while the other roamed lower over her body. But the warmth of the lather, the slimy feel of it on her skin, the heady scent of the soap, all combined to put Anne into a different frame of mind; she almost felt as if she were someone else.

Anne parted her thighs and her hand plunged between them, the tips of her fingers stroking up and down along her lips. Her other hand caressed her body, moving down from her breast, along her flank, the feather-light touch sending ripples of pleasure across her skin.

Anne leaned back against the wall of the shower, every sensation a delight now, even the shock of the cold glass against her warm, wet skin. She spread her legs wider, at the same time pulling her pussy lips apart and slipping a finger inside. As Anne finger-fucked herself, the heel of her palm rubbed against her clitoris, making her gasp. She continued sliding her finger in and out for a while, feeling her arousal gradually increase.

When she was ready, Anne stood directly under the shower and allowed the hot streams to course over her body, rinsing the lather away. Supporting herself with one arm propped against the wall of the shower, Anne leaned forward and began to rub her clit with the very tips of her fingers. Almost immediately she felt a familiar sensation spreading through her body. She began to rub faster, panting as she frigged herself to orgasm. Anne's climax came almost immediately, forcing a single, drawn-out moan from her throat. She carried on furiously rubbing, stretching out the moment as long as possible, until finally her orgasm subsided.

Anne stood up straight, her knees shaking. It had been a long time since she had had such a powerful climax, but as she towelled herself dry, she tried to force her mind away from all thought of sex. She knew the guilt would inevitably come, but at least she could put it off for a while.

Back in the bedroom, Anne searched her underwear drawer for a clean pair of panties. At first she could find nothing suitable, all her lingerie seemed much too sexy; she needed to wear something less provocative. Anne had to kneel to reach the back of the drawer, and as she did so her towel fell away. She was still overheated from her session in the shower, and the feel of the cool air on her hot skin was indescribable.

Seemingly of its own volition, Anne's hand dropped between her legs and she sat down on the bedroom floor, her back propped against the side of the bed, legs spread wide. Her labia were puffy and red from the hot shower, and the merest touch of her fingers was enough to make her squirm. Anne's clitoris was still swollen and sensitive, and as she began to rub it, she could feel herself rising towards another climax.

Anne's body was no longer under her control and her free hand waved aimlessly in the air until it became entangled with the quilt. Anne dragged the bedclothes onto the floor around her, swathing herself in a warm, comforting cocoon. Now her heels were drumming against the floor as the muscles in her thighs contracted. A hot flush covered Anne's body, beginning in her belly and spreading across her breasts to her throat. A loud groan spilled from Anne's lips as she climaxed, making her gasp for air before giving another groan, again and again, gasp then groan as her orgasm seemed to go on for ever.

Anne stayed there for some time, wrapped in the bedclothes, cosy and safe, her body still filled with a warm glow. A contented smile spread across her face as she felt herself becoming drowsy, until finally she fell asleep.