Susan

"Susan, you don't want to leave now," he said.

There was a low growl to his voice. It wasn't threatening, nor was it demanding. But my god, it was sexy. No man should have been given a voice like that. When he adopted that tone, and he didn't all the time, but when he clearly wanted something from me, as he did now, the sound sent a shiver through me and made my already dripping pussy clench.

Jack was right of course. I didn't want to leave. But I knew I should leave. I had to leave. He was my best friend's husband. Kelly was the woman I had coffee with every morning on our break, the woman I ate lunch with in the cafeteria and walked in the park with during our lunch hour, the woman who cried with me when my husband left me, the bastard, the woman who helped me understand what a shit he was, and why I was better off without him. Now I was with her husband in a bedroom at a faculty party. The rest of the party was going on a floor beneath us, making all the usual noises of a cocktail party where thirty or forty people have had too much to drink, and are talking to loud to be heard by anyone except those they are close to.

That was how I had found myself here. I was talking to Jack downstairs in the midst of the party after several drinks and I couldn't hear him. He had taken my arm and escorted me down a hallway and up a set of backstairs. Just having him take my arm sent an unexpected charge of lust through me. I had known Kelly for over a year, but I had only met her husband once or twice, each time very briefly. I had noticed he was handsome, but tonight was different—very different.

And now we were in this room-a room holding only two things my erotically charged mind could see—Jack and a very large bed.

"But you don't want to leave do you?" he said as he stood across the room from me.

"But Kelly . . ."

"Don't worry about Kelly. She doesn't need to know." His voice had a rumble I just couldn't ignore. I was so turned on I could feel my nipples, hardened into little knots, pressing against the fabric of the little black cocktail dress I was wearing.

Now he was standing next to me. I could smell him. It wasn't after shave. It was just his masculinity. My god, if I had thought his voice was enticing. It was nothing compared to his aroma as he stood close to me. And there was a heat coming off his body that just spelled sex. No, I didn't want to go.

And I didn't go. He wrapped his arms around me and leaned down towards my face. I thought he was going to kiss me, but he didn't. Instead he pushed my thick brown hair aside with a hand and begin to kiss and lick that oh so sensitive place where my neck met my collar bone. How could he know? How could he know just how erotically charged that spot was?

I moaned when his lips and tongue touched me there and it became a squeal when his teeth joined in with a series of soft nibbles. All resistance on my part was gone. My arms were around his neck pulling myself up to him. I stood on my toes and kissed him. It was a long sensuous kiss, tongues dueling, and just crammed with lust. Oh yes, god yes, I was thinking. Don't stop. Good god don't let this stop.

His hands drifted down until they were cupping my ass, pulling me into him. I could feel his rock hard cock pushing a groove into my lower belly, while those big hands were kneading the cheeks of my ass. I was on fire. Kelly? Who the hell was Kelly? Did I know a Kelly? All I knew was that I wanted that hard dick that was pressing into my belly.

Now he had one hand massaging one of my breasts. Every time he slid his fingers over my swollen nipple it sent a shock straight to my clit. The other hand had pulled my dress above my hips and was massaging my bare ass (I had skipped panties and a bra with this dress because the snug outfit looked better without. In theory it had built in bra cups, but they didn't really do much, which made the outfit very sexy on someone with breasts as large as mine). He pushed the straps of my little black cocktail dress down over my shoulders, and I cooperatively freed them from my arms so he could push the top off my breasts and down to my waist.

We had switched positions. I now had my hands on his ass pulling him into me, savoring the feel of that rigid prick pressing against me. He was leaning back, using his hands to fondle my now exposed tits—cupping them, lifting them, mashing them, rubbing the nipples with his thumbs, sucking on them, and caressing the nips with his tongue.

My clothing now formed a broad belt around my waist, leaving me naked but for a band of cloth, placed where it simply didn't matter, and a modest string of pearls around my neck. While he was pushing my dress into inconsequence, I slipped a hand between us and was massaging his cock through his trousers. He was hard as a rock and felt huge. I had to have that cock.

This was wrong, so wrong in so many ways. He was my best friend's husband. He was a colleague, an assistant professor at the university where I worked as an executive assistant in the admissions department. Kelly sat at the desk next to mine. We were in a bedroom of the Vice Provost's house. Coats were piled on the bed that someone leaving the party might want to retrieve at any moment, and with my dress in a band around my waist, I was totally indecent. But oh my god, he smelled so good and his voice—my god what a voice. It was whispering, no not whispering, but growling, obscenities in my ear, about what he wanted to do to my tits (as if he wasn't doing enough to them already), how he wanted to rub his cock on them, and where else he wanted to put his cock. And how, after he did those obscene things with his cock, he wanted to spray his cum on my tits. I'd never had a man talk to me like that before—and I was on fire. Yes, that cock. The hard one I was massaging through his pants. I had to have that cock.

I sunk to my knees and released his belt. He stood looking down at me, a fire in his eyes that had only been hinted at before. He groaned when I stroked his cock through his still fastened trousers, using the flat of my hand, rubbing the underside as I stroked it. I released the fastening on his pants and then slowly drew down his zipper. I should have been hurrying. Someone could come in at any moment. But I wanted to savor this. There was something obscenely sensuous about dragging the zipper down so slowly, one click at a time, and watching his rigid cock, still clad in his straining underwear, slowly emerge. When the zipper was halfway down, the upper half of his cock covered only by his thin knit undergarment, I dragged a finger nail down the exposed underside, starting at the tip and stopping only when I reached the still fastened point on the zipper of his trousers. I heard him gasp.

Eventually his pants fell to his feet and I could see his cock perfectly outlined in his white under-garment. There was a damp spot where the head pushed against the fabric. It was shinny with leaking precum. I put a finger on the spot and then pulled it back to my mouth for a taste, leaving a silken thread of sex between my mouth and his still covered prick. I used my thumb to rub the slick precum leaking through his briefs around on the tip of his prick. He groaned again in response. Then I rubbed my face back and forth across his still covered prick, inhaling an even stronger dose of his masculine aroma.

"Suck it," he growled.

I looked up at him and smiled. I had every intention of sucking his cock. I was just relishing the lust of the moment. I hadn't had sex with anyone since my husband had left me a year ago and damn little, and quite unsatisfactory, sex with him for two years before he left, and I so needed this.

"Now. Suck it now," he said. "Someone might come in. We haven't got all night."

I was so far gone I really didn't care if someone walked in on us. But having been raised to be a good girl who does what she is told, except for following my mother's orders about not having sex with boys I met I school, I hooked my fingertips above his briefs and pulled them off his hips. The briefs hung up on his cock until I pulled them out and down. Released, his cock bobbed freely, hitting me in the face and leaving a streak of pre-cum on my cheek, while his briefs fell to join the pool of clothing around his feet.

It had been several years since I had sucked a cock. My ex-husband had thought it was dirty and forbid it. Of course it's dirty. That's the whole point. I sat back on my haunches stroking his cock with one hand and fondling his balls with another. His cock was long and straight. Not the biggest cock I had ever seen (I had sucked a lot of cocks before I foolishly fell in love with my ex-husband). Not so fat it would stretch my mouth too wide to do a good job cock sucking or cause pain when first invading into my cunt. Not so long it would jam at the end of my cunt when he fucked me, but fat enough and long enough to stretch me and fill me up. It had a beautiful spade shaped head, broader at its base than the shaft immediately below it. The shaft was nicely ribbed with wandering blood vessels (those would feel good as they slid back and forth in my snugly fitting cunt, I thought). I let my fingers slide over the risen blood vessels, just to reinforce the picture my eyes were giving me.

His balls were big and hung obscenely down from his scrotum. Each one a nice fit in the palm of my hand, and I rolled each around in my palm in turn. I couldn't wait to see the volume of cum that these two dandies would ejaculate trough the beautiful shaft my other hand was holding.

"Suck it," he repeated.

I rose up on my knees and held out one of my breasts. They are reasonably large and soft, so there was plenty there to lift and hold out. Then I used my other hand to rub the pre-cum covered head of his prick across the nipple of the tit I was holding out to him. He groaned at the contact with the sensitive tip of his prick. I leaned forward and began stroking the end of his cock with my tongue. I have a longish tongue and I was able to caress all of the head of his prick. Next, I opened my mouth and pushed the head fully in, still caressing it with my tongue. I let saliva slip past the head and used it as a lube as I stroked his cock with my right hand. My left hand was busy, alternating between fondling his balls and exploring my slick sex.

"More. Deeper," he said grabbing my head with both hands and pulling me forward onto his prick until it reached the back of my throat. I continued to massage the shaft with my tongue and then pulled back, sucking as I went. We repeated that process again and again at an accelerating pace. He was fucking my face. So nasty. I was loving it.

The face fucking went on until my jaw was getting sore. I was out of shape for this kind of sex. I pulled my head back, and continued masturbating his cock, using two hands with a twisting motion. It was wet and slippery with a combination of my saliva and copious precum he was leaking. My jacking made an obscene noise as my hands, coated in liquids from both of our bodies, twisted and stroked his shaft. His head was thrown back, his eyes closed as he savored the sensations coming from his prick.

"Are you close?"

"Yes" he growled. "Let me finish it."

"On my tits," I said as I relinquished his cock to him and knelt before him holding both of my big soft tits out to him.

"Come on," I said. "Squirt that hot juicy fuck juice of yours on my tits. Coat them with your cum. Come on Jack." Where had that language come from? I hadn't used those words since my honeymoon when my worthless husband told me never to talk like that again. "Come on Jack. I'm your horny slut. Coat me with your fuck juice." But I was talking like that now, and it felt good, letting myself go like that. I had done it with men I had screwed in college and most of them loved it. I think it scared a couple of them.

I could see it was working with Jack. He was beating his cock at a furious pace. His right hand was almost a blur. Then he froze and groaned, "Arrrrrrrrrrrrrgh, as the first of three or four streams of pearly white cum erupted from his cock. It was hot when it hit my tits, almost burning. I could never understand how a man's cum could feel so much hotter than his body temperature, but so be it. I loved it.

Jack stood before me leaning against the wall and panting, looking down at the mess he had made on my tits. I was still holding them out to him and looking up with pride, as if to say, "look what I made you do."

Then he did what men do that makes them so worthless. He quickly pulled his clothes back in place and closed up. He took a deep shuddering breath of recovery and said, "Wow." Then he shook his head, clearing it and said, "We better get back downstairs before we are missed."

He leaned down and gave me a peck on the cheek and then turned and left the room, leaving me sitting on my haunches, essentially naked with gobs of his cum coating my tits. Not even a thank you or a compliment on my skills as a cock sucker.

And was I offended? Hell no. I was still horny, still totally smitten by his massive masculinity. Later, when I was no longer in his mesmerizing presence, I would tell myself how stupid this had been and what a shit Jack was, but now. No, not now. Now I got up and walked shakily, still besotted with lust, into the powder room where I closed and locked the door and then sat on the toilet and rubbed his cum into my tits with one hand while I got myself off with the other hand. My mind played a lust induced video of me, lying naked on my back with my legs spread obscenely while Jack pumped that big, hard dick in and out of my cunt until I came with a scream. That was the dream. The orgasm, well yes, I had one. But it was hardly the orgasm I wanted, just enough of a release so I could pull my dress back into place, fix my make-up, and head back down to the party.

I didn't stay long at the party. Long enough for one more drink, but I was afraid Kelly would wander over and want to talk. I didn't see her around, but I really didn't want to have cocktail party chat with her so soon after I had given her husband a blow job. So I swallowed my drink quickly, grabbed my coat and headed home.

When I got home I fixed myself another drink—a stiff one. I expected to be feeling guilt, but that wasn't the case. I knew I should be feeling guilty about what I had done with my best friend's husband, and I knew he was such a shit, seducing his wife's best friend and then walking away and leaving me there, my tits covered with his cum and my pussy on fire with need. But no, as I sat there sipping my drink, all I felt was horny. The mild orgasm I had given myself afterwards hadn't come close to satiating my lust. It wasn't long until I had pushed my dress down off my chest and up around my hips and was softly rubbing my pussy lips and my clit. I sat there in an arm chair, my dress a band around my hips just like it had been when I was sucking Jack off, my legs spread obscenely, while I day dreamed about all the nasty things I wanted to do with Jack. The fantasy went on and on: exposing myself to him in a public place; sucking him off in the back seat of his car; lying on a bed with my legs spread obscenely while Jack ravaged my cunt with his dick, hard as a bar of iron; sitting on his face while he slid two fingers in and out of my cunt and licked my clit; jacking him off by hand while I told him an obscene tale and watched his cum spurt from his cock and land in pearly pools on his stomach, which I then licked up and swallowed. Central to all the fantasies was Jack with his deep rumbling voice and his erotic aroma.

After the drink and its refills were gone I moved to the bedroom where I lay naked on my bed my legs spread and knees bent as I ravaged my cunt with the biggest dildo in my collection. There was only one thing in my mind at that point—Jack doing the very same thing to me with that big beautiful cock of his. This was much more satisfactory masturbation than the almost wasted effort of earlier in the evening in the bathroom of the Vice Provost's upstairs bedroom suite. I went on and on, jacking the dildo in and out of my inflamed cunt and moaning as I enjoyed my fantasy. It ended with a screaming climax that ripped through my entire body. God what cramps in my toes!

With the combination of the climax and the booze, I fell sound asleep. When I awoke in the morning I was lying naked atop my bed with a well-used dildo next to me. I threw a robe on and staggered out to the kitchen for my first cup of coffee. Now I felt guilt, and a hangover. Oh God, what had I done last night?

By afternoon, the hangover had faded, but the guilt was still there in force. I told myself it had all happened because Jack was such a shit. But I knew better. I could have just said no. But I didn't. I went upstairs at a faculty Christmas party and sucked off my best friend's husband. Unforgiveable.

I had gone for a mid-day run hoping to sweat the guilt out, to no avail. Now, after a shower, I was sitting in my living room in a bath robe, my hair wet and hanging in all directions, as I asked myself how I would ever face Kelly again. My phone buzzed with a message from a number I didn't recognize:

"Hi."

As I stared at it a second message rolled in: "I enjoyed last night." Shit, it was Jack. Jack was the only person I had enjoyed anything with last night. Jack wanted to text. Now what do I do? I hadn't expected to hear from him again. I was sure that he viewed last night as a one off. It all came back in a rush. How sexy his voice and his aroma had been and how unbelievably hot our fifteen minutes in the bedroom had been. I went from feeling guilty to seriously aroused in a flash.

Still, I couldn't get Kelly completely out of my mind.

"How's Kelly?" I responded.

"Kelly's fine. Went to visit her mother. Back Wednesday night."

"Oh." I thought for a minute and then added, "So you didn't tell her?"

"LOL. Hardly." I felt a sigh of relief. At least she wouldn't be scratching my eyes out at work on Monday morning.

"Good. How are you this morning?"

"Missing you." Oh oh. He wants more. "And you don't?" I asked myself. A rhetorical question. Yes, I wanted more. I was feeling guilty three minutes earlier and in the space of a brief exchange of messages he had awakened my lust. It's amazing how lust can wash guilt and good sense away.

"Oh. What shall we do about that?" I texted. It was an invitation. I didn't think of it as that, but it was.

"I thought we should get together." There it is, I thought. There's the ask, the proposition. He wants to fuck me.

"Okay. Where?" With two simple words I had just agreed to fuck my best friend's husband . . . and my pussy was boiling over. Yes!

"How about here?" he texted.

I paused for a minute before answering. I didn't want to fuck Kelly's husband in her house.

"No. You come here at four o'clock." I needed two hours to clean the place and myself up.

"Okay,"

Then he sent it—a picture of his erect cock. It was his. I recognized it from last night. His note said, "We can't wait." My god he was arrogant. But it was a beautiful cock, and his voice, his aroma. I should be mad, outraged, that he would do this . . . but I was just horny. And it was a beautiful cock. And I wanted it.

An hour and a half later I had tidied the apartment and myself and was sitting in a chair wishing I had told him to come sooner. I was naked but for a loosely belted robe that fell several inches short of reaching my knees. It draped loosely over my naked breasts, covering them, but letting them swing loosely as I walked to the door in response to his knock.

"You're early," I said as I let him in.

"I couldn't wait."

"Did you bring your friend?" We were barely an inch apart as he stood in the open door, his hands resting lightly on my hips. I could smell the same aroma that had been so seductive the night before, and his voice had the same low sexy rumble.