The Seven Day Detox

And then she was over the edge and I wondered if the neighbours were at home, her moans becoming yells as she tensed. I ploughed her as hard as I could and she was silent for a heartbeat or two and then her back bowed and she pushed are arse back onto me and with an 'ohmygodohmygodohmygod!' she shuddered and tensed again and them slumped forward and I had to grip her hips to keep my cock inside her.

I wanted my release too, and I was over her now thrusting down. It was a bit of stress position for me, and I could feel that I hadn't properly worked out in a while. But I wasn't about to give up when I'd gone this far, her continued moans sending me closer and closer, until I felt it coming from far away and then it was suddenly on top of me and I was pumping cum into the condom as the sweat rolled down over my face and I was gasping, probably less than a minute from my heart and lungs exploding.

My chest was heaving and there were spots in front of my eyes as I pulled my cock out of Amanda. She was in a similar condition but I was going to ignore her now. With trembling fingers I pulled off the condom and dropped it on the floor, a weak grin crossing my face at the sound of the splat. Then I retrieved my t-shirt and shades and picked up my jacket, leaving Amanda's apartment without another word, though I glanced back to fix the image of her, flushed, sweaty and satisfied, flopped on her sofa.

Once in the hallway I staggered a little and leant against the cool wall, feeling my years as I fumbled on my t-shirt and jacket, and made it to the lift on hollow legs. Outside the building I sat down on a concrete planter for a full five minutes to catch my breath while young mothers pulled their toddlers past me thinking me an afternoon drunk. And when my breathing was regular again I headed to the station though once there I caught a waiting cab, pointedly avoiding any conversation as we sped past the gathering rush hour.

***

"You were a definite hit," grinned my wife, mobile in hand, as she stuck her head around the bedroom door as I lay there, a towel wrapped around me from my shower, "though she hasn't given me any details yet."

"And I suppose you'd like me to, err...fill you in?" And she had the grace to smother her smirk. But that didn't stop her climbing on the bed and straddling me, demanding information.

"Ok, but I think you might need to wait for me to do the filling," I said.

"That good, huh?" she said, her eyebrows arched.

And so I told her everything as we combined to remove her clothes, piece by piece. I was surprised at how excited she was when I told her of Amanda's naked housework - perhaps an avenue I might explore once more, this time closer to home. And then I laid her back and, after describing how I'd fucked Amanda, she had to be contented with the best oral sex that I was able to provide (my spirit being more willing than my flesh, as I had predicted). Taking full advantage, my wife extracted every bit of pleasure she could and when I pressed a finger against her tight little arsehole she became the second woman I'd made come yelling that day. Memories are made of such things...

Part two

Despite assurances I had nagging qualms. It was Saturday, two days after I'd facilitated Amanda's submissive fantasy, and I wasn't happy with myself at how I'd left. The thing was that, even though she'd wanted to be left as part of the scenario, it went against what I believe to be safe in emotional terms. I'd brought it up with my wife but she'd pooh-poohed my concerns, "Amanda had a great time, she doesn't feel damaged, and she isn't developing feelings for you."

"I'd be happier if I heard it from the horse's mouth."

"When are you going to do something else from her list?" My wife was fishing now, and I decided to let her dangle.

"I'll tell you when I'm done," I said implacably.

"Well you'd better save something for me this time," my wife said, a laugh in her voice, but I could see that she was half-serious. So I promised I would ensure her full satisfaction and then dropped the subject. The truth was that I was uncomfortable at my wife's back-seat role; it wasn't that I didn't trust her, but I had a responsibility to ensure Amanda's emotional wellbeing and it was one I shouldn't delegate.

Fortunately I had an opportunity to take full control that very day. My wife's friend Jackie was having her birthday and our mutual antipathy was such that I was not welcome, to the relief of everyone concerned. So I told my wife I'd catch up with the boys and then sent Amanda a message telling her that I wanted to talk to her. Her reply was a prompt "yes, sir!" and that was a habit I could get used to, and she followed that by inviting me to her flat. But I wanted us to meet on neutral ground so I called my friend Louie and had him reserve a discreet table for us at his gourmet burger place down by the river. And then I told Amanda we'd be going out for a bite to eat and a chat, and she accepted it without demur.

As soon as my wife was out of the door I threw a dark shirt and some dark trousers on, looking reasonably smart not so much for Amanda but out of deference to Louie. I drove over to pick up Amanda and stuck the radio on, halfway through some bubblegum song relating the heartbreak of the singer at the sight of her boyfriend dancing with another girl. And it occurred to me that this was the first time I'd lied to my wife about anything to do with an affair of the bedroom. But this was in a good cause, and if I'd been allowed to do things the right way from the off this wouldn't have been necessary.

Amanda's outfit was finely calibrated, and she got more marks for it; she was wearing a dusty gold coloured dress with some reasonably subdued glitter on it, matched with a dark jacket, some light make-up and just earrings, and a pair of quite low heels on her feet. It could be perceived as an outfit for a date, or for a casual Saturday night with friends, or just an outfit that, like mine, was appropriate for a fashionable eatery. And it had the effect of accentuating both her looks and her brain without needing to scream it from the rooftops. As I said, she definitely got more marks for it.

As I drove we kept the conversation neutral, but it was instructive nevertheless because I found myself actually discovering something of her life - her pregnant sister, her antipathy towards horses, her knowledge of astronomy - and I found myself liking her as a person. What she thought of me I didn't know, and on one level I found it better not to care, at least until the seven days were up (five more to go).

Louie's place was buzzing, a queue of young professionals waiting to get a table, and yes, I did grin a little as the maitre d' waived us past the frustrated faces as they stood in line. I'd asked Louie for a discreet table in the full knowledge that the place was crammed full of nooks and crannies and blind turns and dead ends. It was a conversion, the building originally having been a warehouse when King George went mad, and it had been re-purposed a host of times since. Louie, being a visual kind of restauranteur, had created a sense of eclecticism with red and blue and yellow lights and antiques and bookcases, in direct opposition to the stripped down hipster chic of recent years, though it still had clean lines and wasn't overwhelming.

The maitre d' summoned a waiter who led us up to a landing and around a corner to a one-table nook, perfect for the private conversation I had in mind. Offering us a drink on the house I regretted that I was driving, contenting myself with water as Amanda took a mojito. And then Amanda wanted to know how we had managed to get in so easily and I had to explain that my firm had consulted on the building conversion, and my partner had acted as the lead contractor on the build for Louie, and mention the devil and he appears so there was Louie at our table, all wiry enthusiasm, bringing our drinks himself. Amanda chose that moment to excuse herself to the bathroom and as she left Louie checked her out then shot me one of those kind of looks, his eyebrows arched.

"It's not what you're insinuating," I said.

"Hmm," he replied doubtfully, "in my business I hear that about once every two days..."

"Go ahead," I said with a smile, offering him my phone, "call my wife. This is purely platonic."

His expression hardly changed but he dropped the subject and we chatted until Amanda came back, and then he convinced us to have his executive chef's special veggie-burger platter for two (the reviewers had raved about it), and then he was gone about his business. Alone at last, I decided it was time for the serious conversation.

"So, I need to ask about Thursday," I began, and Amanda gave me her full attention, but there was something about her expression, a sparkle in her eye which stopped me, and then the realization slapped me around the face.

"You're not wearing any panties, are you?" I continued after a momentary pause, and a slight shake of her head and a faint grin confirmed my stupidity; I'd only been thinking of my narrative, and when it came to her list, I'd been making arrangements for something else - more of which later - but she'd almost certainly been thinking of the part which read 'danger of being caught in a public place', and which I'd forgotten.

I calculated for about two seconds, but in the end it would be rude not to, wouldn't it? So I told her to show me. Her eyes brightened a little and she reached for her hem, slipping it up to reveal stocking tops (I'd assumed she was wearing tan tights) and then faded rose suspenders, and then she spread her legs wide to show me her bare cunt My blood was pumping as I looked at her - women going commando is one of my things - and as I glanced around to ensure she couldn't be seen I knew that I was going to get her into a corner and fuck her as hard as I could.

"Wait there," I ordered gruffly and almost flew to the men's room, praying that there was a condom machine. I silently blessed Louie, for next to a machine with grooming products was one with a range of options. I rejected curry flavour and extra-mega-gigantic, and ripped open the packet I had chosen, sticking the loose condoms into my pocket as I was speeding back to our table. Amanda had a napkin placed discreetly over her lap, but as soon as I reached the table I took her hand and hauled her to her feet, the napkin flying and her cunt exposed again, and I led her giggling up a half-flight of stairs and around a corner.

The interior of the building was something that Escher might have dreamt after a night on absinthe, but one of the advantages of consulting on the build was my intimate knowledge of the plans, and I knew we'd reached a short, blind corridor where I could attend to Amanda with only a minimal chance of interruption. The corridor was less than ten feet long with floor to ceiling bookcases on either side (the books themselves were fake), the effect maximized by the full-length mirror at the end which seemed to extend it. As soon as we were around the corner Amanda clamped her mouth on mine and she kissed me with every part of herself, clearly hugely turned on.

I responded, my hands all over her but rapidly moving to her jacket, which I hauled off to find that her dress was sleeveless with thin shoulder straps - convenient, and I pulled the straps down to find that she had decided not to wear a bra either. In an instant I'd gripped her, her tit in my right hand as I bent to lick her nipple, and I groped blindly for her arse with my left. Her breathing quickened as she surrendered to my attentions, my tongue circling her nipple, her back against the mirror.

We were both feverish in our passion, and as I grasped her butt and squeezed savagely she ripped at my zip, thrusting her hand into my trousers and yanking out my cock, already more than half-hard. She gripped my shaft and wanked me a little too hard, my 'ouch' muffled as my mouth was clamped on her breast. She eased off a touch and I dropped my other hand down over her stomach and between her legs, seeking her mound. As I pressed the ball of my thumb against her she gasped. In response I took my tongue from her tit and kissed her roughly on the mouth, and she responded in turn, thrusting her hips into me, her second gasp louder even though it was stifled.

My fingers soon found her hole and a surge of energy pulsed through me as I felt how soaked she was. I caressed her with two fingers, then placed a finger on either side of her pussy and parted her lips. She pressed her full-length against me, her overriding need to be fucked raw also evident from the incoherent noises escaping from her. My need was just as strong and so I turned her, pushing her against the mirror and then I paused for a moment, admiring the sight of Amanda, her dress around her waist and her arse presented to me, her palms, cheek and tits pressed against the mirror (and the rogue image of a forensic investigator dusting the mirror for prints popped into my head, making me grin).

I snapped back into action after a second, reaching for a condom, begrudging the moment it took me to put it on my straining cock. Then I gripped her hips and pressed my cock against her hole, her 'mmm' of anticipation gratifying. And then I thrust, none too gently, and reached up to grab her hair in my fist. Her moan had a helpless timbre that the caveman in me appreciated, and without any great subtlety I started to fuck her, pulling her back onto my cock with my other hand.

She seemed to be out on the edge almost immediately and as I settled into my rhythm; long, hard thrusts with the material of my trousers rubbing against her bare arse every time I impaled her. She was moaning quite loudly, and I was reaching around to grope her breast when I heard heels clicking on the steps only a few feet away. I wasn't about to stop at that moment, but I shifted my hand up to her mouth, clamping my palm over her lips as I kept thrusting. This seemed to make her frantic, and though silenced she started to thrust back hard against me, her orgasm slowly building from deep inside her.

The footsteps soon passed but it wasn't the time to let up, and I took her even harder as I continued to cover her mouth with one hand and pull her hair with the other. She was closer now with every thrust, and then her orgasm was overflowing and she shook helplessly, her knees folding and I had to take my hand from her mouth and support her waist to stop her falling as she bucked and moaned aloud, our chance of discovery magnified once more. She didn't seem to stop coming for an age, her hands pressed against the mirror in a vain attempt to find some further support until her high slowly ebbed. I, meanwhile, had more than half an ear out for passing waiters, frantically trying to think of plausible excuses (and failing - there weren't any).

Now Amanda had come so spectacularly I wanted my own satisfaction, but I just couldn't seem to come. Amanda wasn't complaining as I pounded her, and I wondered briefly if we might achieve some multiple orgasms. It didn't go that far but she was still enjoying every thrust and she had to begun to urge me on when I finally felt my own orgasm knock tentatively and then wait around for a while before stepping through the open door in a rush and I was coming for England, trembling as it felt like I emptied every drop from my balls and I had to reach around her, dizzy and panting, to place my hands flat on the mirror either side of hers to stop myself collapsing.

We were both gasping like fish on a slab but slowly we remembered where we were. I wiped my brow and pulled off the condom, wrapping it in a tissue from the pack I had in my back pocket. Zipping up my trousers I departed to freshen up a little and Amanda did likewise. After throwing away the condom in the men's room I splashed water on my flushed face and then chuckled as I looked at myself in the mirror - perhaps there was something in this 'danger of being caught' lark, after all.

I got back to the table first to find Louie standing there with our platter and wearing an expression which said 'not what I'm insinuating, huh?', and I had the grace to look shame-faced. Amanda rejoined us within a couple of seconds and Louie pointedly asked her if she needed a refill, but she missed the implication, merely smiling and thanking him as she handed him her glass. He left without another word, but with a backward glance in my direction and I knew I'd have to make it up to him.

"Oh my God, that was intense!" breathed Amanda sensuously once Louie had gone, before she continued more matter-of-factly, "and you can relax. This is like a holiday for me but I promise that if I start to feel something emotional, or something threatening, I'll tell you. Shall we eat?"

And that, as they say, was that. Well, apart from the moment about twenty minutes later when I slipped the butt plug I'd brought beneath my napkin and slid it across to Amanda with the instruction that she was to insert it before our next meeting. Her face was a picture when she lifted up the corner of the napkin to peek underneath - well, I couldn't have her having the last word, after all...

Part three

I let Amanda dangle a bit after that, wanting her desire to build up again, and also because I needed to pay some attention to my wife and my work, in that order. I told her about my meeting with Amanda the next night as we lay in bed, entwined after our love-making, and she pretended to be angry, slapping my arm and calling me a bad husband, but she couldn't keep the smile off her face and within moments she demanded the details, listening with a saucy grin before demanding a second round I barely had the strength to deliver.

As for Amanda, I waited until the end of a long Monday in meetings and on site before sending her a text, telling her to keep Wednesday evening free. She replied with her usual 'yes sir' and I made a quick call to a friend, and everything was set. I had to tell my wife I wouldn't be around on Wednesday, and of course she wanted details, but I told that she'd have to wait - I didn't want her accidentally spilling the beans to Amanda and to be fair, she accepted this with good grace.

The nights were drawing in so it was after dark when I drove over to Amanda's place on Wednesday evening, and that suited my arrangements. I'd borrowed a company SUV with some cock-and-bull story - as an owner/director I hardly need an excuse but I had decided discretion was the better part of valour. I parked and went up to her apartment feeling bouncy and nervous which was strange given that it was Amanda who was going to have the 'adventure', not me. Perhaps, having arranged it, I needed it to go well, like the first time a daughter rides off on her bicycle after the training wheels have been removed.

I was still musing when Amanda answered the door and it took me a second to get into character. I was to be stern, at least at first, and now I found myself wishing I had my sunglasses to hide behind, but fortunately inspiration struck...

"Turn around and face the wall," I ordered peremptorily, and she immediately complied as I strode in, pushing the door shut behind me, "and speak when you're spoken to."

Fortunately Amanda's door pretty much opened into her living room so I was able to make myself comfortable on her sofa, dropping the small backpack I'd brought down next to me, and continue the scenario without needing to move her. I studied her for some moments as she stood still, and I wondered what was going through her mind. In her place I know what I'd be feeling, but it's easy to over-think these things and disappear up one's own backside, and I dropped it in favour of moving the evening along.

She had dressed nicely in a quite loose black skirt that finished just above the knee and a white blouse, and I was pretty sure that beneath these items she was wearing nothing but hold up stockings, as I'd instructed - well she was certainly wearing black hose, thus the only question there was what type. There was, of course, a simple way of finding out and I was happy to follow the path of least resistance, and so I ordered her to strip.