Three Months

I can't explain why my life changed that day, but it did. Not with a blinding flash or some kind of enormous impact, but slowly, like the underside of an iceberg melting before it topples to a new position, a process of change began that day.

We had been having an affair for about three months. We'd known each other for a lot longer; we'd worked together for nearly two years. I know, office affairs can be so predictable, but this was different. I've seen it before, where colleagues start sleeping together because they see more of each other than they do of their spouses. This wasn't an affair bred of familiarity. We had been attracted to each other from the first day we met but had not acted on it. A life threatening illness had brought us together. Talking about how either of us would feel if the other was no longer there made us realise that this was a relationship that had to be consummated.

John was a quietly spoken yet confident man. It was something that attracted me to him. I didn't know it that first time we met, but I wasn't surprised to discover he was a much more experienced lover than my husband, knowing exactly what he wanted and how to encourage me to enjoy myself more than I had ever dreamt possible.

Of course, I had only ever known what my husband had taught me so I didn't have a lot to compare him with but still I knew that John was different. He would often probe me for my thoughts on different sexual games we could play. You know the sort of stuff, 'Have you ever wondered what it might be like to be tied down', or 'I would love to video us making love.' At first it had been a little shocking but I had come to enjoy our exploration of the different scenes he would describe, to relax and enjoy the fantasies he created in my mind. A major part of that pleasure came from the realisation that he was genuinely interested in my answers; each successive scenario was shaped and moulded by things I'd told him previously.

We had managed a few weekends away but often just met before/after shifts for a drink and usually very long talks about absolutely everything. He could talk on any topic; it was only later I realised that those conversations were as much about his listening as they were about what he said; he was interested as well as interesting.

One morning, after a rather uneventful nightshift we met up for coffee and croissants. We hadn't planned to do any more than that (or so I thought) but he asked if I wanted to go back to his for breakfast as his wife was going to work early that morning. Of course I said yes. He rang and spoke to her just to make sure she was in work and she was. By that stage the guilt at our deceiving her was long gone; our spouses were just part of the landscape we moved through, obsessed with the dream like quality of the romance we'd created for ourselves. I don't mean that we had long term dreams or fantasies of old age and roses round the door, just that you need to make something special and unique if an affair like ours was to survive the prosaic details of organising adultery. With his charm, his style and his imagination John made that possible for me.

We got to his house and headed not for the kitchen and coffee; he held my hand and we went straight up to the bedroom. We laughed together about the fact that his uniform from the previous shift was still in a ball in the corner of the room. Devastatingly sexy he may have been, but domesticated he wasn't.

He started kissing me, the deep, gentle yet demanding kisses I loved so much, turning my legs to jelly. We weren't laughing now, but god I was smiling. I barely noticed that he had started undressing me until I relaised that my blouse was open and my bra undone. There was a coolness about his actions that was enthralling and challenging in equal parts. He sat on the bed beckoning me toward him and started suckling at my breasts. I remember thinking how wonderful it would have been if only I was still producing milk for him to drink. There was something so assertive and deliberate about his behaviour that I felt almost as if he was transforming my breasts into something more, although I didn't know what.

He raised his head and looked at me with his mesmerising smile, so touching that if I had had any thoughts of resistance they would have melted away. I removed my remaining clothes and lay on the bed as I knew he wanted me to. He had lost his clothes too and lay beside me stroking my body, running his fingers down to my pussy but not quite touching it, as if he knew that I needed to wait. He knew how much being teased aroused me, and he played on that weakness like a maestro. I watched his movements in the mirror on the ceiling, the view giving an added edge to the sensations he was arousing. It's so odd to see yourself as your lover sees you, aroused and lost in the moment he is creating. He moved and started suckling at my breasts again. This time I was holding his head urging him to suck more of me into his mouth, knowing that I was already wet, not caring if his mouth crossed the line between caresses and gentle torment. Slowly he trailed kisses down my body, across my tummy, much too slowly for the pulse that was beating warmly in the base of my stomach. I couldn't help it, I was moving, trying to raise my pussy to his mouth, urgently needing his attention. Finally his tongue flicked across my clit and I gave myself up to the sensations he was arousing. In my head I felt something like a sacrificial offering, naked, vulnerable and exposed but excited, not afraid.

He then raised his head, ignoring my protests, and said he wanted to try something different that I would like. I readily agreed, not worrying about what it might be, so long as the sensations continued. Before John, I would have been filled with trepidation; the thought that flashed across my mind at that moment though, was that I didn't care what happened so long as I was filled with John.

I kept my eyes closed, as he'd asked, savouring how I was feeling and waiting to see what he intended doing. I was aware of him moving on the bed, the mattress shifting, his skin rubbing 'accidentally' against mine. Then he was tying something to my left wrist. My eyes flew open and stared at him; dispite our discussion of fantasies, I hadn't envisaged that he would actually do this. He had some silk scarves and was using them to secure my wrists to the headboard. He smiled at me,

'It's okay, I'm not tying it too tight, let me do this, I know you will enjoy it but we can stop anytime you want'.

I thought for a moment, a wide eyed breathing pure oxygen moment, then relaxed a little and nodded for him to carry on – closing my eyes again though as I tried to gather my thoughts. What exactly was he planning? Did I want this? I trusted him completely and everything else he had already introduced me to had taken me to places I had never been before. So maybe I did want him to do it. He secured my right wrist and then tied something around my head, over my eyes. I was shocked again, a little apprehensive and yet on some level looking forward to the unknown, and so turned on, each breath felt as if it was testing my lungs.

Once he was happy with his handiwork he started kissing me again, trailing kisses down my body to my very wet pussy. I really wanted my hands free so that I could caress his head between my thighs but that obviously wasn't possible, causing me to wriggle and squirm under his attention. I just knew he was smiling, proud of the effect he was having on me and the havoc he was wreaking on my self control.

The doorbell rang! Inside I froze. I wanted to get free and put some clothes on.

'It's ok, I'll get rid of them' he said and left the bedroom. I was left there, bound, blind and splayed on the bed, becoming nervous, straining to listen to what was happening downstairs. Hearing another male voice but being unable to make out any words. After what was probably a very short time I heard the door shut again and John reclimbing the stairs. I felt his weight on the bed as he said,

'It's all sorted' before tugging at my nipples , rolling them between his thumb and fingers, rekindling the fire within me.

Slowly he returned to running his tongue up and down my pussy. The pace was mesmeric until, suddenly he sucked my clit into his mouth and bit down gently, something he had not done before. It was like an electric shock through my whole body. As he released the pressure his hands started massaging my breasts. It took a few moments to realise that it could not be his hands; someone else was in the room! I fought hard to get free managing to get my right arm loose,and trying to lift the blindfold.

'No' he commanded.

'Stay where you are or I will use handcuffs instead'

I stopped moving and just lay still. He re-secured my wrist and said

'Relax and enjoy'.

I willed myself to relax , I didn't want to disappoint him but I was scared. The full impact of my situation, my vulnerabilty had struck home. I thought the other person was male, the voice at the door, the feel of his hands on me all agve me clues but he didn't speak so I wasn't sure. Now I could feel four hands caressing my body and despite myself I started enjoying the sensations they were causing. I felt John return to teasing my clit and nipping at my lips. It had never felt so intense before. The other person started sucking on my nipples, rougher and harder than John but I was enjoying that too!

Then I knew it was a man as he thrust his cock against my cheek.

'Go on, take it, you know you want to.'

John was right. I turned my head slightly and the stranger gently at first, pushed his cock into my mouth, he was longer and thinner than John. I was almost gagging as his thrusts became more demanding. I tried to relax my throat to be able to take all of him into my mouth which was very difficult as I was so excited by everything that was happening. I could feel the tension building in the pit of my stomach. John was thrusting his tongue in and out of my pussy, I had a strangers cock in my mouth, I was finding it difficult to breathe, Icould feel the orgasm coming from deep within, every part of me was on fire as the explosion came. I was almost convulsing off the bed, with the intensity of it, the stranger still thrusting into my mouth frantically, moaning I think, I couldnt be sure as I was gasping for air as he came, forcing me to swallow as his movement stilled.

Slowly he withdrew, allowing me to breathe more easily, some of his cum seeping out the side of my mouth. I felt movement and John was tenderly licking the cum from my face and kissing me. 'Did you enjoy that?' he asked. All I could do was manage an affirmative nod. 'Good, now wait there' as if I was capable of going anywhere after that, even without the restraints.

I was aware of the movement in the room and the stairs creaking as someone walked down them. Had they both gone and left me there alone? But no, John spoke to me, 'I haven't finished yet, there is something else I want to do, okay?' More of a command than a question really. I managed to croak out 'Yes' and I just knew he was smiling again.

I felt bemused by what had just happened, knowing I had really enjoyed what had occurred but glad the 'other man' had gone. I couldn't really think a great deal at all. So I waited as I listened to Johns' movements around the room. A drawer opened and closed and then I heard a lighter being ignited. Alarm bells started to sound – he didn't smoke, so what was he up to now? Had I got it all wrong and he was going to do me some sort of harm? 'John what are you doing, please tell me?' I implored him. He just made a shushing noise and I felt his weight settle onto the bed.

There was a smell that I couldn't quite identify, scented and warm. I felt him move over me. Suddenly there was a sharp, stinging, burning sensation as something hot hit the skin on my upper breast. I flinched, but as I went to say STOP! he spoke softly.

'Let yourself go, enjoy the sensation, ride it, it will soon stop'.

Even as he spoke the sting subsided, leaving a delicious warmth instead. He asked if I was okay and I said yes; monosyllables were all I was capable of.

Another drop of the hot wax hit the skin on the other side. I can't say I was ready for it as I didn't know when or where he was going to position the burning candle but I allowed his words to penetrate my mind and ride the slight pain. The next drop fell on my erect right nipple, the pain a little greater but before it had chance to cause me any real problem I felt something cold running over my heated skin. By now everything that I felt, thought, was totally focused on the feelings and sensations I was experiencing both internal and external. A drop on the left nipple, harsher sting, intake of breath, heart racing, then the coolness. My stomach was next to endure these bitter sweet sensations. Was he going to go further? Would he stop? No, the next drop landed on my thigh and I jumped, a shiver running through my whole body. My brain registered that I wasn't cold, it was anticipation of what I thought was coming. Deep in my subconscious the older, cooler part of me struggled with the idea, that the burning sensation was what I hoped was coming next. In fact I needed the sensations.

A few more drops on my thighs. The acceptance, the time to measure what was happening and quiet the voices inside, asking me why I was allowing this, and why I was welcoming it.

Then I cried out. The pain as the hot liquid touched my clit was far, far worse than the rest, something I hadn't expected.

'It hurts.'

I wailed as he ran a piece of ice over my burning flesh.

'I'm sorry I was a bit too close, it won't be so bad now, I promise' he said.

He was right. The following few drops although causing more pain than the ones on my upper body , were not as bad as that first one on my most sensitive part. My whole body was tingling and all I knew was that I wanted more. With each burning caress I was floating and sinking at the same time, and although I was aware it was happening. I was not thinking, just feeling; my perceptions of anything beyond myself narrowed as everything was blurring into such intense sensations. It was with a kind of emotional shock, like a first kiss or a first penetration that I realised I was barely aware of anything except his voice, and so comfortable with the feeling.

I sensed him shift and then heard him blow the candle out.

' I have a perfect mould of your pussy now'

he whispered in my ear, causing more nerves to tingle. Then he moved between my thighs and carefully started peeling the result of his labours from my body. I could feel every little movement, the slightest brush of his fingers as he removed the wax from me. He removed the makeshift blindfold from my head and said

'Look, this is you and look how wet it is with your juices.'

I could see just how wet the little mound of wax at the base of the mould was. He ran his finger around it, placing it on my stomach and put his moist finger into his mouth. I couldnt stop staring at the finger entering his mouth. At the same time he placed his other hand over my pelvic mound, cupping it. I wanted to feel his fingers in me so much.

As if he knew exactly what I craved he slid his middle finger easily inside me, then another and with three or four strokes he brought me to orgasm again. I'm not sure if I didn't black out for a moment or two. I certainly wasn't in that room for a while; wherever I'd gone to it was a place where I felt safe and secure.

When I finally came back down to earth, the scarves were untied and I was cradled in his arms, basking in the warmth and peace I felt. I still couldn't speak, didn't want to speak. We stayed cuddled together like that for what seemed forever.

Finally, he asked if I wanted a cup of tea, to which I managed to croak,

'Yes please.'

Two words were all I could manage now!

'Come down when you're ready' he said.

I lay on the bed for a further minute or so, feeling bereft of his comfort, wishing he was still holding me, trying to understand what had happened and gather myself together, before finding my clothes and nervously following him downstairs.

The teas were made and he was stood in the kitchen waiting for me, a pensive look on his face. Here goes, I thought, I did something wrong. Should I have said no? Did he think less of me for going along with it all? It suddenly dawned on me that he hadn't come! How could I have been so selfish? Without thinking I went up to him and threw my arms around him and said

'Thank you.'

He gently pulled me away from him and looked into my eyes and said

'I knew you would enjoy that but I thought you might have stopped me. I am so glad you didn't, it means so much that you permitted me to do what I wanted to.'

Before I could voice a worry that was forming in my mind he said,

'You don't know him and you will never see him again. He is a good friend from up town and knows no-one we work with.'

With that he guided me into the lounge to sit and drink our drinks and there it was; that damn smile again.

I can't say I ever recovered from that day. That would imply I suffered something, which I didn't. I changed. For ever and for the better.