Unexpected Anal Office Tryst Ch. 04

Since I started working this job in 2012, my wife has prodded me that I'm cheating on her with my phone. And like every joke, it's based in truth. I get compensated very well for the sales I bring in. We want for nothing, and Jenny and the kids benefit from every comfort that money can afford, within reason. The drawback is that I am rarely unplugged.

Early on, the incessant buzzing of my phone drove us crazy. Between clients, coworkers and bosses, I was being contacted a couple times an hour, even over the weekends and vacations. When Jenny complained, I was quick to point out the lifestyle we were able to afford as a result of those interruptions.

A couple years ago, I started keeping my phone on mute. The buzzing ended, but I still checked it every five minutes just in case someone had reached out. Jenny was always good-natured about it, to the point that she bought me a personalized shirt for Christmas last year. It read, "I'm sorry, what? I was staring at my cell phone."

So when Kathryn started sending me images of herself over the three weeks that followed our rendezvous in the hotel, nothing appeared out of the ordinary. I stared at my phone as much as I always had; there was just better content now.

The first image came the following Sunday, the day she was getting married. Apparently she had found a moment shortly before the ceremony. The image was of her reflection in the mirror, sitting, and hiking up her dress to show off the lingerie that she had previewed for me the Friday prior. The caption read, "I can't seem to find my panties. Any idea where they might be?"

Of course, we both knew where they were: stuffed into a manila envelope and buried in the bottom drawer of my desk. But what an incredible feeling having a bride send you risqué selfies moments before walking down the aisle.

"Don't respond," she wrote. "I'll be around too many people for the rest of the day. Just wanted you to know I'm thinking about you."

Throughout her honeymoon, the pics kept coming. I was kicking the soccer ball around the backyard with my kids when she sent a selfie from the tub, her hand between her legs. "Thinking of you," it said.

My wife and I were on separate couches when she sent her reflection in the mirror, post-coital, with a splotch of cum on her tummy. She had a fingertip between her lips. "Doesn't taste as good as yours," she offered. I had to place a pillow on my lap to hide the impromptu stiffie.

Mercifully, I had the house to myself on a Sunday afternoon when she sent a video. The caption read, "Not having my panties provides much easier access." I pressed play, and was immediately struck by her simple beauty. She appeared to be in the bathroom, with the phone propped on a low shelf, or perhaps the toilet. She was wearing a sundress, yellow and flowy. She held a finger to her lips, indicating "shhhh," before turning her back to the camera. She then flipped her dress up onto her lower back and bent over, revealing her bare pussy and adorable butt. Then, to my great delight, she spread her cheeks apart, exposing her tight hole.

I was enrapt as she scooted a middle finger closer, teasing her puckered sphincter. Then, in an instant, she slid it in up to the first knuckle. A brief squeak escaped her mouth and her cheeks flexed a bit. As fast as she inserted it, she removed it and turned to face the camera again, smiling broadly as if she was proud of what she had accomplished. That smile turned impish as she brought that same middle finger to her mouth and sucked it clean. Again, she gave the "shhh" gesture before ending the video.

I ran to my room, pulled a sock from the hamper and jacked off into it as I watched the video two more times.

Fuck, I'm going to hell.

On the Thursday before she was set to return, my boss informed me I had been granted the trip to Philadelphia. I sent Kathryn an Incognito that night, asking her to check her email to see if she also was going. The following morning, I awoke to her reply.

"Thank God! Yes, I'm going too! Looks like it's just the two of us. Monday is a travel day, Tuesday-Thursday at the convention, coming back Thursday night. Think you can handle me for three nights in a row?"

I replied, "I've been suffering from withdrawal, so I'll be rearing and ready to go."

"I have way too much work to catch up on when I get back. Let's agree to not see each other until the train station Monday morning. Then we can go at it like rabbits."

How I managed to get anything done between that message and two Mondays later when we were at Penn Station together is beyond me. Kathryn had returned to work and locked herself in her office to work through the enormous stockpile of papers that had amassed on her desk. For five days, I had gone to work knowing she was on the floor below me. It was torturous. I wanted to stop by even if it was just to exchange a knowing glance, but I knew I would be rewarded with my patience.

I focused my sexual energy on my wife. Jenny welcomed my advances, which came more frequently and spontaneously than any point in our marriage. She interpreted the fire inside me as a sign that she could still turn me on. And while she could still light my fire, Kathryn was fanning the flames. Jenny and I rarely ventured beyond cowgirl and missionary, and she never let me approach her asshole. It was good, but it paled compared to what I knew was going to come. I knew the same was true for Kathryn, at home with Jeremy. Even within the revelry of nascent marital bliss, she was bored with him as a lover.

My obsession with Kathryn was transitioning from manageable to obsessive. I needed this trip not only to get my cock in her ass again, but to get away from my wife. I still loved Jenny with all my heart, but she would get suspicious if I maintained this newfound randiness much longer.

Kathryn arrived ten minutes early for our 8:45am train on Monday morning. The station, as always, was packed shoulder-to-shoulder, and this enabled her to sneak up on me from behind. Slipping her left hand into the left pocket of my slacks, she laid her chin on my shoulder and whispered, "Hey, stranger."

I turned to face her, doing my best to maintain a sense of decorum.

"We waited this long, we can't wait another two hours for the hotel?" I asked.

She looked as stunning as ever. She was wearing a tan, knit, long-sleeve dress that ended just above her knees, paired with boots that ended just below the hem. In my peripheral view, it appeared that there were no stockings underneath her dress. I wondered about panties.

"You know what you do to me," she said as a smile formed on her face. For a moment, I thought she was going to kiss me in front of all these people. Sure, they didn't know us, and they wouldn't care, but why take the risk?

If that had been her plan, she chickened out, rocking back onto her heels and changing the conversation.

"I hope we're able to sit together," she said. "There are so many people here, and this train is always busy."

"I hope so, too. But if we aren't, just think about having the entire afternoon to ourselves."

"Mmmm...that does sound good."

We worked our way through the crowd toward the front of the platform, and got lucky when the train stopped with its doors directly in front of us. Unfortunately, only a few commuters detrained, and those who were already in that car move to have a double seat to themselves.

Kathryn and I worked our way through six cars, none of which had a double available. We passed through the doors into the seventh and final car pessimistically, but to our great fortune, there was one seat, right inside the door, that was available. Kathryn took the window seat, and I the aisle.

"What a stroke of luck!" I exclaimed, apparently a bit too gregariously for our neighbor.

"Shhh," I heard from the seat next to me.

I turned to see a well-dressed man, briefcase open beside him, with his finger over his lips.

"Sorry," he whispered. "But this is the quiet car. There's no speaking on this car."

Respectfully, I put up my hand to apologize, then turned to Kathryn with a guilty smile. She stifled a laugh, enjoying my embarrassment. She pulled out her phone and opened the Incognito app, showing it to me so I would open mine. She started typing.

"Shit. I was really hoping to have a little privacy. Was thinking I might get away with a little oral action if no one was looking."

My cock started to stir in my pants as the implications sunk in.

"Maybe as people get off between here in Philly, we'll have a chance."

She looked away from her phone, directly into my eyes, and bit her lip. The way she shifted in her seat conveyed that she was desperately turned on.

"However," I wrote. "It doesn't mean that I couldn't return the favor from Central Park."

"There's no way we could get away with that here. Too many passengers."

"Nonsense. Just lift your butt off the seat for a moment."

Kathryn stared deep into my eyes. We had an implicit trust of each other, even when one of us was pushing boundaries. After all, she had jerked me off in Central Park and we'd gotten away with it. It was only fair that we get to reverse rolls at some point.

But beyond fairness, this was something that she wanted. She'd chosen a husband for his vanilla nature. She'd chosen me for all things salacious.

I read all of this in her eyes, and I caught the moment of resignation as she blinked and braced her arms on the rests of her chair. She subtly thrust her hips up off the seat, creating just a few inches of space, at which point I grabbed the back of her dress and yanked it upward.

As her milky thighs came into view, her eyes went wide and she plopped herself back down on the seat. But this provided all the access I needed. Her breathing increased as I draped my coat over her knees. I left my right hand under the coat, reveling in the heat emanating from within. At this point, the only batch of skin that was exposed was the side of her ass and top of her thigh, and that was mostly blocked by the arm rest. The only way a passenger would see was if they stood over us and stared directly at that spot.

It was a risk I was willing to take. And with a nod, Kathryn affirmed her willingness, too.

She bit her lip as I slid my hand slowly upward. Unlike the frigid temperatures outside, Kathryn had a furnace between her legs. The side of my pinky finger lodged temporarily, but Kathryn responded by parting her legs a bit further. Her skin was incredibly smooth, like porcelain, and I savored every inch of it as I teased my way closer.

Kathryn emitted a barely-discernable gasp as my pinky first grazed against her lips. I turned my gaze forward, towards the back of the seat in front of me, hoping to catch a glimpse of the elder gentleman to my left in my peripheral view. He seemed to be staring straight down at his newspaper, so I continued.

I felt no hair whatsoever. Not around the lips, not above. She appeared to have shaved clean for me. Her juices quickly coated my pinky as I stroked her slowly. Kathryn turned her head towards the window in an effort to hold her tongue. Her breathing was growing as deep as it was rapid. I had barely started to touch her, and she was already on the edge.

Then, with a BANG!, the door to our passenger car shot open and the conductor walked in. The roaring of metal wheels on metal tracks shook through all of us in the several rows nearest the door. My hand jolted out from between Kathryn's legs, but I left them under the coat, worried that the conductor would notice their glistening lacquer.

"Tickets!" he shouted.

As he collected the ticket from the gentleman to our left, I placed both of our tickets in the allotted slot on the back of the chair in front of me. The conductor turned, and I watched him closely to see if we had aroused suspicion.

He was a handsome black man, his face proud and confident, reminiscent of Idris Elba. He diligently collected our tickets, punched them, and slid them back into the slot without a word. If he suspected anything, he didn't let on.

As he moved on to the seat in front of us, I started working my right hand back towards its destination. I looked over to Kathryn to gauge her feelings on the matter, and was surprised to see her staring at the conductor. There was a lust in her eyes that I'd seen before, but only towards me. Seeing her so obviously attracted to someone else was amusing. I thought I might have felt a moment of jealousy, but really it was her husband who should have felt that.

I pushed her legs apart, and lifted her left leg over the arm rest. The coat still covered her for the most part, but beneath that, she was now exposed to my advances. I turned my palm towards her and slid downward until my middle finger found her hole. She had to have been leaking all over the seat by this point.

There was no need for me to warm her up. She was rearing and ready to go. After my middle finger slid in up to the first knuckle, I positioned my pointer finger tight against it and slid both in to the second knuckle. Kathryn responded by clenching her ass and thrusting up to meet my penetration. Her right hand covered her mouth, attempting to stifle any escaping sound. She continued to stare at the conductor, though I could no longer tell if it was out of lust, or as a precautionary measure in case we accidentally caught his attention.

With her fully spread and prime for fucking, I began to pump my hand as best as possible given the slightly awkward position. No doubt, I'd give better finger bangs in my day, but Kathryn's every sense was heightened. Here she was: legs spread, no panties, getting fingered by a guy who wasn't her husband - her husband of one month, for that matter - on a moving train packed with commuters. Even if she was mostly concealed, the potential of getting caught was clearly accelerating her momentum towards orgasm.

With each thrust inward, I made sure that my palm landed on her engorged and sensitive clit. I looked at her face again, only to find that she was gazing out the window and biting her fist. Beads of sweat appeared above her eyebrows. Her lids narrowed to thin slits as she focused on not announcing her orgasm to the entire car.

Half wanting to get caught, I withdrew my fingers and brought my attention solely to her clit. In an instant, she threw her head back in clear ecstasy. Her mouth disengaged from her fist, but she quickly turned that fist into a flat hand and clamped it over her mouth. Her left hand was clenched fiercely to the armrest between us. She thrust her hips frantically up towards my hand, generating as much sensation as possible, before holding her hips midair for a few seconds. Somehow, she managed to focus all of her movement towards her pelvis, and I felt wave after wave of climax come over her as she came.

I nearly applauded; I was so impressed with her ability to remain quiet. The expression on her face was certainly loud: she had turned a shade of crimson, strands of her hair had become plastered to her forehead, and her chest was still heaving with deep breaths. Then, she bit her bottom lip and returned her gaze to me. She was thrilled with herself, and I could tell by the look in her eye that she couldn't wait to get to the hotel.

...

Two hours later, I was balls deep in her ass. The room on the 17th floor of the Ritz-Carlton had floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out onto city hall. Kathryn was pressed flush against that window. Her legs and belly were trapped between it and my frenzied pounding. Her torso was wrapped up in my arms, holding her slightly off the ground, aided by the support of my pounding obelisk.

The prior fifteen minutes had been wanton and erratic. We'd torn at each other like alley cats fighting. There was no rhyme or reason to any of the positions we fucked. We took each other in whatever way required the least amount of time, a result of the mounting, tumultuous lust that had built up since her wedding.

And for all the self-muffling she had to do on the train, Kathryn let it all out now. As I emptied my balls deep in her ass, she let out a cacophony of sounds. A blissful shriek interspersed with moments of giggling. I matched her volume with my own elongated grunt, taking in every inch of joy my dick felt inside of her. He anal passage seemed to massage my cock, sucking anxiously for every milligram of cum it could acquire.

We were panting as if we'd run a marathon, and it certainly felt as though we'd exhausted that much energy in the quarter hour since we started. My head fell onto her shoulder, and my smile turned slowly into an inexplicable laughter. I don't know what brought it on, other than, perhaps, that the sheer joy I had experienced brought it about through my subconscious. For a split second, I thought Kathryn would be offended, but was relieved to hear her join in with her own chuckling.

I eased out and lowered her feet back onto the floor, at which point she turned to me and kissed me flush on the mouth. Then, breaking the kiss, she pushed me back on the bed and headed off to the bathroom.

"I missed that ass," I called to her, attempting to raise my voice over the volume of the running faucet.

"I can tell," she said. "I missed feeling so full."

The water shut off, and Kathryn emerged, enwrapped in a plush, white bathrobe. As she made her way to the bed, my phone started ringing. My wife's name flashed on the screen.

"Fuck, it's Jenny," I said. I put a finger to my lips, requesting silence as I answered the call.

"Hi honey!" I mustered in a cheerful tone.

"Hey, just checking in. You usually call when you get to your hotel."

"Oh, yeah. Sorry, it must have slipped my mind. Normally I'm flying, so my routine is a bit off, I guess."

Kathryn swayed by the foot of the bed, amused that I was trapped in this conversation while she held me at her whim. She raised her right hand to allow a finger to linger down her cleavage, nudging the robe apart as she did so.

I shook my head no, begging her not to tease me like this!

"So is the room nice?" Jenny asked, insisting on occupying my time with banal inquisitions.

Kathryn moved her left hand to the knot holding her robe together and nimbly untied it. Her right hand traced all the way to her belly button, forcing the robe to part and hang loose from her shoulders. She purposefully stood with her feet spread, allowing me to gaze wondrously at her adorable, shaved pussy.

"Uh, yeah, of course it is," I said. "There's an incredible view! I mean, it's the Ritz, after all."

"Oh, you lucky dog! My company never puts me up at the Ritz. Think I can ditch the kids and come join you?"

Kathryn spread her legs a bit further and dipped two fingers between her lips. Having just been there on the train, I knew how good it felt. But as good as it felt, it looked even better.

"Haha, are you serious?" I asked, nervous that she was. "I'm not sure I'll have a ton of free time."

"I was sort of half serious, anyway. I feel like we've really been connecting the last few weeks, and it might be fun to see you outside of the house. I don't know, maybe roleplay or something?"

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Jenny never spoke this way. She was sufficient in bed, but never adventurous. Our love making had become more emphatic since my affair with Kathryn began, but I must have been a bit disconnected to not see how much it had meant to her.

But what I was seeing was equally unbelievable. Kathryn had removed her fingers from her juicy cunt and was now sucking the moisture off of them. As if to torture me further, she was pinching her left nipple, and swaying her hips seductively, all without breaking eye contact.

"Uh, yeah, that would be amazing!" I lied. I needed to work my way out of it without rejecting her. If only Kathryn weren't occupying 90% of my brain so I could think clearly. "Do you think you'll be able to get an overnight sitter?"