Where There's Smoke, There's Fire

I started an affair with a married co-worker.

That's how this whole thing started.

At first it was quick and flirty 'Good Morning' smiles in the hallway at the school where we taught together. It quickly escalated to inside jokes, emotional heart-to-heart discussions during breaks; then to small gifts that made him think of me. Further still we advanced to meeting up outside of school, grabbing pizza or a coffee and speeding in his truck to a deserted street to talk. Why were we doing this? Because his wife was away visiting friends or visiting family. Because his wife was out of town at a conference. Because his wife ignored him. In other words, we were both lonely and our needs for companionship far outweighed our need for propriety.

The kicker? He never touched me, nor I him. But heavens!, the electric chemistry crackled in the air whenever we were together; both of us felt it. However, there was a line that shouldn't be crossed. As such, I kept my true desires and personal feelings to myself and never once verbalized them. He did the same. It was better that way. I rationalized both of our behaviours simply because we were so good at being close friends. And, I mean, we weren't really doing anything wrong, right? Right!

*****************************************************************************************************

It was at our staff Christmas party, last year, where things reached a pinnacle for Phil and I. Dinner and dessert was served and consumed; local wines and domestic beers were flowing. Speeches were grand, games were amusing and laughter ran freely. After such a great time, we, the school staff, had all gotten up to leave and Phil had pulled me aside just as I was stepping outside into the cold December night. He said,

"I need to talk to you. But only after everyone leaves."

I remember how much of a thrill that had given me. I suggested maybe going back inside the classy gourmet restaurant that we had just vacated. He had agreed and said that he would follow me in a few moments when he could confirm our colleagues had left.

I stood in the vestibule waiting for him, glancing around at the ornate and antique wood finishes and ceiling light fixtures. The restaurants building was a historical landmark and I couldn't help but be impressed at the restored lavishness. This is how he found me as he came in out of the cold, having made a play to head for home so as to fool our coworkers. We smiled at each other and he signaled for me to follow him up the intricately carved staircase in the entryway to the washrooms on the second floor. They were single-occupancy washrooms and he escorted me into the Ladies' Room, turned on the light and locked the door behind us.

I looked around me at the spacious and spotless bathroom. The walls were covered in a gold-embossed floral pattern on a medium sage-green background. The ceiling tiles were antiqued white tin with a more subtle pattern, contrasting nicely with the wall decor. The toilet and under-mount sink were white porcelain. The sink cabinet was a deep, rich, walnut; the cabinet pulls were a swirling and woven iron knob- obviously handcrafted. The large mirror above the sink had a similar woven iron-frame but not as heavy as the knobs. Meanwhile, on either side of the mirror, softly glowing iron wall sconces, with hand-blown glass bulb shades, supplied more than enough light when combined with the strategically placed pot lights in the ceiling. The floor was a tile designed to imitate hardwood. The whole ensemble was absolutely beautiful and set the most perfect scene for what was to come.

"Becca," he began, drawing my attention back to him "I just can't stand it! You are driving me crazy!! You're outfit tonight is stunning! Your hair is perfect! You smell like heaven!" He reached for me, but I backed away.

"Look, Phil", I said, "you are married and I cannot cross that line! I just can't. I mean, my body wants to, like REALLY, REALLY wants to, but my mind and my heart won't allow me. "

He had looked sardonically at the floor.

"Oh yes, my marriage... my dear wife. The one who gets home from work and just sits in her recliner; who eats junk food, never exercises. The one who frequently visits friends and family without me; leaving me home for days at a time without so much as a call... My wife" he bitterly spat out, "who hasn't touched me sexually in 17 years."

He had reached for me a second time and I didn't resist. His confession had shocked me and my brain had stalled just long enough for him to get past my defenses. He softly kissed me, inserting his tongue gently inside my mouth, and a heated current flowed from his body to mine. My body screamed out to reciprocate. I had seen his large erection pushing against the fly of his pants when he had held the door open for me to enter the bathroom and I could feel it now against my abdomen. My mouth was watering at the prospect of him shoving his huge, aching cock into my sopping, wet pussy. It had been almost two years since my last relationship. It had been two years without a real cock inside of me. My brain flashed RED, however, and would not allow my body to follow that fantastic thought. I broke the kiss.

"Phil..." I looked into his eyes with sadness, "I want to. But I can't".

He kissed me quickly, one last time and looked down again, also low in spirit. He knew that I was right and his eyes weren't able to meet mine. With a sigh he stepped away from me.

"Can I ask you for a favour, though?", he said.

I smiled, "Sure". The crisis had been averted. Any request after that would be manageable.

"Would you fulfill a fantasy of mine? I've been dreaming about you performing this for me to watch. Do you have any lipstick in your purse?" He had perked up slightly and the glow was back in his eyes.

I was slightly confused, but reached into my purse and pulled out my plum-coloured lipstick, showing him my hand with the black tube nestled securely in my palm.

His face flushed slightly and his breathing became heavier when he saw it. He started trembling a bit. His large cock was once again well-defined at the front of his pants and seemingly trying to break free.

"Would you apply it? And let me watch? It's one of my fetishes." He looked a little sheepish at this confession.

I made my decision pretty quickly.

"Sure," I said. His fetish was harmless and I felt sort of guilty for turning him down moments before. I removed my jacket and hung it up on the hook attached to the door. He did the same. I moved into position in front of the mirror with my lipstick in hand.

I eyed my body in the mirror, starting at the top of my head and moving my eyes in a downward sweep of my full figure. My auburn hair was perfectly parted and hanging down my back and shoulders in loose, soft curls. My outfit tonight was a short, little black dress, the hem landing somewhere around mid-thigh when I was standing, and remarkably shorter when I was sitting. A black lace overlay gave the illusion of modesty and coverage around my shoulders and down my arms. However, the lace was strategically absent from the bodice of the dress- a key hole- revealing several inches of skin including plump and juicy cleavage.

Assessment complete, I leaned closer into the mirror and absently poked and pulled at my face. "I'm curious", I began, mid-poke, "as to what some of your other fetishes might be.

"Well," he started, still looking a little sheepish and absolutely adorable, "It turns me on to watch a woman smoking."

I spun around to face him and asked, "Do you have any on you?" I had smoked a cigarette or two in my lifetime and I was going to try and make his night the best way I could under the circumstances.

His eyes lit right up. "I do! I always carry a few in a pack on me just in case!"

I smiled into his eyes. "Well, alright, Fella. Let's get this party started."

His hands shook as he produced the pack of cigarettes and a small lighter. He laid them on the counter beside the sink and we both turned back to the mirror; him standing right behind me watching me intently.

"Are you ready?" I asked him through the mirror. His reflection nodded and he cleared his throat.

"Can I... Do you mind... Is it okay if I touch you a little?"

"Touch me how?" I wanted to make sure our rickety boundaries were kept in check.

"Just maybe grab your ass a little?" He looked down at my large, rounded booty and brought his hand to my hip, gently running his thumb over the highest part of my ass. I gave him a look that told him to be careful, but didn't say no to his request.

With deliberate intention, I took hold of the tube of lipstick. I slowly uncapped it and swiveled the end of the applicator several times to extend and reduce the plum-coloured lip rouge. I felt him rest both his hands on my hips and I watched his reaction in the mirror as I played with the tube. His eyes took on a dreamy quality as if mesmerized by the applicator's rotation. I extended the applicator to its' maximum length and felt him take half a step closer to me. I could feel his breath on my neck, felt his hands wrap around to the front of my hips and also felt...

I jerked slightly and my hands stilled. My eyes flew to meet his in the mirror. He smiled.

His cock. His oh-so-hard, hadn't-had-sex-in-17-years-cock was nudging against the middle of my backside.

He took yet another half-step forward and brought his body up against mine. His hands moved and rested on the front of my hips, fingers slayed across my lower belly. His chin was practically resting against my shoulder. And his cock?... Well, let's just say that if I were 2" taller or he was 2" shorter, his cock would be slipping in to meet my pussy lips without too much trouble. I took a half-step outward to widen my stance and to tease him slightly with the idea of more access. He moaned slightly as if reading my mind. I smiled back at him in the mirror.

We stood still in our fixed positions for several seconds and I went back to the task at hand. I slowly brought the fully-extended lipstick tube to my mouth. I felt him press on the front of my hips and push his cock harder against me from behind.

I leaned slightly into the mirror to keep my hand steady and I started in the centre of my upper lip. I slowly brought the applicator to the right side of my lip, smearing the coloured beauty-cream across the puckered pink flesh. I heard his sharp intake of breath and felt him lean into me yet further, taking advantage of the body space that I had vacated when I had curled my torso forward towards the mirror. From that position, his hands were able reach the hem at the front of my dress; his fingers curled up, gripping the hem, but not lifting it.

With one quarter of my mouth coloured, I went back to first position in the centre of my upper lip and slowly smeared the lipstick down the left side. I stopped to admire my handiwork and my lip, now plump and glossy from the application, reflected the sconce lighting into the mirror.

He groaned and turned his face to deeply breathe into my hair. His hands were still gripping the front hem of my dress. His torso against my back was keeping me in a leaned position. The tip of his hard cock was very evident and still tucked up against my ass.

I used my free hand to brace myself and lean further into the mirror, resting my lower stomach on the counter-top. I rested my thighs and his hem-holding hands against the walnut cabinet. I lifted onto my tippy-toes- already a challenge in my 4" black leather stiletto heels-, raised my ass higher and pushed back at his hard cock. I then further widened my stance. It was a silent invite for him to pleasure me, as well.

His breathing was becoming heavier by the second and I could feel his body continue to tremor. He accepted the silent invite and bent his knees to slide his cock between my thighs from behind. I closed my eyes and moaned as pleasure spiraled upwards from my pussy. My abdomen clenched and my nipples tingled. I swiveled my hips and shook my booty slightly, creating more friction. He pressed himself further into me, rocking in time to my booty shake.

I cleared my throat and brought his attention back to my administration. My heavy-lidded eyes met his in the mirror. From this vantage point my breasts were pushed up to the point of jumping out of my dress. My nipples were rock hard and, although not yet visible, were being pleasured by the pressure and friction of my bodice.

The applicator was still in my hand and I had only a half-plummed mouth. I raised the tube back to my mouth and slowly spread more colour across my plump and pouting lower lip. His cock-rocking intensified. His subtle thrusts, blocked by the fabric of his dress pants, were becoming more insistent. I grabbed the lipstick cap and sheathed the applicator, slowly rolling my juicy lips to evenly spread the colour.

I reached down on the counter beside me and grabbed the cigarette and lighter. I made the move to bringing the cigarette to my lips when I heard him growl.

"I want you!" he said, fiercely into my ear. "Please", he pleaded.

I hesitated a moment. My mind flashed to the scruples I had displayed for him not even 15 mins before. But my body had completely taken over and there was nothing my mind or my heart could do. I had to be honest with myself: I had already made the decision to cross the line 16 mins ago.

I looked him directly in the eyes and said, "Take me".

In a flash, he unzipped his fly and released his desperately hard cock from the confines of those sexy, navy dress pants. He stepped back up to my backside and lifted my dress. He encountered my black mesh pantyhose and my silky black thong. I heard an immediate rip as he tore through the enforced gusset, really the only weak spot in the man-made horror that is pantyhose. The thong was swept to the side as easily as if it wasn't even there and he immediately inserted two fingers into my hot, pulsing pussy.

We groaned simultaneously.

He rubbed the inside of my pussy just long enough to start my juices pooling and dripping down my pussy lips.

What excited me more was being able to watch his work through the mirror. I realized I was still holding the cigarette and light and quickly brought both to my mouth.

His pleasuring hand stilled as he caught sight of my actions. With come-hither eyes, I flicked the lighter to life and lit the cigarette, sending curls of smoke rising to the ceiling. I took a deep breath and the tip of the cigarette, the cherry, glowed brightly. I exhaled slowly through my plum-coloured lips and also through my nose.

He made a slight choking sound and must have forgotten how to breathe.

"Take me". I said again, the remnants of smoke escaping my lips as I spoke those two words.

As if snapped out of a dream, he stepped up closer behind me and placed the tip of his cock against my opening. As I watched in the mirror, I could see his face as he slowly slid into me. His eyes were closed, his mouth slightly open, his tongue against his teeth and his head was tipped slightly back. Every few moments his face would twitch as if every millimetre of my pussy brought him a kaleidoscope of pleasure-filled sensations for his body to process.

He completely filled my wet pussy, even stretching me enough that I was glad for how juicy my pussy could get.

I took another deep drag of the cigarette, making more noise than necessary, and his eyes opened slightly to watch. I took a third drag, dramatizing wrapping my mouth and tongue around the tip and sucking in the smoke. The cherry glowed, the smoke swirled; my plump lips had left their mark on the filter; he groaned and picked up the pace.

Within half a minute he was full-on doing me doggy-style over the sink in this restaurant bathroom. I kept the cigarette at the side of my mouth, using both of my hands to steady myself as he pounded into me from behind. Somewhere in the middle of this pounding, he had grabbed my hair and pulled hard, igniting still more of my desire. I kept taking short drags on the cigarette, the smoke a constant swirl out of my mouth. My orgasm, like the smoky cloud above us, was quickly rising and building.

Being in a loveless marriage without sex for 17 years has the ability to open the floodgates on many different levels.

Being attracted to a married man for a long period of time without being close to him sexually, all the while having him star in every sexual fantasy your brain can conceive, can also open similar floodgates.

My orgasm came fast and hard and I felt my pussy muscles contract around his large cock. It was going on forever, this sea of exquisite muscle contraction. But the end of that came when he did and he pulled out and stroked a massive shot of cum onto my naked ass cheek. I swear, he came 1/3 of a cup.

Somewhere in the midst of our rapid and mutually satisfying conclusion, the cigarette had been flung from my mouth, had rolled off the right side of the counter and onto the floor. I didn't think anything of it as cigarettes generally burn out on their own unless they are met with more fuel to make a fire. There wasn't any fuel in this bathroom. Even the collection pail for used paper towels was out of reach on the left side of the sink cabinet.

I caught my first whiff of burning dust as we were cleaning ourselves up.

"What is that smell?" I said, pausing in my clothing readjustment to lift my nose in the air and sniff. Smoke continued to rise in beside the sink and it suddenly occurred to me how weird it was that the cigarette on the floor hadn't gone out yet. The butt should have burned itself out.

I quickly looked to the floor beside the sink and to my horror realized that the cigarette butt had rolled through a floor register, as evidenced by a lazy plume of smoke coming up through the antique grate. I dropped to my knees immediately to have a closer look. The used butt, complete with my lipstick prints, was sitting precariously on a second register 12" below. An air duct! Through the upper and lower registers I saw what appeared to be buckets, mops, bags of ice salt and chemical bottles in the room below... A janitor's closet? A janitor's closet!!

"Phil! Oh shit!! Phil!!" I slapped his leg, the only thing I could reach from my crouched position on the floor. "The cigarette!! The cigarette!! Oh shit!!"

He caught on to what was happening fairly quickly. "Can you grab it?? You need to grab it before it falls!"

The upper register wouldn't budge as I tried to pry it off the floor. "I can't grab it! The grate is stuck! My fingers are too big to fit through! I can't reach it!! Oh shit!!"

At that exact moment, a small gust of air passed through the air duct, and both of us watched in seemingly slow motion as the still-smoking cigarette butt rolled between the cracks of the lower register and landed into a yellow bucket of chemical bottles and rags in the janitor's closet below us. The rags must have been used because a flame was immediately lit.

Phil frantically pulled me back and shouted, "Run!!"

We made it out into the hallway, fully dressed and with our jackets on our backs, when we heard and felt the explosion rock the restaurant. Chunks of plaster cracked away from the ceiling and walls, causing a cloud of dust to coat us as we dashed down the hallway to the stairs. Mere seconds later, the state-of-the-art sprinkler system came to life and rained gallons of water on every square inch of the property. The scene was absolute madness. Staff, dressed in their now sopping uniforms, bellowed orders to guests and to each other. Guests, some of whom were also coated in a mixture of dust, sprinkler water, tears and ruined makeup, were screaming in terror and frantic to get through the restaurant entrance, only to be met by frigid December temperatures. Phil and I managed to make it down the stairs and were able to follow the melee out into the parking lot, holding each other close. We quickly parted when we got outside, got into our own vehicles- each thankful that we still had our keys- and sped away into the night. We weren't noticed in the chaos of the scene.