Prologue to a Problem - Vignette 03

This is the third vignette to Prologue to a Problem. It is a continuation of Vignette 1 beginning eight hours after Richard innocently, and unexpectedly, came home one afternoon arriving within minutes of catching his wife Karen being fucked by his boss, Jeremy.

It is written from Jeremy's perspective and ended up being a little longer than what I would consider a true vignette.

This story does not resolve or fully explain Jeremy. It exposes him.

I don't pretend to know why a man would take pleasure in sleeping with another man's wife, but I wanted to write about it, so I guessed.

To my female readers, if the language seems unnecessarily coarse, please forgive me. I attempted to get in character as I wrote.

To my male readers, if Jeremy lacks depth, nuance, or accuracy, I apologize.

To all, admittedly, the subject matter is unvarnished and far from noble, but oh so fun to explore.

Enjoy.

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Disquiet.

Jeremy tossed the word around in his head.

Hard to argue, he thought as he reflected on the definition and his mood.

He leaned back in his office chair. Took another sip of scotch poured from a bottle he kept in his desk. Exhaled deeply. "What a fucked-up day," he whispered as he shook his head.

He was talking to himself as there was no one around to hear him. It was late and the office had emptied out long ago. Rather than leave with everyone else he chose to stay.

I can be alone here just as easily as I can at home, he irritably thought.

He glanced down again at his phone.

Nothing.

He had texted Karen at 3:00 pm, an hour after she had dropped him off at his car. That was eight hours ago.

"Fuck," he muttered.

More unease.

He hated uncertainty. He was not use to it. He prided himself on a clear head, a calm demeanor, and an ever-present confidence that derived from knowing he was in control of his circumstances.

Does Richard know? Did we not cover our tracks? Was there an ugly scene? Is this affair about to blow up in my face? Is she okay? he wordlessly asked himself in rapid succession.

The last thought pulled him up short.

When did I start getting emotionally vested in her? he wondered.

He didn't remember. He just knew he was.

Like Karen, who at this very moment was 33 miles away, wide awake, lying in her bed alongside her peacefully sleeping husband Richard, and also in a state of deep unrest about the affair and the day's events, Jeremy played the afternoon over again in his mind.

Everything about it was fine, that was, until it wasn't.

Scrambling to remake the bed upon realizing Richard was on his way home, pulling the sheets and the comforter up over their freshly made and rather large wet spot. Racing around to get dressed and watching Karen untangle and slip on the same sexy as shit underwear and bra she had willingly allowed him to remove. Darting to the car consumed by self-preservation without a trace of remorse for having fucked another man's wife in that same man's house.

And now eight hours later, sitting here alone in his office with her red lipstick still smudged on his white collar, and God knows where else, he still had no idea what was going on.

He had quietly inquired about Richard when he got back to the office. Several said he left early to go home. None mentioned anything out of the ordinary.

That's a relief, Richard thought. He just left work early. So what? No big deal. Nothing to worry about. Right?

But if there was nothing to worry about, why was he so worried?

Her radio silence was spooking him.

Why hasn't she texted me back? he wondered. Something is off. Something is way off, but what?

Jeremy didn't know what that something was, but he did know that in the last eight hours, as he sat here and stewed in his office, the relationship with Karen that existed earlier in the day, as he lay stretched out on the guest bed in his employee's house with that same employee's petite, beautiful wife panting, dripping and naked beside him, had changed.

In all the uncertainty of today, this was the one thing he felt sure of.

He was not wrong.

Jeremy had no way of knowing Richard had playfully but firmly insisted on sex from Karen when she returned from dropping Jeremy off. Jeremy had no inkling that she, at this very moment, was torturing herself for having held, stroked, sucked and fucked two men in two hours. Or how distraught she was for betraying her husband so thoroughly by opening up her home and legs and denying Jeremy literally nothing over the past two months.

He was unaware that she was wide awake drowning with self-loathing with the impossible to deny cold hard fact that, despite all her frenzied effort wipe herself clean, there were traces of both men at this moment mingled inside her delivering an unavoidable mental and physical reminder of the depth of her depravity.

No. Jeremy didn't know any of this. But he did know how rattled she was when they parted ways. She had been a bundle of nerves. He also knew how this close call must be torturing her.

He attempted to put himself in her shoes.

She comes home. She walks in the house. She's still somewhat disheveled, nervous, and self-conscience over her need to freshen up. She forces herself to to act normal and greet her husband as she enters the very same kitchen where less than two hours before she had kissed Jeremy deeply, dropped to her knees, allowing Jeremy to place his cock on her lips, and push it into her warm, inviting, mouth using his interlaced hands on the back of her head for leverage as he arched his back and neck and allowed the sensation to wash over him.

"Damn," he muttered aloud. This train of thought wasn't helping as he felt himself stir at the graphic memory.

No, it wasn't helping at all. In fact, his replay of today was making his mood worse. She's terrible at hiding her emotions. It's one of her traits he loved about her, but could she block out the guilt? Could she act normal? If Richard were half paying attention he would undoubtedly know something was up.

The million-dollar question, however, was would he suspect that his beautiful wife standing before him had freely just allowed his boss to cum in her mouth and cunt?

He doubted it.

Besides Richard sensing something was off was not the same as Richard knowing something was off. There is no way he would know what she had been doing.

This conclusion brought him some comfort because "what she had been doing" was unforgivable.

Over the last two months Jeremy was no stranger to Richard's house. When Richard was at work and the boys were at school, he had come come over often. He had fucked Richard's wife in the guest room, the shower, the kitchen and even on the living room couch. He had bent her over the breakfast table in one particularly memorable, frenzied fuck (one that he later repeated in this very office) with her legs stretched out on her pedicured tippy toes, calves taunt, cute tennis skirt pushed-up above her hips, his hand pressing hard on the small of her back to pin her to the tabletop, with his pants bunched up at his ankles.

In Richard's house he had eaten her pussy while she sat on the dining room table with her legs draped over his shoulders. And on every occasion, he had left behind at least one ejaculation across her lovely face, inside her lipsticked mouth, down her slim back, up her tight abdomen, or deep inside her wet, trimmed and very married vagina.

There was never any preamble to his repeated visitations. No small talk. No "have a seat and make yourself comfortable, while I get you a cup of coffee." None of that. No hesitancy. No games. No awkwardness. From the moment he walked in Richard's house, he had one aim. Fuck his loyal employee's readily available, beautiful, petite, introverted and compliant wife.

And that, Jeremy allowed, was a big part of his current angst. Richard was not only a great software engineer, but he was also well liked and certainly well respected.

I should leave her alone and find some else, he thought. Someone that when the affair inevitably blows up won't ripple through the company like a goddamn earthquake.

But that, he allowed, would be a tall order because the odds of finding someone that could replace Karen would be long indeed.

Karen at 5' 6", 120 lbs, great smile, small but firm tits, was an ego boost for sure. He could tell that she worked out and worked hard at putting herself together. She always wanted to look good for him, be available to him, lose her inhibitions to him, and certainty try to please him.

And please him she did. Every time she touched, sucked or allowed him to push into her, his sexual gratification was off the charts. And although he would never acknowledge it to Karen, a big part of that gratification came from the thrill of knowing he was fucking another man's wife.

It was this truth, more than the sex, that kept him coming back. He didn't hate Richard. In fact, the opposite -- he liked and admired Richard. He wasn't trying to exact some revenge or punish Richard. Richard had never done anything to him. But knowing what he was secretely doing to Richard's wife gave him a perverted pleasure that he knew was fucked-up but was, nonetheless, intoxicating.

Long after the sex was over, he loved reliving it. Knowing his cock was in her mouth. His mouth was all over her pussy. His hands had roamed freely over every inch of her body, teasing her tits, clit and even her sensitive puckered asshole. How he was free to choose whether to cum inside her or somewhere on her. How, regardless of where he came, she would, albeit with a little encouragement, overcome some initial resistance and lick his cock clean.

All these acts gave him unimaginable sexual imagery that he revisited often.

Every time he saw Richard, or God forbid Richard and Karen together, these pictures raced through his mind like a locomotive firing more dopamine into his brain then at any other time in his life, thus perversely stoking his reward system and reinforcing his desire to see Karen over and over again.

Yes. He was aware his behavior was unhealthy and loathsome. He was not some clueless narcissist that assumed the world revolved around him. He knew what he was doing was wrong. He was quite capable of empathy but, in this instance, he chose to ignore his inner voice and the moral code of his upbringing in order to allow his selfish pursuit of pleasure.

Sure, he loved the sex. The free access. The newness. The energy and rawness. The positions. The moans. The ability to bring this shy housewife to orgasm. But long after the sex was over, it was, more than anything, the knowledge that he had done those things to another man's wife that drove his excitement and occupied his thoughts.

His need to feed this kink was not the way the affair started. He did not seek Karen out because he wanted to cuckold Richard and stash away memories of compromising images of his wife that he could silently relive in the presence of his employee.

No. He started the relationship because Karen offered him the sex he wanted without the commitments he dreaded. No dates. No dinners. No gifts. No constant demands on his time. It was a match made in heaven. He briefly wondered why he hadn't aggressively pursued married woman sooner as he thought back to the moment where the possibility of the affair spontaneously started.

He remembered the party at his condominium and the first time he kissed Karen. It wasn't planned. He, of course, knew Karen. He had met her many times. On that particular day, he had been casually talking with her when she mentioned something about contemplating a bedroom/bathroom re-do. He told her that he had just finished a similar project putting in a new bathroom and an expanded custom closet. He innocently offered to show her and brought her down the hall to the master bedroom. She liked what he had done and asked about his contractor.

Nothing preplanned or untoward in the slightest.

And yet, standing there talking to her away from her husband and the other guests, it was as if he noticed her for the first time. Radiant smile. Thick long rich hair. Nice body. Shy. Interesting and a little playful.

Without any forethought he just reached out, cupped her face in his hands, and firmly kissed her.

Jeremy smiled, remembering her shocked look. How flustered and confused she was and how all of those predictable reactions played across her startled face just a split second too late. A delayed second where she did not instantly pull away and the reaction was not so "predictable" as she ever so lightly kissed him back.

The fact that he had seen her slight surrender to the kiss was not surprising. He noticed everything. That was his superpower. He remembered names. He studied people. He listened intently. It helped in negotiation. It helped in motivating his staff. It helped in recruiting new talent.

And it helped in picking up women. Not that he needed much help. He was confident, good looking and rich. But even with all these traits going for him, he was, at the time of that first kiss, single with no interesting prospects.

The lack of a girlfriend in his life was entirely of his own doing. Single women were plentiful, but they were also a distraction. They were needy. They wanted to move too fast. They wanted his time in ways that he was not ready to give.

So, after the party broke up, he found that he kept thinking about Karen. The fact that she was married, didn't complicate his thoughts. In fact, it had the opposite effect, adding some titillation to the possibilities.

Why not pursue her, he thought. A married woman would be discrete and not looking for a long-term commitment. The idea certainly had merit, he remembered thinking. Yet, despite the elegance of initiating a relationship with a married woman, if he were successful with Karen, she would only be his second.

His first experience was as a rising sophomore in college. He had just turned 19, living at home for the summer and helping his neighbor Ms. B with private swim lessons in her backyard.

Ms. B and her husband were friends of his parents. Their youngest daughter Erin was 18 and a senior in high school. Jeremy and Erin had "talked" the previous year when he was a senior and she was a junior. They had dated for a month or two in the spring and gone to senior prom together. Much to his chagrin, he had not been able to coax her to sleep with him then and so he was not interested in her now.

Ms. B, of course, wanted to know why?

"You know Jeremy, she liked you a lot. Although she didn't show it, she was heartbroken when you broke up with her last year. Why was that?" Ms. B casually asked one afternoon after the last class had left for the day.

"I dunno. Going to college. You know. It's complicated having a long-distance relationship."

Ms. B thought about his answer. "Or said another way, you didn't want to be tied down."

"Yeah. That's true too," he said with a mischievous grin.

"You should ask her out this summer."

"No. I think it's best we leave it alone."

"Are you seeing someone at school?"

"No. No one regularly."

"Okay. What is it? Don't you think she's pretty?"

"No. That's not it. She's very pretty."

"Then what?"

"Geez. I don't know. Let's drop the subject."

"No. Tell me."

Jeremy paused. What the fuck he thought. She asked. "Okay. I stopped dating your daughter because she wouldn't put out."

Ms. B, to her credit, didn't react. Rather she took a moment to reflect.

"Thank you for your honest answer," she finally said.

That was that. Ms. B didn't say another word. Both busied themselves putting away the equipment.

The next day after the last swim class had left and Jeremy was straightening up, Ms. B approached him.

"Do you have a second?"

"Sure."

"Here. Have a seat.

"I was thinking about what you told me yesterday. On the one hand it made me happy. I'm glad Erin is being careful. She's got college this fall and the last thing her dad and I need is an unplanned pregnancy. But I can also appreciate your dilemma. Given the choice between spending time with someone that 'puts out' as you say, versus not, I can see why a healthy college boy would want the sex. So, I tell you what. How about we come to a little arrangement?"

With that she reached across his lap and laid her hand on the crotch of his suit. She slowly began to move her hand back and forth while she continued to talk.

"Here's my deal. I take care of this and you ask Erin out. For this deal to work you must never tell a soul. I mean it. No buddies. No fraternity brothers. No one. And you must be okay with handjobs as I am not going to sleep with you."

She kept rubbing.

"Do we have a deal?"

He couldn't breathe. Here was the very sexy Ms. B stroking his cock. He had masturbated to this moment many times. He didn't trust himself to speak so he nodded. Although his voice failed him; his cock did not.

"Good," she replied. "Let's consider this a down payment. Please call Erin this week."

With that she reached over with both hands, hooked her thumbs in the side of his trunks, and pulled them down and off over his tan feet. She then turned to face him, applied some lotion to her hand, looked him square in the eyes, wrapped her warm, lubricated hand around his cock and began slowly stroking him up and down, never breaking her gaze.

Jeremy, at 19, was not a virgin, but it would also be accurate to say that none of his sexual experiences were ever with someone that had... well... experience.

Ms. B was in complete control. She was not tentative. Her hand applied the perfect pressure and pace. Her eyes stayed locked on his. Her demeanor changed instantly from cheery swim teacher and next-door neighbor to hot as shit MILF.

His cock was as hard as he could ever remember. His eyes eventually closed as he could not hold her gaze. His head fell back as he gave into the sensations.

Ms. B, for her part, knew exactly what she was doing, and she knew he was powerless to do anything but surrender to her.

Well, this is fun, Ms. B mused as she continued to stroke the young man up and down.

She had thought carefully about this decision last night. This wasn't impulsive. She had planned it and rationalized it: I'm doing it for Erin. I know I am old enough to be his mother, but Jeremy is mature for his age. He won't tell. It's just a hand job for Christ's sake.

But Ms. B knew deep down that there was no such thing as "just a hand job." Married women are not supposed to see, let alone, touch with the intent to arouse and ultimately ejaculate other men.

But here she was doing just that.

She also knew that she had opened a door that was not easily closed. Although she only had daughters, she knew how insatiable young men were. She knew the desire to 'empty their balls' was all consuming. Hell, Jeremy had admitted as much to her yesterday. Her agreeing to provide on-demand "relief" was an open-ended obligation that was certainly going to come due with much frequency.

But that's the point, she thought - jack him off whenever he demanded it, so that he didn't spend his summer in constant pursuit of sex and could, in turn, go out with Erin without pressuring her to sleep with him. There was a simplicity to her plan that she liked.

But that was not the only thing she liked. As she stroked Jeremy, she became fascinated with the effect she was having on him, his shallow breathing, taunt young abs, eyes rolled back in his head, rock hard erection, and the appearance of pre-cum on the tip of his penis. She also realized how wet she had become.

Firmly planted in the middle-life stage of her life, she had all but forgotten the thrill of sexually arousing and thus controlling a young man. How, at this moment, Jeremy was completely hers. She marveled at how easily he had become fully erect and how fun it was to be the source of his arousal.

This is so naughty, she thought as she moved her hand rhythmically up and down and over the head and back down to the base where she allowed her fingers to lightly brush across his tight testicles.

She then leaned in and began whispering in his ear.

"Are you excited? Do you like my hand on your cock? Does it feel good? Will you cum for me? Please."

Her husky voice, firm stroke and warm breath in his ear had him on the verge in no time.

Within minutes he could hold it back no longer. He shot load after load into Ms. B's hand and up his abdomen. When he came down, Ms. B stood up and wiped her hands on her towel.

"Well, that should hold you for a little while," she said as she smiled and marveled at the power and sheer volume of his youthful ejaculation. "Don't forget our deal."

Jeremy did call Erin, and he did not forget the deal. He was back for more everyday. It became their end of the day ritual; one that she looked forward to with much anticipation. She took great delight in the college boy's incessant horniness and, if she was being honest, some pride in her ability to elicit seemingly endless erections and ejaculations.

The affair (as it were) never progressed beyond hand stimulation that summer although Jeremy tried to get her to use her mouth. The most she ever acquiesced to was to allow him to first see and eventually massage her breasts, a thrill that the married, middle-aged wife revisited on many self-gratification occasions.

Erin went to another school that fall. She is now married with two kids. Jeremy sees her, Ms. B and Ms. B's husband on occasion when he goes home to visit his parents. What should be awkward, isn't. He always hugs Ms. B's neck, and they catch up just like two normal adults.

But what Ms. B never learned was the secret thrill that Jeremy got from being around Mr. B. How, as he small talked with Mr. B about school and other bullshit, he was remembering all the times that Ms. B had seen and rubbed his cock, cradled his balls, wiped his cum from between her fingers, bared her tits, and allowed him to touch and play with her nipples.

"What a fucked-up day," he softly repeated as he exited his unhealthy reverie. His memory of the first kiss with Karen and his "summer of hand-jobs" with Ms. B were the last conscience thoughts he had before finally and fitfully falling asleep.

A few hours later, Jeremy, groggy from a restless night on his office couch, woke up after hearing someone moving about outside his door. He poked his head out and saw Richard in his office next door to his.

"Hey Richard. You're here early."

"Oh hey Boss." replied Richard looking up from his desk. "Did you spend the night here?" Richard asked with a slight grin as he took in the scene of his groggy boss standing before him in yesterday's clothes. "You look like shit," he added smiling. "You get a lot of 'work done' yesterday?" Richard chided using his hands to place air quotes around his playful accusations.

"Stop," Jeremy said. "Don't you have some other work to do besides busting my ass?"

Although acting nonchalant, Jeremy was on full alert. "Besides, how I look and how much 'work I get done' is none of your goddamn business," he said smiling mimicking his subordinate's air quotes. "If I needed a reprimand, I'd call my mom," he bantered back. "So why are you in at this hour? I thought you were flying to Indianapolis for the client meeting."

"I am. I left the office early yesterday to spend the afternoon with Karen and needed to stop by and pickup a few things."

Jeremy visibly signed. He doesn't know.

"So how is Karen?" he cautiously asked.

"She's fine. Kids. PTO. Ball practice. You know. Same old stuff."

"Well good. Please tell her I said 'hello.'"

"You can tell her yourself. She's downstairs in the car waiting for me. She's driving me to the airport."

Jeremy briefly showed surprise but quickly recovered. "Sure. I'll go say 'hi' while you gather up your things."

Walking into the company parking deck, Jeremy immediately spotted Karen's car. Why not? He had ridden in it many times as it was how they snuck him into the house while avoiding prying neighbor eyes.

Jeremy gently wrapped the passenger side window as he opened the door and took a seat.

Karen jumped.

"Good morning sunshine."

"Fuck Jeremy! You scared the shit out of me."

"Sorry. I saw Richard upstairs and he said you were waiting for him. I figured I would come down and say 'hi.'"

Karen, to her credit, quickly composed herself. "You look like shit."

"Thanks. You're the second person to tell me that in the last 5 mins."

"We need to talk," Karen began.

"Sure. Maybe we can start with why you didn't text me back yesterday. I have been worried sick."

Karen arched her eyebrow as if to say, really? Worried sick about me or worried sick about getting caught and your precious reputation blowing up in your face?

"I can't see you anymore," she abruptly blurted out.

"Karen. Stop," Jeremy interjected trying to disrupt what he correctly imagined was a well-rehearsed break-up speech. "Let's not do this here. Richard will be down any second. Let's figure out a place to meet where we will have some privacy and more time."

"No! No more goddamn meetings! The last time I said 'no' and you insisted on a fucking meeting I ended up on my back in some cheap-ass hotel with my feet pointed up at the ceiling and your never satisfied dick buried deep inside me!" she spat out. "You need to find someone else to fuck. I'm sure there are a lot of other pretty married whores out there that will gladly open their mouth and legs for you!"

"Whoa! Slow down. Is that what you think? That you're just a replaceable whore?" he said genuinely taken aback at her 0 - 100 mph emotional ramp up.

After a few moments and a few deep breaths Karen continued. "I'm sorry. I'm on edge. I haven't slept. I didn't mean to get so graphic. I just need a break. I need a break from you. I need a break from the double life. From this... whatever this is."

"Okay tell me what happened. I just saw Richard. He seemed fine."

"He is fine. He's always fine! That's the fucking problem," she said. "He's a decent, wonderful man that loves me dearly. That trusts me completely. Trusts me not to fuck his boss and humiliate him!" Karen said as she started spiraling down again into the abyss.

Jeremy didn't argue. He knew the situation called for giving her a modicum of control and validating her feelings, but he also knew from 1000's of successful negotiations that it was important to keep the door open, even if it was just a little ajar, for future discussions.

"Okay. I hear you. Our situation is complicated and fucked up," he started reassuringly and honestly. "If you want to end it then we'll end it. That is your prerogative. None of what we're doing makes sense unless we both agree to it. But please let me say a few things.

"I still don't know what happened yesterday, but I do know that I couldn't stop thinking about you," he truthfully said. "I spent last night here at the office worried sick. All I could think about was you... us. I know it is a risk, but I'm blinded to it. I know you have more to lose, so if you say it's over, then it's over, but I don't want it to end. I don't want to stop seeing you. I can't even begin to process that thought right now. And please, please, please don't do this in a goddamn office parking garage."

It seemed to work, Jeremy thought as he heard an audible sign and a deep intake of air.

"Come back after you drop Richard off."

"No, goddamn it. Richard's office is right next to yours. This is where he works. Are you not listening?"

"I am listening Karen. That's why I want to meet here. You're distraught. An emotional public meeting would be noticed. Please just drive back here and come up the back entrance to my office. We can talk in private, and you can tell me what is going on."

There was a long pause.

"Okay. If that what it takes to end this shit. I'll see you in 30 mins."

After dropping Richard off at the airport, Karen returned and found an empty spot in the garage, near a back stairwell that led up to hallway behind Jeremy's office.

She was ashamed to acknowledge that she knew about the stairwell as she had used it on one previous occasion.

She allowed herself to revisit the relatively recent and vivid memory as she parked and climbed the back stairs.

Jeremy had called early in the affair and said he desperately wanted to see her but couldn't get away. He implored her to come to the office and instructed her where to park and how she could sneak into the office with no one seeing her. She remembered being scared and apprehensive about the risk as Richard was working that day. But she also remembered how the call had excited her.

Her mind at the time raced with stupid girl crush thoughts: Jeremy needs me. He can't get through the day without me. I'm on his mind and not some afterthought.

Her thoughts, of course, were sanitized from the real meaning. Yes. He needed her. Yes. She was on his mind. All of that was true. But the truth was his thoughts of her were far from pure and his need was not romantic in the least.

Karen, notwithstanding her initial reaction, was not blinded to her role. Despite trying to sanitize the request, she knew she had been summoned to be fucked and relieve her lover's sexual tension. She also knew that the arrogance of his expectation was debasing by any standard, but for a meek, enamored and wide-eyed housewife, who was in over her head and not thinking clearly, the request was not out of bounds. Although this realization should have disgusted her, it did not.

Rather, it electrified her.

She vividly remembered driving through the parking garage just like she was today. She remembered seeing Richard's car - a stark visual reminder, if ever there was one, to turn back, but she did not. She remembered climbing the back stairs and lightly knocking on his door.

Jeremy opened it instantly and ushered her inside. He then wordlessly slipped around her and turned the bolt. She shivered at the sound of the lock clicking into place. It was like she was being locked inside a cage with a wild animal and was about to be devoured.

He wordlessly led her over to the couch where he sat but left her standing.

With a small wave of his hand, that communicated so much, he silently commanded her to lift her skirt.

Standing. Shaking. Mesmerized. She remembered hearing her heartbeat as she reached down with with trembling hands and hooked them below her loose ruffled summer mini skirt, slowing pulling it up above her hips exposing her lace panties.

Jeremy let out a soft whistle and pulled her closer placing his finger on his lips to remind her to be quiet.

She understood and wordlessly obeyed.

While he continued to sit, he put both hands up on her hips and slipped her panties down her tan legs to her little feet, lifting each one gently to pull her underwear over her white Adidas tennis shoes.

She was now standing before him completely exposed from the waist down separated by only a wall not 15 feet from where her husband sat and worked.

Jeremy reached around her and grabbed her ass pulling her in close to inhale the intoxicating scent of her just bathed and perfumed pussy.

Karen grabbed his head to steady herself as just the sound of him breathing her in was making her unstable on her feet. Soon his breath was replaced by his tongue. Her anxiety slowly began to recede as she became lost in the amazing sensations of Jeremy's tongue all the while biting her lip to stay upright and quiet.

As she neared her first orgasm, he abruptly stopped and instructed her to sit on the arm of the couch. He then dropped to his knees and continued to lick and enjoy her pussy.

Within seconds of their new position and his renewed attention to her clitoris, she welcomed her first orgasm. As she came down, he stood her up and placed his hands on her shoulders.

Even though the affair was still relatively new, she knew this request was coming. When she was cooking breakfast for the family that morning, when she was taking her bath and getting ready, when she was driving over and climbing the steps, she knew. She knew that at some point during the visit to the office, she would be asked... no, directed... to accept him into her mouth.

So that day, just like all the other days, she obeyed. She kneeled and rested on her tennis shoes as she pulled his belt out of its loops and unfastened the fly of his pants to allow his semi-hard cock to spring free.

We'll need to fix that, she abstractly thought as she straightened herself up on her knees and eagerly began licking his penis from the base to the tip before eventually wrapping her hand around the shaft and pulling him into her mouth.

Although he had many times before, that day Jeremy did not cum in her mouth. Instead after several minutes of watching his cock move in and out over her pursed lips, he pulled her up, kissed her passionately, then unceremoniously bent her over his office desk, pushed her legs apart with his knees, flipped the skirt back up over her waist out of his way, and began to rub the tip of his now very hard cock up and down from her asshole to the entrance of her pussy. Over and over again.

Karen, although instructed to be quiet was finding it increasingly difficult to do so. She was quivering at his delicious tease and was softly whimpering for him to push into her.

Jeremy finally obliged. The fact that he had her begging to be fucked not 15 feet from where her husband sat had him in a sexual frenzy that he had never experienced before.

He fucked her hard that day. For her part, she lost herself in his loss of control, having never been fucked with such vigor before. The hammering of his cock in and out of her, over and over stoked her feminine ego to new heights as she marveled that she was the one driving his sexual frenzy. The helpless position, the angle of his cock, and the tireless assault on her pussy brought her quickly to another satisfying orgasm. She vaguely remembers thinking that the edge of the desk was going to leave a mark but that thought was soon abandoned to the relentless pleasure.

When he was close to cumming Jeremy increased his speed, grabbing her hips for leverage. He pushed himself as deep into her as he had ever done to any other woman. It wasn't enough to just fuck her that day, he wanted his cock as far up into her as it would go. That day, his thoughts of Richard answering emails in the next office, while fucking his wife, resulted in an epic, intense orgasm that consumed him as he shot load after load deep into his employee's wife.

Jeremy, however, was not done. After they both came down, he pulled a very shaking, unsteady and easily led Karen back to the couch. He sat first and directed her to sit between his open legs facing out towards the wall. A wall that on the other side sat Richard. She complied, not understanding the request or the positioning as all she could think about was desperately wanting to find a tissue and clean up.

But Jeremy had other ideas and, as always, eventually got his way.

Once she was seated, Jeremy moved each of Karen's legs over his legs stretching her wide open. He then, from behind, buried his face into the nape of her neck and continued to inhale her as he allowed his right hand to find her wet and messy vagina while his left massaged her left breast. He lightly inserted a finger into her pussy covering it with his own semen. He then began deliberately smearing it around her vulva paying special attention to coating her clit.

For Karen, this sexual continuation was, to be honest, unexpected. Throughout the entirety of her's and Richard's dating and marriage, was an unspoken (and never broken) rule. Once Richard came... sex was over. It was hard enough just to get him to cuddle before falling asleep, let alone continuing the seduction and further ensuring her sexual needs were met.

Yet today, Jeremy's ejaculation was not the end. It was not the sign to clean herself up, gather up her underwear and head back out the door to run her errands and get on with her day.

No. Today, his orgasm was a beginning, not an end, and although messy, uncomfortable, and unexpected, Karen quickly gave into the new sensations. His finger never stopped, just moving continuously over her folds, around her clit back and forth, over and over again, coating her completely with his warm fresh cum.

Having never fully recovered from the sex, she quickly began building to another orgasm, effectively blocking out the harsh reality that the lubricant that was being so effectively applied to her clitoris was another man's semen.

Soon, she came with an intensity from his fingers that was hard to describe and was even better than the previous two orgasms he had provided with his tongue and cock.

As her final orgasm subsided, she turned to face Jeremy. She cupped his face and began kissing him.

Eventually, they unlocked their mouths and Karen found a tissue, slipped her discarded underwear back on, straightened up her hair in the mirror, reapplied some lipstick and left quietly from the same door she arrived giving him a little kiss on the cheek and a small pat on the front of his slacks.

As an aside, years later, long after her divorce, Karen had an unexpected, yet crystal clear epiphany. Sitting alone one night, she relived Jeremy bringing her to orgasm with his fingers coated in his semen and sadly, for the first time, recognized that moment for what it was. He had spread her legs, cupped her bare tits, and smeared his semen over her vagina not to sexually please her, but to mark her. Up to this point in her life, Karen acknowledged the sex act but never saw the degrading symbolism. That night of sad memories, solo drinking and mental clarity ended with Karen retching over the toilet disgusted with herself for the umpteenth time and ashamed for what she had freely condoned and the carnage she had deliberately wrought.

However, that important and painful epiphany was still years away.

Today, back in the present, the vivid memories were still there, even though their conflated meanings were not.

She finished climbing the stairs and stood for the second time in front of Jeremy's back-office door.

Just like the last time, she lightly knocked.

"Let's get this over with," she quietly muttered as Jeremy opened the door and let Karen in.

"Thanks for coming back."

She nodded but did not speak.

"Here. Have some coffee."

She gladly took it, noticing that it was from Starbucks, hot, and made exactly the way she liked it.

"I darted home to shower," he filled in after noticing her unspoken confusion.

After a few sips, as she stood there in silence, her mood began to relax.

Jeremy pointed to the couch as he sat down in a facing leather chair. The significance of the couch was not lost on either one.

She took a seat.

"You still look like shit," she said as she sat down across from him.

"Okay kettle," he replied as they both shared a badly needed laugh.

"So, what happened?"

"Nothing happened! That's the point. The husband I love and the husband that loves me came home early from work. He was in a great mood. He was playful. He was glad to see me. Normal everyday husband and wife shit."

Jeremy quickly read between the lines and put the pieces together.

"I'm sorry."

"What the fuck are you sorry for? That my husband loves me? That he wants to be with me?"

"No. I'm sorry for the situation I put you in. I'm sorry that we got a little too cutesy with our meet ups. That we should have been more careful."

"For fucks sake Jeremy, aren't you listening? I'm not angry because we almost got caught. I'm angry because I am a vile, contemptible adulterer and that I am betraying my husband. This needs to stop."

Before Jeremy could respond Karen abruptly and fiercely pivoted. "Tell me," she ordered. "Why me? Why are we doing this?"

Again, Jeremy sensed the situation called for complete honesty. Any sugarcoating or attempt to be slick would be instantly seen as disingenuous, fail utterly and send this conversation down the wrong track.

"You want the truth or the lie?"

A somewhat amused Karen looked up. That was not the response she was expecting. "Okay, I'll play.... first tell me the lie."

"Alright. Here goes. I'm in it because I am madly in love with you. You're in it for the great sex," he said with a sheepish grin.

"That... is indeed a lie," she said rolling her eyes while matching his smile.

"Okay. Now tell me the truth."

Jeremy paused, reflecting to get his answer just right.

"I'm in it because of you. You're beautiful. Funny. Sexy. Carefree. Intelligent. Forbidden. You're someone that my upbringing and society tell me to leave alone. But you see, I can't. I can't stop thinking about you. Desiring you. Wanting to rip your clothes off and fuck you. Every time I see you it's like this goddamn furnace starts up inside me and I lose it."

Although Jeremy danced around it, he stopped short of connecting the final dot and informing her that, although everything he said was true, the foremost source of fuel for his furnace was knowing. Knowing that he had an unspeakable secret about a married man's wife. A married man he spent a lot of time with.

Despite this particularly important clarifying omission, the rawness of his answer frightened her a bit. She knew he enjoyed the sex. She knew he was always fired up and ready to go but she attributed those things to his general sex drive, not specifically to her. In her mind she was replaceable, but in Jeremy's answer she realized she wasn't. He wasn't looking to have an affair. He was looking to have an affair with her.

As fucked up as the whole sordid mess was, his answer provided her some desperately needed validation that helped her accept, at least that day, her contemptible actions.

Jeremy took in all the emotions playing across Karen's silent face. He continued.

"You're in it because for the first time in your life you're desired, not just loved. You're so far out of your sexual comfort zone you don't know what to think. A man that is not your husband pursued you, caught you and eventually took you. You tell yourself you were powerless to stop it. It's how you conquer the guilt. Yet, you allowed yourself to be swept up in the events and let circumstances fall where they may and you found it glorious.

"The passion. Surrender. Secrecy. Helplessness. Ecstasy. Violation. What choice did you have? The sex was expected. No. It was demanded. You were never asked to take charge. All you had to do was let go and be swept away. Be available. Be eager to experience. Be willing," he answered without a moment's hesitation staring directly into her eyes.

The comment was so unvarnished and hurtful and yet true that she had to lash out.

"Fuck you. You don't know what you're talking about!"

"Don't I? Seems like I'm right over the target."

Karen started to cry.

Whoever coined the phrase "truth hurts" knew what they were talking about. For the painful truth was that Karen and Jeremy had anchored the entirety of the affair around a married woman's need for validation and a single man's desire to violate her.

After a few moments, Jeremy moved over next to Karen on the couch. He put his arm around her shoulders and brought her in close. She buried her face into his shoulder and neck, smelling the soap on his freshly cleaned skin while continuing to softly sob.

He rubbed her back, eventually moving his hand to the nape of her neck lifting her face.

He kissed her gently. "It's going to be alright. You came here today to regain control over your life. That makes sense. It's not what I want but what I want isn't important. It's what you want.

Let's pause."

Jeremy let the moment and the phrasing sink in.

Karen looked up hopefully, pulling away from his embrace, assessing his sincerity. In that moment she heard what she wanted to hear and saw what she wanted to see. She convinced her exhausted and dejected self that she achieved what she set out to achieve.

"Thank you," was all she managed to say.

She left Jeremy's office that day with the same conviction that she had achieved the night before. The affair was over. It was time to move on and regain control over her life.

Jeremy, however, knew better. Jeremy knew the passage of time did not harden convictions, rather it softened them. The affair was indeed "paused" but it was not over. Of this fact he was certain.

"No does not always mean no," Jeremy whispered as he watched Karen descend the stairs.

Things have a way of coming back around, he thought with some amusement as he remembered that next week was his 10th annual, always fun, well beyond hand-jobs, very secret weekend rendezvous with Ms. B.