Him

With 42 on the horizon, you wanted to make changes. The days of one-night stands, late night parties, nameless strangers and endless energy were in the past. The process started slower than you liked, a workout class here and there, but no structure or consistency. The idea of going to the gym and being on display had always caused fear and doubts. But this time you were ready. You were determined to push through and see results. Occasionally, you questioned yourself on what you were doing, but you wouldn't let it derail your goals. You found your stride in a matter of weeks and began to feel a fire build. When your muscles and joints ached, you only wanted more. Exhaustion never slowed you. You felt timid those first weeks at Orange Theory. In short order you became a regular. They learned your name and would push you harder. Soon you were attending a few times a week, and you started craving it. The shaking legs, the breaths that burned, your pulse racing -- nothing slowed you, only further fueling your desire to change. You were working out every day. Your weight dropped and you looked and felt healthier. Your arms and legs began showing the benefits of heavier weights. Walks turned into runs. Driving your legs, you rowed further, your speed and distance gaining with every pull of the cord. But it wasn't enough and you needed more. Next you started Pilates. The same doubts tried to creep in, but you were unfazed. Now the curves began to form. Where before you saw yourself as soft you were now firm and lean. The brain fog cleared, your energy boosted, and you found confidence and happiness. The visual changes became more apparent to those around you.

Your deep almond skin, plump lips and devilish nails drew looks from men and women alike. Your jaw line and cheek bones revealed themselves. Heads would turn in public. A new perfume lingered in the air as you passed. You made sure that your body was oiled so that it drew eyes to your legs. Men would trace them up, spending time drinking in the details. They'd find themselves getting lost in your features, wishing to see you without your shorts, to see your curves, to feel your ass, and to feel deep inside of you. You were feeding on their desire. Catching their stares would dry my mouth and send blood surging to my groin. Whether in leggings or in a dress with a high slit, men saw you as a vixen. You began feeding on their desire.

I too was benefitting from the changes. You were more present, and in doing so you helped me to make changes. I ate better and was dropping weight. We were becoming healthy together. You weren't only saving your life, you were also saving mine. Your pursuit of self care only strengthened our love and our unbreakable bond. We were truly partners and the feelings we had for each other were indescribable. Then you became insatiable; vacations became sex marathons. You needed me inside of you constantly and I couldn't keep my hands off of you.

What stoked my fantasies were the things they couldn't see. Your breasts were firmer and sat higher. As your legs grew stronger, the gap between them increased. When naked and you turned around, I could see more of your pussy. When you bent over your lips teased me. We grew adventurous. You posed for photos and I eagerly shared them with strangers, while secretly wishing to share them with men I knew. I would stroke my cock multiple times a day as strangers and i described in raunchy detail how we would fuck you. But I craved more. I wanted to share with you.

I encouraged you to show off. Your shorts were now shorter, your shirts tighter. We visited resorts where I could see you on display. First you would sunbathe topless, but as you saw the effects you had, you began removing your bottoms. On your lounger, you would spread your legs allowing them to see more of your sex, the desert sun making your skin glisten and your arousal evident. When you would roll on to your stomach, I would catch you staying on your hands and knees just a little longer than necessary, giving them teasing views of your bare asshole. Men, including me, struggled to hide their own arousal. You liked sharing.

You were six months into your new fitness routine when it happened, during a busy lunch shift on a Tuesday. The regular crowd came and went, making their same comments. You rolled your eyes and moved on; they barely registered around you, serving as annoying reminders of passing time. Today however, as you moved around the room, you felt new eyes on you. Being so busy, you couldn't take the time to survey the room. You were tired and your feet hurt. The restaurant was a little too warm, and rude and entitled behavior of the regulars had taken its toll. You were sweaty, your hair a mess, and you couldn't get the smell of food out of your nose. 15 more minutes and you would be free. Finally, a cigarette would fill your lungs with a taste you craved. You wanted to rest, to get comfortable, and longed for the moment I walked in the door, greeting you with a smile, a kiss, and a squeeze of your ass or boobs. You wanted to feel that desire and to have that control over me. Suddenly, a large, rough hand gently resting on your forearm brought you back to earth--to the here and now. Your initial reaction was one of frustration. Who today of the regulars thought it best to cross a line?

A voice interrupted your thoughts with an "excuse me." You immediately perked up. You didn't recognize the voice. This wasn't a regular; this was a stranger. The kind of stranger that changed the trajectory of the day. He was tall, maybe 6'4", and handsome. Very handsome, in fact. Men like this rarely came into the restaurant. When you looked in his eyes, you saw it. Passion and desire. It was his look--you had grown used to the blank stares of others, but he was different. He saw you. This was a man who appreciated your hard work. His physique showed that he too was on a journey. He was older, maybe 10 years your senior, with dark features; maybe a former athlete or a rock climber. His eyes were piercing, the grey subtly matching his well-manicured beard. Not messy, perfectly trimmed, and he knew he looked good. He carried an air of confidence. Well-dressed in business clothes, but too warm for a jacket, you could tell that he always got what he wanted. Your arm immediately relaxed, and you could feel the roughness of his touch, but in a gentle way that said he could feel you as well. He felt warm, and it felt magnetic.

Rather than crumbling, your new confidence emerged. Without skipping a beat, you asked what he needed; politely, but with some sass. Feeling out what his intentions were while trying to determine what yours were. He asked for the check and he asked your name. You turned and walked away, hiding a smirk.

When you retrieved the check and looked at the name, all it said was "him," and you chuckled. Maybe the new girl wrote it because she had fallen victim to it. You were intrigued, but thought he was probably just a stranger passing through. After dropping the check off, you once again got distracted by the needs of the regulars. By the time you were able to return, he had left. Cash was on the table with a sizable tip, and when you retrieved the check, you saw that he had circled "him" on his check and written, "I'll get more next time."

Your shift was done, but now the real work began. It was Monday, and that meant Pilates. Because it had been busy, you got home later than you'd prefer. Arriving home and looking at the clock, you realized it was soon time to go. You threw on your leggings and a sports bra. As you threw your shirt on and looked in the mirror, you stopped. You could see the payoff more and more. Before, you struggled to notice and you doubted your efforts, but today it was clear. You could see it in the shape of your shoulders. You noticed your skin looking younger. Something you never thought possible, but you were seeing the curves. Your body had transformed, and for the first time in too long, it looked fit. You could trace the outline of your muscles. As you turned around, you could see the definition in your back and the shape of your ass. It wasn't meeting your unreasonable expectations, but as you gave your ass a squeeze, you could feel it--not in the thickness of fat, but in the unmistakable firmness of muscle. You tightened it and could see that it was fuller and held higher than you remembered. You faced the mirror and involuntarily smiled. You saw the laugh lines and the slight crow's feet, but you also saw the shape in your cheeks and your chin. That smile did not fade, and for a brief moment you saw everything that I saw every day. You were beautiful. You were aging wonderfully and you looked good. You weren't just fit. You were hot. Chuckling to yourself and finishing getting ready, you turned and rushed out.

As you walked through the door, the smell of disinfectant and sweat touched your nose, and the bass hit your ears. But you weren't intimidated or shy. You felt different today. There was a strength in your feet and you felt light. Your muscles felt full and charged. You were ready. You were prepared for battle and lost in thought. Again you felt a hand on your arm, and for a moment, you flashed back to earlier when you met him. This time it was the instructor ushering you into class as it was about to start.

Immediately you knew today was going to be tough. With the demeanor of a drill sergeant she weaved her way to the front of the room. She might as well have been holding a whip. As the music played and the bass cut through your body, you pictured her looking like a warrior, smiling her sadistic smile. She broke down today's workout. First, The Hundreds, later the bridging, presses, side splits--she went on and on. As it began, you had another realization. This was hard, but you were getting better every class. You felt in sync and in rhythm. You felt every muscle and stretch, but the weight was less, the stretch felt natural. You weren't just getting better; you were good as though you had been doing it for years. You were locked in. As class rolled on, you felt the first beads of sweat and the warmth of the air, and you were feeling good. Great. This felt good and you loved it. You need to do this every day. It brought daily release and centering. When you skipped a day, you missed it. You felt lean. You felt sleek. You felt strong. As you transitioned from move to move, your concentration broke in a flash, and you briefly lost your balance. Again he flashed in your mind. First his features came into focus. His full lips and how they moved when he spoke Then his voice. Next you could put his hand on your arm. You suddenly felt goosebumps and a prickling heat on your skin. Then you felt hot blood pulsing through your muscles. It started in your arms and legs and like waves crashing, pooled in your groin.

As you drove home, you were feeling great. You had conquered Fernanda for one night. Your muscles burned, but in a good way. The trembling had slowed, only feeling the occasional pulse or spasm. As you drove off, the heat in your core radiated from your body. Tonight, instead of the air conditioner, you rolled down your window and took your hair down. As you gained speed, the cool evening air hit your skin and the sweat turned to goosebumps. You lit a cigarette, and as the taste met your tongue, you were brought back to your workout and to when you lost your balance. Then you were brought back to a touch on your arm and a familiar face. Your nipples hardened and you felt a moment of raw desire.

When you finally got home, you greeted the cats, got comfortable, and climbed into bed with the air conditioner already running. You didn't give "him" another thought. You were ready to be home with me--to watch Bob's Burgers and eat ice cream. There was lust and then there was the love we had. I was the real thing you needed at home. I was your husband and the glue that held everything together. I made you whole and there was no place else you'd rather be. We were made for each other, and there wasn't anyone else in the world when we were together.

Keeping just your panties on, you climbed into the sheets. As the coolness hit you, your rigid nipples grew harder. You gave me a kiss and I could taste the cigarette on your lips. I brought you closer and we slowly kissed for a moment, tasting each other and feeling each other's love. You were tired now, but you shimmied closer to me. You told me you were cold and pressed your thigh and leg against me, causing me to exhale at the feel of your cold skin. You grabbed my arm and brought it across your legs so that it was resting on your thigh. You immediately squealed with delight and told me how happy you were to be home and in bed with me.

You felt different tonight. You felt charged. Your normal magnetism felt stronger, like it was pulling me in. I could feel your desire to be touched.

I leaned over and kissed where your hair met your forehead. I could smell your sweat and taste the salt. I felt an immediate pulse in my dick. I traced down your body and grabbed your firm boob, your rigid nipples feeling like diamonds on my hand. Your piercings were prominent and the life of the TV reflected in them. I dragged my thumb over them and smiled. I watched you breathe in, told you I love you, and returned my arm to where it was laying previously.

We watched television, but I found myself lost in thoughts of you. I pictured you working out. I imagined the instructor nodding in approval at your form. I saw the sweat and the messy hair and felt another pulse run through my dick. I imagined your face as you concentrated and dug deep to finish strong. I thought about your fear of going to Pilates, and felt the confidence as you realized you were a natural at it.

I felt myself growing harder and struggled not to grab it. I started thinking about previous nights--being at the lifeguard stand or behind a high school, of wine tasting, of your smile and how your eyes shined when you looked at me. I saw your beautiful hair. I felt all the love for you. Without intention, my hand jerked slightly, and as I moved it higher up your thigh, I felt electricity: a buzz from your skin to mine. It happened every time I touched you. It is a feeling I couldn't describe, but it immediately drew my breath and quickened my pulse. Again I got harder; I could feel the differences from my own physical journey. It looked bigger and felt fuller. It carried a different weight and was scorching to the touch. It felt good and my need for you further fueled my blood. I felt healthy and loved seeing it look the way it did. I could feel the heat from your groin and had to fight my instinct to touch you. I wanted to be slow and feel that electricity. But my mouth dried and I couldn't resist any longer. I needed to feel and taste you. My hand slid higher and the heat increased. I wanted to smell your aroma and taste the sweet taste of your lips.

You said you were cold and asked me to spoon you. I knew there was no hiding how hard I was for you, and as you rolled onto your side and slid closer to me, you shivered and asked me to hold you. Intentionally, I slid down the bed. I wanted my dick to sit close to your pussy. As I found my position, you let out a soft breath and brought yourself closer, feeling a familiar hardness hit you. You let out a slight, almost imperceptible moan.

You pushed against me again. I could feel the moisture on your lips and the heat pouring out of you. You reached around with your hand and grabbed me. You rubbed the tip on your lips and just barely inside so that you could feel the head. My head was dripping, and you used our desire for each other to take it in and push yourself back. As I felt the wetness and the tight walls, I let out a groan. I began kissing your back and neck, feeling the goosebumps forming on you. As I filled you, we both felt that sense of belonging. My dick filled you and you told me you loved me. I slowly slid out and then pushed forward so you could feel my shaft and my balls as we moved.

I realized how wet you were and could feel it on my legs. I reached down and tasted it. It was intoxicating and I immediately felt high. I wanted it all. I needed it. It was a drug. I increased my pace, then focused on your body. The ways you had changed had driven me crazy with lust. Your chest felt perfect in my hand. I moved it down your body and hesitated at your stomach, knowing it was a sore spot, but I couldn't help myself. As my hand slid down, I could feel your abs--firm as well. It looked amazing, and I pictured you in your youth with its piercing. I gained pace. I flashed to your time in Cronies, when we met, and the desires I felt at that moment. Then it changed, and I began thinking about today--about how you wore the short shorts I liked, how I imagined days past of your conquests. Then I came back to the present, picturing a coworker or customer who had also enjoyed the same view: the crease of fabric between your ass, your always-rigid nipples, your hair straightened and flowing, smiling your perfect smile and bringing your attitude. Then I pictured the men, fully drinking you in and feeling a desire to have them close to you. For those that weren't strangers I imagined a stir of jealousy; for the others, a need to be with you. I pictured you flirting, and I pictured you picking one to ravish because you were in control. Then I had gone too far. I could feel the point of no return. I tried to turn it off, but I couldn't. I couldn't resist the grip you had on me: how tight you were, how wet you were, how good you tasted. Then the thoughts of you being filled in your past broke through--the idea of you dripping cum, someone else's cum, of your lips tasting like them, of you sucking their dick, their sweat on your skin. I felt a pulse and began unloading inside you. You could feel every jet of hot cum filling you. You felt my electricity.

As my breathing slowed and I caught my breath, I looked at you. Every time we made love, it felt like the first time. I gave you a devious smile and slipped out. As I withdrew, you could feel cum sliding out. You craved my cock returning and pushed against me, trying to be filled again. You were close. You just needed a little bit longer. You could feel the edge.

But as my dick left you, it didn't matter. You were happy and overwhelmed with love. You rolled onto your back and I began kissing you. As I increased my kissing, you pulled away. You told me that you weren't finished and needed to be cleaned properly. You bit my lip and then gently pushed my head down. I traced your body with my tongue. As I moved down, the aroma hit my nose and my hunger returned. I licked your groin as you spread your legs. Redirecting my head, you grabbed it and forcefully pushed my face toward your pussy. I immediately imagined you forcing me to do this in a way that said you needed it as much as I wanted it. I immediately found your lips and gently sucked them into my mouth. It was hard to focus on one place, because I wanted it all. But I wanted our mixed taste. I wanted to clean you and get every drop. I started licking and you relaxed your grip on my head. I began by dragging my tongue across you so that you could feel it on both lips before I found your clit. I flickered my tongue and gently sucked it in. It was too much tonight; I felt the urge to drag my teeth on it because I was struggling not to bite you. You groaned in response and shuddered. I let you build as you shared your pleasure. It kept growing, and then without notice, I moved down. I needed to taste inside you. I needed to feel the salt of my cum on my tongue. Whoever he was that filled you earlier left a big load. I needed the mixed juices in my mouth.

I asked you to spread your lips so I could get deeper. Momentarily taking it in, seeing you spread inside and out from cock made me insatiable. Engorged from your blood pulsing and dripping with cum, I grew hungrier. I inserted a finger, drawing more of my prize outward. Then a second. You took it so well. You were built for this. You felt perfect inside. I drew out more cum and then cleaned my fingers. I couldn't miss a drop. I felt a similar edge of orgasm build in me. I got greedier and lapped up your pussy. My face was soaked and I loved it. I then switched once more to your clit. I flicked my tongue again and you could feel your need grow. I continued, and you could feel the edge nearer. You repeated "Fuck, Babe" over and over. You grabbed my head again and forced it harder against you. As you felt your orgasm, I continued. We were there together. I looked up, and in the light from the television, I could see you contract. Again I was reminded of your transformation as I saw the definition of your muscles. Then you pleaded, "No more"--you had grown too sensitive. You brought my head up and kissed me, tasting us together. You loved the taste. You loved how it felt on your tongue and relished the relief your orgasm brought. As we slowed down, you once again nestled close to me, feeling my dick subside and drips of cum on your thighs. We gently fell asleep.

The next morning, you arose feeling rested and alive, a different energy coursing through your body. Maybe it was the effects of your fitness regime, maybe from me giving you a full night's sleep. You couldn't put your finger on it. You started your day refreshing your hair. You ran the blow dryer through it and admired your look in the mirror. As much as you hated to admit it--as though saying it out loud would jinx it--you looked good. Really good. You finished dressing: the thong and shorts I gushed over and longed to remove from your body; the t-shirt that clung to your body, hugging your emerging curves. This morning, you felt alive.

As you pulled into work, you felt ready for the day. You smoked your last cigarette, savoring the calm that overtook your body, and made your way in to start the shift. As you made your way toward the front door, you stopped in your tracks. There he was, waiting at the door.

This morning he looked different. Not the man from yesterday who was ready to close out the day, looking relaxed and unwound; instead, a man ready to take on the world. He was different. As much as you didn't want to admit it, he caught your attention in the right way. Rather than allowing him to see your excitement, you stopped yourself. You didn't want to give away the game. You wanted to maintain control. As you slowly approached the door, you stated coldly, "We are closed." Quickly in response, he stated not so subtly, "You're worth waiting for. Not the coffee, not the food. You."

You could feel the power he could hold over a woman. You smiled, winked, and walked to the door where he was waiting. Rather than letting him in, you simply shook your head and wagged your finger. This wasn't new; flirting was part of work. You did it every day, but this was different. This wasn't a regular whom you simply put up with. you were enjoying this and encouraging it. You simply turned around, but could feel his eyes staring at your ass. At first you felt uneasy with guilt. You wondered if this was going too far, if you were taking it too far. You questioned how I would feel. You knew I encouraged it, but always figured that was just loose fantasy talk, yet you resist him. You walked away, catching his reflection in the mirror behind the bar as his eyes traveled up your legs. He felt like a predator eyeing its prey and you felt yourself submitting. You told yourself iIt was harmless fun that meant nothing, but it also felt like each step was taking you deeper into the void.

As you worked through your opening duties, you kept an eye on him through the large window. Once again he was perfectly dressed. You took in his features, spending more time before. You felt yourself gazing down, seeing the outline of a bulge. He was staring at you giving your body the same treatment. He waited--not impatient, not like the regulars who demanded attention; he just stood there. He wasn't on his phone; he wasn't distracted by the activity of the world around him. He was solely focused on you. He wasn't waiting for the restaurant to open; he was waiting for you. Realizing you were smirking, you turned away. You wanted to draw his wait out. You would take your time, building the tension between you. You weren't serving him breakfast, you were giving him exactly what he wanted.

Finally, the kitchen crew forced the point. It was time. You walked to the door to open it. As you went to turn the lock, you locked eyes. You jiggled the lock. As I strided closer and approached the door, you stopped. Just as he reached for the door, you turned and walked a few steps away to activate the open sign. The air felt electric with unspoken desire. Without further delay, you unlocked the door, smiled, and walked away.

He took a seat toward the back of the restaurant. You always hate when customers do this. It was early and you had much to prep, but he was calculated. As you began slicing limes and cleaning up the grime the crew had left from the night before, you heard his strong, deep voice say "excuse me." You turned to check on his needs, and smiling, he asked for a menu. As you walked it over, you could feel his eyes on you. You liked how it felt, and he liked what he saw.

When you asked him for a name for the order, he paused before speaking and, with a chuckle, simply said "him." He then reached into his bag and retrieved a laptop. He stated that he was busy with work and wasn't used to having such a beautiful view from his office, adding that his new assistant seemed eager and ready to please.

That was it. Where ordinarily you felt nothing from such comments, today he made you feel how warm the restaurant was. You felt flushed and your pulse quickened. For the first time in years, someone other than me was able to make you melt. You attempted a retort, but struggling to find words, you stopped and stuttered out "hot?" before catching yourself and saying, "Coffee, I mean," with a questioning look.

The morning continued on, and where ordinarily you were bouncing from table to table helping others, today was a ghost town. After finishing your prep, you found yourself regularly returning to his section. By mid-morning, his presence felt like a buzzing in your head. His voice was pleasing, his looks caused your muscles to tighten, and you found yourself wanting to be in his presence, wanting to feel his firm hand on your forearm, and wanting more and more to feel those hands on your body. You realized you were having similar effects on him. There was an unspoken chemistry between you both--a desire just under the surface needing to be explored.

Suddenly your coworker was there. As you caught up with her, she noticed him sitting there and immediately raised an eyebrow. She too liked what she saw and asked who the stranger was. You caught her up on the few details you knew, leaving out the portions that included the sexual tension, flirting and touching. You both usually enjoyed discussing good-looking customers, but he felt different, and as you made your way back to his table, she just looked at you wide-eyed, smiled, and went about her business.

He began making small talk, and before long you learned that he had been in town for the previous week working on a commercial building project that would keep him here for about 4 to 6 weeks longer. He said that he was brought in to keep things on schedule due to delays. He was staying in Westlake, but the project was in Camarillo. Although he ordinarily worked from his hotel room office, between the same morning workouts, laps swam in the pool and the dry conversation with the 20-something year old staff at the hotel restaurant, things had become stale there and he wanted to mix it up and explore the area where his project was located. Yours had been the first new spot he had entered, and he didn't plan to try another place. Although he admitted the food was mediocre at best, it was you who had brought him in again.

As time passed, your small talk grew into friendly banter, as though he had been a regular customer for years. You enjoyed it. His wit reminded you of me. He was funny and sassy, and he was going toe-to-toe with you. Although the foot traffic had increased, the way you captivated each other's attention made it feel like you were still the only two in the restaurant. More than once, you found yourself making sexual innuendoes, and he was always quick to return with his own.

You regularly caught your coworker watching you both and knew that you would have to provide a plausible explanation later as to why you were seemingly looking for reasons to offer superior customer service.

As the conversation with him flowed, you became more and more comfortable in his presence. More than once, you found yourself resting your hand on his forearm, and more than once you caught yourself truly feeling his strength. As the stolen touches increased, so did your desire and longing. You had moved past regular, innocent flirting into dangerous territory. The comments and touches were becoming deliberate and more frequent. In years past, you would be considering exchanging numbers or having him join you later. You were fighting urges to pursue more, and so you quickly mentioned that you had a 30-minute break coming up and needed a cigarette. Without subtlety he responded that he'd love to be that cigarette on your lips. At this, you dragged your hand down his arm again. With your hand still on his arm, he asked if he could join you. As you went to respond, unsure of what your answer might be, you looked up and saw me striding toward the both of you with my usual smile. Instinctively you raised your hand from him, feeling a twinge of guilt and questioning whether I had seen. I approached with a "Hey Babe" and leaned in for a kiss. You felt your pulse quicken and your breath catch in your throat. Two worlds had just collided. As you tried to think on your feet to explain what you thought I saw, I immediately pulled out a chair and sat down. Immediately confusion slammed through you. Only seconds before my entrance, you were entertaining the idea of having this man join you on your break. Not only had you and the stranger been flirting, but it had risen beyond mutual desire into genuine arousal and wanting. Now, here I was sitting with this man.

As you regained your composure, you listened as I explained that I was working with him on the project he was in town for. It had gotten complicated and was suffering regular delays. It was merely a coincidence that I had come in. As you turned to take your break, you couldn't help but feel uneasy about where the conversation between us would go and what secrets I might discover.

When you returned from your break, you found that both he and I had left. For the rest of your shift, your focus shifted between your thoughts about him and what I might have discovered. A large part of you felt guilty. There was no question about how much I loved you. You knew that you could easily be truthful about what had happened and didn't fear my reaction. However, a small part of you had wanted him to join you on your smoking break--to see his lips drag on a shared cigarette, to be close enough to really see the lines in his face, to feel his imposing presence. The idea of feeling his hand on your arm, back, or thigh made your heart race. You wanted to explore this secret and see where it went. One thing was glaringly clear as you struggled with the situation: there was no question about whether you loved me. You did, with your entire soul. No other person would ever feel the love you had for me. The way I loved you gave you the permission to have these thoughts but you weren't sure if I would accept you acting on them. Your conflict was that you wanted to know what it would be like to be with that man--to fuck your lust out of him.

Your shift had finally come to an end. This time, though, you had plenty of time to relax prior to Pilates, but your mind was racing. When you got home, you removed your work clothes and lay in bed wearing the grey workout top and a pair of the lace panties I loved so much. You found yourself lying on the bed and reliving the morning over again, desperately turned on.

The thrill of concealing your earlier interaction from me made you feel dangerous. You enjoyed this: the idea of being discovered, of being caught. You realized that what had felt like guilt was actually thrilling. A part of you loved thinking about how I saw things. You enjoyed the idea of being caught. How would I react? Would I be angry? No, you were certain that I would not, but You craved knowing. Would he be bigger? I would certainly hope so. What positions would he prefer? How would he taste? Where would he finish? There was no question in your mind he would not be a disappointment.

You felt the drift from fantasy and the urge to create a reality. You had done similar things when you were younger, and you had liked it. You thought about the times you had exchanged dirty texts with men from your past. You thought about the time years ago when you were with two men on the same day. The idea of coming home filled with the cum of another man, only for your boyfriend to unknowingly play with it. You flashed to early in our relationship when you had fucked a former flame. You remembered telling me about that night, and rather than being angry, I slowly stroked my cock, wanting more details. You loved this about me. I worshipped every inch of your body and every bit of your mind. I didn't want you to stop; I wanted you to keep going.

Part 2

Your hand dragged down your body, imagining his first touch. You gently caressed your boob and gave your nipple a slight pinch. You immediately pictured his mouth and envisioned him drawing your nipple in. His hands were rougher and larger than mine and you could almost feel them caressing your body. You brought your hand down to your panties. Closing your eyes, you pictured him exploring with his fingers and found yourself soaking.

You dragged your fingertips across your lips, the recent wax job only heightening the sensation. You barely inserted a finger and immediately moistened your fingertip, spreading it around your opening before bringing more moisture to the surface and your now-glistening lips. You gently spread your folds and found your clit. You grazed it with the gentlest touch, feeling a shot of electricity. Moving your hand, you felt blood pulsing through your veins. Your chest and neck flushed, and heat flooded your groin. All the while, you pictured him tasting you, his grey beard lightly tickling your thighs. You imagined him exploring you with his tongue, savoring the taste and wanting more.

Using the palm of your hand, you applied slight pressure and imagined his full lips sucking on yours. As your fingertips once again dragged across and found your clit, you imagined it was his teeth giving you soft bites. You could feel the build toward release, but you wanted to take your time. You felt raw energy coursing through each muscle of your body. Your toes curled slightly, and you pictured him rising from your mound.

In your head, he pulled his shirt over his head, and for the first time, you saw his swimmer's body: his broad shoulders, the outline of his biceps. You pictured his back: the width and tight skin. He was an Adonis. Your mind was filled with lust. This wasn't the body of the boys you chased in your youth. He was a man--powerful and seasoned with age and experience. His head lowered, and he returned to lapping at your juices. He knew the exact path to your pleasure. You pictured your hands in his hair, bringing his mouth closer to your opening while simultaneously increasing pressure with your palm. You were now rubbing everywhere, and your other hand had drifted to your neck. You could feel the heat and the start of perspiration. He seemed to know your body as well as I did. He knew what brought you pleasure, and you could feel it building in your body. Just as you neared the point of giving into the rush of your first orgasm, you heard your phone vibrate. It immediately jolted you to reality. You reached over, expecting another spam message. As you looked at your phone, you saw a text from an unknown number. The message read simply, "When can I join you for that cigarette?" Immediately, your body prickled with goosebumps and the unmistakable sensation of orgasm overtook your body.

As you recovered, thoughts flooded your brain. Did you just cheat? Of course not. Should you tell me? No, you wanted to explore this more. As your breathing slowed and your pulse recovered, you stared at your phone. You left him on read, but rather than deleting the text, you opened your contacts and saved the number as "Him". With that, you tossed your phone on the bed and rose to prepare for Pilates.

Pilates was a slog. You were completely distracted. When they counted down from 10, you regularly found yourself holding through to the next transition. You ached, and were too distracted. How did he get your number? You assumed that your coworker had given it to him. That was a no-no, but she loved gossip and intrigue; everything was a telenovela. She must have read the situation for what it was and wanted to stoke the fire. After class, you rushed out to the car. You didn't know how to respond. Feeling both guilty for your thoughts, embarrassed by your body's involuntary reaction. Maybe this was just harmless fun and teasing. You read and reread the text repeatedly. You started a sentence and your pulse quickened. You threw your phone into your purse.

You walked through the door and found me sitting in my chair. Immediately, all impure thoughts evaporated. You were home. I greeted you in my usual way and we relaxed. Later, as I made my way to bed, you opened your phone, stepped onto the patio, and simply responded, "Next Monday night."

That week, I noticed subtle changes. When you were texting, you would be careful to turn your phone out of my line of sight. You were smoking more and stealing moments for yourself. I regularly found you with a mischievous grin on your face. When I would ask what was making you laugh or smile, you would respond immediately, almost feeling rehearsed saying something about a customer that so-and-so had to deal with at work. You would go to sleep later and spend more time outside. When we climbed into bed and I heard your phone vibrate, you would turn away from me and quickly respond. That wasn't the only change. Your libido only increased. You couldn't get enough of me. We would lie in bed, and without your usual shyness, you would reach for my cock, finding it hard, and say that you needed something inside you. Your words were calculated. You wouldn't say that you needed me inside you, but instead "something." I could feel the difference as well. Each time I entered you, you were wetter than usual, at times finding your thighs slick. You would ask for it harder. You would tell me to go deeper or to stretch you. You asked for toys; you asked for the 11-inch dildo that stretched you and filled you wider and fuller than I ever could. You begged me to fill you, to breed you. You craved cum and needed it on you and in you. You would clean it from my cock as I softened. I was fucking you physically, and it was amazing, but I got the sense that as I penetrated you, you were somewhere else, and it wasn't my dick that you desired. I was a stunt dick, a placeholder for what you really needed. You made do, and I loved it.

As Monday crept closer, the subtle hints continued. Aside from the secretive nature of your texts, you made mention of getting dinner after your Pilates class, saying it was a girls' night that had been repeatedly postponed; but when I mentioned it later, you gave me an inquisitive look before quickly regaining your footing. The story changed slightly, and each time I simply nodded and encouraged you to enjoy yourself and not miss making memories.

That Monday morning, you were up before me. When I woke, I saw that the curling iron was heating up. You said that you wanted to do something different with your hair. I watched you intently as I drank my coffee. You were doing your hair and taking your time to get it just right. Breaking your concentration, I surprised you by suggesting you wore the black long dress shirt outfit and a lacy bra with matching panties. This was usually reserved for our date nights, but you insisted it showed hard you had been working. I admired you as you slowly slid up a blue thong. You diligently applied your makeup and spent a bit more time looking in the mirror. As I entered the bedroom to finish dressing for work, I was surprised to see a small travel bag Looking in your direction and seeing you distracted, I peered into the bag and saw the new blue lingerie that I had purchased for you that I had yet to see you wear. Next to it, I saw another pair of panties that appeared to have pearls--another pair I hadn't seen you wear. You were giving yourself options As I looked, I noticed motion out of the corner of my eye as you turned to re-enter the bedroom. You looked breathtaking as you entered the room, with your long, curled hair draping over your breasts and the thong riding up, you bent to retrieve matching shoes giving me the smallest glimpse of your lips. I knew I needed to leave, but I fought the urge, as I often did, to slide your thong to the side, and enter you from behind. I looked wide-eyed and mouthed "wow" before you reminded me of the time and told me not to be late.

I opened the door and told you I loved you. You stopped me with a slow kiss before running your nails through my hair and reminded me that after work and Pilates, you were getting dinner with your sister to talk about her latest drama and then had to go back to work for a dumb meeting, meaning you would be home much later than usual. You looked so good and ignoring the fact that the story had changed again, I simply told you how beautiful you looked, feeling the blood pump into my dick.

I arrived home from work after you had left for the evening. I hadn't heard from you, but knew it was a busy evening and that certainly you would rather be home. Looking around, I realized that the house was a mess. Rather than melt into my chair, I went around and picked up. The minutes ticked away as I vacuumed, mopped, and wiped the counters. I looked around the house, knowing that after a long day, you would appreciate a clean home. I climbed into bed and began playing with my phone.

When work ended, you made your way to your car. You had gotten off earlier than expected. It had been slow and you barely broke a sweat. You looked in the rearview mirror and noted that your hair looked as good as it did when you left the house in the morning. You couldn't deny that you were desperate to see the notifications on your phone. As the screen illuminated, you saw the message icon. Scrolling down, you saw a text from him. It gave the name of the hotel and a room number. Taking a deep breath, you felt you were on the precipice of danger, looking over the edge. As you hit a red light, everything stopped. Turn right and head northbound, or left, southbound, toward adventure. For a moment, you urged the world to stop. The red light held and you were safe. A honk brought you crashing back to earth. With the light green, you turned left, entered the freeway heading southbound, and thought to yourself that there was no turning back.

You knocked on his door hesitantly, part of you thinking that if he didn't answer, you could simply pretend none of this happened. You could turn around, jump into the car, and race home to me. Just as doubt entered your mind, you watched the handle turn and your heart skipped a beat. He opened the door, looking as good as ever, and held up a lighter and two cigarettes. He simply stated, "Cigarette?" You smiled, and it immediately calmed your nerves. This didn't feel rushed and you didn't feel unsafe. Oddly, part of you felt as though I had opened the door. A weight lifted, and he ushered you onto the balcony. There was a loveseat, a table, and two glasses of white wine. He gestured for you to sit, handed you a glass of wine, and sat down with a smile. You sipped the glass and realized that you felt no guilt and that I would accept it unconditionally. This felt natural and you felt safe in a way ordinarily reserved for me. He sat and immediately rested his hand on your thigh. There was no mistaking what tonight was about.

You drank with him and made small talk. Any doubt had long left you. You caught up, each asking about the week you both had, as you watched the moon rise and evening traffic crawl on the freeway. You both wanted this. He suddenly took your hand and rose to standing. He had forgotten about dinner reservations. As you stood, he suddenly pulled you in, and passionately kissed you. You were startled at first before responding with a pure and unbridled passion.

He opened the door to the black Cadillac SUV, holding your waist to assist with your balance you climbed in and in doing so allowing your dress to ride up high revealing more of your thighs. He smiled and returned to the driver's seat. As he sat down, his hand immediately rested on your thigh and feeling the oil, he slid it closer still, bringing his fingers closer to your wet thong. You rode in silence as he continued to caress your thigh.

You pulled into the parking lot recognizing 'The Landing Restaurant'. Holding the door, you found the room to be lit with table candles and soft music playing. It was darker than you remembered and were surprised to see it was empty. You were brought to a back corner table with a long black tablecloth. He held your hand and helped you take your seat. He then leaned in and kissed you on the cheek and told you that your husband was a very lucky man. As dinner went on, you dragged your foot up his leg, feeling the strong muscles as it got closer to his groin. You felt that he was fully aroused, but revealed no reaction to the feel of your touch. You stayed until the restaurant closed, earlier as it was Monday.

On the ride home, you finally shared a cigarette. You would draw in a breath, urging your heart to slow and then exhale with pursed lips while you looked at him. When his lips touched the filter, it brought a flood of heat to your abdomen. Returning to the room, you quickly retrieved your bag and excused yourself to the bedroom. Closing the door, you felt like you had exhaled for the first time that night, and fighting your nerves, you changed into the blue lingerie I had bought for you. Looking at the mirror, you saw yourself through my eyes and smiled. You simply loved me so much and it made you feel free. You would tell me everything in time, but rather than fear the conversation, it only turned you on more. You turned to the door, twisted the handle and fighting your excitement, you walked out of the bedroom.

You noticed that the lighting had changed. You looked around the room and found him sitting, still dressed in his slacks and dress shirt. He again didn't react to you. Holding another glass of wine, he acted as though he had expected this. He handed you the glass, and rather than embracing you, he kept you at arm's length. He twirled you, and with your back to him, brought you in, allowing you to once again feel his length against you. He was ready, and you were beyond waiting.

As you felt his strength, you smelled his cologne. It was intoxicating. He began kissing your neck and dragging his hands down your body. You swayed together, and reaching back, you felt his throbbing dick. At your first moan, he spun you around and kissed you deeply. He was in control, and you gladly submitted to kissing him deeply. In that moment, you realized that from the beginning, you never stood a chance with him. You found yourself giving into him gladly, and you realized that this was exactly what you wanted.

Withdrawing from the kiss, you sat down on the couch and began fumbling with his belt. You had already played this out in your head and craved the real thing. His belt finally released. You released the button and unzipped him. You began dragging his pants down and taking his boxer briefs down at the same time. As you lowered them, you traced the V of his abs leading to the hair below his belly button. He was hard, and as you pulled down more, it caught on his shaft. You looked up and he gave you a knowing smile. You continued pulling, and more and more of him became exposed. With a springing bounce, his dick released. You sat back and began rubbing yourself. Just as his beard appeared flawless, so did his pubic hair. Appearances were important to him. Tracking down his body, you were enthralled with his perfection. His muscles were tight, he didn't look his age. His happy trail brought you directly to his cock. Your mouth simply watered.

You spread your legs wider, rubbing your wet pussy before inserting a finger and tasting yourself. He finished undressing, and you immediately grabbed his ass, bringing him closer to you. Grabbing his dick, you took a moment to admire it. It was easily thicker and longer than you had imagined. Your hand slid down the shaft. He was cut, and the tip was thick and prominent. You saw every vein, and without hesitation, you took the tip into your mouth.

He softly grabbed your head. Ordinarily you didn't like this, but with him, for this night only, you were open to whatever he wanted to do to you. He encouraged you to explore the shaft with your tongue and then pushed back into your mouth. It felt good. He was throbbing, and he slowly pushed himself deeper. You felt it stretching your mouth as he moved deeper. You slowly breathed through your nose and took it farther. You needed him to fill every hole and were glad to start with your mouth. Your eyes watered as you felt the need to breathe. He removed himself from your mouth with a trail of saliva. As you caught your breath, with his dick inches from your face, you saw his precum drip from the tip.

Not wanting to miss a drop, you flicked your tongue at the tip, savoring the sweet and salty taste. Using your saliva as lube, you stroked his cock, milking more precum from the tip. You wanted it all and slapped his dick against your face, feeling the heat and weight in your hand. Pushing his dick toward the sky, you lowered your head, sucking his balls into your mouth. If this man was a god, you were prepared to sacrifice yourself at the altar. You began bobbing your head as the muscles around your lips relaxed.

He pushed you back by the shoulders and his dick making an audible pop as it left your mouth. He then spread your legs further. Grabbing your beautiful lingerie by the shoulders, he slowly removed it, exposing your naked body, asking if it was a fit for me. He brought his head lower toward your pussy and made fantasy a reality. Suddenly you felt like the idol being worshipped. Just like in your fantasy, he savored every drop of your fluids. He traced his tongue along your lips, biting and licking. He was so amazing but while being the center of attention, you began to feel as though you were failing his perfect cock. You begged for it, asking him to fuck you, but his licking continued. You felt your pussy dripping and involuntarily began grinding against his face. Whereas when you were alone you were interrupted as you brought yourself close, now you rode the wave toward an explosive orgasm. You began muttering "fuck" and held his face firmly to your mound. You felt it building, and like an eruption, the orgasm radiated through your body. As you panted, you begged him for his cock and to fuck you like you needed.

In an instant, he slipped his arms under your legs and picked you up. I could never fuck you in this way, and as you wrapped your legs around him, he drove his cock into you to the hilt. Having sucked and licked his manhood, you could feel each ridge, each inch, and every vein slide into your eager hole. Rather than pure driving, he slowly slid out. You could feel your walls stretching, and as you dug your nails into his back, you begged for more.

He continued sliding into you, his cock slick with your cum. Carrying you with ease, he brought you from the couch and laid you on the bed. He continued sliding into you as he kissed your mouth and neck. You no longer had any semblance of control. You begged him to fill you. You wanted to feel his cock inside you. You didn't even know this man's name, but you begged him to pound you.

He wouldn't relent to your begging; lying on your back, he brought your legs up, driving himself deeper into you. You couldn't remember the last time you felt so full. Each time he withdrew, you grabbed his ass and begged him to go deeper. He hit places you hadn't felt in years. He continued driving into you at a fevered pitch. It became too much and you begged him to slow.

He quickly withdrew and dove his face back down, savoring your combined fluids. You needed more, and as he teased you with his tongue, you grabbed his head again, directing it toward your clit as a second orgasm swept through your body.

As you convulsed, he slowed his pace and urged you to flip over. He drove two fingers into you and began licking your ass. Once again you found yourself close to the edge. As you begged for more, he entered you from behind. You felt his full length as he drove into you. Before, he had felt measured and paced himself; now he fucked you hard and gripped your hips. You felt yourself stretching and drove yourself harder into him. As you rose to your knees, his feverish thrusts increased. He was hitting deeper into you; reaching down to your abdomen, you could feel each thrust against your palm. There was making love, and then there was fucking. There was no mistaking which one was which.

His speed increased. You felt yourself stretching as his balls slapped your thighs. Reaching back, you grabbed him and begged him to fuck you like you deserved. It felt so good you could no longer make sense. You were drunk on his dick. Your begging was replaced by grunts as he gripped your hips. Now it was his turn to tell you how good it felt. Your bodies were in sync, and as he slammed harder, his grunts began to increase. You pleaded for him to cum, and he responded by telling you how tight you were. As his pace quickened and you approached another orgasm, he rammed into you. Without warning, you felt his cock twitch, and pulse after pulse of his thick cum filled you. He drove deeper, filling every bit of your pussy, and as he came raw inside you, he quickly withdrew, like a flood his cum and yours gushed out as your legs shook. You quickly turned around and engulfed him in your mouth once again, cleaning your combined juices. He tasted so good, and you continued stroking as the last thick shots of hot cum hit your lips and your chest. With another kiss, you both collapsed onto the bed in an unspoken agreement that you had fulfilled each other's needs.

You both caught your breath and lay entwined on the bed. As your pulse slowed, you looked at the time on the clock. It was after 12. You immediately rose from the bed in a panic. You couldn't think of a reasonable explanation to provide me as to why you were so late. He simply said that he was certain it would be okay. Leaning over, you took his softening, glistening dick into your mouth, cleaning it one last time. You stood and started dressing.

You raced home, still tasting him on your lips and feeling him leaking into your thong. You tried creating a story about drama with your sister, but as you made up a story, you found yourself distracted by the events of the evening and struggled to maintain the lie.

You hoped that by the time you arrived home, I would be asleep and you could slip into bed, explaining yourself in the morning. As you continued down the freeway, you could now feel his cum sliding down your thighs. You were a dripping mess. You would definitely need to shower as soon as possible, but even that, you felt, would deserve another explanation and an additional lie. As you parked and walked up to the apartment, you were surprised to find it illuminated throughout. As you approached the door, you looked for movement. Fighting a sudden pang of guilt and grabbing the door handle, you tried to enter with as little noise as possible.

You entered the house, forgetting that your hair was now tousled and your makeup lightly smeared. Taking your first steps through the house, you saw that I had cleaned it and it looked amazing. Immediately your heart swelled. No matter what you did, I would love you unconditionally. I cared for you and took care of your every need. As thoughts of guilt moved in, I rounded the corner, smiling, and gave you a kiss forgetting the dried cum on my lips. I hugged you and you welcomed me home. As we made our way to the bedroom, I expressed to you that it had been such a long day for you and you must have been exhausted after your girls' night. You simply shook your head forgetting which lie which story you had told me.

You protested that you needed to shower, but I took you in my arms, drawing you in close and kissing you deeply, stating how good you tasted. I kissed your neck and said I could taste the salt from your workout while dragging you closer to the bed. Once fully in the bedroom, I told you how beautiful you looked, raised your arms, and began removing your dress.

I began kissing my way down your chest, I purred and told you how good you tasted. I was insatiable. Your body had a different scent and I drank it in. It was musky, and I wanted to get dizzy breathing it in. You tasted saltier than usual, and there was a subtle stickiness that I felt as my tongue traced around your nipples and breasts. You must have been worked over hard because the salt had dried in places, leaving a slight white residue that I sought after like caviar on your body.

As I moved my head down, you pleaded with me to come back up, but I couldn't be stopped. You were my drug and I was desperate for more. Ignoring your pleas, I grabbed the sides of your thong and pulled you free of them. As they released from your wet pussy, a line of drool stretched from you. I immediately spread your legs wide and dropped to my knees Losing myself, I licked your wetness from the thong before dragging a finger across your lips. In the light of the room, I could see that your milky fluids had pooled, had pulled by your thong and were beginning to slide down your legs. I slowly laid you on the bed, stopping to admire your beauty and see the glow of your skin. You always looked so beautiful and I told you I loved you.

Bringing your legs up I again dove in, dragging my tongue from your asshole up toward the burning heat of your pussy. No longer offering any resistance, you moaned, "Oh fuck, get that cum." As I licked, your thick juices gathered on my tongue. Using pressure, the tip gathered as much as possible as you grabbed my head and said, "Clean me good, baby." You had completely relaxed and now wanted me to fully savor your cream. So much had gathered that as I raised my head to look at you, it spilled down my lips and dripped onto my chin. Grabbing my head, you brought me toward your face, held me there for a moment, before telling me that you loved me. You then licked your cum off my face before telling me how good we taste.

I returned between your legs to ensure I didn't miss a drop. I didn't want to stop, wanting to ensure that I made you cum with my tongue. Then grabbing my head and rather than bringing my head closer to increase pressure, you pushed me away and begged me to fuck you.

Rising, you grabbed my dick and directed it toward you. I was dripping precum, and using a finger, you gathered some and, instead of bringing it to your lips, you stuck it in my mouth, telling me that you knew I loved the taste of a man's cock. Immediately my dick spasmed and you guided it into your hole.

My dick slipped into you easily. Whether it was the result of your arousal or my mouth and tongue, it felt stretched more than usual, which only drove me crazier. The idea of a larger, thicker cock plowing into you while I was being cucked drove me to the edge regularly; tonight was sensory overload.

Fighting the urge to lose control, I begged you to slow down. Your pussy was so well lubed tonight that, although stretched, I could feel my tip sliding against your inner walls, bringing the inevitable eruption closer. As I withdrew, you pushed me away momentarily, only to turn around and get on your knees. I repositioned and readied myself to re-enter you. You were stretched and I could see deeper into you than usual. I couldn't fight the urge and immediately pushed my tongue into you, collecting more of your sweet nectar. I began tonguing your tight asshole, savoring every taste.

You begged me to slide deep into you, and in this position I could feel the tight grip of your pussy. It was milking my cock and my release was imminent. You reached between my legs and grabbed my balls. The audible slap against your body rang louder. I reached the point of no return and, grabbing your hips, I slammed harder as the first pulse of hot cum filled you. Sensing it, you groaned while I continued to fill you. Riding through my orgasm, I continued my thrusts and delivered every drop before my pulse and breathing spiked and I collapsed against your perfect body. Rolling onto our sides, I spooned you while my now-softening dick dribbled against your outer lips, holding you tight while catching my breath and feeling my pounding heart slow. Both feeling our collective exhaustion, we drifted off to sleep.

Sometime later, I woke in a haze, our bodies warm from each other. We were slick with the wet sticky juices of our combined release. I slipped from bed, walking naked into the living room, my dick still dripping cum. I stole a taste for myself before picking up my phone, I clicked my messages. Opening a conversation with an unsaved contact, I scrolled to the first message which was me sharing your number. I slowly scrolled through the images of screenshots of your conversations with him excited to read them again later, before reaching the end. Typing on my keyboard, I simply said "Thank you for the last few weeks" and hit send. The bathroom light turned on and you entered the room. Quickly shutting off my screen, you asked me if I was coming to bed. You looked perfect in the lighting. I smiled, said "Yes, my love", rose to my feet before embracing you and exchanging a deep kiss.

Sometime soon we would both have secrets to share.