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This happened a long, long time ago. Way before AIDS. Way before stealth STDs were everywhere. We were lucky back then. Birth control pills and few diseases meant that we could screw spontaneously without consequences. Ah, the good old days.
At the time this happened we (boyfriend and I, now husband and I) were living together. We had known each other about two years, so we were attached but not seriously involved at the time. And we were, frankly, not perfectly exclusive. I had a number of affairs of extracurricular sex with co-workers and friends. All with his encouragement, mind you.
Sometimes the “affairs” were just being felt up a little in the office or a bar or the back seat of a car. Sometimes they were full-blown fuck-fests. Anything from a stolen kiss to feeling my breasts or my butt, fondling my ass in a crowded bar or putting a hand up my skirt. Sometimes I participated actively and sometimes I just let them put their hands on me a little before I pushed them off. I never made a scene. I didn’t freak out over someone copping a feel. What’s the big deal? Guys want what they want, and if they want me, well, I’m not insulted. If I don’t feel like playing, then it stops at hands on things. If I do feel like playing, then some lucky boy gets to feel my hard nipple, or gets to wet his finger inside my panties. These games never hurt our relationship, in fact they strengthened it. (When we finally decided we were serious, we sealed the deal. We’ve been married forever.) He always wanted to hear in detail about my encounters. He wanted to know who did what to me, and what I did with whom, and what it felt like, and how I put things inside of things, and how I loved the sensations. And I always told him. I have lots of recollections of that era. This is one of them.
I was working as assistant to an architect in small firm. His office had a small love seat. With desk and side chair and drafting table and flat files, there was no room for a full sofa. Just this little leather love seat, room for two, with a small coffee table as a work table in front of it.
We often worked after hours on projects. He was the boss, so everything was his responsibility. This evening, as usual, we were sitting on the loveseat looking at papers together. I was really young then, and I dressed fairly sexy in the office. You know, tops tight, casino oyna skirts short, heels high. This particular day I was wearing my favorite skirt, a gray suede a-line that was really short, hugged my hips. Shiny gray Lycra pantyhose. Gray suede heels. Silky (Qiana, couldn’t afford silk) blouse. I looked particularly slinky and hot that day.
We were sitting close, touching, leg to leg, going over some plan or other. The warm sexual tension between us of the last couple months was in the air. To stress a point, he put a hand on my knee. But not just knee. My skirt was so short sitting down, my legs so exposed, that his hand was soon on my thigh well above my knee. I may have jumped a little at the touch but I didn’t mind at all. It stayed there, and over the next few minutes he moved higher up my thigh, up to the hem of my skirt. When he reached the hem of this skirt, his fingers were only couple inches below my crotch.
Conversation lagged. We looked at each other instead of the papers. My legs relaxed. His fingers reached inside my thigh and up under the skirt. There was very little skirt between the hem and my goodies. A few inches and his little finger grazed my crotch, I could feel it tingling through the pantyhose and panties. I was already hot, and getting moist. We stared a long stare and moved to each other to kiss a long gentle kiss. I had wanted this to happen ever since I met him. He was just my type, tall, handsome, salt and pepper, yum. Sleeping with coworkers is a bad idea, I know, especially the boss, but I really wanted this man.
His hand came up to my breast, cupped it, kneaded it. My nipple responded. I moaned my pleasure into his kiss. We kissed for minutes, he played with both of my breasts, he held my face in both hands to kiss me. It was so gentle and romantic. My fingernails were in his shoulder and neck, holding tightly to this beautiful man.
He moved his hand back to my leg, more insistent now. I opened my legs for him so he could feel between them. He stroked my slippery pantyhose all the way up my thigh to the top. I opened my legs more to his touch, to give him clear access. He reached all the way up my thigh, cupped my crotch. I pushed my hips up into his hand. My pussy was wet by this time. God, we both want to continue with this, we have to complete this.
He turned to face me square canlı casino on, slid his hands up my thighs, up the cool slick stockings under my skirt, pushed my skirt way up, found the waistband of my pantyhose. I lifted up so he could pull them down. My panties came with them, so I was fully exposed, naked from the waist down. My skin was directly on the cold leather. I wondered if my dripping pussy was leaving a stripe on the leather seat.
He kissed me again, hard. His hand was on my mound, his fingers curled under me to feel my pussy. His fingers separated my outer lips, I felt the cool air on my wet sex. Oh, he pushed on my clit, pinched it gently but insistently. Each little pinch sent a wave of thrill straight to my womb and my heart.
I held my hand over his as he pushed his finger into my vagina. He pushed his knuckles up into me, penetrated my soft tunnel. How wonderful! My cunt was lubricating now, wet and hot. I needed my hole to be filled. I ached to feel him pressing inside me. He pumped his hand in and out, and my hips met him at every stroke. He pierced far into me, and then out to touch my clit, pinched and probed. And I came. I screamed my orgasm into his mouth.
He was hard as rock. I had to return the favor. I took his pants down. His erection stood straight out from his belly, hard and strong. I stroked him and tickled his balls with my fingernails. He stopped me before he got too close. He wanted to come in me, in my hot sex, in my cunt, not in my hand or mouth.
How are we going to do this? There’s the desk, piled with papers. The floor, ick. Only good choice: the sofa. He slouched on it, his hips near the edge, his cock straight up vertical. This I can do. I pulled my skirt up to my waist and straddled his legs. He looked right down at my pussy hovering over his cock, guided my hips toward him. I gripped his cock to aim it at the entrance to my tunnel of love. I rubbed the shiny head on my lips, separated my outer lips and then inner ones, so that it was aimed exactly at my hole. I relaxed down, the head at my entrance trying to slide inside. Oh, god, it’s large, it’s wonderful. I slipped down more so the head opened the muscle in the opening of my cunt. Oh, yes! I pushed down more and it slid inside, deep into me. I sat down completely to get it as deep as possible. He pushed up and I pushed down. Then stir kaçak casino it around. Up and down. I was sitting on him and he was as deep inside me as he could go. I felt his member reaching far up into me. God, what a feeling! I collapsed on him, we kissed more, and I started seriously to pump him in and out of my sex. Up and down, in and out, sliding, gripping, fucking him. Or rather, fucking me *with* him. Oh, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, come on, go deep inside me, deep, deep, up and down, push up into me. My cunt feels red hot.
He closed his eyes to enjoy the sensations. Me, too. I moved up and down, back and forward, to stir my insides with his hard cock. Come in me, come in me, I want you, come in me. He held my hips, pushing up and down and around, faster and faster, more insistent, until finally he does come. I felt him pulsing, shooting his cream into me, pulse, pulse, pulse, throb, throb, throb, throb, throb. My insides felt full, oozy, creamy, lubricated. We slowed down and some of his come leaked out.
I sat down on him, totally relaxed, with his cock hard inside me still, then softening a little. We were both sweaty and breathing hard. I swirled my hips around to stir his penis inside me some more. Mmmmm. How long can I keep that sensation. I rubbed my clit on his pubes. I couldn’t come again, but it still felt wonderful. We kissed for a long time, less urgently than before, now just sweet and soft and romantic.
When I got off him, letting his cock slide slowly out of my cunt, drops of his come fell on his shaft and into his hair. I stood up. Most of it ran out of my hole and down my right leg. I was a little embarrassed, but he reached over to the top of my thigh, right at my labia, to hold the drips. He pushed on my thigh to get me to open my legs again for him, He slid two fingers up into me, into the hot, wet, soft, secret insides of my sex. I closed my eyes and swooned again to the sensation of him pushing hard inside me. His fingers came out, one for him to clean and then one for me. The combination of our juices was salty and delicious.
My crotch and thighs and fur were all covered with drying juices. I don’t clean it off before I go home. Just pulled up my panties and stockings and kept it all in the area. I knew that my live-in would love to hear about this and to see the evidence. (He did.)
This affair went on for a couple months, a dozen times or so, before I left there and moved into the city. Mostly in the office. Sometimes in his car; mine was too small. But the first time is always the best and most memorable.
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