A New Man . . . A New Fling !!
It has been an amazing month . . . starting with finding myself doing something I said I’d never do, and yet because of that, turning into the most passionate few weeks J and I have enjoyed for a long time.In the environment I work in it’s common-place to be frequently approached by male work colleagues or clients or suppliers. I’ve been propositioned on numerous occasions over the years and had always been determined to never become involved with someone I worked with or for. I have seen quite a number of “office scandals” or affairs turn into nasty or embarrassing situations and I had always been sure I would never allow myself to fall into a similar trap.
But . . . I’d been asked to oversee an important new campaign for one of our largest European clients. A director and several colleagues were spending over a week with us working on the launch and things quickly worked well. Along with several of my own team, I spent virtually all of every day with our clients and found my counterpart to be a quite charming and entertaining gentleman. He was older than the rest of us, but witty, engaging and instantly likeable and all of us felt completely at ease in each others company. I certainly had no feelings of any sort towards him apart from working through all the normal procedures of a new brief. We had all lunched together each day and when he called on me in my office on the last afternoon of their visit and asked if I would conclude the weeks business with a meal that evening I assumed it was to be a normal “team meal”, something that was not unusual when working on a project of this type. We were to meet at one of the most exclusive restaurants in the West End, where you’d normally have to book weeks in advance.
I was a little unnerved to find upon my arrival that none of the others were joining us . . . but as he ordered drinks and we chatted in the reception area I felt much more at ease. During the meal conversation turned naturally to more homely subjects rather than the business. We talked about family, husbands and wives and children. V was charming in every way and it was not until he asked that I join him for drinks at his apartment that I thought his intentions were anything other than professional. I was flattered and feeling inquisitive, but nervous and unsure about his intentions and my own feelings about the situation. I explained that I would have to let my husband know I was going to be a little later than I’d originally thought, so I stepped outside to call J whilst V waited for the coats. J’s reaction was more about “where are you going”, “can you trust him” and “are you coming home” rather than to do with my own concerns about the situation. I agreed I would call him from the hotel to let him know where I was.
I had assumed that V had meant “hotel room” when he said “apartment”, but when the taxi dropped us at an exclusive and relatively new development right on the river I realised that V really had meant “apartment”. And when he led me into the main room it really was impressive. Very nice decor and an amazing view out over the river. He told me he’d brought the apartment two years ago before the development had even been finished, and had another in Brussels. He wanted to show me round, but I explained that I had agreed to call my husband just to let him know where I was . . . V looked surprised and quizzical, but nodded and led me out onto the balcony and said he would prepare drinks whilst I made my call. J was now a little more questioning than he’d been when I’d spoken to him from the Restaurant. We both knew I suppose . . . and I was sure V did as well of course . . . that my accepting an invitation like this back to someone’s apartment was by both implication and deed, only going to mean one thing. I promised I’d call J when I was on my way home, he signed off by telling me to be careful and to enjoy myself.
I stepped back into the room and sat down with V on the sofa. He seemed a little more nervous now than he’d been before and asked “what must your husband think of you joining me here like this. Have you told him where you are?” I explained, without going into all the specific details that we had a wonderful relationship and were always honest and open with each other. The conversation was now a little more stilted than it had been before, and I could tell from Vs questions that he wasn’t quite as sure of himself as he had been earlier. We sat across from each other for some time chatting again about work now rather than the more personal conversation of earlier. It wasn’t until V returned from topping up our drinks that he sat down next to me on the sofa . . . and then we just began kissing. There wasn’t any mad pulling at each others clothes, or any sudden change in tempo, it was all very gradual and quite nice actually. Just mutually kissing and stroking and he was slowly and gradually becoming more adventurous about where his hands were moving.
As I hadn’t set-out from home that morning with the intention of being out after work, I’d just dressed quite conservatively in my normal office wear, I wasn’t even wearing a skirt . . . hardly conducive to passionate embraces on the sofa. As he struggled with my blouse, I remembered with more horror that I didn’t even have matching underwear . . . So I certainly wasn’t dressed in the most confidence-building attire with which to impress or excite. I decided that the best way to disguise my embarrassment at my clothing was not to prolong the inevitable but to just arrive there as quickly as possible. I pushed him gently back and then just stood up and unzipped and undressed myself. I was completely undressed in an instant and then sat back down to start unbuttoning his shirt. He was now much more proactive as he stroked my breasts and thigh, telling me how beautiful I was and of course hearing those comments in that accent of his made it seem even more flattering and exciting. I was surprised at how aroused I was suddenly feeling, and then became even more surprised as he slipped off his trousers and up popped his cock . . . Although I could see it wasn’t fully hard, it was just so thick, much bigger than any man I’d been with before. The tingles of excitement I’d felt before now changed to more a sense of adrenalin and I could feel, and almost hear, my heart pumping. He pulled me up from the sofa and said we’d be more comfortable in the bedroom, before I’d had time to look at him for longer than a few seconds. I was conscious of not trying to look down at him as we walked down the corridor into the room. With just a dim lamp on by the bed, most of the light in the room was from the floor to ceiling windows looking out onto the river, with the lights from the buildings across the river and the boats, it was just a beautiful sight.
He lay me back onto the bed and was sucking at my breasts and nipples and gasping about how they were “like bullets”. I WAS quite aroused, but could still feel my heart thumping and could feel, but couldn’t see, his cock against my leg. V continued to suck at my breasts while I stroked his back and hips and then slid my hand round to reach for his willy. It did feel heavy against the palm of my hand and as I closed my fingers around him I could feel the thickness. He pulled away from me though as he slid down my tummy to start licking at me. I was feeling more and more aroused and just lay back as he continued sucking at me and then lifted up to start playing with me with his fingers. Neither of us spoke, but were both just breathing heavily. I reached down to lift him back up to kiss me and then rolled him over onto his side. I slid down to him so that for the first time I could look at him and touch him properly. It was certainly very thick, and as he rolled more over on his back I was able to lick down to his balls and then back up again to slide my mouth over him completely. I could tell as I sucked down on him that he was quite big. Not big in the same way as some of the men I’d seen on our blue-movies at home, but certainly bigger than I was used to. It wasn’t so much that he was particularly long, just so, so thick. Perhaps because of his width, his sacks seemed bigger as well, and I started to play with them as I kept sucking up and down on him.
It wasn’t long though before he twisted away and pulled me back up the bed saying I had to stop as he was getting too excited and he wanted more of my “bullets”. We rolled over with me on my back again and him cupping my boobs together with his hands and sucking at my nipples again. As we rocked together I could feel his cock pushing at me and he eventually lifted away from my breasts and adjusted himself against me and then just slid into me. I was gasping and sighing and trying to squeeze myself against him, I wanted to feel all of it inside me . . . and he began pumping in and out quite vigorously. I wanted to feel that it was different, but actually it didn’t feel any tighter or stronger than it did with J or S. The “idea” of it though was getting me more and more worked-up and I could feel myself gasping and groaning in unison with his own grunts. But then he suddenly pulled out and up onto my tummy, gasping loudly and spurting over my chest. He then fell forward onto me burying his head on my shoulder and squashing all his come against me. I could feel his breath gasping against my neck and smell his aftershave, but as we lay still for some minutes I began to feel uncomfortable with his weight on me . . . and uncomfortable with the stickiness dribbling off the side of my tummy. I asked if he had any tissues and he lifted up, apologising profusely and then getting up from the bed to bring me a hand towel from the bathroom next door. He sat down on the bed next to me, apologising again for making a mess, and telling me how wonderful it had been. He was half-sitting, half lying on his side and I could now look at him without feeling so self-conscious about it. His erection had obviously gone but his cock was really still thick and fleshy. The only way I was able to describe it to J afterwards, was that lying there now, it looked a bit like a big slug as it was perched, resting over his testicles. I still wanted to reach down and touch it, but thought that may not seem in the best of taste, so I just stroked his chest instead. I told him I’d have to be going home and he said he would order a radio-taxi on his account.
I needed the bathroom and he brought my clothes in from the main room. He was still naked and obviously quite unembarrassed about walking round in front of me like that. He actually doesn’t have a startling physique, and he wasn’t flaunting his willy or anything like that, and neither of us mentioned anything about his cock at all. He was clearly just completely at ease being nude. He poured more drinks whilst we waited for the cab and asked if I would visit him in Paris or Brussels. I replied that I wasn’t sure that we should be seeing each other at all, as professionally I shouldn’t have let myself get so carried away. He seemed genuinely upset . . . “Should not two people be able to be attracted to each other and enjoy moments like these? It has nothing to do with business. It can just be pleasure”. I was nodding and agreeing, but suddenly feeling very embarrassed at finding myself standing there at all. I knew he was leaving in the morning, but that he was due back in London again in six weeks for the next stage . . . and that at the very least I would be talking regularly with his colleagues, if not himself, by telephone over the coming weeks. I felt silly and annoyed with myself . . .
His telephone rang to announce the arrival downstairs of the taxi . . . and as he kissed me goodbye on each cheek he asked “what will you tell your husband”. I replied, with, hopefully not too obvious false bravado, “Everything, of course”.
I called J from the taxi to tell him I was on my way. He could obviously tell I wasn’t feeling quite so proud of myself as I usually would after “an evening out”, as he asked me what was wrong. I told him I was fine and would explain when I got home. It was by now early morning, but he was waiting for me on the sofa as normal . . . with a glass of wine and that expectant look . . . I undressed and started to tell him about the evening with a mixture of my usual tingling excitement at my naughtiness, but also trying to explain that I felt I’d put myself in a silly and unprofessional situation at work. As I continued answering J’s questions and seeing the immediate explosive reaction my description of V’s cock had on him, I quickly began to get carried away again. I was desperate to come, and as J had come so quickly, I told him I needed one of my toys. I was so desperate, that I had to lay back on the sofa playing with my pussy whilst I waited for J to come back with our “toy box”. J told me later that seeing me lying there, with my eyes closed, playing with myself made him hard all over again and he came again as he watched me shuddering and convulsing with my “rabbit” and gasping and groaning.
The next morning though, my feelings reverted again to annoyance with myself . . . especially when I got to work and opened up my email to find a message of thanks from V. It wasn’t as though the message could have been construed as anything other than just a standard “thank you” from a satisfied client . . . It was just that I wondered what the “thank you’s” were really for . . . and that it was my office email !! I felt even worse later in the morning when my secretary put a call through for me announcing “he must be impressed, he’s calling from the airport!”. Over the next few days, and the arrival of not only a daily “project update” on my email, but several more “personal” messages by text to my mobile, I began to feel more and more annoyed at the situation that I’d allowed myself to be put into. After all I didn’t need to get involved with anyone else just to indulge my “special excitements” as J calls it. I had two lovers who would be at my door in a flash whenever I wanted it. So I felt guilty and stupid . . . as though I’d been taken advantage of !
And yet, almost every night for the next two weeks, as J kept asking me to go over all the details of my evening with V again and again . . . I had to keep admitting to him that it did make me excited, and that even if I didn’t actually come with V, the thought of him, was making me come again and again with J.
J insists that I should actually be able to use that night to my advantage, and that as I do enjoy being occasionally, and discretely, outrageous and sexual and dominating, I should just admit it to myself and “go with it” . . . and not feel guilty about it. I have been through the “guilty” stage before when I first started the affair with S. It took me a long time to admit to myself that I actually enjoyed the situations, enjoyed the flattery, enjoyed telling J all about it afterwards, and most importantly, enjoyed the sex . . . that I should actually admit that if I really hadn’t wanted to let myself go, I would have said “no” to V when he asked me to go back to his apartment, and I can always say “no” on his return . . .
Best wishes - Edith
http://www.scarletsecrets.co.uk/edithsdiary
Labels: affairs, erotic, extra-marital, fling, fun, lover, sex, sexy, woman, wonderful
posted by Edith @ 19:42
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