A Glorious Tease Ch. 01

The kiss was as far as I was willing to go, but that was already farther than I ever imagined I would go outside of my marriage. And the urge to have more of her was growing. I was losing control, and I wanted her to lose it too. I wanted to make her lose control over me, and I felt like I could. I felt like sharing that shower fantasy would do it. I could write it for her. I could write it for her and make her cum, and make her as crazy for me as I was for her.

"I thought about getting you a present for your birthday. But, well, you know..."

Lame, I was not off to a good start, bringing up the discomfort and inappropriateness of a married man buying a young woman he flirts with a gift. But I kept going.

"I had this really incredible fantasy about you the other day. About kissing you for your birthday. I thought about writing it down and giving it to you." We had already covered masturbation in our conversations implicitly, so it wasn't that shocking to her that I spoke of fantasizing about her explicitly now.

"Maybe if you had done that, I would have had the courage to follow you into the bathroom." She was so direct and unblinking. Looking right into me.

"Maybe I will then, and maybe I'll get that private kiss, eventually." And then I was out the door, embarrassed and feeling guilty.

But motivated.

Feeling very motivated.

I was going to write something so intense for her.

It took me four days:

I'm usually still thinking about you when I'm in the shower after a workout, and so one of my favorite fantasies is about you slipping into the shower with me. I'm all soapy and hard, and your hands are everywhere and I'm finally seeing you naked, and I'm feeling you against me... I don't let myself get too "into" that fantasy when I'm in the gym shower, of course, because there is no privacy (though the thought of you being just upstairs makes it tempting). But at home I can find the privacy to really, really enjoy imagining you with me.

Last Friday morning I was in the shower at my home, thinking about you, but not imagining you in the shower with me. I was thinking about that kiss. That big, capital X you put in your e-mail. It affected me like a promise:

"You are going to get a great big, wet kiss from me." it seemed to say. I couldn't resist the idea. I told myself that would be the line, the last line I would cross. One kiss. One electric kiss, quick, but not too quick. Just a tantalizing, brief taste of you, and that would be the memory. That would be the extent of the infidelity and the everlasting wet dream.

I was rubbing soap all over my body, and getting big, and just imagining. What would it be like? How would it happen? Obviously I couldn't kiss you on the lips like that in front of the whole gym. A lot of people there know I'm married with kids, and I'm sure a few know that you have a boyfriend. It would be scandalous. But I thought you wanted that kiss, and so how did you want it to happen?

I imagined that first it would just be the three Dutch kisses (that was so nice).

I imagined stepping back and looking at you after, the desire for more showing on your face, showing on my face.

I imagined.

The tension from those three little kisses leaves me tongue-tied for a second, and so I just smile at you and go into the bathroom to fill my water bottle. I'm trembling just slightly, the smell of your hair and the feel of your cheek against my lips still with me. A half minute later, you come in.

And we're alone.

You take just one step into the room, the door closed behind you. We're close, in that small room, but I'm still facing the sink, gripping the edge tightly, trying to contain my lust. I look at you silently, and you look back at me with those eyes. You are so beautiful; you are so sexy. You stand easily, with confidence, looking calm but I can see some of the arousal you are feeling. And you speak first:

"You gave me goose bumps with those kisses." (I loved it when you told me I gave you goose bumps). I turn toward you.

"Let me feel," I say, and I reach out my right hand and touch your bare arm. The tiny hairs are raised like lightning is about to strike. I have so many reasons not to do anything, but I can't stop myself from moving even closer. Now I'm standing at your right side, very close, and you are suddenly breathing hard, but you don't move away.

I'm facing you, from beside you, my chest against your shoulder and my breath touching your upper neck behind your ear. My left hand moves gently to your lower back, and my right hand moves from your arm to your belly. Your heart is beating so hard I can feel it through your skin, but you are still. I know you're conflicted too. I know you want to kiss, you want to turn and melt into me, but for now, you are so torn between passion and commitment that you don't move. You just let me touch you, breathless.

And I can't stop.

"I want to feel more." I whisper. My voice is low and thick and you feel my words rumble against the side of your face. I smell good, clean, but like a man. My hand moves down your belly and dips under your clothes. You close your eyes. I go right down, and I feel you there. You gasp. My fingers press gently against the opening. You are already so wet. You don't think you've ever gotten so wet, so fast before.

I groan, half a growl. I want to be inside you so badly. But I'm married and you are taken and we are in the bathroom and this is your job and anyone could walk in at any second... So I slowly start to pull my hand out. My fingers are slippery and as they retreat they give your clitoris just the lightest, slickest caress. I'm tortured by how much I want to keep my hand there. How much I want to taste you there, but I know that I have to stop now. What we are doing is crazy, I know, and so I continue to take my hand away...

But you grab my wrist with both your hands, and you keep me there. We've come this far and now you don't want me to stop. I'm completely overcome by your action. By our mutual passion. We are risking so much for this moment. Some of the people out there in the gym are probably suspicious already: they've seen our body language, they've overheard things. Another member could come and interrupt us at any second, all jealous and indignant. Your boss could come looking for you...

But... For just a few seconds longer... You want me there so badly, and neither of us can resist. I let my hand go lower again. You turn your head toward me and our lips meet, finally. Like torrential, hot rain after a drought. It feels so good that we momentarily forget that there is anything else at all. I'm lost in the taste and the feel of your mouth. I want to consume you completely, everywhere.

Your tongue presses against mine, and you part your legs a little more, urging me into you. I move in and out slowly, savoring the feel of you. My other hand reaches around your back to your opposite side, moving up your torso to massage your breast. You break our kiss for a moment to breathe deeply. You're almost dizzy with pleasure. My mouth and tongue move to your neck for a moment before returning to your lips.

Below, my fingers dance with your clitoris, moving it in slow, easy circles, and then dipping low again to go into you. I'm worshipping you with my hand, exploring in wonder, playing with a purpose:

I want you to cum.

I'm so hard, feeling you. You still hold my wrist with your left hand, but now your right hand reaches towards me to feel the outline of my cock in my pants. It's straining against the fabric, pushing outward with so much force. You wrap your hand around as much of it as you can, stroking and squeezing lightly, but you can't concentrate enough to get it out of my pants.

You don't want anything to be different, right now. You want everything exactly like this. My body so close, my mouth on yours, my cock in your hand, my wrist gripped tight in your other hand, my fingers... my hand... my fingers. You are quickly approaching orgasm.

And you would want more, if there was time. You would want us both naked, want me all over your body, want me in your mouth, and deep into your center, but you know there is no time for anything more than this, and this is so intense and perfect.

And so you let yourself go, and you start to cum in enormous waves of physical bliss, your mouth still on mine as you moan into me and my hand is soaked and my cock is throbbing through my pants in your hand like it might burst, and you squeeze and you shudder and shake and kiss me so hard as your orgasm just continues on and on and on and on, and I've never been so turned on in my life.

And at home, in my shower, with every muscle flexed tight in a spasm of gratification, I explode into the air.

Four days of writing and editing and writing and editing to get the story just how I wanted it. I must have read it over twenty times, making small edits here and there. For three nights straight I jerked-off thinking about it. It was hot. She would find it so hot. This was going to make her cum, I knew it would. Could I really send this? This was crossing a line much further on than flirting with a woman who was not my wife: This was seduction. Hell, this was foreplay.

I attached it to an e-mail. I put in her address. My mouse cursor hovered over the "send" button. I thought of my wife and kids. This is bad. I moved the cursor to "discard". I thought of my kids trying to understand why their parents were getting divorced. I thought of my wife's pain and anger as she confronted me about some mistake I had made that revealed it all to her. I didn't click the mouse button. I just stayed there over "discard".

I knew what the right thing to do was. And I knew that the wrong thing wasn't always irredeemable. I thought of lifting Emma onto my hard cock, sliding into her hot, tight, wet, wet, wet pussy, my lips on her lips...

I clicked "send".

It was done.

She would be coming for me now.

*****

Emma's reaction was short, but it spoke volumes. I opened her email:

Holy Fuck, Mike! Great writing! I don't know what else to say right now...

That was it, but I never heard her swear before, or say Holy-anything, and she had written my name right in the middle of it. She was affected. I got her. I felt a momentary break from the longing. I felt satisfied, happy, ecstatic. I knew I had made her cum. I knew I had made her want me, at least during the reading, like I wanted her.

By the next day, I wanted even more. She was flushed when I saw her. Whatever attraction she had felt towards me before, now it was larger, more insistent. And it was turned a thousand fold onto me. Whatever she felt for me just multiplied what I felt for her, practically paralyzing me.

I can't even remember my workout session that day. All I remember is my heart beating so hard and loud, and my voice feeling thick and clumsy. I fumbled for words whenever we talked, and she blushed at almost anything I said. I was half-hard the whole time, and I could tell she was wet. I don't remember leaving. Time with her was like being in a hurricane, thundering, powerful, frightening and exciting; time without her was a grey blur of waiting.

*****

And then it was that evening, and the stars had aligned. Someone up there wanted me to see something...

Christie had gone out with her girlfriends. My kids were all in bed. Emma was alone at her apartment: no boyfriend because she had an early morning. We were, for the first time, chatting over e-mail.

I still wanted a picture...

At some point that morning Emma told me that, like me, she also enjoyed writing erotic prose. That blew me away. I had worried that my writing would be just a little nerdy to her, but it turned out that not only did she appreciate that form of sexual expression, she engaged in it too. And so we found ourselves in e-mail contact, as we both sat alone in our homes simultaneously working on our respective erotic writing: fantasies we had about each other.

She was out there, imagining sex with me and writing it down. I was imagining sex with her and writing it down. And every few minutes we'd fire off a line to one another. And she was hungry for more from my dirty mind:

Any chance for a preview of your next story?

I was halfway through a second piece, a little racier than the first, but one that started off from where the first had ended. I replied.

Sure, if you send me a sexy picture.

And finally, one came.

She was coming out of the ocean at night, stepping into the light of a beach fire. It was a little blurry - someone had caught her on their phone - but it was the sexiest thing I ever saw in my life. She was half turned away, but with her face oriented to notice the picture being taken, with a half-surprised and indignant look. The other half of the look was all self-aware exhilaration that someone was catching just how sexy she looked at that moment on camera.

She was wearing a lacy white thong and bra that were probably see-through when wet, but the lighting didn't allow that detail. But the white bra against the black night showed hard nipples pointing outward. And her wet thong clung to her pelvis in a way that told me she was shaved bare down there. I was so hard. I sent her part of the first paragraph of my newest piece:

That moment, in the bathroom, it happened.

My cock had never been so full. It almost hurt as you squeezed it through your orgasm, but not enough to make me want you to stop squeezing. I felt like my hard-on would never go down again. I could cum so quickly, I knew, if you pulled me out of my pants and just gave me one or two strokes I would blast out all over the floor, all over your hand and on to your body. But that would make a very difficult predicament considering where we were, and we had already been out of sight for several minutes.

And fighting with my own need for release, I had this overwhelming desire to go down on you and taste all that wetness. I wanted to be there with my whole face, my tongue, my lips... bury them into you and suck and lick and swallow and kiss. You were still pressed against me, riding out the last few crests of your orgasm, grinding against my hand, so amazingly wet it was driving me insane.

Her reply drove me wild:

Oh my God I love it! If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go have a shower now. And I will be thinking of you as I soap up my breasts, my thighs, and my belly. And then as I rinse, I'm going to move my hand down slowly between my legs... I'm going to let my fingers tease my clit a bit, pretending they're yours, before slipping them inside my wet pussy. Wet for you. Gushing for you. I'm going to cum all over my hand while thinking about you.

It was so hot, and I was panting, but she was leaving the chat and so I was also devastated

Don't go. Let me see you. I want to see your face right now: turned on.

She hadn't left yet. I had e-mailed back just in time.

You can't see me. I don't have a webcam...

Were we bartering?

Send me another picture. Right now, with your phone, send me your face as you look right now. I want to see you hot for me. I want to see you so badly.

We were bartering.

What will you do for me?

I would do anything:

Anything.

She had something in mind.

I want to see you look at me. I want to see you enjoy looking at me.

I turned my webcam on and sent a link of where to find me.

Send me the picture.

She teased.

Not yet, enjoy the first one now. Let me SEE.

I adjusted my laptop so my whole upper body was in view from my lap to my face. I took off my shirt, and unzipped my pants. I couldn't see her, but she could see me as my cock sprung from my clothes like a wild animal breaking its cage. I was really hard. I resized the picture to fit half my screen, and kept my e-mail open on the other half. I started stroking my dick. I was so turned on, there was no embarrassment at all, just lust. And apparently she approved:

You look good.

I was flattered, and I stroked a little faster. I was in love with the photo, typing with one hand as I stroked with the other.

You look amazing in that photo. I could spend a lifetime licking the skin just above the waistband of that thong.

There was no answer for a while, and I got more absorbed in the picture, in touching myself and imagining worshiping that body of hers.

I want to see you cum.

She was going to. I told her:

You will.

I imagined her playing with her pussy at her home, watching me. Eyes on my massive erection. Wet noises as she moved her fingers quickly in and out of herself.

I'm going to cum too. I'm so wet watching you. I wish I was there, licking your balls. Kissing your thighs, flicking my tongue against the head of your dick, touching your chest.

I was so close. My eyes darted back and forth between her writing and her photo. Every time my inbox beeped with a new e-mail I almost came. I was going to cum right there in front of her, and it was going to be huge.

I couldn't see her. For all I knew she was watching and laughing with a group of friends, but it didn't matter. She was saying all the right things and showing me all the right things to bring me to a massive orgasm. My inbox beeped again. There was no text, but a picture attachment. I clicked on it.

Half my screen filled up with a close-up picture of a very wet, shaved pussy. There was wetness dripping out of it. It was a pussy in the middle of being masturbated. Her lips were open and blushing, slick and inviting. Her clit was engorged. It was clutching, sucking, begging for contact.

As soon as I realized what I was seeing I starting to cum uncontrollably. I wasn't ready. The first stream of ejaculate landed in a wet line across my chest and stomach. She was seeing this, rubbing herself off. Two more spurts splashed upward across my body and then several more gushes overflowed out to drip down my fingers as my hand continued to pump up and down. I shook violently, grunting and groaning like I was enduring medieval torture. But it was bliss. And she was watching. Another email came that was clearly one-handed and careless:

i cum too nowwwwwwwwwww... wwwwwwwwwwwwww... wwwwwwwwwwwww

I just kept stroking my cock, my orgasm refusing to die, my cum lubricating the whole thing, keeping it feeling just divine. My eyes rolled back in my head, it was too good.

It was several long minutes before I regained my composure. I e-mailed her again in gratitude.

That was amazing. That was so hot, I came so hard. You are out-of-this-world sexy.

I sat there for over ten minute before I got a reply.

The last picture wasn't me. It was just something I found on the internet.

I was hurt. I was dumbfounded. Of course it was her. It had to be her. It was her pussy, she sent me. Why did she suddenly want to take it away?

Oh come on! It was you. I know it was yours. Why are you playing now?

No answer. I waited over an hour. It was after midnight when I accepted that no response was coming. She had taken it back. Why? Second thoughts? Guilt? Why? It was so amazing, why did she want to take it back?

And this was just the first experience with Emma. It only got more confusing, and it only got more complicated, and it only got hotter. Holy fuck did it ever get hotter.