A Wandering Mind...

It all started because you were bored. You know, even now, that if you'd just have been able to keep your mind from wandering, none of this would have happened. You could have carried on with your straightforward life, without the guilty little secret creeping back to haunt you in your quiet moments. And, in fact, even that wouldn't be so bad if you actually felt real regret about what you did. You feel dreadful for what this would mean if the secret ever came out, but the thing you are most ashamed of is that you loved it. Every second of it, and since then you've enjoyed it almost as much – every time you've allowed yourself.

It started perfectly innocently; possibly it was the simple lack of any interest in the evening out that started the rot. You never really wanted to go – a charity dinner with some colleagues of your husband's that you vaguely knew, but had nothing in common with. They weren't unpleasant at all, but their conversation always seemed to revolve around work, or the amount of money they were spending on the new house, car and holiday - it just made you drift off.

The other 3 were going straight from work, so were meeting you at the venue. You'd actually quite enjoyed getting ready – with the house to yourself as you took your time in the bath, music turned up loud. Your evening dress was a classic "LBD", figure-hugging in all the right places, cut to just below the knee – simple, chic and very expensive.

You had no interest in particularly standing out in this crowd – more than happy to be left alone by the Hooray Henrys and their loud, clumsy flirting. But you'd decided in the bath that you were going to be a little naughty tonight, not that anyone else would appreciate it – just for your own benefit - you knew how you'd feel having a little secret that not even your husband knew about. So you discarded your usual tights in favour of a suitably pricey pair of sheer hold-ups you'd been waiting to surprise him with. You soon realised you could never get away without a bra, but that didn't matter, it was the thought of going out with no knickers on that excited you.

You knew your dress was long enough to avoid any chance of giving your secret away by accident, but you loved the idea that you could sit there, in your own little world, while the dull conversation bubbled around you, all the time thinking "If only you knew..." It was a certain kind of personal power – a rebellion against being dragged along to yet another function where you really only existed as an accessory for your husband.

Half-an-hour later, as you walked across the road to the waiting cab, you felt the unusual chill of the winter night air between your legs. Funny how such a small, simple change could make such a noticeable difference to the way you felt. In the dark of the back of the cab, you couldn't resist allowing the warm air from the heater to blow between your slightly parted legs, like the faintest of breaths on your pussy. Your mind started to wander to a different time and place, the breeze was no longer from a plastic air-vent, but the hot breath of an enthusiastic young lover, about to attack your clit with his tongue...

"Seven pound forty, please darlin' "

The cab-driver startled you from your daydream – luckily he couldn't see your cheeks reddening in the dark of the back seat.

"Er, oh, yes, thank you," you said fumbling for a ten pound note in your purse "keep the change."

"'preciate it darlin'," he replied ", have a good night."

You mumbled something about "Yes I think I will," as you hastily stepped out of the car, still unaccountably embarrassed at having been so deep in your own world that you hadn't even noticed you'd arrived.

The venue was an uninspiring 1980's hotel block that seemed to think that a few acres of boringly landscaped gardens qualified it as a Country House Hotel. Inside wasn't much of an improvement, but at least it looked like they had made something of an effort with the catering – efficient, smartly dressed staff drifted around the reception area dispensing canapés and drinks. You took one of each – both delicious, and started to scan the faces of the throng of guests, looking for your husband and friends.

I first saw you as you stepped past the doorman, looking slightly flustered, but of course I had no way of knowing what it was that stopped you looking as self-possessed as you did just a moment later. I knew then. Sometimes you just do. I truly believe that there are certain people that we're simply destined to meet and get on with like a house-on-fire, and I just knew you would turn out to be one. Just as I was thinking about making an excuse to introduce myself to you, one of my wife's irritating horsy friends bounded up to me.

"There you are you naughty boy! Where have you been? Everyone thought you'd got lost! "

"Sorry, big queue already," I said apologetically nodding towards the gents.

"Never mind, here you are now" she brayed, dragging me by the arm back towards our party. The truth was I simply wasn't in the mood for this – two of my wife's oldest friends had been involved in organising the event so I'd been there for a good hour and a half already, trying to look interested in the guest speaker and the Event Co-ordinator fretting about whether half the napkins had been bleached by yesterday's strong winter sun.

I was so involved in trying not to trip over my feet as Horsy Woman dragged me to our table I didn't notice you until I'd practically knocked you off your feet, as you stood on the edge of a group of people.

"Dammit. I'm really sorry – I'm a total clumsy idiot" I said as I hurriedly checked I hadn't spilt my drink (or yours) onto your dress.

"Don't worry, "you said, catching my eye, "no harm done."

You held my gaze for just a little longer than needed for politeness. Long enough to make me start thinking. Then, as I was once again yanked towards my table, I looked back – you were looking at me again, and I could have sworn you were checking me out.

The first 2 courses drifted by in a haze of mindless nodding and "Really? How interesting"s from me. It seemed I'd never be able to escape without appearing utterly rude, but when they finally cleared our table I made my excuses and bolted for the bar. Although a stiff drink might have seemed like a perfectly reasonable course of action, I went straight through the French windows and sidled into an alcove on the veranda that I'd spotted earlier. I was just about to light the Cohiba I'd been saving for just such a "need-an-excuse-to-spend-an-hour-outside" moment when I heard:

"Hello again. Perhaps I should bump into you now and make things even?"

You looked stunning. I felt like I should make some kind of conversation, but all I could think about was your body in that dress. I went to say something, but suddenly we were kissing. I don't know how it happened, but without any warning my lips were on yours, tasting the inside of your mouth, my arms pulling you against my body. A moment later we stopped – both breathing hard.

"Well, that wasn't what I expected..." I said, rather pointlessly

As you took my hand and placed on your breast, I noticed that we were hardly in a private place – completely visible to anyone in the surrounding gardens, and the first thing that anyone coming out onto the veranda would see. With my hand still on your breast, noticing the hardening of your nipple in the cold air, despite the warmth of my hand on it, I pushed you back further into the alcove.

You gasped slightly as I pushed you against the hard brickwork, momentarily worried your dress might get damaged, but far more interested in the warm, wetness still slowly spreading throughout your groin.

You'd never really got the thoughts you'd had in the cab from your head, and the more boring the dinner had grown, the further your mind had wandered. Mentally, you found yourself undressing anyone even vaguely attractive, "Just another little secret" you'd thought to yourself, but soon the warm fullness in your pussy had become a burn. You knew you needed to clear your head. You'd toyed with the idea of furtive masturbation in the toilets, hardly the sort of glamour your clothes demanded, but this was about clearing your head, not some tantric love-in. In any case, the queue for the Ladies was about a mile long, so you'd headed straight through the nearest door – hoping the cool air would calm you down a little. Your "little secret" had had rather more of an effect on you than you'd been expecting and you felt you really should get a grip on yourself.

You spotted me immediately you stepped onto the veranda, your thoughts still totally focused on sex. You knew you shouldn't, but when it came to it, it wasn't as if you even thought about it. One minute you were breathing some cool air, hoping the animal need for satisfaction would go away, and the next you were forcing your tongue deep into the mouth of a man you'd never even met properly, let alone had a chance to work out if you wanted him in that way.

Suddenly everything was a blur you were aware of needing to feel hands on your body and before you'd thought about it any further, the hands were there, fingernails dragging over the material of your dress and visibly hardening your nipples even through your bra. My mouth was on your neck then, and almost at the same moment you felt the warmth of my hand on your arse, tracing the curve at the top of your leg right up to the small of your back. A sigh from me let you know I'd worked out you weren't wearing any knickers:

"Jesus. You dirty little girl." I gasped.

You just giggled and forced your hand down the waist-band of my suit trousers.

"Mm, seems like it had the right effect," you said, your hand wrapping around my already rock-hard prick

I groaned as your hand slid back and forth against the length of my cock. Sex, for once had been the furthest thing from my mind, and yet within seconds of meeting you, you were playing with my suddenly erect dick and I knew I had to have you. I was still aware enough to keep us pulled back into the alcove – other people would surely walk out onto the veranda any moment, and knowing my luck it would be one of my wife's friends. But equally I knew this moment was unlikely to happen again – a truly beautiful woman, with only one thing on her mind, unaccountably completely intent on fucking me.

You realised the danger of us being discovered too, but somehow you didn't care. You knew the embarrassment, not to mention the scene it would cause if your husband, or (god forbid) his colleagues found you like this, yet here you were with a complete stranger's large, hard cock in your hand, and your only thought was whether you wanted it in your mouth or your cunt first. And where did THAT word come from? Your brain was on some kind of short circuit – normal conventions and considerations just had no effect. You sank to a sideways squatting position, opened the front of my trousers and swallowed the whole of my dick straight down your throat, almost making yourself gag in the process.

It was so unexpected that I nearly lost my balance – the beautiful woman I'd just met was sucking my cock like her life depended on it, like she might never get one again! The way you looked up at me as my prick slid effortlessly between your lips almost made me cum immediately – I didn't want to stop you, but I was desperate to lick you. The taste of a woman's pussy has always been one of my favourite parts of sex, and I just knew I had to have yours. I pulled you to your feet, vaguely aware that there were actually some people on the veranda now, obviously unaware of what was going on in the shadows directly behind them, but they were loudly gossiping about the various society types who hadn't come to the dinner. I turned you so your back was to the veranda, your bum perched on the edge of a small garden table. I went to push your dress up, but you beat me to it, slowly revealing your pussy and opening your knees, breathing hard now, knowing that one wrong noise would give a group of chinless-wonders, the best live-sex show of their lives.

You felt my breath for an agonising second before you felt my lips clamp around your clit, my fingers spreading your lips to allow me to get as close as possible. My tongue circled your clit, constantly changing direction, soft and warm, but a firm pressure, my fingers tracing the outside of your pussy, spreading your wetness, mixing it with the dampness of my mouth. Without really knowing how it happened, your pussy suddenly felt fuller and you realised I had at least two fingers inside you, and another spreading your own wetness around your arsehole. You had to bite down on your own hand to stop yourself moaning any louder as you felt the muscles in your pussy start to contract, with a completely sudden, violent orgasm. You knew you were practically flooding my mouth with your cum, and started to worry I might not be expecting it, but as you looked down, you saw me greedily lapping at your pussy, drinking as much of you as I could.

Then my mouth was on yours again, I felt you tasting yourself on me, even as you were grabbing at my cock again, wrapping your left leg up and around my hip, stuffing my dick into you. Your face was almost manic as you ground your clit into my pelvis, low-down growling sounds coming from your throat – I thought at any moment someone must hear or notice us. And then suddenly I didn't care again – even through your fucking frenzy, you must have sensed that I was about to cum, because you wriggled suddenly, and without even missing a stroke, it was your mouth around the tip of my prick, not your pussy. It was all I could do not to scream as you looked up at me and sucked all the cum from my prick, draining my balls dry. A small drip of cum had missed your mouth and was just on the edge of your lips – as you stood up, having swallowed, you licked your lips whilst looking straight into my eyes and swallowed again. I thought I was going to instantly cum again.

You felt like a complete slut, you knew you must look like one, but just the thought of that was beginning to turn you on all over again. Sure, you'd had fantasies like this in the past, but you were amazed at how good it felt to be this bad. You stood up straight again, about to kiss me when you noticed a movement from the corner of your eye. Neither of us had spotted it, but there was a small window, high up in the alcove, and quite clearly now you could make out the flushed face of a young man in a caterer's outfit. You hastily stepped away from me, but you knew it was too late – he had seen everything. Looking again you could see he was a little embarrassed to have been caught spying like that, but by the time I'd turned to see what you were looking at, he'd mimed a round of applause, winked and disappeared from view.

I wondered what had caught your eye, but I couldn't see anything, and anyway, you were kissing me again so I assumed all was well.

There was a slightly awkward pause as we both tried to casually readjust our clothes, then you smiled, kissed me on the cheek and disappeared through the group of people on the veranda and back into the hotel. I blinked a couple of times, almost not believing what had just happened, then reached for my Cohiba – if any occasion called for an expensive cigar, this was it.

You arrived back at your table, and before you'd even had time to think of an excuse as to where you'd been, one of your husband's colleagues turned to you:

"Queue in the ladies still ridiculous?" she asked, "Don't tell anyone, but if it doesn't get better I'm going to have to find a bush in the gardens!"

As she started into a rant about the lack of facilities at the venue all you could think about was the feeling in your pussy, the absence of a cock that had been there so recently. Your nakedness under your dress seemed to make it feel all the more obvious for some reason. Then you started to feel guilty. What if the young peeping-tom caterer said something to someone who knew you? What if your husband found out? And then you realised, that you didn't feel the slightest guilt for what you'd just done, only an imagined guilt for how it would make others feel. What had happened to you since this afternoon? How had you turned into the sort of woman who would fuck a complete stranger, swallow his cum and not even be slightly interested in his name?

You were quite sure this sort of thing could never happen again, but the power you'd felt by knowing you had no knickers on was suddenly dwarfed by the power of this new secret. You had just risked everything, and even been caught out, watched by one stranger as you screwed another, just feet away from a group of people, who could have turned around and seen you with a prick in your mouth at any time. You knew this would stay with you. You were wet again already, even as this woman tried to bore you to death with her theories on outside catering.

And now, at home, alone again, weeks later, you've thought about that night maybe a hundred times. You know you should be ashamed, you know you should be disgusted with yourself, but the truly shameful thing is that you don't. You enjoy every memory, and every time you do, you imagine a time that you could try it again....