Amy Lynn The Story Ch. 04

I was starting to get a little frustrated. What started out as a game had turned into something of a ritual. I realized that part of me wanted to go back, but so much more of me was enjoying myself, but always looking for more. It was like a drug.

For a while it was insane. I was worried that my husband might be gay, the way he would suck on my strap-on and moan like a little schoolgirl when I shoved in inside of him, almost always coming without even so much as a little of my help.

He wasn't I was pretty sure. He was the same man I had married, only not in bed. We still went out with friends and none of them, I am certain not one, even has a clue to this day. To them we were just growing older, changing. I was becoming more forceful, getting what I wanted at work. He was getting mellower, more subdued.

Of course it's hard to be a hot head when you're wearing pink perfumed panties and your cock and balls are all shaven like a little boy.

He was the same man, but he was different. I was certainly different.

We had gotten married when I was just out of college, but we met much earlier, when I was just sixteen. I had never been with anyone else before, and I hadn't since. I could count the number of boys I had kissed on one hand. For a long time I was proud of this, but as I got older, and we started down this crazy path, I wondered.

I'm sure I wondered partly because of the desire to have a man on top of me again, bearing down on me with his hard cock pushed so far inside of me I could burst. I missed being fucked as much as my husband seemed to enjoy it. This was hot, but just not the same.

We tried several times, each time ending in some sort of failure. I started not even getting hot when we tried anymore, almost knowing we were doomed to failure. He tried the Viagra, but while it did keep him hard, he never came. Even though he was inside of me, it never felt right, finished. It wasn't enjoyable, it felt like work.

I started taking more time away form home. I had a lot more work piled on me after two promotions and the desire for more. When my husband lost his job, we lost a considerable salary, I was hoping to make that back. I was working on it, and I didn't realize it, but all this play was working with me. It was empowering me everywhere.

But I still wanted something else. Something more exciting. That's what it was coming to, me looking for excitement, fulfilling some unmet need that I'm still uncertain of.

Then something unexpected happened.

It was late on a Friday and I was looking at a pile of expense reports that had to be filed or accounting was going to eat me for lunch. I picked up my cell phone and called home.

"Honey," I started, "there is no way I'm going to be make it home for dinner tonight."

Silence. I knew he was upset. It was Friday, our day. I tried over and over to convince him that it was unavoidable. I would be reprimanded, punished or worse. Reluctantly, he understood and I went back to staring at an incredible pile of receipts.

"Ma'am", our administrative assistant Sandy said, knocking on the side of my office door. "I was assigned to lock up, Friday rules remember?"

My rules. Who would tell their office they had to be out by five on Friday no if ands or butts and then sit at her desk doing expense reports herself? I was in a bind.

"I have expense reports due yesterday," I smiled.

She wasn't taking no for an answer, another one of my rules.

"Where is happy hour?" I stood up and gathered my belongings, giving in. "I told my husband I was going to be late."

I turned off the lights to my office and walked through the empty halls to the elevator. Sandy was adorable. I didn't know if she was twenty or thirty to be honest with you, I found out later she was twenty-two, but she was a doll. She was always the first one to work and the last to leave. Never complained, a literal dream.

"About happy hour," she pushed the button for the parking garage, "it's to close to the holidays, no one really wanted to go. I know you told me to organize when I could. I do have wine and cheese at home? It's nearby."

I tried to turn her down, telling her over and over again that I really should get home to my husband. I was sure he made something for dinner and he sounded hurt when I told him I wasn't going to make it home. She was a pushy one.

We drove to her place. It was a nice apartment and just a few blocks from my house.

"We should carpool," I asked as we walked up to her front door. She nodded.

The inside of her apartment was exactly as I had pictured. Perfect. Cleaner than clean. The coffee table was laid out with crackers and three bottles of wine. Otherwise not a piece of clutter anywhere.

"In case we had happy hour," she pointed at the table, "looks like at least two us will be happy. I'll get some cheese."

We sat down and chatted about work. I spilled the beans about a raise and bonus to which she gleefully opened up our second bottle of red wine. Then the talk turned more personal.

"I really admire you," she slid closer to me on the couch and reached across to pick a piece of cheese. "I really do."

If I could have seen myself I'm sure I was blushed cherry red, less from the wine than from the compliment.

"Thank you," I looked away, a little embarrassed.

She went on to tell me why. How when she started I was only a salesperson, and now, two promotions later I was a district sales manager. How I was strong in meetings and got what I wanted. But mostly, she talked about how I treated the men.

"I've never seen anything like it," she explained. "It's almost like you tell them what to do and they do it."

"That would make me the office bitch," I asked her worried.

"We're mostly women," she countered. "So yeah."

We laughed.

I told her I admired her too. Her work ethic. Her organization skills, she would never have let that pile of receipts pile up like that. All the while drinking more and more wine and eating less and less cheese.

Time crept up on us and soon it was well past happy hour.

"I've got to get going," I reached into my purse and fumbled for my keys. "It must be like nine."

She reached out to grab my hand and we somewhat playfully fought over the keys. She insisted I was in no shape to drive home and finally, after ending up halfway across my lap, I gave up.

She looked up at me and slowly moved her head in front of mine.

"You can't leave yet," she muttered, "because I haven't done this yet."

She dropped the keys and reach her hands behind my head, slowly she pulled my face to her lips and she softly began kissing me. I was paralyzed. At first I tried to push her back, but found that I was almost unable to move my arms in protest. Her soft kisses sending streams of excitement through my body.

I had never been with a woman before, never thought of it except the occasional adult movie where it would turn me on in passing. There was something so alluring about her, about being with a woman that I had never considered before. I started to fall in love with the moment.

Finally I pulled up the courage to stop and with excruciating slowness, pushed her lips from mine.

"I'm sorry," she moved herself back to kiss me again, "Don't say no, I can hear you getting excited."

With that she arranged herself towards my face and we made out. For a long time, I was unable to resist. Our tongues explored each others mouths, our ears and necks. Our hands explored each other's bodies. Her breasts were so perky, so different than mine.

My body was on fire. I hadn't made out with a person other than my husband since I was 15, and now I was here, with a girl who probably wasn't even born then. All of a sudden I felt horrible guilt. I was her boss. She was so young. I pushed her away and tried to find my keys.

"What's wrong?" she unbuttoned her blouse and let it drop down around her, her breasts out her bra from all of my fondling. I looked at her. Her blond hair and soft lips. Her beautiful round breasts and the sexiest pale pink nipples. I was turned on, but I was scared.

I made a bunch of excuses. Really good ones. I was her boss, I was so much older. We were both women and I hadn't done something like this before. I was married.

I was married. All this time and it didn't dawn on my that I was cheating on my husband. No, I was thinking about me, about how what I was doing was wrong, but never once about what I was doing was wrong to him.

She started to cry.

I have never been very maternal. I had never considered having kids, though I never thought about not having them either. However, in this one moment, her crying was so unbearable, I buckled.

I pulled her close to me and gave her a hug, her tears dripping down my cheek. I held her until it seemed as if her tears were subsiding and then looked into her swollen red eyes.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what else to say," I looked at her. She looked hurt. I couldn't bear it. I didn't even know how we started kissing and now I had hurt her.

We reached our arms around each other and she lowered her head onto my chest while I caressed her.

"I've always admired strong women," she looked up at me, still sobbing occasionally. "I guess I got carried away."

With that she buried her head in my chest and I held her tight and reassured her. We had both gotten carried away. I held her, caressing her, her caressing me. It felt so good I didn't want to stop.

Before I knew it, she had managed to unbutton my blouse and with a sudden deft twitch of her fingers, my bra flung open. I gasped and quickly tried to cover myself.

"What are you doing?" I looked down at her but by this time she had buried her blond head onto my right breast and couldn't answer.

I felt my nipple going in and out of her mouth and I heard my body start churning. I tried pushing her off, but instead found myself holding her head, cupping it against my breasts.

There was something about her touch, her body and mouth, everything that was different in a way I cannot explain. She was petite and so soft and sensuous. Her skin was silky smooth. Her smell was intoxicating. I don't know if it was because it was our first time, but I was mesmerized. I found myself unable to resist and soon we were both naked and in her bed.

We kissed and touched for what seemed like an eternity. I suckled her breasts like a baby, and she did mine. Then she slowly descended on me.

Her mouth felt like it was made to please me. I had never felt such exquisite pleasure as she gave me that night. Her lips found every sensuous spot between my legs and beyond, while her hands explored everywhere else. My back arced the moment her tongue flicked against my wet clit and it didn't stop until I had torn the sheets off her bed and screamed so loud I was hoarse.

I laid back completely exhausted, panting, trying to build up the energy to go on. I rolled on my side and started to kiss her, the taste of my pussy all over her face. Her leg opened up and pressed hard against my thigh. I could feel her wetness sliding up and down on me.

I lowered myself and down and suckled on one of her breasts. God were they incredible breasts. I pulled the nipple into my mouth and rubbed it against my tongue before sliding deeper and deeper down.

I was scared. I could feel my body nervously shaking. She had just given me unspeakable pleasure and here I was feeling like a virgin on her first date. I hesitantly spread her legs and adjusted myself.

Her smell was overpowering. I had smelled myself on my husbands face or fingers, even tasted myself on his cock before, but this was so much stronger, and at the same time, intoxicating. I gently slid my tongue along her inner thigh, up towards her wet lips.

At first the taste was almost repugnant, then like a fine wine. I pulled her clit between my lips and reach my hands around to her breasts. I worked up and down her silky inside until I felt her hands pull my hair and pull me deep into her.

Her body shook and writhed, all the while smothering my face with her love. It was incredible. She kept squirting and squirting out juices, my face tight against her, my tongue and nose surrounded by her sex until her body, in one last jerk collapsed.

We laid together for a while, touching each other until I noticed the time.

"Oh my god, I'm going to be shot," I started searching for my clothes which were all strewn about Sandy's apartment.

She helped me get dressed and clean up as best I could, but I could smell her sex all over my face. How was I going to explain that?

After a long kiss goodbye, where she convinced me that it was indeed her job to do my expense reports, I headed home. At midnight.

My husband was waiting for me on the couch as I opened the door silently.

"You're home?" he asked.

I told him about the expense reports and how long they took. How I missed him and was thinking about him the entire time, and that it distracted me from my work.

Then I kissed him.

"You face smells like..." his words trailed off.

"I know, I was so hot thinking of you I played with myself all the way home," I pushed my fingers towards his face, "I rubbed it all over my face."

He started sucking my fingers and kissing all over my cheeks.

"It tastes good," he moaned, as I pulled his head to my lips and buried my tongue inside his mouth.