Plain Jane Gets Laid

By all current standards of sexiness and beauty, she didn't qualify. If you would describe her to someone looking for fuck buddy, they wouldn't jump at the opportunity to meet her. She had a nice personality and a warm smile. Some would say she had solid sense of humor and a warm way with children. All the perfect qualifications for a woman you wanted to baby sit your children, or, perhaps hang out with at a tailgating party. If you passed her on the street, she wouldn't make you crane your neck or give you thoughts of throwing her up against the wall and screwing her.

Yet it was happening to her regularly.

She hadn't felt this desirable in years even though she was married, and had been having sex on a semi-regular basis. It wasn't mind blowing or adventurous, but it wasn't supposed to be after 22 years of being together. It was comforting. It was a means to an end. She and her husband would orgasm, roll over and go to sleep. No complaints. No cheers. Their marriage was a dog balancing on one leg, and they knew it. They didn't fight. They worked well together as a family unit, but not as husband and wife. They barely touched nor spoke. Nor did anything alone, aside from the sex, that didn't involve raising the kids. It was a traditional and old fashioned marriage that way.

Until she decided she wanted to have a slice of happy.

It was a nice lunch on a pleasant early summer afternoon. She and her co-worker gossiped, traded war stories, and complained about their romantic partners. As the waitress hovered near by to offer them the check and the laughter died out, she fiddled with her straw and gave him a half-hearted smile. Her stomach was in knots. She wanted to ask him something, but was afraid of the answer. "Hey," she began with a demure giggle and felt her mouth turn dry. "How much of a future do you see see yourself having with this new woman?" That wasn't what she wanted to ask, but it was enough. Depending on his answer, she would go further.

"I don't," he laughed. "She's crazy." He pulled a twenty dollar bill out of the billfold and she slipped a ten across the table. She resisted grabbing his hand.

As they exited the restaurant and began walking back to the office, she stopped and scrubbed a hand across her mouth and began to speak. "Listen, I have to ask you a question but I'm a little scared. Either it's going to really mess up our friendship or give us a good laugh or..." She trailed off and he smiled at her encouragingly. They walked a few more steps before she blurted it out. "I want to have sex with you."

"Really?" He stopped and stared at her. His expression was unreadable and the sun was blinding her eyes a little bit. She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment before beginning again.

"I'd like to have sex with you. Once or twice or, you know, whatever..." She twirled her fingers in the air. "If you want to do it with me, I mean." She grinned hard.

"I thought about it."

"Me too."

"I thought it would mess up our friendship."

"No. I still want to be friends." Her grin softened. "I'm not getting divorced, but I'm lonely, if you understand where I'm coming from."

"I do, and I want us to stay friends."

"But?"

"I do want you."

They walked in silence for a few minutes as she blushed. He broke the silence with a soft chuckle. "This is the best lunch I've had in a long time."

"Me too," and she gave him a playful punch to the shoulder.

So, here they were, the two friends, in a darkened room a few months later being overcome with desire. "I'm going to finger you to orgasm," he promised. She stood still while looking up at him filled with lust and already on the precipice of coming.

"Should I sit? Where do you want me?"

"Against the wall." His words were firm and his touch was firmer as he pressed her into the wall. He pulled her skirt up and slipped his hand into the waistband of her panties. He didn't wait. She liked it a little rough with him. He pushed a finger into her warm, wet waiting cunt. She let out a long, quiet moan. Her voice was raspy and her breathing already labored. He wanted to make it last. He covered her mouth with his, kissing her as he pumped in and out of her. Her moans vibrated against his lips. He pushed her back against the wall, withdrew his fingers, and enjoyed looking at how messy and wanton she looked.

She blushed. He liked making her blush almost as much as he liked making her cum or putting her on her knees for his cock. She was all sweet, soft middle aged curves, and sensible shoes on the outside, but on the inside she was his little slut. God, he wanted her so bad.

He tugged down the top of her blouse and bra, so he could suck on one of her hard alluring nipples just as he slid his fingers into her again. She groaned. He rubbed her clit as he pumped. She was coming undone in front of him. Although she promised to be quiet, he knew she couldn't. Her orgasms were always loud. And the way she shouted his name. And, finally, the way she would declare "Oh god, I'm going to cum." Although she was louder than he preferred, he liked hearing her shout that. She was his little MILF slut, and he liked making her feel good and special and wet.

"Shhhh." He kissed her again before spinning her around and pressing her face down on the table. He held her still with one hand at the back of her neck as the other yanked up her skirt and pulled down her panties. He took a moment to admire her ass. It was large, round, smooth and begging to be spanked. He squeezed a cheek. He wanted to send her home to her husband with his handprint burned into her skin. Maybe a little tiny bruise just where her thighs and bottom met. He didn't want to get her in trouble or even make him jealous. Well, maybe just a little jealous. He just was an asshole like that sometimes. This was his ass and he wanted to claim it.

She let out another little mewl when he slid into her. Her pussy clenched around his fingers, and he knew she was close. "Put this in your mouth and bite down." He shoved his identification card in between her teeth and worked over her pussy until her body shivered and his fingers were covered with her juices.

"Oh." She whispered as she stood up and held on to his shoulder for balance. She pressed into him for a kiss and felt his erection. She lowered the timbre of her voice and gave him her best sex kitten stare. "Is that for me?" She gripped him through his jeans and gave a gentle squeeze. "Let me help you with that." She took off her eyeglasses, got on her knees, and undid his pants. She looked up at him with hungry eyes and a wide mouth. What she wanted was clear. Fuck my mouth. Bruise my throat. She curled her fingers into the waistband of his boxer briefs and began taking him into her mouth with long, wet, greedy swallows. She only took time to lick him when she needed to breathe.

He stroked her ear the way that she liked as she sucked him off. She really liked the feel of his hands on her skin. They were soft, warm, and commanding. The way he touched her, although always in secret, conveyed to anyone who might see that her body was his. Even the gentle, encouraging caress he was giving now seemed to say it. Her favorite touch of his was when he lightly pinched her chin and lifted her mouth up for a kiss.

"Jerk me off with your hand," he commanded and she obeyed. Using her saliva as a lubricant, she worked his dick in her fist. "Harder, faster." She knew his time was coming. She squeezed and jerked him as fast as she could while keeping the head of his cock aimed at her mouth. She stuck out her tongue, hoping he would come on her lips and chin-a fantasy of hers, but he slid out of her hand and deep into her mouth so she could swallow every warm drop.

When they recovered, she smoothed her skirt and he leaned in for a quick peck on the lips. "Thank you," she whispered.

"You're welcome."