Twelve Months Pt. 02

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When I wake up the next morning, I briefly wonder if it had all been just a dream, but I quickly realise that it did actually happen. Cassie got in late and I quietly slip out of bed, careful not to wake her. Perhaps if Cassie showed a little more interest in sex I wouldn’t have been so tempted, I think as I munch a slice of wholemeal toast, although deep down I know I can hardly blame her for what happened and I’m more disappointed with myself.

I find it hard to concentrate when I get to the office. I should be typing up interview notes, organising a sprint and updating the coding standards but I can’t help thinking about what happened. I never thought that I’d be the kind of person to cheat on his pregnant wife, although perhaps everyone thinks that right up to the point that they give into temptation. I kept staring at the screen, not really seeing anything, my hands resting lifelessly on my keyboard as I struggle to concentrate, my mind conjuring up an image of Madeleine’s face, gazing up at me, examining me coolly, watching my reactions like I was an experimental subject as her soft fingers caressed and stroked me till I lost all control.

In my defence, she’d definitely coerced me, virtually blackmailed me into it and yet I couldn’t deny how deeply erotic I’d found the whole experience. Still, I resolved, it was a once-only thing, I’d paid off whatever debt Madeleine felt I owed for spying on her. I reassured myself it was a momentary lapse of fidelity that could be quickly forgotten, certainly no need to confess to Cassie. What good would that do? Least said, soonest mended, right? Just one of those things. In any case, I promised myself, the next time I saw her I’d make it perfectly clear that it had been a mistake and I’d call her bluff. Go to the police, but they’ll just tell you’re wasting your time, I’d say breezily. Or tell Cassie if you want but what good would that really do you, I’d argue.

It was maybe a week later, another warm evening when I saw her again. It had been a busy day at work, we’d been interviewing candidates for two junior developer positions and when I stepped out of our air-conditioned office and into the car park, I was surprised at the humid closeness. On the way home, the radio presenter had boasted how it was warmer here than in Madrid as if we were constantly in competition with Spain. As before, I’d parked the car when I saw her leaning over our shared fence in the wing kızılay escort mirror.

“Hello John, I thought perhaps you might help me with a little DIY again,” she said, with the slightest hint of a smile.

She turned and strode back into her house before I could reply and I found myself following her, thinking that this would be a good opportunity to make my feelings clear and remembering to pause just inside the door to remove my shoes.

I felt the cool smoothness of the grey floor tiles through my socks as I followed her voice into the house. It was a large, spacious kitchen with bifold doors leading out onto her neat, well-tended garden. A small breakfast bar divided it from the dining area. She had her back to me as she took a bottle of wine from her large, brushed steel fridge, giving me a chance to look her up and down.She was wearing a loose pink t-shirt and a pair of faded denim cutoffs that hugged the peachy curves of her rear.

“Listen, about last week…” I started to say, looking up as she turned to face me.

“Wine?” she interrupted, holding up a glass and before I could reply she poured me one.

“Oh, um, just a small one please, I really shouldn’t stay,” I said, determined to set off on the right foot this time. I took the glass, the cold surface coated with dewy moisture.

“Worried about what the neighbours will say? Oh, do come and sit down for a minute, it looks like you could do with a drink,” she said, as she perched on a bar stool and casually leaned on the black marble of her breakfast bar.

I don’t know how she knew but it was true, it had been a difficult day. We were desperately short-staffed and yet the candidates sent along for interview over the last couple of days hadn’t really impressed us. The head of department was still insisting we get someone in quickly though and I felt caught between going along with him in order to help meet our deadlines and holding out for programmers who I felt were up to our standard.

“You know, you’re right, it has been a tough day,” I said, raising a glass and taking a sip. I’m not a big wine enthusiast but it was deliciously clean and flinty tasting, and just what I needed in this clinging heat.

“Oh yes?” she prompted, briefly standing up to slide a coaster under my glass.

“You don’t want to hear about my problems,” I said.

“No, I don’t mind, it’s so quiet without Libby, I’m glad kolej escort of the company,” she replied, taking a sip of her wine.

And so we got to talking. She was a good listener, only occasionally prompting me with questions and soon I was telling her about how I grew up in a leafy suburb of south London, how I’d dropped out of university early and got a job in IT, how I’d met Cassie at an A it feels cool against the hot flesh and I watch helplessly as she slowly spreads it along my pulsing shaft, massaging it into my turgid prick until the whole shaft glistens wetly. Again she seems content to take her time, stroking me slowly, her fingers sliding all the way up from my balls to my bulbous head, perhaps enjoying the sight of me bound and at her mercy, perhaps just enjoying the feel of my hardness throbbing eagerly beneath the lightest of touches.

I groan, my hips wiggling impatiently as she squeezes the bulbous head, her thumb gently stroking that sensitive spot on the underside as she looks up at me, examining my face. Then she goes back to that steady rhythm that leaves me wanting more as my breathing quickens. I open my mouth then bite my lip; I want to tell her to go faster but I suspect that if I do that, she’ll stop completely.

“Got something to say?” she asks as she changes rhythm, just stroking the top inch of my cock now, short little strokes that leave me gasping feverishly, my hands straining against the silk.

I shake my head, not falling into her trap and she rewards me with a grin as she sits up and swings a long leg across my straining thighs.

“Good, because this is all about my pleasure, yes?” she asks rhetorically, as she wriggles into position, my aching cock squeezed between her wet pussy and the lean muscle of my stomach. “You understand that, right?”

My mouth is dry and I can only nod as she plants her hands on my chest, her fingers looking pale and slender against my tanned skin as she slowly begins to move her hips back and forth, her well-lubricated pussy grinding against my cock in a way that makes us both groan as we enjoy the delicious friction between our hot bodies. She looks down at me with those piercing eyes as she begins to gyrate now, slowly massaging my hardness. I moan, my stomach muscles straining, forming hard ridges as I press my prick against her silky wetness.

“Mmm, you’re so lovely and hard,” she murmurs, leaning forward ankara escort and running her fingers over my biceps, firmly pressing them into the mattress next to my ears then she cups my chin as she brushes her lips against mine. “Bet you’d like me to fuck you now, huh?”

“Yes,” I gasp through dry lips.

“Say it then,” she teases and I feel a hot jolt of pleasure as she changes angle, making small movements with her hips so that she’s rubbing the top inch of my sensitive prick.

“Please fuck me,” I reply. “Please.”

She grins as she shifts position and I strain my neck muscles, watching as she places one foot on the duvet, half-kneeling as she positions her glistening pussy just above the tip of my straining cock. I can only watch as she wraps her fingers around my inflamed shaft and slowly eases herself lower, rubbing the blunt tip against her plump lips before impaling herself on me. She is tight and yet very wet and I watch her bite her lip, only partially suppressing a mew of half pain, half pleasure as her soft folds slowly part, enveloping my straining hardness.

“Fuck,” she hisses as she eases herself downwards, and I felt her pussy squeezing my sturdy prick, almost painfully tight at first then easing as she moves up and down a little, her juices mixing with the lube as she rocks back and forth, seemingly unsatisfied till she has all of me.

I can only lay back, my breathing becoming hot and raspy, my wrists straining against the tight silk as I savour the grip of her velvety pussy caressing my pulsing hardness, the slight discomfort gradually giving way to the sweetest pleasure. I watch her as she begins to fuck me, her face twisted in pleasure as she takes me a little deeper with each stroke until I’m fully inside her and I’m groaning contentedly as I feel her pussy massaging all of me. I’m so aroused by the sight of her naked body writhing above me, and I feel my cock swell within her tight embrace.

“Fuck, yes,” I grunt, as she begins to move a little faster, those gorgeously full breasts swaying rhythmically as she begins to bounce up and down now, our sweaty thighs slapping together. She leans back, cupping one of her boobs then plucking a plump nipple between thumb and forefinger as she fucks me, her skin glistening with a fine sheen of sweat now.

“You like that, huh?” she says, a little breathless as she leans forward and slides a hand along my chin, twisting my face till I can’t avoid her eyes. “Do you like me fucking you?”

“Yes,” I gasp, my voice sounding hoarse as she slides her hand around my neck, squeezing me gently but firmly as she bounces on my straining cock, every delicious stroke drawing me a little closer to release.

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