3 Fucks and Out

After clicking off, I was down to my panties and I realised just what a scheming, conniving bitch I could be. It then struck me, that I was about to get ready to commit adultery and that hit me hard, although I had been doing that for a few months with my young stud; that somehow seemed so different. With Craig it was purely sex, with Patrick it was more than that. Maybe that was why I was putting on underwear to be undressed in and a low cut at the front, zip right up the back, tight, just above the knee black dress.

"Oh my lord," Patrick said as later the dress slipped down my body and crumpled into a pool round my black patent, high heeled covered feet. "You look absolutely amazing Cat, thank you."

Dinner and the drinks on Princes Street had gone well. We said to each other that we hadn't done this before. Whilst literally true, I sort of let Craig slip from my memory, as I imagined my nearly fifty year old, awfully attractive, potential lover may have done with some of his likely peccadilloes.

There was no doubt or worry in either of our minds that we were going to do it. It was becoming as inevitable as night following day, but then looking out the window in this northern outpost it was so much lighter than it would be in London, I did wonder a little.

"Your room or mine?" He asked as he ground his erection against me.

We were kissing in the lift on the way up to the sixth and top floor where the rooms with the best views of the castle are located. What a deliciously, sordid thing that is, kissing in a lift, but then si is being fucked with Edinburgh Castle as a backdrop!

I had no preference really, my focus was becoming fully directed to sleeping with Patrick, not worrying about where.

"Which comes first," I mumbled though his lips covering mine.

"Woops, I see it's yours," I giggled as he pushed me through the door and kissed me. I was hellishly nervous.

Even though I had no experience of such things, other than Craig and before that my husband when he 'seduced' me, I think what happened over the next few hours was probably a classic start to a love affair; at least that's what the books indicate.

We went onto Patrick's room. We kissed and slowly he undressed me. He unzipped my dress, let it fall to the ground and he ogled my sexy underwear; black bra, thong and lacy topped hold ups, no suspender belt this time!

We sat on the edge of the bed kissing, his arms were round my shoulders pulling me to him. That was nice, I felt warm and wanted. I undid his shirt and ran my fingers over his nicely hairy chest. He caressed my boobs outside my bra and then fumbled his fingers inside one cup and stroked that boob and nipple.

I was getting very aroused indeed and that combined with my surprisingly high level of nervousness was giving very strong and new to me sensations. My body and mind were in perfect, yet uncoordinated, sync as I am sure my temperature soared and my heart and pulse rates started to race.

With the usual lack of dexterity shown by men he fiddled the clasp of the bra strap undone, why on earth aren't they given lessons at school in removing bras! The wait, though, was worth it when he took the cups of the bra away from each of my boobs, although the way full tits like mine plummet downwards when unfettered can be disconcerting. Grasping them he leaned forward and tenderly kissed each of my nipples, which had of course reared up to their fullest and hardest. I held his head and cradled his face to my breasts. He slowly pushed me backwards so I was lying flat on the bed, my legs dangling over the side, his chest crushing my right breast as we kissed, our tongues sweeping all over the insides of the other's mouth. His mouth alternated from my lips to my breasts and nipples as his hand left my chest and slithered downwards. It went onto the bottom of each boob, across my lower chest, onto my waist, his finger probing my tummy button, past the elastic waist-band of the flimsy thong and right onto my pubic mound. He pressed me there, I grunted and my body jerked.

"Oh God" I moaned as his finger found my clit from outside the silk of the tiny panties.

"Nice?"

"Oh Patrick" I groaned my mouth trying to devour his lips as my hand frantically searched for the hardness it wanted to feel. I found it just as he started to rub my clit. That did me; that sent me over the top. He had been priming me for this all day and now as soon as he touched me I exploded, what a girly thing to do.

I clamped my thighs together trapping his hand in there as I climaxed, quick, hard, fully and so wonderfully yet disappointingly.

"I'm sorry" I mumbled as the beautiful feelings roared all over me.

"Don't be darling, it was wonderful, it was lovely to see you like that."

"I feel a bit silly" I told him as he cuddled me and held me close to him as slowly my orgasm subsided.

"Don't worry."

"That hasn't happened to me since, oh never mind."

"No tell me."

"Well since I first went with Richard" I lied, realising I was on dodgy ground.

Lying on a bed in a hotel clad just in panties and stockings, being cuddled by a man who has not only just made me cum, but is also the person I feel I may be falling in love with, is clearly an exciting situation. But for quite some time, we just lie there, cuddling, occasionally kissing and touching each other. I, certainly and I think Patrick as well, was simply in awe of the situation and we didn't want to do anything that might break the spell. It was almost as if just being there was 'naughty' enough with any further sexual expression being unnecessary; well for a while that was!

"You really do have a lovely body Cat," he whispered kissing the top of my head and cupping my breasts. Of course, he had never seen me as good as naked before, I realised.

I smiled. "Thank you kind sir, but talking about bodies.................?" I said leaving the sentence unfinished, but pulling on his shirt. He rolled away from me, slipped his shirt off and started undoing his trousers. As he slid his boxers off and his erection jumped out he looked at me so I slid my panties off as well.

"I have visualised us being like this so many times," he whispered pulling me against his nakedness. "Have you Cat?"

"Yes endlessly," I answered truthfully reaching for his erection and stroking it, sort of gratefully I suppose, almost as if he was giving me a present. He wasn't at all embarrassed as I sort of worshipped at the altar of his hard on.

He really did feel good against me and I revelled in our bodies touching from our lips to our toes. He stroked my buttocks and kissed my nipples; he cupped and squeezed my breasts and ran his hands over my tummy. I kissed him hard and ran my fingers through his hair. I let his hairy chest graze my nipples and I ran my nails down his back and onto the taught cheeks of his beautifully manly bum. He pressed his fingers against my mound and clit and I continued fondling his erection. It was magically erotic stuff as we built up to the inevitable. I was on my back, he was on top, I opened my legs, he was between them, I felt his cock against me and he pushed gently and enquiringly. And then wonderfully, marvellouslyy, amazingly and so fucking incredibly hornilly he shoved his cock right up my cunt. I gasped at the sheer power of the sensations as he surged deeply into me and I gripped him even more tightly if that was possible. It was like being fucked for the first time.

"Oh God Patrick."

"Ok Cat?"

"Oh yes, yes I am so very ok."

And then we made love. Beautiful love, wonderful love, complete love, twice. He was clearly not the stud that Craig was, but now he was my lover and I didn't want or need a stud!

*

The business trip fuck became an affair and that became increasingly intense. Our need for each other, both emotionally and sexually, seemed to increase the more we were together. We naturally became closer and closer and inevitably, we fell in love. We both struggled to resist that, or at least, not admit to it, either to ourselves or, more particularly, to each other, but in the end we did, of course.

I hadn't felt anything so emotionally powerful since the early days with Richard, but even those I couldn't recall being quite as strong as what I felt for Patrick; maybe the forbidden, even the impossible nature of what we were doing was fuelling our emotions. When we were apart I felt morose and could think of little else than being with him. And then when I saw him my heart really did pound and my pulses raced. Sitting in my little 'work cubicle' I would see him come into the open plan office and go to his office as my eyes as surreptitiously as possible would follow his every movement. I would know when he was about to arrive for usually we had spoken on the phone just moments before; I had bought a pay as you go phone specifically for talking to him. As he entered his glassed in office with the vertical blinds, so I would feel the heat welling up in my loins and breasts and my yearning for him would reach almost fever pitch.

Our sexual need for each other seemed to increase the more sex we had with each other. Not having the luxury of being able to take each other to our homes, although he did stay overnight at my house once, we had to find places to make love. We used hotel rooms after work or in the afternoon after meetings. We did it in his or my car several times, but that made me feel quite sordid, although it was exciting. A couple of times in the summer we did it in the open air and then several times we had sex in the office.

Gradually, we did everything, well most things. Obviously, oral sex featured highly and he made me cum with his tongue many times. I went down on him giving him wonderful blow jobs that ended with him cumming in my mouth and me swallowing several times. Naturally, we did it in most positions. He fucked me in my pussy, in my mouth, between my tits and, eventually in my bum.

As the affair with Patrick developed so I eased myself out from the fling with Craig; being fucked by three men at the same time was too much even for a sexually confused woman like me.

Looking back, I realised it couldn't work. There were just too many complications. Several times lying in each other's arms in hotel rooms, the back seat of his Merc or on the sofa in his office after sex we discussed 'where now?' But we were not able to define a direction. Spouses, children, families, jobs and our social situations complicated everything. A viable future was not possible so, in the end, we finished it and I left the company.

*

With my fling with Craig and my seven-month affair with Patrick behind me, I tried very hard to improve things with Richard. But it just didn't happen.

I was now in a terribly, difficult position. I had tried everything I could to improve my marriage, but nothing, even being naked when Richard came home seemed to work. Sex with him became less frequent and less adventurous. I had no one else to fuck me yet I needed sex now as much as I ever had, perhaps even more. What a fucking dilemma!

I had been in the ad industry most of my life and even during my last job I had also worked as freelance copywriter for a few agencies. Almost completely out of the blue I got an invitation to an awards ceremony. Apparently an ad I had written two years ago on which Tom Bradley had been the art director had won an award.

The awards ceremony was at the Savoy. All rather grand and all crushingly boring and we were nominated so we had to be there. Fortunately the client couldn't make it so we were able to overindulge in the free booze and by the time the room was darkened and the presentations started, we didn't win, we were both a bit tipsy. He pulled his chair closer to mine as many of the others on the round table turned theirs towards the stage. We laughed a lot taking the piss out of some of the ads and I felt his arm go round the back of my chair and his fingers rest on my shoulder.

"And what Mr Bradley do you think you're doing?" I asked.

"Actually Ms Moore trying to get into your knickers."

"Well as you know better men at your agency have tried and better men have failed" I replied jokingly. Such banter wasn't that unusual between the male and female staff in the ad industry where PC still doesn't seem to have arrived.

"Yes but they haven't been close up to you when you're tipsy and just gagging for it have they?"

I quipped back. "Who says I'm half tipsy?"

"Well OK pissed then," he retorted clearly realising that I hadn't rejected the 'gagging for it' remark.

As the ceremony droned on so I felt his hand softly rubbing my shoulder. As we got nearer to our section so his leg pressed against mine. As we both drank more wine so his foot ran up and down my calf and as we realised we hadn't won so I felt his hand on my leg.

"Oh well that's that then" he muttered leaning over so that his mouth was close to my ear. "We might as well go and fuck hadn't we?" In my slightly, well to be truthful, fairly pissed state and with me now trying to be the sophisticated sexual predator of the 21st century it seemed sort of cool really to say. But then I had known Tom for years.

"Yeah I guess we should I suppose."

But then I had known Tom for years. So we did. Twice actually later that afternoon. And it was good. Neither of us was in that fit a state for sexual acrobatics so both times were leisurely and probably not that expert, but they were fun.

Until Tom I'd never really looked on sex as being fun. But with him it always was. .He didn't take anything serious so why should he with sex was his belief. So for a two or three month period, when he introduced me to smoking marijuana again after what must have been a fifteen or sixteen year absence we had a ball. We knew it wasn't going anywhere and all that was between was the sex and of course the fun.

And we had plenty of both. We had fun as we had drinks in pubs in Covent Garden, ate at cheap Italian restaurants and went to the movies. We kissed in the cinema, walked along hand in hand and groped each other in shop doorways. It was like being young again and going on dates. We smoked, drank and laughed our way through a series of premature ejaculations, a number of "oh fuck it I can't get it up" and some absolutely monumentally mind blowing sessions and stunning orgasms.

At the same time I was having fun with Tom, Stuart was pulling me. Slowly and methodically as his engineering training prompted him he did everything absolutely properly.

The first date, all friendly and diplomatic and a peck on the cheek as we said goodbye. The second, dinner, a little more romantic and talk of a more intimate nature followed by a lips on lips kiss in the cab on the way home. No thought on either part though of coming in for coffee, no not on a second date that wouldn't be right. It was on the third though as was a full on kiss and tongues in the others mouth. Up top only on the third date as he enquiringly at first touched my breasts. Finding only the appropriate level of resistance he persevered as we sat in his flat and over what must have been an hour he undid a couple of buttons on my blouse. It took probably another twenty minutes for him to get his fingers inside my bra and another ten or so before he yanked each boob out from its restraining cup.

Being the demure and modest lady I felt he wanted me to be, after he'd played with them for a while not, of course going so far as to suck my nipples even though that was exactly what I wanted him to do, I put my toys away and went home an intact and well behaved lady.

As I'd got more into dating I'd worked out that the fourth or fifth date is the watershed. It's the one where you've both got to know each other quite well, where inhibitions have gone a bit and both parties are quite comfortable with each other.

So when he also suggested "come round and I'll cook you dinner" for our fourth date I assumed that this would be where the heat would be turned up.

As I rode over to his place by cab I recalled the old schoolgirl dating protocol of "only up top for the first few dates and no up the skirt until at least the fourth or fifth!" I was quite pleased that I wasn't wearing trousers this time!

Out of his pinstripe suit and white button down shirt, Stuart was a different man. Once he threw off the uniform and restrictions of his profession and training he changed completely. When naked he was Godlike. I could hardly believe that the man who'd been so diplomatically dating me could be so awesome in bed. He was an amazing lover. Quite the most technically adept I'd ever been with.

After the meal we'd sat together on the sofa and he took up from where he'd left off last time. Bra still on, but tits out yet no sucking or nipple chewing. Of course this time there was that. That and so much more. I'd never had a man pay such homage to my breasts before.

He'd undone the buttons on my blouse, gone through the cursory entry level of caressing me outside my bra before again getting them out. This time though he leaned behind me and undid my bra. I like that feeling as the restriction of the tight elastic is removed. I like the sensation as the cups are eased away from the mounds. And I enjoy the look on a lover's, well a potential lover in this case, face when he looks at them for the first time.

I am a little bit arrogant about my tits. I know they're not bad at all. I know I've got a good rack and I know that many or most men are suckers for big, soft, full tits. And Stuart was no exception. Where he was different, though, was the time he took playing with them and what he did to me by doing that. He must have licked and kissed every single square millimetre of them at least once and for an age. He must have sucked and chewed each of my nipples for longer than News at Ten lasts and he stroked each of the orbs until I was in fear that he'd rub them away. One way of losing a little weight I guess.

So, naked above the waist, skirt pushed up to mid-thigh my breasts being lengthily stimulated by this amazingly patient man, what did I do? Unusually for me I just laid back and enjoyed it. He was so in charge and was so systematically directing proceedings it didn't seem right for me to interject. Sure I kissed him back when appropriate and I did undo a couple of buttons on his shirt and yes I felt his, quite impressive, length through his trousers, but not much more. My part seemed fairly well defined and that was to be his plaything. So plaything I became.

And boy did he play. Although his concentration was on my boobs, and wonderfully so I must say, there was the occasional fingers sliding along my thighs and now and then the lightest touch on my panty covered pussy. As I tended to jerk when he did that he would then apply a little more pressure right there. Right where I wanted that pressure. Right where all females love that pressure. Yes right alongside my clit that, unlike many men, he seemed to find so easily. Usually as he did that he was sucking, quite noisily in fact, on a nipple or licking the softer flesh of one of my tits. The combination of being strongly stimulated in two places at once had the inevitable effect on me. Yes I climaxed, twice for sure and maybe three times before we went the whole way.

But that was just the start. As I lay on the sofa in my mellow, post orgasmic state he stood up and not taking his eyes from mine for a moment he undressed. And as I said out of his pinstripes he was Godlike. He had an almost perfect body, at least to my eyes. Tall and slim without an ounce of unnecessary flesh he obviously looked after his body in the methodical way he did everything else including me. Lightly tanned with a covering of hair on his chest he had an absolutely flat six pack and a beautifully long and smooth cock that reared up from a thatch of golden pubes tinged with splashes of grey. Totally unselfconscious about his nudity, unlike many men he picked me up and carried me to his bedroom.