Mid-life Crisis Ch. 02

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However, if we had had to rely on the odd evening and the infrequent afternoon in the romantic setting of hotel rooms for our affair then it would have been even more frustrating than it was. Fortunately we didn't.

I don't want to make what we did sound too sordid or overly calculating and disloyal to my family on my part. Also I don't want to go into exhaustive explanations to explain the background to how we came to start fucking in the office, in his car and at our homes. The first two locations were exciting, but a little tacky. The latter, having one's lover come to one's home, was extremely morally dubious, but when you are in love and are having an affair the normal rules and moral standards go out the window somewhat. I'm not trying to justify the fact that we had sex in our marital homes, simply explain the lengths that married lovers will go to in search of fulfilment.

"You coming to the station Amanda?"

"No I have some stuff I have to finish this evening, Patrick needs it for tomorrow, I explained to Charlotte a brand manager who lived my way.

"Well don't stay too late," she said walking out and leaving me with just two other colleagues who were having a meeting.

They seemed to take an endless time to wind up their business, but eventually they left.

I knocked on Patrick's door as we'd arranged.

"They've gone."

We were in each other's arms almost immediately.

We both badly wanted to be together that day. It was a Tuesday and we hadn't even seen each other, let alone had sex since the previous Tuesday even though I had increased my work days to three a week.

Something had cropped up for Patrick that prevented us meeting for lunch, I couldn't get away from the office in the afternoon and neither of us could spend a great deal of the evening in a hotel bed. We'd discussed this in a series of phone calls on the Monday and Tuesday morning.

He shut the blinds and we looked out across the larger open plan outer office as we kissed and caressed each other. His hands were all over my breasts. I was wearing a crisp, white blouse, quite tight jeans, knee length 'stockings' and heels. His hand slid round me right onto the cheeks of my bum. He gripped them and pulled me hard against his erection, it felt wonderful.

"Jesus, Amanda, I want you so much, I've been hard all day thinking of this."

"Well you've held onto it well," I smiled, grinding my mound against it and adding with a smile as I grabbed his cock inside his expensive, thin woollen Armani suit trousers. "Just as I am going to."

"And now I'm gonna use it and get rid of it," he sighed squeezing my bum even harder.

"Christ Patrick, we can't here," I groaned my hand rubbing his erection through his trousers.

"Can't we Amanda? Why not?" He said getting up and locking the door. He put the lights out, walked back to his desk and perched his bum on the edge with, his legs crossed at the ankles and pushed out straight in front of him. "Nobody comes in the office this time of night and even if they did they can't see in here."

"We shouldn't."

"Still too sordid is it?" He laughed.

Smiling, I replied. "It was too sordid for our first time."

"And now Amanda, now we've fucked a few times, is still too sordid?"

My resistance, if there had been any in the first place, almost immediately evaporated, I loved the dirty talk, I saw the logic in what he was saying and that other side of me, the Hyde I think, took over. That wanted thrills and excitement, it wanted different sex, extreme stuff and risky places, just as it had with Craig. I felt bold, adventurous and confident.

I walked towards him my eyes locked on his, my fingers fumbling at the buttons on my blouse. The first came open just after I started moving, the second when I had covered about half the distance between us and the third when I was standing just a couple of feet away from him. Staring straight into his eyes I slowly undid the remainder as his eyes seemed to plunge into my cleavage and my boobs inside the thin, dainty white bra.

"But it's not too sordid for later times," I smiled as he cupped my breasts, which I had sort of proffered to him as my fingers fumbled at his zip. I wanted to feel his cock so badly that nearly all rational thought went from my mind. He pulled my tits out of my bra. I stopped him, removed it completely without removing the blouse, a trick every girl knows, but few display, but then they rarely need to for the guy usually takes it off. I dropped it into my bag. I was working on the basis that it would easier to button my blouse up rather than struggle with a half full and half empty bra if the unexpected happened, so some rational thought was still around! On top of that I felt deliciously wanton being in my workplace, with my blouse open to the waist and my bare breasts bouncing around. Visions of the tennis clubhouse filled my mind.

I got to feel much more wanton very quickly. I undid his belt and fumbled his, by now, quite familiar dick out from his boxers and the tail of his shirt. It was very hard and wonderfully warm. He undid my belt as well and also slid my zip down. He got his hand inside and was quickly arousing me with his fingers towards my first orgasm; I was still a quick cummer.

I went to sit on his leather couch thinking we could cuddle and hold each other and gradually lead into having sex as I lie on my back on the couch. But no, that wasn't in the script, it wasn't on the agenda. Mixing metaphors horribly, it was also not in the plan.

"No come here," he almost growled getting hold of me and pulling me behind his desk. There was still a little method in the madness that was consuming us, for through a crack in the blinds we had a view right down the outside office from behind his desk.

Just roughly enough to complement the circumstances, he yanked my jeans down, nearly to my knees. I was wearing a thong purposefully for him for I don't usually wear them with jeans, the thong and the seam of the jeans traversing the crease in your bum can get a little uncomfortable.

"You sexy bitch," he, again, almost growled looking at the slither of black lace and silk that just covered my pubes and sneaked sexily, I thought, between the cheeks of my bum. "Turn round," he instructed me as willingly, eagerly even I did as he asked.

He had a large wooden desk becoming the status of a senior director in a marketing consultancy. Rosewood I think it was and it was kept beautifully polished so it was as shiny as glass. It was quite cold when he pushed me face forward onto it so that my boobs were squashed against the wood making smears on the shiny surface. I was at ninety degrees or so at the waist, with my jeans round mid-thigh. He didn't take the thong off, but merely pulled it to one side. He ran his finger deliciously along the crease between the cheeks of bum, pausing meaningfully on the place that hadn't yet featured much in our relationship, and right onto my soaking, pulsating, bloated pussy. Then, not to put too fine a point on it, he fucked me bent over his office desk. We both knew only too well that would be a constant reminder of this every time he or I were in his office in the future. And that was sordid, very sordid, deliciously so.

It gradually got worse though. Or maybe better, dependent upon your viewpoint.

I have often looked back in recent years, after Patrick and I finished, to try to discern just how much was really just lust and sexual adventure and what was real love. I still haven't found a full answer to that.

Of course there was loads of remorse after that first full sex in the office. Both immediately after he had cum, later that evening when I was home and for a few days after. My thinking was that what we'd done was dangerous, rather sordid, a bit like teenagers, but so fucking exciting I could hardly wait for the next time. That wasn't long in coming either.

I hadn't wanted it to turn out as it did. I didn't really want to become an office 'bike.' I wasn't really expecting my deep love affair with Patrick to revolve mainly around me being fucked in the office and fucked in his car. But then with married people who go off the rails, sexually and romantically, where else is there?

That first time in the office was probably the most sordid position I had ever been in, but then I haven't been in that many, yet on the other hand when I think of Craig, no don't let's go there. Face down on my bosses desk, my blouse open, my tits bare, my jeans round my ankles and my panties pushed to one side, I had been groaning and moaning with pleasure as he had made me cum and now I was bathing in the warm afterglow of a strong orgasm as Patrick softened inside me. He pulled himself out and I stood up. His eyes ran up and down my near naked body and dishevelled clothing. He took me in his arm, kissed me deeply and with a broad grin on his face said.

"That was fantastic Amanda, almost as fantastic as you look right now. Perfectly and absolutely wonderfully fucking sordid." It was exactly the right thing to say to reassure me, but I wondered if he would have felt the same if he could have seen what I could feel, his sperm slipping down my thigh!

I was finding out new things about myself. I realised that not only had I got the capability of being a devious and calculating cheat, but also I was becoming a 'thrill junky!' Being prone to analyse most things I do, I worked out that the thrill and excitement of the affair, the going to hotels and now having sex in the office, were as equally exciting and important really as the sex itself. But wasn't the sex an expression of our love? I got a little stumped there for other than sort of working together at a distance, having the occasional lunch and dinner, our relationship was sex. There wasn't a lot more, but hey, don't get me wrong I wasn't complaining.

We enlarged our repertoire.

There were nights, well evenings actually, when we didn't have 'late passes' to use a hotel; we had perhaps an hour when we needed to encapsulate all of our love and lust for each other. Whilst not a cheapskate by any means, Patrick baulked at shelling out a couple of hundred pounds for an hour or so in a hotel bed with me, or anyone probably. So when it was not possible to use the office as people were around in late meetings, we needed somewhere else. The question was where?

'Let me give you a lift home,' Patrick messaged me about three one afternoon.

'You can't it's miles out of your way,'

'So what, it's worth it for an hour or so together isn't it?'

'Of course.'

It wasn't actually that far out of his way. But as he had to use the M25 or the North Circular to get from Chigwell to Hadleigh Woods, ot could take ages if the traffic was heavy.

"Ok, so what time were you thinking of leaving?"

"'Get your coat."

'What?'

'I'm just round the corner, come on.'

As I now had my own clients I was able to leave the office without explaining where I was going so meeting him wasn't a problem

It was just getting dark when we turned off the main road and into a narrow lane which was a short cut to where I live.

"Anywhere around here we can stop and er, um, chat?" He smiled at me.

"We can chat anywhere can't we, but I doubt you really meant that do you?" I asked leaning across and resting my hand on his upper thigh.

"You know me too well, no of course not."

I hadn't 'groped' in a car since Craig, I realised as we got into the back of Patrick's Merc. After he'd pulled the car into a car park in a wood, to which I had directed him, even though I had no idea just how safe it would be, we had kissed and talked. I didn't want to get into the back on the grounds that if another car, or worse, the police or forest rangers drove into the car park how could we explain that?

"We don't have to, we're doing nothing wrong and we are consenting adults," he replied with impeccable logic, reassuring me, so I eventually, but rather reluctantly agreed.

I don't know just how much of the extreme excitement and immense pleasure was down to my feelings for Patrick, the slight frustration I was experiencing through not having had sex for more than a week or the fact that we were in car, but what I experienced was sensational.

I resisted at first, just as respectable, well brought up married women are supposed to do. I don't mean his advances, I relished those. I don't mean him kissing me, having his tongue in my mouth or caressing my breasts, I enjoyed those. I don't even mean him slipping his hand up my top, cupping my breasts in my bra and then wiggling his fingers inside that onto my boobs and nipples, after all that's what 'boys and girls' do when they sit in the back of a car. It wasn't, either Patrick slipping his hand up my skirt and pressing his fingers on the gusset of my panties. No, my resistance came when he scooped my boobs out of my bra, when he pushed my skirt up round my waist, when he tried to pull my knickers down and when he whispered in my ear.

"Amanda I have to have you. I have to fuck you."

"Oh God Patrick we can't, it's too risky."

It was risky. It was dangerous. The chance of being caught, literally 'in the act' was high. But by Christ it was exciting. We couldn't undress of course, we couldn't get naked. But Patrick could get his cock out, I could take my panties off, I could straddle him and he could, just like that, fuck me. And that is precisely what we did. Clearly, I realised as I lay in his arms on the large back seat, not all German cars have sexual design faults.

More soul searching followed that of course, but I coped, probably better than I had with Craig and with when Patrick and I had sex first time in the office.

So for the next few months our affair revolved around the occasional afternoon or evening in a hotel, the fairly regular once a week or so shag in the office and yes I did let him fuck me with me sitting on my desk as he stood between my legs, which were wrapped round his hips. And of course in the car and a few times at our houses, but they never worked too well, nerves I guess.

After that first time I lost my reservations about being caught and inhibitions about being undressed and then fucked in his car in a car park. I actually enjoyed it and each weekend I looked forward to our, usually, Tuesday evening car sex.

My new found cunning and conniving, scheming and slyness came into play at these times.

"Just sit there," I said after we had parked and climbed into the back.

I pushed Patrick into the corner of the usefully large back seat and knelt with one knee on the seat on the other side of the car. I was wearing a knee-length, quite loose, blue dress, with a lowish top and three buttons running from the neckline to just above my waist. Staring directly into each other's eyes, I slowly undid the top button. He smiled at me.

"Mmmmm nice," he said as the next and the third came undone and the top of my dress parted a little, thus showing a goodly expanse of my boobs.

Taking hold of the opened sides of the top of the dress I pulled them sideways, across my boobs and let go of them leaving my bare breasts staring invitingly at him.

He reached out for me.

"No, don't touch," I whispered pushing him back into the corner.

"Christ Amanda, you flash your tits at me, then say no touching."

"Well not yet," I smiled reaching down and taking hold of the hem.

"And, by the way, young lady, where's your bra gone!" I didn't reply and instead reached down and took hold of the hem of the dress.

Holding his gaze I slowly pulled the dress upwards. I eased it further and further up my legs, along my thighs and then stopped.

"Why have you stopped?"

"No reason," I replied, sliding it further up so it was bunched almost round my stomach.

"Jesus Christ, when did they come off?" He asked looking at my uncovered pubic mound.

I had taken my underwear off before leaving the office and had the garments safely tucked away in my wags bag in the front of the car.

"Never mind, are you pleased?" I asked cupping one of my breasts,

"Pleased I'm absolutely fucking delighted, but why?"

"Because silly," I replied fumbling at his belt "You can now fuck me without me having to get undressed."

That became another feature of our sexual repertoire. On the evenings when Patrick was going to give me a lift home I would go to the ladies half hour or so before we were due to set off. I would remove all but the essential parts of my make-up and during the day I would carefully avoid wearing perfume, real mistress thinking there, but then why provide any evidence for the wife! I would then slip into one of the cubicles and remove my bra and panties. Usually I would meet him a way down the road. Walking out from the office and then down the busy road naked under my outer clothes really was a massive turn on. After that and then being in his car for an hour so in that state of semi-undress of which he was clearly aware had me primed and ready for the stimulating sex we would then have in the back of his car.

As our affair progressed so we became both more adventurous, but also sad. We knew that it would go nowhere, other than perhaps us being arrested for offending private decency, for we talked about it, a lot. We discussed setting up home together and talked about how wonderful it would be being together all the time. Deep down, though I think we both knew that it would never happen. There was just too much excess baggage to sort out and the cost of excess baggage is enormous wherever it's incurred. There were children involved, massive financial aspects and family and friends to consider. So such talk dwindled and gradually our focus became more and more sexual.

And that became the problem but also the delight.

We had great sex. We did it in so many different places and got great kicks from the 'danger' involved in screwing in the office, shagging in the car and fucking in the odd shop doorway, up against a tree and in a field. We both got a fantastic buzz when I started removing my underwear mid-afternoon and wandering round the office with Patrick aware of my lack of bra and panties.

But in the end sex simply wasn't enough. In the end the affair with Patrick resembled my fling with Craig, far too much. And in the end it went the same way for in the end it really was just another example of the mid-life crisis that was influencing me. So in the end, just like a firework it simply fizzled out.

Are all affairs like that I wondered?

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3 Comments
chilleywilleychilleywilleyabout 12 years ago
Very good

Well written, the personalities of the characters made the story, so elaborate plot devices weren't necessary.

Good work from a favorite author

AnonymousAnonymousabout 12 years ago
lovely story

these old brit sluts only have fucking on their minds. preferrably, strange cocks. good example being set for the daughter.

AnonymousAnonymousabout 12 years ago
Good writing, nice story.

I really like your writing, you tell a good story.

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