Delicious Secrets

Mel mentioned in comments a few days ago about having a secret so delicious that you're just bursting to tell people. And I have to admit that such was the case with Lois sometimes. I would hear some of the guys in my group talking about how sexy she looked that day, or sometimes speculating on whether she was seeing this guy or that guy on the side, and sometimes, yeah, I'd just want to say, "No, she's seeing me. And by the way, they're real, and they are spectacular." One day Lois and I were walking together. The company had a big open floor plan, with cubes grouped in clusters here and there, and big avenues between them. We were in one of those avenues, maybe coming back from a conference room, and when we reached the point where we would have to split up to go our separate ways, she turned away and started walking to her cube. And rather than head to my own cube immediately, I stood a moment to appreciate her legs and ass in that red dress with the white polka-dots, my sentimental favorite. And there was this guy doing some sort of maintenance on the floor, had the carpet pulled up and was maybe pulling cable or something. And as Lois walks by, the guy glances up and then does this movie-style double-take. his head swiveling up to look at her again. And then he just drops what he's doing and sits up and stares at her ass for a good twenty seconds or so until she disappears around the corner. Just stares, like he's hypnotized or something. And I couldn't tell that story to anybody (except Lois, later), because then I'd have to admit that I'd been staring at her ass for maybe ten seconds myself before I switched to watching the guy watch her ass. And also because, to tell the story right, I'd really be tempted to add how the entire incident made me feel, because here's this guy, clearly salivating for what I'd already had. And that made me feel pretty cool, for once. But the thing that's better than having a secret you're bursting to tell is finding ways to share a secret without anyone else knowing. On two different occasions, I've rubbed a girl's pussy, fully clothed, right in front of other people (and may have gotten them both to orgasm, actually. or at least really close; if you want more details, ask me) without being caught. I had sex with Mrs. Jonny once while standing chest-deep in a lake, while a couple of fishermen drove their boat past us less than fifty feet away, and they were none the wiser. When things were good with Lois, the workday was always full of secret moments: whenever she would visit my cube, she would sit down and give me just a flash of stocking rim, or else "innocently" lean forward to give me a shot down her blouse, or stretch her legs out so I could appreciate the full length of her. Followed by the most subtle glance to acknowledge, yes, I did that on purpose, and yes, I saw you look, and yes, I'm glad you did. Or I would visit her cube to talk about something, leaning over to point out something on her computer monitor while my other hand rested on the back of her chair, barely touching her shoulder, and we would give each other just the slightest pressure back and forth: "Hello, just a little touch to silently remind you that I still want to fuck your brains out." "Yup, just little pressure back to say, Ditto." Her cube-mates thought she was stupid, a classic dumb blonde, because she would ask me the same question several times and still not seem to comprehend the answer. She would tell me later sometimes that the reason she kept having to ask me to repeat things over and over was not that she was stupid, but because she was so turned on, so focused on that subtle touch that she literally could not retain the words as I said them. One of my employees had a birthday luncheon once, where my entire group went to a restaurant together, and I was invited along at the last moment. I sat at one end of the table, and Lois was directly to my right, and the entire meal, her leg was pressing softly against mine, and my God, it was so hard to keep acting as if nothing was happening, to keep talking normally to everyone without finding some way to reciprocate (and really, if you just want to end that sentence after the word 'hard,' it will still be just as truthful). In some ways, it was risky and foolish. Because secrets are delicious, and sometimes, they feel like a game, a game you're playing against the whole world, and you think you're winning. You're smart and everybody else is dumb, because you have this special wonderful thing that they don't know about. Secrets are delicious until you get caught. I didn't, but Lois did. That story's coming soon.

200: The Altar At Which I Worship

Two hundred posts is not an incredibly high number for a blog. If you post once a day, you get there in a little over half a year. I used to follow one guy's blog who would sometimes post six times a day. He would hit 200 posts easily in four months or so. And yet a surprising number of blogs, at least blogs like this one, meaning diary-style confessionals, peter out before they reach that number. It took me almost two years to get here, and I wanted to do something special to commemorate it, so I decided to interrupt the Lois saga (which is almost over anyway) and write about something important to me. In a post I wrote quite a while back on the subject of tits, I called the pussy, "the source of a woman's ultimate power, the tasty, gushing altar at which I worship..." Which makes it sound as if I worship women. Which I do, and don't. See, here's the thing: I'm not religious (what a surprise, huh?). But I do understand the pull of the divine, the human attraction to awe and mystery: the way sunlight can warm you inside as well as outside, the way darkness can make us feel afraid even when we know there's nothing to be afraid of, the way music can cause you to swell up inside and make your skin draw up into goosepimples. The way the mere sight of a beautiful woman can make your insides knot up like a fist: you can't breathe, your stomach churns, and you would give anything, anything, to be close to her in that instant. Some men try to deny that awe within themselves, play it down by giving it a silly name. The Model Magnet guy calls it "pussy trance." To me, it's the closest thing to God. Because it's bigger than you are. Powerful. There's this woman I work with. She's not especially attractive: tiny, almost boyish, freckled face, short red hair that she doesn't always wash. She dresses in oversized clothes like a high-school boy, military surplus pants and hoodie sweatshirts, and she likes to pull her feet up onto her chair and disappear inside those too-big clothes into an amorphous blob. She goes barefoot most of the time, and she has flea bites on her legs, from her multiple pets. I don't think she even owns a dress. But one day, it was hot in the room, and she pulled off that hoodie, and underneath there was a pair of nice-sized boobs pushing out against a tight V-neck shirt, and I saw just a hint of cleavage and in that moment, although I'd never thought of her sexually before, I suddenly wanted to do her. Repeatedly and hard. Because it's not about the woman, per se, but more about that thing she carries within her. She doesn't have to be special, doesn't have to be pretty. It can even be someone you don't like, someone you know is bad for you, doesn't care for you, can only hurt you, yet get her in the right light and the right clothes and let your guard down for a second and you feel it: that pull that is stronger than thought, stronger than hate, stronger even than love. Men throughout history have risked everything to get close to it, to capture that feeling, try to hold it and control it, even when they knew better, even as they counseled others to avoid it because it was sinful and could only bring loss and sorrow. Still they fell. Because it's bigger than us. And the weird thing is, it's not even that pretty. Women are beautiful, but the pussy is... it's just odd. These weird cockeyed lips, wrinkled and collapsed upon each other, surrounded by stiff crinkly hair. I had a teacher once who said the Gorgon Medusa, that mythical woman with the snake-hair whose gaze turned men to stone, was a sort of caricature of the vagina, both beautiful and terrifying. When I was a kid, I found my brother's stash of porn magazines, and there was just page after page of women spreading their legs, showing this... this wrinkled slit, as if it were something anyone would want to see, and yet I kept turning pages, fascinated by it. The only thing uglier is a penis, and the fact that such a beautiful creature as a woman would willingly take one inside her only makes her more mysterious and wonderful. And yet, when it's in flower, when the blood gushes into the lips, turning them red and ripe and plump, and the yum begins to flow, there's nothing more beautiful than a pussy. When she spreads her legs wide to let you in, and you kneel down and dip your tongue into that gushing fountain... It's not that it tastes good, exactly, but there's something in there that tingles on your tongue and shoots straight into your brain. With Mrs. Jonny, it's a zing like citrus, something fresh and sweet, but a touch acidic. But the flavor is subtle, remote. You lick as deeply as you can, shove your tongue as far inside as you can go, and it's like you're still just tasting the echo of a flavor, the merest drops from some unearthly wonderful fruit deep inside, and if only you could get far enough in, you could taste the real thing, and your life would be complete. You want to grasp that fruit in your hand and crush it, sink your teeth into it and suck on it and let the juices run down over your face, gorge on them, drown in them, but you know that you'll never reach it, and despite that knowledge, you know you'll spend the rest of your life trying to. But even more powerful than the flavor is when you hit that sweet spot and her breath catches and you know that, for just one instant, you suddenly held power over this thing that's held power over you for so long. You try to get it back, but it's elusive, that spot. It moves, and you've got to chase it, licking slow, licking fast, licking in different places, up, down, sideways, light butterfly flicks and long firm slurps, and those gasps and spasms are coming faster and faster. Her hips are bucking up and down, and you've got to either move your head in time or get your fingers in there, anchor that pelvis down while you finally take her over the edge, flicking that magic button for all it's worth as her entire body clenches like she's being electrocuted. An Olympic weightlifter tenses every muscle in his body at once--arms, legs, back, chest, abdomen, diaphragm--to have the strength necessary to lift enormous amounts of weight. A woman having an orgasm does much the same thing, so that there's a moment there where she probably possesses the superhuman strength to tear your head right off and eat it like a praying mantis, if she didn't want to keep you around to do it again. And again. And again. The only thing better than eating a pussy is finally sinking your cock into it. My first time, with Rhiannon, I was clumsy and hesitant, second-guessing and mentally criticizing everything I did, but when I finally got inside her, finally felt those smooth, slick walls encasing me, her muscles rippling, gripping me in a way no fingers, no tongue, no machine could ever duplicate, my body began to work on its own. My mind continued to worry and criticize, but my cock and her pussy were doing their own thing without caring what I thought or said. The symbol of Zen is the empty circle, and that, too, is the pussy, an empty vessel that you fill without thought, without intention, just pure action and sensation for its own sake. And then you reach that final point and when it's good, when it's really, really good, which is to say, when it's intensely dirty and nasty and sweaty and hard, and you've taken both yourself and her to exhausting heights until you have that final wrenching moment of apotheosis, screaming and growling and your entire body tensing and your mind whiting out from the pleasure that seems to fill every cell of your being (and it's not this way nearly often enough, but you keep going back for another try, hoping that this time will be it)... well, it's holy. I don't go to church anymore, because for me, when it's done right, fucking is church. It sounds weird, and the stories I've told certainly don't reflect it, but it's true. Sex is my religion, and the pussy is my altar. May I kneel and pray for you?

Another Man's Wife: Lois Pt. 12 - Falling Apart

Previously: Lois and I took dangerous chances and came within inches of getting caught on more than one occasion. So I told her I wanted to break it off. Now: Lots of work-related stuff in this one; sorry if it's boring. Our break-up occurred just before I made the final transition away from my group at work and into my new make-work job. The irony of the fact that I was breaking up with Lois just as I was about to stop being her direct supervisor was not lost on me. I was worried about the transition, because the person Lois's team was being assigned to didn't seem to be taking the job seriously; I kept telling her about all the things she would have to be doing differently, and she would just sort of wave it off. So in the end, I just handed it all off and went into my new position. I wasn't there very long--maybe a month, maybe a day--when I found out why my replacement had been so lackadaisical. She didn't bother learning my responsibilities because she knew what I didn't: that I was going to be put back in charge of one of my subteams. Yes, it was the one Lois was on. My manager gathered us all in a conference room three weeks after my last date with Lois and gave the news to my team. Lois gave a quiet "yes" at the news, and Lana gasped and clapped her hands as if she were trying to save Tinkerbell. Lois told me later that her first impulse had been to clap also, but my not-quite-replacement was in the room, and she didn't want to make her feel bad. Also, the manager seemed to be watching her closely. It was pretty common knowledge that we got along well. The general assumption was that I had a hopeless crush on her, and that she used that to her advantage. But my boss knew she felt strongly about me, too; she had taken it pretty hard when it was announced that I'd be stepping down from running our group. We stayed pretty friendly after our break-up. She still laughed at my jokes, and we still went out for drinks occasionally, although it was just drinks now, with maybe the odd kiss here and there. But none of the hot'n'heavy from before. A month after the announcement at work, my manager transferred to another department. I debated long and hard, but finally ended up applying for her job. In the interview with Dim Fred, I told him I would be a good choice, because I had broader knowledge of the way the department worked than any other candidate. After all, the other supervisors, with one exception, were basically running teams that I had once run. I worked hard and I got results. I thought I had given a pretty good accounting of myself, but I didn't get a real warm and fuzzy vibe from him. It didn't help that a couple of weeks before the interview, one of my best employees made an official complaint about me. I had given her what I thought was a glowing evaluation, especially for someone who'd had her job less than a year, and given her the largest raise I could without seeking vice-presidential approval. She had seemed fine with it at the time, then turned around and fired off emails to HR, and my manager, and Dim Fred, and the president of the company. She complained that her evaluation wasn't good enough and that her raise was too small, and I had to go into meetings with all sorts of people to work it out, which didn't matter because she quit anyway. It was a huge embarrassing mess, and was the start of my real downward slide at the company. A few days after my interview, Jonny Jr. was born. Five days later, Mrs. Jonny brought the baby to work to show off. Just after she arrived, she took Jonny Jr. to the bathroom for a feeding. I kept working in my cube. A few minutes later, I looked up and saw Mrs. Jonny coming back; Lois was with her, carrying the baby. It was definitely a surreal experience, having them all in my cube, my former mistress holding my child while my wife looked on, smiling fit to burst. The rest of the women in the department came by at one point or another to see, but all I really remember is Lois holding my child. By the end of May, a new problem had arisen at work, and it was the most devastating one yet: I had succeeded. The flood of mergers and reorganizations and deadline shifts had finally settled down, and my group was humming along nicely. I was personally feeling burned out, but it looked as if things would calm down enough that I could coast for awhile. But two problems arose from that success. Number one, although we were finally meeting our super-early monthly deadline with some regularity, it left my people with very little to do for a couple of weeks after. So instead of being congratulated on a job well done, I began to get complaints that my people weren't working. Dim Fred began making noises about switching people to part-time status, which would have been disastrous. This problem was compounded when they decided to rebuild all the cubes in the department; we were running out of room, so they decided to rebuild the cubes to be smaller, without the tall dividing barriers between them, so that people could always see what the people next to them were doing. Not only that, but Dim Fred came up with an oddball plan to mix and match people from different groups in each row, so that each of my people was seated directly next to someone from another group with a different deadline, making my people's inactivity even more obvious. Now that they were no longer consumed with the incredible pressure that came from the multiple mergers, the department fell into gossip and complaining. Work was hell, and having a newborn at home didn't help matters. In mid-June, Dim Fred told me he was hiring someone from outside our industry as the new manager. The new guy had formerly worked for a bank data center, which Dim Fred thought would give us good synergy or something. I was burned out, applying for other jobs, but not getting any nibbles. Meanwhile, Mrs. Jonny and I were arguing over the most petty stuff at home, like how often to mow the lawn, and I had begun spending the time in my car driving to and from work or at lunch playing the Divorce Game. I was starting to think seriously about a booty call with Lois. In mid-July, I went out of town to the same city I'd visited the year before, when Lois and I had our first sexual encounter. My send-off this year was less pleasant. Our department had two managers, and while my former boss's replacement was still settling into his job, I was under the other one. As I was on my way out the door to leave on my business trip, she pulled me into her cube, with Replacement Guy sitting in and watching, to tell me she had been getting complaints about me from my employees. The upshot was that I was rude. I didn't say "Good Morning." I didn't ask how people were. I just gave orders and walked away. When I got back from my trip, I would need to make an effort to be nicer, she said. I left, feeling pissed. Everything was falling apart. But it would get a lot worse. Next: Crazy Shit

Another Man's Wife: Lois Pt. 11 - A Risky Gambit

Previously: My affair with Lois occasionally led to my doing stupid, reckless things. Now: After our aborted orgy with Sapphire, Lois and I drifted apart again. We thought about trying to get together with Sapphire again, but it never came together. Lois and I had drinks occasionally, but never regained the intensity of that early time when we were emailing and IM'ing all the time and going out two or three times a week. Close to two months went by, and then Mrs. Jonny went out of town on a business trip. And I conceived a dangerous plan. I've said before that Mrs. Jonny had convinced her mother and grandmother to sell their homes and move into a big house with us. In fact, her mother had not yet moved in, because she was still trying to sell her old house. She was starting to move some of her things over in anticipation of moving in, but she wouldn't be a part of the household for another month or so. So Mrs. Jonny and I lived upstairs while her grandmother lived downstairs. She was mostly deaf and tended to stay in her room most of the time. She had a hard time climbing the stairs, so she rarely came upstairs. I proposed to Lois that I sneak her into the house and upstairs. With the TV on in our living room and the bedroom door closed, the old woman downstairs would be unable to hear what was going on. If we were careful, we could be in and out (and in and out and in and out) without a trace, in more comfortable surroundings than that crappy motel. So we did it. We had a couple of drinks at the bar, and then she got in her truck and followed me to my house. She parked around the corner (drawing unwanted attention from the neighbor, but he didn't know me, so I didn't care) and then rode with me the rest of the way. I went inside to make sure the old woman was in her room, then came out and snuck Lois upstairs. I hadn't been this nervous since Lacy spotted us at the Turnpike. My belly was fluttering both from fear of discovery and from nervous anticipation. Tonight we would finally get it right. We would take our time and do each other thoroughly. Tonight would be a night to remember and cherish. I felt uneasy once I actually got her in the room, though, among all my wife's things; it felt as if she was intruding into a private place where she didn't belong. But we had already come this far, and there was no way I was going to stop now. And so we undressed each other slowly, with many soft kisses. I sucked on her sensitive nipples when I removed her bra, knelt and kissed her pussy as I helped her off with her stockings and panties. Then I took her into my bed, where she almost immediately dove onto my cock. There are few things I like better than a good blow-job, especially when it's given by a woman who looks directly into my eyes as she licks my cock. By now, I'd had plenty of blow-jobs from Lois, but I still loved them, and unlike our first time, this time I had no fear of disappointing her by shooting off in her mouth. I knew it was what she wanted, what she craved, and I also knew I would be able to do other things afterward to satisfy us both. The blow-job was just the appetizer; next would come the meal. So I lay back and relaxed, my hands cradling the back of her head as she bobbed up and down on my cock, and pretty soon, I was shooting off in her mouth. She kept her mouth on me, sucking out the last drops and swallowing them, and then she kissed me and we exchanged positions. I settled down between her open thighs, eager for a taste of her sweet, smooth pussy. I hadn't tasted her in about three months, and that had been a cramped, frantic session in her truck at a clumsy angle. I leaned in, took my first exploratory licks in the area surrounding her pussy lips, feeling her flutter in anticipation. And then we heard footsteps on the stairs. Our eyes met: wide, terrified eyes. I jumped up, pulled on a T-shirt and sweatpants that I sometimes used as pajamas, then I stepped out into our living room, closing the bedroom door behind me. It was my mother-in-law, bringing over some knick-knacks to decorate her room, which was on the other end of the top floor from us. I greeted her and settled nonchalantly on the couch to watch TV. She didn't comment on the closed bedroom door, although we always kept it open unless we were sleeping. As soon as Mom-In-Law was in her room, I ducked into the bedroom to explain the situation to Lois. She was already getting dressed again. We talked in whispers, me apologizing over and over again, she saying it was okay. She hid out in the bedroom while I watched TV and waited for my mother-in-law to leave. It took about an hour. Once her car had driven safely away, I took Lois back to her truck and we said goodbye. I spent the entire night agonizing over my situation. I so enjoyed my time with Lois, but more and more, it seemed like I was getting myself into dangerous situations. As long as I kept seeing her, I would be tempted to take greater and greater risks. And this last move, besides being dangerous, had made me feel guilty in a way our other trysts hadn't. I decided I needed to break things off. The next morning, I sent Lois an email saying that we should stop seeing each other. I still liked her, and I hoped we remained friends, but the sexual stuff had to stop. She emailed back, saying that she wasn't happy with my decision, but she would abide by it. And like that, it was over. For a while, at least.

Another Man's Wife: Lois Pt. 10 - Sapphire

Previously: Lois tempted me with promises of a threesome, but so far, we'd had no success. And one night in late October, we were spotted together by someone else who worked with us. Now: One other thing that I didn't note at the time, but that probably happened during that summer of Lois: I fired someone, and had to replace him with someone new. I hired a slim brunette named Lana. She didn't have any data processing experience, but she seemed smart and professional. She was pretty, but distant and moody. After our night at the strip bar, I was afraid to go out with Lois again until I knew whether Lacy would keep her mouth shut. Instead I began concentrating on my book and on working out and losing weight, hoping to be in better shape for Lois's friend, who was due to come to town for a visit in mid-November. On November 10, I learned how our department would be reorganized. We would be losing about three groups, but Dim Fred planned to keep everybody employed by splitting my responsibilities among the other supervisors, mixing and matching personnel to the new groups, and putting me, along with the stragglers, in a new quality control group. He tried to pitch it as the ground floor of an awesome new opportunity, but it sure felt like a demotion. I ended up feeling pretty depressed for a while, and I let Lois fall mostly off my radar. She became pretty depressed as well, at the thought of losing me for a boss; she did not get along with the woman who would be taking over her team. Her friend cancelled her visit, so our threesome didn't happen. A week after learning about the reorganization, I wrote in my journal that Lois and I were about finished. Of course, as I've written before, I had an almost physical addiction to Lois, so I couldn't stay away for long. By the end of November, we went out for drinks, and I ended up on my knees in the floor of her truck, licking her sweet, bald pussy. And for once, I didn't even want her to reciprocate; it was enough just to taste her, to feel her writhe under my flicking tongue, her fingers clutching at my hair. A couple of weeks later, Mrs. Jonny and I got dressed up and went to our company Christmas party, an event that turned somewhat uncomfortable, yet titillating when several members of my group joined us at our table, including Lois and Mr. Lois. I tried hard not to pay undue attention to Lois, but I had never seen her in a formal gown before and she looked stunning. At one point, we ended up playing out a scene straight out of a movie, each of us slow-dancing with our spouses while exchanging soulful glances over their shoulders. Lois and hubby had been talking about divorce for a while. She told me later that he accused her of having an affair with me, because he apparently caught us exchanging glances at the table. But nothing came of his suspicions, just like nothing had come of our encounter with Lacy. And once we were into the new year, we felt clear enough to visit the Turnpike together again, just a quick stop for one beer. Candace wasn't there this time. Jessica was, and Lois still drooled over her, but we didn't talk to her, because almost as soon as we sat down, we were joined by a dancer I'd never met before. She was short and blonde, very chatty, in a green see-thru wraparound-type thing. She was cute enough, with a nice body, but there was something that put me off about her. Something about her eyes, which weren't quite the same size or something. She said her name was Sapphire. She chatted with us for a few minutes, then her name was called to appear on stage. She handed Lois a couple of ones and said, "Could you come up and tip me while I'm on stage?" Which was a first for Lois, but she had fun doing it. Our stop for a single beer turned into a lengthy visit. We bought Sapphire a drink, and she flirted with Lois for a good long time. They compared notes about sexual fantasies, especially bondage, and soon enough, Sapphire brought up the idea of a threesome, or even a foursome if we wanted. She had a boyfriend who would like to play along. She was even proposing that we do it that night, but I knew I couldn't. Mrs. Jonny would freak if I stayed out much later, and I had to work in the morning. So we left things at "not tonight, but soon." We went back the next night, hoping to talk her into leaving early, but she had to make rent, so she couldn't. She gave us her cell number, though. A week and a half later, Lois and I met on a Saturday afternoon and went to visit Sapphire. By odd coincidence, she was between apartments and staying at the cheap motel where Lois and I had had our previous trysts. It seemed like a good omen. The visit was interesting. Sapphire was designing a sex fantasy game, and had written a big pile of cards that gave all sorts of titillating instructions. That was the good part. The bad part was, she had a boyfriend there. And here's the thing about two-woman threesomes: it's almost always a woman with her Significant Other, bringing in an unattached woman. And the attached woman usually has no interest in bringing in another man, or, say, returning the favor by doing the other woman's SO. Sapphire's view was, let's have an orgy, the more the merrier. But Lois was uncomfortable. She wanted to be with me, not some stranger. Sapphire tried to get things going by suggesting a game of strip poker. I was tempted, but it seemed as if Lois didn't want to, so I refused and we left. Sapphire told me later that some other friends of hers dropped by later, and they had an awesome four-way orgy. We had missed our shot. And that was the last of the threesome talk. We never went back to the Turnpike together again. When Lois had first brought up the threesome idea, I said I thought it would never happen. Lois told me I was being silly, but I ended up being right. Sometimes I hate being right. Next: Caught!

Another Man's Wife: Lois Pt. 9 - Our Perfect Plan Is Foiled

Previously: After an unexpected announcement at work, Lois and I visited a strip club and then fucked in her truck. I will forever love Christina Aguilera. And Mrs. Jonny wanted counseling. Now: I had thought we were pulling back from each other, but with the new uncertainty ay work, Lois and I got somewhat bolder. Exactly one week after our strip club adventure, we went back to our usual bar, and afterward, she once again blew me in her truck. This time, though, instead of pulling around into the alley in back, we did it in the front lot, between the bar and the street. It was crazy-dangerous, but it wasn't the last time. Meanwhile, the pucker factor at work was shooting through the roof. Even though I didn't know what decision Dim Fred would make concerning our department, I was hedging my bets by applying for other positions within the company. Whether this came back to bite me later, I can't say. I was also tempted at least once to emulate the guy who'd quit while I was on my trip. He had just paused in his work one afternoon, left his access badge on his desk and walked out the door, never to return. A week after the blow-job, we did it again, and by this time, it was becoming routine. From my journal entry concerning that night: Same old-same old with [Lois] last night. Finger-fuck and a blow-job, then home in time for Frasier. The next week was my wedding anniversary. I scheduled the day off work, but went out with Lois the night before. I was uneasy about it, but Lois kept tempting me with the promise that her bisexual friend was supposed to come to town for a visit soon. Lois had sent her my picture, and the friend was supposedly into it, and as we all know, NJ is weak where hormones are concerned. Lois and I went to the Turnpike once again. We were sitting there, drinking, getting relaxed, beginning to get a little frisky with each other, when I looked up to see this incredibly sexy dancer who looked really familiar. And then I realized where I knew her from. Her name was Lacy and she worked in Customer Service at our company. And she apparently was a stripper on the side. I freaked. If we recognized her, then she almost certainly recognized us. I had worked with her a couple of times in my capacity as a supervisor, and Lois was pretty well known in the company because she dressed provocatively and sat in a cube on the edge of our area, visible from across the building. I finished my drink as quickly as I could and encouraged Lois to do the same. Lois wasn't nearly as freaked out as I was, which she proved when we got into her truck. She didn't even wait until we had driven out to a secluded area, but straddled my lap and started kissing me the second we got into her truck. We were interrupted a couple of seconds later by a knock on the window: the club's bouncer telling us to move along. We drove back to the secluded lot where we'd fucked three weeks earlier and tore off a quick one. I couldn't really enjoy it, though, preoccupied as I was by the stories I was sure would spread from Lacy's cube the next day. Would I be fired when I returned to work on Thursday? It was definitely time to back off. Next: Reorganization, and an Uncomfortable Evening

Another Man's Wife: Lois Pt. 8 - They're Playing Our Song

Previously: I was having an affair with one of my employees, named Lois. We were discussing a threesome, but first she decided she wanted to come with me to my favorite strip club. Now: I know you're probably anxious to hear the sexy details, but I think I need to set some things up first. I've explained before my initial justification for cheating on my wife, but it doesn't explain why I kept the relationship going with Lois when I kept saying I planned to end it. I suspected at the time, and I still believe, that it was a reaction to stress in other parts of my life. What stress? Well, for starters, I had been writing a novel for almost two years that I was beginning to fear I would never finish. In addition, I had an ongoing situation that I won't explain here that disrupted my schedule and ruined my mood on a regular basis. But those were just the merest scratches on the surface. I mentioned in my first post about meeting Lois that we had suffered a terrible tragedy at home. In the aftermath of that, Mrs. Jonny somehow convinced her mother, her grandmother and me to sell all our houses and move into one big house together, which we did. But almost before the ink was dry on the deed, the arguments began, and less than six months after moving in, there were hurt feelings all around and talk about moving out again and going our separate ways. Meanwhile, at work... I knew when I accepted the supervisor position that it would be challenging. It was doubly challenging because my group, unlike those of the other six supervisors, was composed of three small teams, castoffs, who all had different deadlines and working methods. It became triply challenging when technological advances caused an explosion in certain sectors of industry, necessitating sudden expansion of not one, not two, but all three of my subteams. Quadruply challenging when we merged with one of our largest competitors and had to integrate their products into our line, quintuply challenging when the merger prompted us to adopt new software that wasn't properly tested, sextuply challenging when, on the heels of the first merger, we bought out another competitor, forcing us to adapt to an even earlier deadline. Some men use home as a refuge from work. Some use work as a refuge from home. At the time, I was getting pounded in both ends, so to speak. My refuge, brief though it was, was Lois and our brief interludes in the bar, in her truck or in the motel. And I choose this moment to bring all this up because on the morning of the day that Lois and I had planned our strip club date, our department head at work, Dim Fred, announced that, because of quality control issues, they would be moving a major portion of our department's work to another branch of the company in another city, which would probably mean layoffs for our group. This was good and bad news for me. Good because my group was one of two whose work was not being moved, which said to me that my group was judged to be one of the top performers in the department. Bad because I had the least seniority among the supervisors, so I might suffer in any reorganization. I didn't know it then, but that was the start of a long downward slide for me which would end in my leaving the company a little over a year later, shortly before it imploded. But even though I was worried, I couldn't be too worried, because Lois looked absolutely amazing that day. She had come dressed for our date, in a low-cut leopard-print top and a short black skirt. I was pretty sure there was a garter belt and stockings underneath, and maybe velvet underwear as well. She was loaded for bear. That evening, we met at what had become our usual bar, then went to the strip club together. I should call it something - the Turnpike. We went in, got some beers and sat at a table toward the back, near the pool tables. I knew the waitress and the bartender and several of the dancers, who came around to say hi. At one point, Candace came around, looking as good as ever. I had told Lois about her, describing how pretty she was, and how she flirted with me. I think when I did it, I was fishing for compliments, like, "This stripper keeps telling me how good-looking I am, but you know, she's paid to do that." Lois was barely civil to Candace, and I could tell she didn't like her. I had some small hopes that Candace might be our third, but it was obvious that Lois was jealous, so I let that pass. The only girl I remember really making an impression was a girl named Jessica, who was a tall, slim brunette in an incredibly slinky red dress. Lois's jaw dropped when she saw Jessica, and I must admit, mine did, too. We stared at her for a good long time, and I think Lois might have tipped her when she was on-stage, but apparently Jessica was like the only stripper in the world who was not bi at all. When we left, we were both incredibly horny. Even though the Turnpike was just down the road from our motel, we had neither the time nor the money to indulge, so Lois drove us down some back streets and we ended up in the parking lot of some small industrial shop that was closed for the night. Lois turned on the radio, and we started kissing and fondling each other. As I had anticipated, she started to undo my belt and pants. I helped her, pulling my pants down around my knees for what I anticipated would be an incredible blow-job. She licked me for just a few moments, and then she reached into her glove compartment and pulled out a condom. She rolled it onto my hard cock and then straddled me, pulling up her blouse and bra to expose her marvelous, sensitive tits. She pulled her panties to the side and I slid into her wet pussy. It might not have been the most romantic of places, but there was nowhere in the world I wanted to be at that moment than sitting in the dark, illuminated only by the light of the stereo, Lois's tight pussy grinding on me while I sucked on those magnificent tits. She leaned over, putting her lips to my ear and singing softly along with the radio, "If you wanna be with me..." She sang about being rubbed the right way as she rocked gently on my cock, and to this day, I cannot hear that song without picturing that moment. She came at least three times before I shot off inside her, gasping for breath and gazing into those beautiful eyes that I could barely make out in the darkness. And then she climbed off me and I took off the condom and knotted the semen up inside it. She wrapped it in a tissue to throw away later, but when we got back to the Turnpike's parking lot, where there was better light, we couldn't find the condom wrapper. When she still couldn't find it the next day, we assumed it had fallen out of the truck when I got out. We hoped, anyway. I wiped off as much of the lipstick as I could on the way home, scraping my face raw with a leftover fast-food napkin, but I couldn't do much about the smoke smell. When I got home a little after 11:00, I ducked into the bathroom as quickly as I could to make sure the lipstick was gone and to rinse the smoke out of my hair a little. I decided to pee while I was in there, where I received a bit of a shock. The inside of my underwear was damp and pink, and there was red froth in my pubic hair. Apparently, Lois was on her period. I washed off as thoroughly as I could, then headed for bed. Mrs. Jonny was still up, waiting for me, and she was pissed. Before I could tell her about what had happened at work that morning, she told me that she thought our marriage was in trouble. We needed counseling, she said. It was the perfect way to end a perfect day. Next: Our Perfect Plan Is Foiled

Happy Thanksgiving

I hope you all have a good holiday. I know I complain a lot on this blog, but I actually do have a lot of things to be thankful for. And one of those things is the chance to share my past and my thoughts, and to get the warm responses I get from fine folks like marriedcheatingnymph and anonymapersona and xxgraciexx and desireous and oblivion and cyris and yes, even you, renegade. You are fine, smart, sexy folks (as evidenced by your good taste in reading material, ahem) and I'm thankful to have found you. My 200th post is coming up. I think I should do something special; any ideas, suggestions, requests? In the meantime, am I overwhelming you with the Lois stuff? There's a lot of it, I know, but we're over halfway done, I think. Is one chapter a day good enough, or is it too much? Should I slow it down. Well, I guess I'll get to bed. Need to get up early to cook the turkey tomorrow (yes, I do cook on occasion. and sometimes, it's even good). Enjoy, everybody (except you Canucks - you've already had yours ;) ).

Another Man's Wife: Lois Pt. 7 - Changes

Previously: A supposedly one-off sexual encounter turned into an ongoing affair with Lois. I kept insisting we needed to end it soon, but I was holding out for a promised threesome. Now: We slowed things down after that second time in the motel. Not because the sex was bad, since it wasn't, really (though I was a little disappointed). If Lois was disappointed, she didn't say so. She sent me an email later that night that said: By the way, it was more than twice and I think the smile on my face gave it away. I'll let you guess what "more than twice" means. We had several reasons for slowing down. We were in a messy post-merger transition at work. Mrs. Jonny wasn't thrilled with all the time I seemed to be spending at the "strip club." Lois's husband was getting more suspicious; one night, when we were legitimately working late, I left a little before she did and saw an SUV idling next to her truck with someone in the driver's seat. I drove quickly to the nearest pay phone and called her up to tell her she may want a security escort out to her car. I described the vehicle and she said it was just her husband checking up on her. And there was a book I was trying to finish writing. That doesn't mean we stopped altogether. By this time, almost two months after our first kiss, we had established something of a routine. I would get up early in the morning and chat with her for a while on Yahoo! Messenger. Then we would go to work, where we might exchange secret glances, but not actually discuss our relationship at all. After work, we would meet at a bar once or twice a week. There were no more blow-jobs in her truck, and no more plans for motel room trysts unless we managed to get a threesome together. She had a couple of friends from her hometown that she said came to visit occasionally and she was sure she could set something up. And then sometimes, right before bed, we'd exchange sexy emails. Sometimes, after we left the bar, we would end up driving side-by-side on the highway. We would exchange flirty looks and smiles until I had to take my exit for home. One night, right at the end of August, I took my exit onto another highway headed home, and a moment later, the car behind me passed, and this girl in the back seat, couldn't have been more than 16 or 17, was blowing me these big kisses. Apparently, we'd had an audience as we drove. And then, on Labor Day weekend, a bombshell dropped. Mrs. Jonny announced that she was pregnant. So in an instant, I went from a guy cheating on the wife who'd first cheated on him to the guy cheating on the poor woman who's carrying his child. Did I stop seeing Lois? Hell, no. I'm a dick. You can say it. A few days after hearing the big news, I was kneeling on the floorboards of Lois's truck, eating her sweet shaved pussy. It wasn't a comfortable position, but it got the job done, after which she reciprocated on me. And sometime during that same period of time, I visited my regular strip club to work on the book and ended meeting a stripper named Candace, who seemed to think I was a pretty good-looking guy. Lois got a little jealous when I told her about Candace, but at the same time, she became intrigued. According to her, I was the first guy she'd known who openly admitted he went to those kinds of places. And as we discussed that, we began discussing other fantasies we had. We began making out more often and more heavily, and then, one night toward the end of September, she gave a most incredible blow-job in her truck, unbuttoning my shirt and pulling up her blouse to rub her bare tits across my chest before swallowing me. And when that was done, she told me she wanted to go with me to the strip club the next time I went. Who knew, she said, we might even find a willing third if we looked hard enough. Next: They're Playing Our Song

Another Man's Wife: Lois Pt. 6 - Once More Done Wrong

Previously: What was supposed to be a one-time fling turned into an ongoing relationship. Lois and I began seeing each other two and three times a week, with at least one blow-job per calendar week in the three weeks between my return from my trip and our second official rendezvous. Now: I don't think you ever remember your second time with someone with as much clarity as your first. For instance, I could tell you in great detail about my first time with Mrs. Jonny (although I won't), but I couldn't really tell you anything about our second time. The exception? When, like my second time with Lana, the sex is an order of magnitude better than the first time. Or, to a lesser extent, when it's a lot worse. Like my second time with Lois. As I mentioned before, I wanted our second time to be better than our first. To that end, I began planning what I would do differently to correct what I thought were the shortcomings of our first time. Our first time had been rushed, both in getting to the motel and in what we did once we were there. Rather than meet at the motel this time, I wanted to meet at a bar first and relax a bit. And I began assembling the first rudiments of the party bag, so that we would be more prepared: for this first outing, I basically had a box of condoms, the silk boxers and (I think) a six-pack of Mike's Hard Lemon, just to have something to do between bouts of lovemaking. Turns out, the things I did to make it better actually helped make it worse. We met at the bar after work on a Thursday night. Mrs. Jonny was working late, so we had some time. We had a couple of beers, chatted and relaxed, then headed over to the same motel we'd visited before. It was still a dump, but it was cheap and they accepted cash without questions. Once we got into the room, I ducked into the bathroom to slip on the silk boxers, then put my pants back on over them. When I came out, we took things a little slower. We sat and drank a Hard Lemon and kissed before climbing into bed. She liked discovering the boxers and I liked discovering that she was back in the black velvet. And then, of course, we pulled that stuff off and got down to our real business. Things started out like they had before. She sucked and licked me, pinning me with those gorgeous eyes of hers until I shot into her mouth. Then I ate her out to more than two orgasms before putting on a condom and letting her magic pubic ridge pull a quick second orgasm out of me. I cleaned up and then we lay in bed awhile, talking and kissing. Pretty soon, I felt my interest starting to rise again. I fingered her for a while before strapping on a second condom and climbing on top for another ride. And that's when things started to go south. This next bit is a little graphic, and certainly not sxy at all, so if you want to skip it, you're welcome to. Of course, whenever I see a disclaimer like that, it vurtually guarantees I'll do exactly what they're warning me against, so whatever. You've been warned, all I'm saying. See, the thing about the male anatomy is, there's some complicated pumbing down there. You've got one gun that's got to shoot two different kinds of ammo, as it were, so that before you can ejaculate, there's got to be machinery to shut off the flow of urine, cause otherwise you could just let go and piss inside her which is just ick. Pretty elementary, right? Problem comes when one's bladder is full from, say, two beers and a Mike's Hard Lemon. In uch a case, the constriction of that system can be downright painful. Which is the situation I found myself in. I mean, here I am, with this gorgeous woman lying on her back beneath me, legs spread wide in welcome, and as I've mentioned before, is there a better feeling in all the world, a better place to be? And by the way, have I mentioned the incredible, magical pubic ridge (ribbed for my pleasure)? I am thrusting into this woman, her beautiful blue-green eyes locked onto mine, and suddenly I feel this painful pressure, and even the magical pubic ridge can't distract me from the fact that I want nothing in the world more than to run to the bathroom, rip off the condom and let fly. But if I go, I'm afraid that will kill the mood for any further adventures, and I don't know when I'm going to get to do this again. So what do I do? I try ignoring it, but it just will not be ignored. And finally I just can't take it anymore, so I swallow my pride and totally fake it, then put in the minimum respectable cuddling time before racing to the bathroom. And that was the end of the romance that night. It wasn't the last time I'd have her in a bed, nor the last time I fucked her, but it was the last time those two things happened simultaneously. Because things were about to change. Next: Big news and the search for a third

A Brief Bleg

I've read this term on National Review. 'Bleg' apparently means to beg your blog readers for help. In this case, I'm curious if anyone has had experience using the new drag-and-drop layout features in Blogger beta. I want to know how easy it is and if the results are worth it. I'm afraid of losing my current set-up if I switch, and I'm not ready to switch DJ's blog over yet and experiment that way. Oh, and speaking of DJ's blog, I checked Google PageRank today. DJ's blog, which as I've mentioned before gets only about a tenth of the traffic of this one, actually has a higher Google PageRank, apparently because of the link ratio or something. Weird, huh? One thing I have noticed, though, is that my traffic has jumped up as a result of switching to the beta version of Blogger, because I'm tagging my posts now, and some people search that way. I'm still nowhere near the popularity of Desireous or Anonyma, since I'm a straight guy and all, but more people are visiting, which is cool.

Another Man's Wife: Lois Pt. 5 - A New Twist

Previously: Right before leaving on a business trip, I had sex with Lois, an employee of mine. I told myself it would just be a one-time thing. But almost immediately upon my return, I began seeing her again. We had drinks on Monday; she gave me a blow-job on Tuesday; she wore garters to work to tease me on Wednesday. Now: We went out again on Friday, to the bar where we'd first kissed. A couple of drinks after work, followed by a furious make-out session in her truck again. I had told her before that we would only have sex that one time, but now, in my confusion, I was sending her incredibly mixed messages, telling her in email that I wanted to slow things down and then pouncing on her like a starving man when we were alone together. Although to tell the truth, she did the same thing; she was very quiet and reserved when we were together, then would send me these emails where she would confess to being confused by all these feelings. And finally, I admitted to her that I really wanted to have sex with her at least once more. "Once more done right" is the way I put it, because between the stress of time pressure and the guilt of cheating and simply not knowing her rhythms, I knew it wasn't as good as it could have been. So we began to plan for another go, although she told me she couldn't do it that night because of her monthly visitor. That Sunday, Mrs. Jonny and I went in separate directions. I called her to ask if she wanted to see a movie together, but she said no. So I called up Lois and had her meet me at another bar with parking in back, which led to another blow-job in her truck. I was terrified at how out of control I was. Her sexuality intoxicated me, but all this public risk-taking frightened the hell out of me, because that's just not the kind of guy I am (or at least it wasn't). We had dinner together on Tuesday. No beer and no blow-job. It was starting to turn into an honest-to-God relationship. Sometimes at work, when I would walk through the cube farm and see her from a distance, talking to the person in the next cube and laughing, those awesome legs stretched out in front of her, I would just kind of marvel that I was actually hitting that. It didn't seem real. Meanwhile, sex at home was almost nonexistent. Mrs. Jonny, for a number of reasons, just seemed to be getting tired of sex. Sometimes she would initiate it, but usually it seemed more motivated by a fear taht we weren't having enough rather than actually wanting it. And sometimes when I would initiate it, she would choose that moment to ask me some deep emotional question about our relationship, which for me would just kill the mood. I didn't want to insult her by blowing off the question, but at the same time, giving the subject the kind of thoughtful response it deserved distracted me from what my body and hers were doing. Almost as bad was when I started to make my opening moves toward sex, only to have her say, "I'm still bleeding a little bit, but if you decide you still want to go ahead, it should be okay. Whatever." That's the way to make a guy feel wanted. On Thursday, Lois mentioned that she'd been with women before, and had actually double-teamed a guy once. Then she hinted that she'd like to do that with me. Of course, with this new information on the table, there was no way I could end things after our next tryst, which we scheduled for the Thursday of the next week. When the day rolled around, I discovered that Lois had once more worn garters, with black stockings this time. I fantasized all day about what I would do with her after work. Then, just before five o'clock, Mrs. Jonny called to say she'd be getting off work a little early, and asked me to meet her at a restaurant for dinner. So instead of big sex, Lois and I went to the little bar where she'd given me that first blow-job. As we drank, she told about her previous experiences with women and I told her about that awful night with Hana. Then we went out to her truck, where I discovered that, in addition to the insanely sexy red garter belt/black stockings combination, she was also wearing bra and panties of black velvet. I fingered her to an orgasm, then she went down on me again. There was a dance school right behind the bar, and as Lois's head bobbed in my lap, I was watching a line of cars picking up teenage girls in leotards. It was slightly creepy, and I'm not sure if we ever did it there again. After she'd licked me clean and I'd zipped up, I jumped in my car and zipped out to the restaurant fifteen minutes late. I ate a lot of fast food and accumulated the extra napkins in my car, which came in handy when I needed to wipe Lois's lipstick off my face and neck. My usual routine on the drive home was to keep the windows open to let some of the smoke smell disperse while scraping my face and neck raw with the napkins. Then when I got home, I usually ducked straight into the bathroom to wash off whatever I'd missed. We rescheduled for Saturday . I even went out and bought something special for the date, what would be the first item in the party bag. Lois had mentioned that she thought silk boxers were sexy, so I went out and bought a pair. Then, just before I was supposed to meet Lois, Mrs. Jonny paged me and said she wanted to go furniture shopping. I apologized profusely to Lois, but she said she understood. We re-rescheduled for Tuesday night. This time, we got it right. Sort of... Next: Cheap Motel Room 2 - This Time, It's Personal

Another Man's Wife: Lois Pt. 4 - Can't Stay Away

Previously: While I was on a trip out of town, one of my employees quit, and my boss hired Lois. A few months later, Lois and I had wild monkey sex in a motel room as I was leaving on another trip. Now: The trip was mostly uneventful, although it was hard to concentrate on business. Two things happened which concern this blog, however. Number one, I bought a copy of Stephen King's The Regulators which featured a passage that hit me like a ton of bricks, considering the place I was in emotionally. And two, I went to a strip club, where I got one of the most memorable table dances of my life. The bar was a hole in the wall joint, catering mainly to a Spanish-speaking crowd. There were better clubs in town, but I didn't know where they were. I got a dance from the best looking girl there, right before she had to go on stage. I wanted another dance, but she was in high demand, so she never came back. Just as I was thinking about leaving, another girl asked me if I wanted a dance. She wasn't very pretty; she was chubby, with blonde hair hanging down over her eyes. I started to say 'no' but in the dark, her face almost looked like that chick from the Divinyls, singing "I Touch Myself," so I started to rethink. At which point she said, "Of course you do," and dragged me to the special seats along the walls. At the time, I had a favorite club near my house that I visited quite often. It was my regular place. The girls were nice, the bartenders liked me, the beer was cheap, and the table dances were only five bucks when every other place in town was charging ten. I had gotten into the habit of paying ten anyway, that is to say, paying five and tipping five, if the dance was good. So this girl leads me to the seats and sits me down. She tells me the dance costs five bucks and starts to dance. I'm basically sitting on my hands, cause where I'm from, there's no touching. This girl straddles my lap, shoves her tit into my mouth, grabs my hand and places it quite firmly on her pussy, helpfully pulling her panties aside so I can feel her lips. I'm sitting there in total shock, but pretty soon I get into it. All too soon, the song ends, and I pay her the five bucks and tip her another five. She says, get this, "The dance only costs five bucks," and even after I explain that the other five is a tip, she insists on giving me another dance. So five minutes of bonus tits and pussy for me. This time, when the song is done, I'm ready to go back to my room, but first I ask the girl her name, just in case I come back. She says, "Chiquita." A couple of days later, I sprained my ankle and ended up in a cast and on crutches. I didn't go back to the strip bar, and driving home after my two weeks was over was a pain in the ass, but I managed it. When I returned to work, I learned that someone else in my group had quit in my absence. The workload was very demanding, and my boss in particular could be a hard woman to work for. We were shorthanded at work and things were tense at home, where Mrs. Jonny had gotten caught in a feud between her mother and grandmother. So even though I'd debated breaking things off with Lois when I left, by the time I got back, I was horny enough, and things were stressful enough, that I didn't even wait a day to go out with her again. We went out after my first day back at work, and went out again the next day, Tuesday. Mrs. Jonny worked on Tuesday evenings, and my regular strip club had two-dollar specials, so if I came home smelling of beer and cigarette smoke, it would not be unusual at all. Yep, that's right. My acceptable cover story for the time I spent out with Lois was that I was at a strip club. Crazy world, isn't it? Lois was wearing the same red-and-white dress as that memorable day when she showed up at work wearing garters, so I was already horny. In those early days, we tried to be careful not to go to the same place twice in a row; we didn't want to fall into complacent habits and get caught. We ended up at this hole-in-the-wall bar that had a semi-secluded parking lot just off to the side. I thought we would just buy one beer, but she kept wanting to buy me more (I probably had three). I asked her if she'd really been wearing garters that day. She said, yes, she had, and yes, she'd caught me looking. When I told her that she was a fantasy come true--blonde, nice tits, nice legs, wears sexy clothes and garter belts, a multi-orgasmic cocksucker who swallows--she said, "Hmmm, I may just have to give you a surprise tomorrow." Turns out, she gave me a surprise later that night. A little after 8 p.m., Mrs. Jonny paged me. I called from a pay phone, and she told me to come home. She was home from work, and dinner was almost ready. We were having dinner with her mother and grandmother, one big happy family. This came as news to me. I told Lois I had to leave, so we headed out to the parking lot. I meant to give her a quick peck goodbye, but before I knew it, we were necking fiercely, and then I had her backed up against her truck, groping and grinding, and then we got into her truck to neck some more, and she went down on me. Blew me right there in the parking lot and as before, swallowed every drop. I wanted to reciprocate, but it was cramped in the truck, and it was already after 8:30, so I zipped up and took off. I got home right around 9:00, expecting to get chewed out, but Mrs. Jonny said, "You're just in time" as she was setting the last dish on the table, so I sat down and ate with the family. The next day, Lois came into my cube and sat down to ask me a question. Her skirt pulled up just the slightest bit, and there was that tell-tale hint of denser lace that indicated she was wearing garters again. She caught me looking as we discussed her question and gave me a sly smile before she left. Next: we develop a routine

Another Man's Wife: Lois Pt. 3 - The Motel

Previously: I had a hot blonde employee named Lois, who for some reason was also attracted to me. We ate dinner, went to a movie, had a few drinks and made out wildly. And then, eight days after our first kiss, we went to a motel together. Next: Once we were in the room, we didn't waste much time. I figured I only had about a 2-3 hour window of time which I could spend with Lois before I had to take off and drive all night. The whole thing felt awkward; not only had neither of us done the whole "motel room tryst" before, not only were we in a hurry because of my trip, but we were both completely sober, which was perhaps the worst part of all. Not that I need alcohol to have sex, but being at the bar gave us time to drink and relax and flirt. Without that decompression time, we were on the spot and rushing to meet a schedule, which let's face it, doesn't usually spell seductive. We didn't even waste any time turning down the bed. We started kissing almost immediately, standing there in the middle of the room, where I finally got to do what I'd wanted to do for months; undress her and reveal what had only been hinted at before. I've written previously about my fascination with strippers, and how I love to watch a woman's body transform from clothed to unclothed. One thing I like even more than watching is doing it myself, pulling a woman's clothes off slowly, one piece at a time, and then kissing the naked skin thus revealed. Her body was a little disappointing, actually. She obviously spent lots of time in the tanning booth; her skin was tanned all over, covered with dark freckles and fine wrinkles. She also had hard lumps under her skin in random places that I seem to remember were as much as mystery to her as they were t o me. Her breasts were plush and soft, but had teeny-tiny nipples in the center of these enormous areolae. God, they were sensitive, though; when we were out drinking, I only had to 'accidentally' brush her tits to get her juices flowing. Now that I had unrestricted access, I took a good long time kissing and licking those luscious, sensitive breasts, then worked my way down, kneeling on the floor in front of her as I finally got her pants off and discovered two things: one, she had incredible, florid stretch marks, and two, she was completely shaved down there. I leaned forward and tasted her while she stood over me, but the position wasn't comfortable for her, so I stood up and undressed with her help, then we lay down on the bed to continue kissing. I didn't know how she felt about oral sex, but I wasn't really expecting it. Not counting prostitutes, only two of the previous six women I'd slept with had ever so much as touched my cock with their mouths, and even counting prostitutes, only Mrs. Jonny had ever taken me all the way to completion. So I was surprised when Lois went there quickly and almost hungrily, and even more surprised when she looked straight into my eyes as she licked up and down the length of me. It was insanely arousing, a porn photo come to life, and I moaned as she took my entire length into her mouth. It wasn't the best head I've ever had, and yet in a way, it was. Like I said, my only extensive experience was with Mrs. Jonny, and for all her faults, let me say this: she can give a hell of a blow-job. Mrs. Jonny had a full repertoire: light, slow licks followed by nibbles along the shaft followed by hard suction with a swirling tongue, furious up-and-down action with her hand sliding on the shaft in tandem to add extra sensation. She was (and probably still is) an awesome cocksucker. Lois, in contrast, didn't have a wide-ranging repertoire: she licked a while and then she closed her mouth around the shaft and bobbed her head up and down. She didn't use a tremendous amount of suction, and she didn't use her hands as imaginatively as Mrs. Jonny did. But the thing that Lois had that soon had me craving blowjobs from her was this: she absolutely hungered for it. I kept expecting her to quit sucking and move on to intercourse, simply because in my years with Mrs. Jonny, I had gotten used to cumming once and then being done. If I came in her mouth, she wasn't interested in waiting around for me to get hard again, especially since my second time would take a lot longer to finish than my first. If she wanted me in her pussy, she always made sure to stop the blowjob before finishing. But Lois didn't stop. When I felt an orgasm coming on and said, "You better stop, or I'm going to come in your mouth," she just bobbed faster and harder until I did. Then she lifted her head and looked me in the eye as she swallowed every drop. Oh. My. God. "My turn," I said and pushed her onto her back. I dipped my head down to take my first real taste of her sweet, bare pussy. As I've mentioned before, I had thought that I would be creeped out by a completely smooth pussy, that it would feel as if I were going down on a young girl. But as soon as I got my first taste, I loved it. It smelled better. It tasted cleaner. Best of all, there were no loose hairs to tickle my tongue and work their way down my throat. While I was eating Lois out, I learned two more things about her. Number one, she was not a vocal lover. Once again, I was accustomed to Mrs. Jonny, who was very vocal and had taught me to be the same. I missed the moans and murmurs that let me know how she was responding to what I did. But the second thing I learned was that Lois was very orgasmic. Like Penney, she came quickly, and more than once, writhing and bucking her hips as she grabbed at my hair. With Mrs. Jonny, cunnilingus sometimes became an exercise in endurance, chasing after an orgasm that might hover just out of reach but never come, so to speak. With Lois, it was there, almost immediately, and within a few minutes, it was there again. She didn't have great heaving, gasping screamers like Mrs. Jonny sometimes did, but she made it up in quantity. She had at least three orgasms in about half the time it would have taken Mrs. Jonny to have one. By the time she'd gotten to three, I was hard again and ready for some good old fashioned fucking. I put on a condom and lay on my back as she mounted me. She ground her pussy against my pelvis as I sat up and sucked on those tiny, but sensitive nipples. She came at least twice more, and then I was cumming again, all too soon. We cleaned up a little, and then turned down the covers and climbed into bed for a while. We stared into each other's eyes and talked as our hands explored each other's bodies, and after a while, she had gotten me hard again. She kissed her way down my body and took my cock into her mouth once more. I tried to tell her it wouldn't do any good. I had never come more than twice during a single session, except maybe that one incredible New Year's Eve with Wilma. Lois didn't stop, and I didn't try very hard to make her, because it felt wonderful. And even though it took a long time, I was amazed to feel myself cumming again. I don't know if I had anything left to shoot, really. Like before, she never opened her mouth, simply swallowed all I had to give (which was another way in which she outdid Mrs. Jonny - Mrs. Jonny was a spitter). I don't remember if I went down on her again--I don't think I did, simply because I didn't want to taste the spermicide from the condom--but at some point, we ended up fucking a second time. I think we might have done it bareback, because I don't remember if we had another condom with us. We fucked missionary this time, and even though I would have sworn it was impossible, pretty soon I was cumming for the FOURTH time in two hours. It wasn't so much that her pussy was tight, but there was like a ridge of bone or something that I hadn't encountered in any other woman. It was right at the entrance to her pussy, and it pressed against the top of my cock, dragging back and forth as I thrust in and out. Maybe it was just the way she angled her pelvis or something, but whatever it was, my God, it was freaking magical. I miss that so much. I'm pretty sure I shot a blank on that fourth try. It probably wasn't even physically possible for me to shoot four loads in two hours, but damn, it felt good all the same. And even though my mind was telling me that you couldn't get my cock up with a crane at that point, my body was willing to test that theory. If time hadn't been running out for me to leave, I think both she and I might have been good to go for another two hours. I had come four times, and she had come at least six or eight and was still raring to go. But I had to leave. So I took a quick shower, got dressed and kissed her and then we left the motel. She promised to email me every day, even though I wasn't sure whether I'd have any way to receive them where I was going. As soon as I was alone and on the road, the guilt hit hard. I had finally done it. I had well and truly cheated on Mrs. Jonny. I had rationalized my earlier indiscretions. I'd never actually had sex with S&K, Hana was a one-time aberration for pay that I was too drunk to enjoy, and cybersex was just basically verbal masturbation. But this had been the real thing, and I felt terribly conflicted. I had promised myself that if I ever did cheat, it would just be sexual, not emotional. But I really liked Lois. Beyond the sex, she was really great to talk to, and we seemed to get along wonderfully. But my mind kept going back and forth. She was so incredibly sexy when dressed, but weird-looking when naked. Compared to the physical groove I'd found with Mrs. Jonny, the sex this time had been mediocre; we just didn't know each other's rhythms well. But I had come FOUR FUCKING TIMES in two hours, which for me was just epic; in that sense, it had to be counted as some of the best sex of my life. When I left and the guilt first hit, I told myself that now that I had finally gotten my revenge out of my system, I would never do it again. Sixteen hours later, I was arriving at my destination and planning how much better our next time would be.

A Brief Pause

Synchronicity is amazing. I've been going back through my old journals to get my facts straight about my time with Lois. The Lois stuff spans three different volumes. So I skim through one, then I sneak the second into work with me, thinking I'll look through it when I have some down time. When I open my email at work, I see a company-wide notice that we're undergoing a major restructuring. While discussing this with coworkers, I mention that I went through something similar at my previous job (when I worked with Lois). Later that day, I open volume two, and the second entry is "Today we found out they're restructuring our department." So the whole Lois saga is having some relevance in my life beyond the memory of sex. God, after thinking about her so much these past few days, I really wanted to call her tonight. Even after reading the truly tortuous stuff at the end, I still wanted to see her and hear her voice. The next entry will give you a good idea why.

Another Man's Wife: Lois Pt. 2 - Making Sure

Previously: Lois worked for me. I lusted after her, but dared not make a move for fear of being labeled a sexual harasser. Then one night, we ended up alone after an employee get-together and kissed. Next: I wasn't sure what to do with myself the next day at work. I went about my day as normal, but whenever I talked to Lois, she gave no sign that anything out of the ordinary had happened. I started to wonder if maybe she regretted what we had done and wanted to pretend it hadn't happened. But I decided to take some sort of shot anyway, because it was Friday, and I thought we might get together over the weekend. At the end of the day, I wrote my private email address on a piece of paper and handed it to her. She smiled slyly, tucked the paper into her pocket and left without a word. The next day, Saturday, Mrs. Jonny was going to be out and about with one of her friends, so I called up Lois and invited her to a movie that afternoon. She agreed to meet me at the theater. The theater was in a mall; I got there about twenty minutes early. While I was in line to buy my ticket, I ran into Mrs. Jonny and friend. Turns out they had come to the mall to do some shoopping. I tried not to let my panic show on my face as I silently prayed that Lois would not show up, at least for a few minutes. I bought my ticket and went on into the theater, then lurked back in the lobby, watching the door for Lois's arrival. When she came in, I waved her over then rushed her back to the screening room. When I calmed down a little, the movie was fun. By the end of the movie, our hands were all over each other. We left the theater, and went to a neighborhood pub, where we talked and flirted a while, then made out in her truck after (my car was two-seater, while she drove a pick-up with a nice bench seat, so whenever we made out in a vehicle, it was always hers). I wanted to fuck her right then and there, but it was after 7 p.m., and I was afraid Mrs. Jonny was waiting on me, so I tore myself away and went home. Mrs. Jonny wasn't even home. She was still out with her friend, and didn't come home until after 11. We went out of town for the Fourth of July the next day, but I couldn't pay any attention to the fireworks. All I could think of was Lois - her eyes, her lips, her body groping against mine. She was so far out of my league, it wasn't funny. A couple of inches taller than me, with bleached blonde hair, blue-green eyes and tanned skin that pulled up into tiny wrinkles around her eyes when she smiled at me (which was all the time). She was the tiniest bit pear-shaped, hips just a little too large for her shoulders, but her legs were gorgeous and her breasts were the perfect size. I felt amazingly fortunate, yet a little ridiculous. I was that worst of cliche's: the middle-aged boss dating his hot secretary (or closest equivalent). When we got back home on Monday night, I IM'd her and chatted for a bit. I mentioned that I'd been thinking about her all weekend, and she didn't answer for a while, and then Mrs. Jonny wanted to use the computer, so I shut down. I worried that maybe I had pushed too hard, scared her off, but I took condoms to work with me the next day anyway, thinking I might try to get her into bed somehow that night. Mrs. Jonny was busy on Tuesday and Thursday evenings, so I was on my own. Lois and I went to dinner that night, but had a hard time choosing a place, because Lois didn't want to be in a part of town frequented by her husband or any of his friends (ETA: the place where we ended up eating was just down the street from what would become Penney's studio, literally about a quarter-mile away). We drove a long way and finally ended up in an out-of-the-way place where we chatted and talked. Turns out, her husband had caught her on IM and accused her of cheating on him. I figured this date was her way of telling me we couldn't go any further cause she was busted, but she said it wasn't a big deal. He'd been accusing her of cheating for a long time. She figured if he was going to keep accusing her, she might as well earn it. When I brought up the possibility of sex, she said, "No, not now. I mean, not tonight. Not tomorrow night. We can do it Thursday..." As easy as that, I was pencilled in. On Thursday, Lois stopped by my cube at one point and sat down to ask me a question. She was wearing this red dress with white polka dots and white hose. When she sat down, her skirt pulled up a couple of inches and I saw a strip of denser white lace. peeking out from under the edge of the skirt. She was wearing a garter belt. Understand, I had never dated a woman who wore that kind of stuff before. Neither Little Debbi nor Wilma nor Mrs. Jonny was much the girly girl, with frills and lace. Mrs. Jonny had gotten a garter belt at her bachelorette party and worn it maybe twice and only in our bedroom, and I had gotten her one as a present that she wore out exactly once. So that little glimpse of fantasyland had me raging hard practically the entire day. And then, as I was getting off work, and daydreaming how soon I would just be getting off, Mrs. Jonny called to say she was skipping work that night so we could spend some time together. It hurt to tell Lois I had to cancel at the last moment, but she said she understood, and we tentatively made plans to get together the next day. I had to leave town for a couple of weeks; I would be driving all night. I had budgeted time and money for a motel stay on the trip. There was no rule that said I couldn't have that motel stay on the way out of town. And so, I left work early on Friday, went home and packed, and then waited for Lois to page me. We met in a parking lot and then drove to a cheap motel right by the turnpike entrance. The room wasn't fancy, pretty much just walls and a bed, but we didn't need anything else... Soon: sex, finally...

Another Man's Wife: Meeting Lois

Several months after my night with Hana, my time overseas ended and I came back home. A couple of months later, I started a new job with a new company in my wife's hometown. The job went well; it was a temp to perm position, and I moved up quickly. The department I worked for was a new one, and the area I was assigned to grew quickly. Less than a year after I started there, my supervisor quit, and since I had been a supervisor in my previous job, I got the promotion. Those were good but stressful days. Besides working a high-stress job, I was also going to school at night, trying to write a book, and looking for a hook-up on this new internet service called AdultFriendFinder. But everything was moving in the right direction: my group was expanding, I was getting all 'A's,' the book was going decently, and though I never met any women in person, I had some hot cyber-encounters. Mrs. Jonny and I drifted apart a bit; she was also working and getting her Master's Degree, and the last few years had damaged our relationship a lot. I got the promotion in September. In February, we were hit with a devastating tragedy that I won't spell out here. In March, I took some time off, a trip to Los Angeles for a few days. When I returned, I learned that my boss had hired a new person to add to my group. When I met her, I was both happy and upset. Her name was Lois, and she was gorgeous. Not just that, but she dressed sexy: tight skirts that showed off her legs, blouses that showed just a hint of luscious cleavage. Not only that, but she was friendly and easy to talk to. She had a gorgeous smile, and she laughed at all my jokes, and I quickly developed a little crush on her. I knew I would never dare to approach her for real for that reason, but I still loved talking to her and making her laugh, and sometimes, when our eyes met, it seemed that she might be feeling an attraction to me as well, but I didn't dare ask. Because in my previous job, I had seen firsthand how sexual harassment, or even the accusation of it, could ruin careers, and the atmosphere at this new company was strained. In fact, I had a bit of a strained relationship with one of the other girls who worked for me, because she'd made a flippant comment one time about trading massages with me. Instead of laughing it off, I just looked at her, trying to decide if she was seriously propositioning me, and she thought I was offended. We were never really at ease around each other after that. But there were lots of women there that I had crushes on: our corporate trainer, for one, and a slim brunette from the front office, and an incredibly sexy redhead in Customer Service named Lacy. Hell, hardly a day went by that I didn't have impure thoughts about at least three women in the company. Lois was just one among many. And then on the first of July, one of the guys in my group invited me to a going-away do for one of the tech support guys after work. We had a bar downstairs, kinda like Ally McBeal, and when I went down, I found half my group drinking together. Lois was one of them. We sat and partied for a while, and then the others began to leave, one by one. Finally, it was just down to Lois and me. I told her that Mrs. Jonny was working that evening, so I was on my own, and asked her if she'd like to grab some dinner. She said yes. We went to a nearby restaurant, ate and talked and flirted, and as we were walking out, I told her I didn't want the evening to be over, because I was having too much fun. So I asked her if she'd like to get another drink someplace or just call it a night. She said, "Let's get another drink." We went to a little hole-in-the-wall bar I knew about, far off the beaten path, where we drank and talked a little more intimately. Finally, we decided to call it a night. We walked outside, and it was obvious there was something going on between us. I mentioned something about "what we're both thinking," not wanting to say the words out loud, because we were both married and I was her boss. She said, "Maybe I'm not thinking what you think I am." I figured I knew a brush-off when I heard one, so I shrugged and said, "You're right," and walked past her to get to my car. It was better this way, anyhow. "And then again, maybe I am," she said. And then we kissed. Not just once, but for several minutes. Drunken, clumsy kisses, practically feeling each other up right there in the back parking lot. I gave her one last kiss goodnight and got in my car to go home, realizing what you now know: That I, Nightside Jonny, liar, cheater, adulterer, john, rapist, was now also officially a sexual harasser. Hot'n'heavy next time...

It Figures

So on Monday, after quite a lot of moaning and groaning and scheming and planning and saving, I dropped a bunch of money on a paid companion. And then today, Wednesday, I get an email from a woman whose craigslist ad I replied to a while back. It was weird; it read like a form letter, saying that it was being sent to all the men who made the "first cut" from the deluge of responses she received. She gave a brief bio of herself, including her name. Then she listed three things any potential second cut survivors would have to send her in order to move up the poon chain. One of those is a fact about her. Apparently, I'm supposed to use my Google-fu skillz to find out some personal detail she neglected to disclose on her bio. Stalkeriffic! I'm intrigued by the lady, and yet, I'm not a very good stalker. I looked up her yahoo profile, and it's blank. I looked up her name on court records, and the only record I could find that falls within the time period she says she's lived in state was an eviction proceeding; not sure it's her, and not sure I want to hit that if it is. Don't know her maiden name, so I can't look for any records from before her marriage. I think she might work in a legal office (or else she's a fan of Brazilian rap) based on her screen name. I can give her a few guesses, but nothing concrete, other than the husband's name from the eviction, if in fact it is the same couple. Don't know if it's worth it, really. I suppose I'll wait to reply for a day or two, see if further inspiration strikes.

About Damn Time

So I finally did it. I called up Penney yesterday and got down to it. The (very long) details: Penney is a provider I've seen twice before. She's a friend of HotRed's, mid- to late-30's, she says. She's got that Playboy Playmate, California Goddess look: tanned, blonde, big boobs. But she is, in fact, a science-fiction dream girl, an amusement park ride: hair extensions, bleach, breast implants, spray-on tan. Luckily, the pussy is real. My first two visits were pretty good. The place doesn't pretend to be a legitimate spa. The massage rooms are dark, with candlelight and mirrors all the way round, and Penney has several tricks to make the massage experience very sensual. My first two visits, my only real complaints were that I didn't get close to my full allotment of time and that full-service was not on the menu. And since my last visit, I've learned that full-service has become an option. So although I was intrigued by a couple of other possibilities, I decided to see Penney this time. I left early for work, dropped by the Jonny-cave to pick up my cash. Then I dropped by the bank to make one last withdrawal. I am now reduced to counting quarters until payday. According to her website, Penney doesn't open up shop until 10:30, so I wait to call until 10:10. I have two cell phones, one business and one personal. The personal one doesn't work well inside the building where I work, and I'm not about to use my business phone to make this call, so I go out and sit in my car in the parking lot. I've spent all morning working up my nerve, and when the time comes, I feel panicky. I'm never good at calling people, especially women. I make the appointment for noon and go back inside to work. I spend the rest of the morning with nervous flutters in my belly, my system spiking with adrenaline. This is one reason, I think, why I tend to do the stupid thing, the drunken thing. Go out, get a few drinks to relax, then drop a bunch of money at a strip bar or (more recently) a massage parlor that stays open late. Because doing it purposefully like this, planning ahead and calling for an appointment, is just terrifying... Around 11, Penney calls back to confirm our arrangements. She didn't recognize my voice before, didn't remember my name, so she keeps asking me more questions, sounding awfully suspicious. It doesn't help that my phone keeps cutting out, because as I said before, it doesn't work well inside the building, and I have to keep my voice down so I'm not overheard. Finally, the time comes. I head out to my car at about 12 minutes to noon. Her studio is just a little over a mile from where I work, so I have plenty of time. I'm a nervous wreck, my pits wet and my mouth dry. I put on cologne in the car, then stop off at a convenience store to buy some gum for my breath. And then I drive across the street to Penney's place. Her studio is at the end of a strip mall, behind mirrored windows that are covered from behind. A piece of paper out front says that she's a physical trainer who works by appointment only. I ring the bell, knowing that she's checking me out on the video camera mounted above the door. A few moments later, she opens the door to let me in; even though she's got her SUV parked to block the view from the street, she still stays well back from the door, pushing it open with one outstretched arm, because she's dressed only in panties and a black lacy bra. She recognizes me now, calling me by my screen name rather than my real name (just like I call her by her 'working' name rather than her real name). I've been building this moment up in my mind for so long, been saving my money up for so long, and now I'm just a bundle of nerves and fear. I brought a camera, hoping I might take some pictures of our time together, but I know from the moment I walk in the door that I won't even bring the subject up. The camera stays in my pocket for the entire visit, and she never even knows it's there. She leads me back to the room, and I ask to use the restroom first. She asks if I need a shower, and I say no. I showered just a few hours earlier; I just want to wash off some of the flop sweat. I clean up and head back into the room; she leaves me alone to undress, tells me to leave my money in a small bowl by the door while I'm at it. I'm not sure what to do at first; I'm here for the full GFE I've been reading about, the Girl Friend Experience, not another ersatz massage-plus. But the environment overwhelms me; I'm in a massage room with a massage table, covered by a clean sheet, with clean towels and a single condom, so I do what I'm used to. I strip down and lie on my stomach, placing the towel across my buttocks. Penney comes in and immediately pulls the towel off, then asks me how I've been. She apologizes that the heat is broken, then moves to a space heater to warm her hands before putting them on me. She begins a half-hearted massage, fretting that her hands are cold. As she rubs, she tells me that she's going to be moving soon. She's going legit, or at least semi-legit; she's opening a full-service spa, with tanning and therapeutic massage up front, and around back, like flipping over a Beeline Double-Novel, a full-service escort parlor, complete with a garage with overhead door so married assholes like me can hide their cars while they're getting serviced. She remembers that I used to visit HotRed's place all the time on the pretext of tanning, so she tells me she'll send me a coupon for a free tanning session or something when she opens up shop. And all the while this is going on, I'm trying to figure out a good way to get her to move on to the good part, because I haven't had sex in four months, and with what it's costing me now, I'm not likely to have it again for another six, so I'm sort of thinking I might try to go for two times. I've been saving up more than money for a while now, so I could go quickly if I let myself and still probably have something left for a second finish. But she doesn't seem in any hurry, and she's so much more chatty and less seductive this time around, and I don't know for sure if she allows two pops (or two bells or whatever you want to call it) if you're not paying extra, which I couldn't even if I wanted to. But she can apparently tell I'm getting impatient, because she moves up to work on my shoulders, her naked body now straddling mine. I can feel her stiff, trimmed pussy whiskers needling into my back; I reach back to caress her legs on either side of me and feel stubble, and this is so less sexy than the last time. And finally she climbs off and lays down beside me, and we begin to kiss. I'm glad I used the Eclipse now, but she doesn't kiss me very deeply, so I move down to her enhanced breasts. She encourages me with small moans, but the angle is clumsy, because even though the room is cozy, we're still on a massage table, which you don't lie down on, but rather climb up on, and it's a tight fit with two people. She slides over to the center and I move over her, kissing my way down to her breasts again. She once again makes with the moans, which sound good but a little fake, and she seems pretty impatient, so I kiss my way down her fluttering belly, trailing my tongue down past her navel, and her breath is catching in her throat and then I'm between her legs. Her moans turn more frantic as I lick down the stubble on one side of her crotch, front to back, my tongue almost but not quite touching her pussy lips, then back up the other side. Her pussy doesn't smell quite right; it's not bad, not an ugly fishy smell, but not what I'm used to. And when I taste it, it doesn't taste quite right, either. The modified plasma exudate... okay, let me pause for just a second - I've bemoaned before the lack of a common name for vaginal lubrication fluid, something feminine, yet quick and easy and descriptive, a female equivalent of cum or precum or jizz or what have you. I played around with a few names, flowery things with multiple syllables ending in -la or -ora, but they all came out sounding clunky and drug-like. And besides, I'm convinced that it needs to be something quick and easy, just one or two syllables, like jizm or cum, so for today's story, that word shall be... yum - and now back to the story... Her yum is thick, syrupy, with an almost chemical taste to it. Mrs. Jonny's was usually watery, with a more citrusy taste, and it was much the same with Lois and Lana and even Penney the last time I was here. But now, the yum, in smell and taste and consistency, is more like... cocoa butter is the thing that comes to mind, and it's not bad, exactly, but it's not what I've developed a taste for, and not what I was expecting. Like biting into a cupcake only to discover too late that it's a bran muffin. But I keep licking, and Penney's going crazy. I hear her mutter, "Oh God, I'm going to cum already," and I lick faster, and now her hips are bucking wildly up off the table. I slow down and then begin again, this time adding a couple of fingers inside her. I lick for a while with my fingers moving slowly in and out, and it seems like she might be done. I consider quitting, but my stupid ego wants to know if she faked it, and the only way I can tell for sure is to feel the spasms with my fingers, from inside (unless girls fake that, too). And here's the thing: Mrs. Jonny, unlike Lois and Penney, does not cum quickly, ever. So although I still wouldn't count myself a great lover, I have developed a repertoire of tricks in that area that work pretty well. So I rotate my fingers a quarter turn and begin to move them in rhythm with my tongue, and less than a minute later, she's screaming and bucking and cumming again, her spasms so strong that they squeeze my damn fingers right out of her. I consider going for a third pop, because let's face it, I paid a lot of money for this. I mean, I didn't pay all this extra money for simple sex. I could have had sex cheaper, like over a hundred dollars cheaper. I'd planned to pay it for a bed, but I didn't get that either. So what I've ended up paying the extra cash for was the freedom to eat pussy for a while. But while I was taking Penney to that second orgasm (and let me say, just for the record, that I love multi-orgasmic women - it's one of the things I miss most about Lois, and yes, I'll be saying much more on that subject soon), she was playing with my cock and balls, and I figure it's my turn. I move back and get up on my knees, and Penney immediately grabs for the condom. It's a little disappointing, because she's gone down on me bareback before, but I'll live with it. Maybe she's afraid that I'll pop too soon if I feel her unhindered by rubber. Anyway, she licks at me for a while as I kneel over her, and it just looks awkward as hell. I ask her if it would be better if I lie down, but she says no and gets up on all fours. She sucks me a bit more, and although virtually any head is good head (and I say this having experienced genuinely bad head at least once), it's not as good as she gave me before. That's the frustrating thing about this whole trip; I paid the hundred dollars extra to have a better time than before, and so far, everything's been just a little worse. And then she pulls her mouth off of me and says, "Get behind me." I've read in her previous reviews that doggy is her favorite position, and I gotta say, I like it, too. In my younger days, when I would have sex with Little Debbi, it was almost always a two-shot proposition. I would start to fuck her and cum within the first two minutes or so. But since I didn't want to disappoint her, or make her think I was a premature ejaculator, I would make myself stay erect, just slowing down for a bit, then speed up again, fucking hard for a good long time before finally getting that second pop. Sometimes I would tire out before I got it, but usually, I was good for it once I moved into doggy. Something about the change of angle would have me cumming within a couple of minutes after over twenty minutes of missionary got me frustratingly close, but never quite there. I had no other arrows in my quiver at the time, really, except the ability to keep going to a second shot. I was a good kisser, but I didn't really know any positions, and I didn't know anything about eating pussy. This is what they mean when they say youth is wasted on the young; if I'd had the knowledge and practice I have now back when I had that kind of stamina, I would have had women all over me (I like to think). I move behind Penney and work my cock into her and begin to thrust slowly in and out, my hands caressing her back and hips. She moans and writhes, and I know from my reading online that she likes it hard. So I speed up a little bit, but I don't want to go too hard, because I know I'll go quick if I do. But almost as soon as I speed up, she starts to gasp that she's going to cum again, so I speed up more, my hands on her hips yanking her back into me, my pelvis smacking into hers, and she screams that she's cumming and blam I'm done, too. But I don't want to be done, because I know I've gone nowhere near an hour, even though the one clock I can see is either not running or not set correctly. But I know that, just like the pictures, I'll chicken out on asking for the second pop. So, in true Jonny fashion, I slow down my thrusts, but keep moving for a while, thinking that maybe I can get back a little Young Jonny mojo, fool her into thinking I never went after all and just keep thrusting through that second orgasm. But I can hardly feel anything through the condom, and the cocoa-butter yum isn't allowing me to slide freely, and the whole thing just feels weird, so after a few more seconds, I speed up again and totally fake it. And then we both stay in that position for a little while longer, me caressing her smooth back and ass, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on the small of her back before pulling out of her, pinching the rubber at the base of my cock to make sure it comes out, too. She takes the rubber off me and wipes me clean with a towel, then leaves the room to dispose of the evidence. I check my watch while she's gone; almost exactly thirty minutes. Damn. I lie down and she comes back in to lie next to me and pillow talk a little. We chat a while, me with this lovely woman, this so-called Girl Friend Experience, her beauty as false as her love, although as she tells me, true beauty comes from within. And by that standard, she is beautiful. She's very pleasant and friendly, and I've seen her MySpace page, which is devoted to her teenage kids and their friends, with not a hint of prostitutionality. She's a nice girl, but I wanted something wild and impossible, and she wasn't it today, and I'm going to have to eat a lot of ramen, tucking away my lunch money, before I can try again. We talk for a while longer, mainly about her broken heat and her new salon. She's very excited about it. I look into her blue eyes and stroke her arm as she tells me that she knew she would cum quickly, because she hasn't had an appointment since Thursday morning. She hasn't cum in three whole days, so it came quickly and hard. The last thing I want to hear is this gorgeous woman complaining about how nobody has paid her for sex in half a week, so I make a little joke about how it's been a hell of a lot longer than that for me, and that I want to take a quick shower before I go back to work. I pass a clock in the hall on the way to the bathroom; it's nowhere near the correct time. I stand under the hot water, washing the cocoa-butter yum off my face, making sure not to get my hair wet, because wouldn't that cause some awkward questions at work? I dry off and get dressed while she phones the heater guy, and I notice a clock in the bathroom that's also not set at the right time. Damn, how many clocks does she have, and do any of them work? She leads me to the door, dressed in fresh clean lingerie, ready for her next visitor. She offers me her cheek to kiss as I head out the door. I head back to work, and for the rest of the day, I look at the women in the office a lot differently. I look at them and picture Penney's ass slamming into my pelvis, my hands on her smooth hips. I imagine I can still smell Penney on me, and wonder if they can too, even though it's surely impossible; I washed my face and hands much too thoroughly for that. But that faint smell still won't leave me alone. And maybe the women at work might pick up on that, suddenly thinking of sex when I'm around without knowing quite why. Wouldn't that be cool? (Cooler still if they realized I was the reason, and took advantage of it, but oh well...) And then late in the day, I stil smell it and realize that I wasn't very thorough in washing my back; what I've been smelling all day is the faint odor of the oil she used to massage me. But by the next day, even that'll be gone. And now I'm back to square one.