Andrea Ch 02 1

This is the second in a series, based on a life events that forever changed me. Names have been changed...

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I woke up, holding onto a body, not just any body, but the body that I wanted so bad that I would commit adultery to have. She was sweet, and soft, and warm. No, she was hot! And she smelled of the perfume Obsession. We were tangled together, her arms over mine and my hands holding her waist, gripping it in my sleep, trying to force her closer to me. Her little breasts drilled into my chest as she inhaled. There it was. She inhaled and her nipples grazed my chest. She exhaled and her nipples left my chest. She inhaled and I rejoiced.

I gently slid down in the bed, moving slowly so as not to wake her. I resisted the temptation to suck her nipples into my mouth and kept moving down. At her waist, I marveled at her beauty and looked up to see her breasts moving as she breathed. I reached my destination and looked at her pussy.I stuck out my tongue and licked her pussy lips from the bottom to the top, lingering on her clit and grinding my tongue into her flesh. I pushed her clit to the left and then to the right, using my tongue to make it wiggle. Then, I went lower and stuck my tongue into her pussy, drinking in her juices.

"How do you like the taste of your own cum?" she asked me as I lapped at the lips of her pussy.

"It's like sweet nectar," I said, lifting my head up from her pussy for only a moment, then burrowing back into the sweetest pussy I had ever tasted.

This time I didn't sit straight up. I enjoyed my dream. I languished in it. I let myself come awake, lying next to my oblivious wife. Andrea's body, as I imagined it, slowly drifted away. I let it go, knowing that it was only a dream away.

I awoke. It was Wednesday. Staff meeting.

What do you say to a dream realized? What do you say to getting a pony for your birthday? What do you say to having someone hand you a stick of dynamite?

I had told an impossibly younger co-worker that I had a crush on her. It was supposed to stop there. It didn't. She told me that she had a crush on me. Or, at least, that's what I thought she had told me.

Andrea knew how to dress. She didn't just dress, she planned how to make herself appear. I can't think of a better word. There was the makeup, there was the clothing, there was the matching color, there were the accessories and, more than anything, there was the moment when she revealed herself to the rest of the world. It was a surprise each day.

I liked to be surprised. I didn't realize it, but I liked to be surprised. I liked to look at Andrea. Okay. I'm not kidding anyone. I loved to look at Andrea. She had jet black hair, the product of her Greek heritage. She had a body built for sex. That is to say she had a wasp waist and child-bearing hips. Her breasts were small, 34 A cup, if I had to guess. But they were so sensitive. Just the lash of my tongue made her gasp. Her legs were long, to my eye, and she had this dark cast to her skin. Her legs were wonderful. They were long and clasped around my hips as I thrust into her.

And today would be the first day since I had told Andrea that I had a dream about her, a seductive dream in which she was expressing her desire for me and telling me that she knew that I desired her.

She was right.

Staff meeting was Wednesday and I got there early. We put our publication to bed late on Tuesday night, so staff meeting began at noon on Wednesday. For this staff meeting, I arrayed myself to see the only door into which staff came. I was waiting in my hunter's den for a clear shot.

She came in wearing a long, purple skirt. Her top was also purple and laid on that chest onto which I wished to rest my head for the rest of my life. She sat down up front and I lurked in the back. Staff meeting came and went. I didn't hear a word and I didn't see a thing.

Afterwards, I approached Andrea and asked her if she would like to go to lunch. She looked at me, weighing out her options. "Sure."

I don't know what we talked about. I don't know what I said. I don't know that happened. But, after lunch, we wound up in the office, sitting face to face and working. I don't know how I did it, but I kept at it, working to make an article appear on my screen each day for the rest of the week, still sneaking peeks at Andrea as she sat across from me. Then came Sunday night/Monday morning.

I usually worked from midnight to noon on Monday, working to get the latest news and make it fresh for our weekly publication. I spent my time on the grunt work and left the reporting to later in the day. I had a key to the office, which management happily gave me. I liked the isolation and the aloneness. So, I was working away, happily writing and oblivious. Then, there was a knock at the door.

I froze. I knew what to expect. I went to the door and opened it. There was Andrea. She walked in, without speaking. She went to her desk, which is to say she sat down directly across from me. "I have some things to write, so I thought I would get an early start, just like you."

Alone, in the office, away from everyone for at least 8 hours. Just me and Andrea. Alone. Jesus Christ.