Aoife

"Rhett, can you come in here?" My wife's voice sounded tense so I went down to the office right then.

"What's wrong honey?"

"Who the hell is Aoife?"

Oh shit, I thought to myself, instantly dreading what my wife might know about her. See, Aoife works for me at Lochman and Fine. It's a pretty big company specializing in negotiating bills between hospitals and insurance companies. Admittedly boring stuff, but it gets complicated fast and since I'd been working with a pretty big client, I was allowed to hire an additional person.

The main thing I learned about Aoife from her interview is that she is smoking hot. She wore this white, button up shirt. Over this she had a lacy tea green shawl. The green matched her eyes and brought out the fire in her curly red hair. She a bit on the slender side; maybe 5'9'' and 110 pounds? She was cute, with perfectly proportioned face. Her shirt was unbuttoned enough to see the tops of her breasts, which looked smooth and firm. I so wanted to reach out and feel then.

So I guess you could say I hired her for her smarts. No seriously, she was smart as a tack and funny. Within a week, she could process claims as fast as anyone. You can imagine why when we got a bit backed up on paperwork, I was thrilled when she offered to stay late and help. Still, by seven PM, my mind was starting to wander.

"Yes?" she said.

I must have looked confused.

"It's just that you were staring at me."

"Was I? Sorry. Maybe I'm just getting a bit hungry," I lied. Her red lipstick matched her hair and her thin lips we're screaming at me. I could just imagine how smooth they would feel, if I could just reach over and touch her. Not a kiss, that would be wrong, but maybe I could just get a little closer.

I moved to the chair just to her right. I would think up an excuse when I got there.

Her hand touched the back of mine when I put it on the table. Was she saying stop? She slowly rubbed her hand over mine. She had light brown freckles on her otherwise perfect skin. Her hand passed over my wedding ring. This was so wrong.

Without thinking, I brought my face towards hers. Her eyes were locked on mine, yet timidly. As we kissed, it was like the tension evaporated from the room. I reached around and felt the smooth cotton on her back. I tried to unbutton the her shirt but it was taking too long, so I just ripped the buttons apart. I've never done anything like that, but I couldn't push back this desire to see her breasts. They were smooth and firm, with nipples lighter than her lips.

She just softly said "Rhett" and started kissing me back. She unbuttoned by shirt, and I pulled off the T-shirt underneath. I pulled down my pants and she pulled down hers. Then, I started on her underwear. It turns out red-heads have red pubic hair as well, but hers were neatly trimmed like airplane lights flashing, "Fuck me".

I saw her eyes look down at my briefs. Was that a smirk? I could feel my dick getting hard against my underwear. I'm pretty well endowed. (Nearly, 4.5 inches erect to be precise.) She pulled down my briefs and started kissing my dick. Her saliva was mixing with my pre-cum. I wonder what it tasted like.

Then, like a porn movie star, I hoisted her onto the desk. I placed her naked butt on the smooth wood table. Her legs straddled mine and I slid my throbbing dick into her sloppy ginger cunt. She felt so smooth as her warmth surrounded me. My hips pounded into hers as she moaned, "Yes. Yes. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me harder you fucking stud!" I pounded her like there was no tomorrow. I was lost in her beauty and sexual power. Harder and harder we went, moaning, and kissing, and fucking, until I came and my dick exploded cum into her. It was the best sex I'd ever had.

Aoife, on the other hand, was clearly less pleased. "What? You fucking came already?" She pulled off of me and slapped me in the face. For real. I've never been hit by a woman before. I mentally and physically deflated. We got dressed and left without another word.

The next morning I got an email: "Hey Rhett, Sorry I slapped you. You're cute and things were going well... I'll give you another chance if you can promise more staying power. XO Aoife"

This was the email my wife had happened on when she (accidentally?) work up my computer downstairs in the office.

"So what does this mean?" I scrambled to think of a story that could even come close to explaining the email, while trying to guess whether she could read the shame of the truth on my face.

"Oh, that's a co-worker. We were working late and I started dozing off and can you believe she sort of slapped me in the face to wake me up? Crazy, huh?"

"Totally," my wife replied, "well, she seems nice. I think I'll invite her over for dinner tonight."

"OK then..." I mumbled.