I don't really know what happened, to be honest with you. I was a perfectly normal thirty-year-old woman who had been married for eight years. No children, but that could happen someday. I had a career as a paralegal in a good sized law firm in a good sized Midwestern city. I was considering going back to school for my law degree. Life was good.
Well, actually, that's a lie. If life had been so good, it wouldn't have happened. Looking back now it's obvious something was missing. You can call it 'excitement' if you want, but something was missing from my life that I unconsciously longed for. I also think the fact I was getting older and realized my opportunities to have 'fun' were numbered played into it.
Add to that the fact that Tom was such a fantastic co-worker and I guess I was bound to fall into the trap. No, I'm not blaming him. God knows it was my fault. It was just the perfect storm of my wants and needs, his appeal, and an opportunity. I have no regrets. I absolutely loved everything we did and I'd do it all over again...and again...and again.
Tom was a forty-year-old lawyer at the firm. He was smart, funny, playful and not at all bad looking. He had a great body for his age, at least what I could see of it in his work clothes. We interacted quite a bit because of our jobs. As a paralegal, I did a lot of the legal research necessary for his cases. I also kept spreadsheets and miscellaneous documents he needed.
For more than a year we saw each other every day in one capacity or another. Once or twice a month he would invite me to lunch and I gladly went along. He was fun and easy to be with.
I never once got the impression he was hitting on me, which occurred more often than I would like to admit in the five years I worked there. I look younger than I am. I've been carded at the casino recently, which I love. I have big dark eyes and straight brown hair that I spend a lot of time and money on to make it look just right. I'm kind of petite with average breasts and a decent ass. People call me 'cute.' I can live with that.
The whole thing started, primarily, because Tom and I both get to work early. I'm there by seven o'clock in the morning. He arrives before eight. Rarely is there anybody else in the office when I walk in. By the time Tom gets in there may be one or two others roaming around. Little did I know what 'trouble' that would cause.
I like to relax with my Starbucks and check my favorite websites before starting in on my billable hours of work in the morning. My office door is always open. Sometimes I turn the lights on that light up the entire floor of our building and sometimes I don't. On this particular day I had not.
Tom stuck his head into my office and said, "Working in the dark again, I see."
"I do my best work in the dark," I replied bluntly.
His eyes opened wide and he said, "I bet you do. I would like to see that."
"In your dreams," I answered, assuming correctly what he was thinking.
Tom walked away and the lights flashed on a few seconds later. I appreciated the fact he did not force the conversation to enter the gutter. But now he had me thinking of sex and, as a lover of good sex, I find it difficult to get it off my mind once it's there. I thought about ways of showing him I was right and it certainly wasn't going to involve my husband. I settled upon the idea of a discreet, yet safe for work, selfie.
That evening, after dark, I managed to separate myself from my TV-watching husband long enough to head upstairs to an extra bedroom and close myself into the dark room. There was just enough light coming in from the street lights outside to get a picture that would show my profile, but not any details.
I slipped off my t-shirt and shorts, leaving me in just a bra and panties, which would not show up if I did this right. On the third attempt, I had the perfect shot of me, gentle curves and all, without being able to distinguish a single feature.
I e-mailed it to Tom's work address with the subject line: 'Working hard.'
Mid-morning of the next day, not having talked to Tom at all yet, I received a reply to the e-mail that simply said: 'Hard at work.'
The game was on from that point forward. No one enjoys a good tease as much as me, but apparently Tom was a close second. I was sure my picture did not make him hard and I wasn't going to stop until I succeeded.
It worked out perfectly that I had the house all to myself for a couple hours after work. I changed out of my work clothes and put on the sexiest bra and panties I owned; a matching pair of thin, silky things that left little to the imagination. I dimmed the light in the room so that he could see what I had on, but not the intimate details, such as my nipples or pussy.
This one took two attempts to get it right. I thought I looked damned sexy, to be honest. I sent it to Tom; subject line: 'New work outfit.'
The next day he walked into my office around seven thirty. I was prepared to be properly reprimanded if that was what he chose to do. The look on his face didn't give away his mood, but his words did.
"Very nice picture, Traci," he said, sitting in a chair opposite my desk.
"I'm glad you liked it," I said with relief and a grin. "I'm not a very good model."
"Oh, you don't give yourself enough credit. I liked it a lot."
"How much?" I asked with a very quick glance at his crotch.
He smiled and said, "Trust me."
"No, show me. It's your turn. Send me a picture tonight."
I think he was honestly surprised at my request, or demand. It looked like he was going to say something right away, but then hesitated before finally answering, "OK. I will."
"Use my cellphone number. It's safe," I told him.
We had previously exchanged cell numbers because there were times we needed to text each other during the day if he was away from the office and needed something quickly. He agreed and left my office looking a little nervous. But I knew he would do it.
I tried to envision in my mind just how far this would go. I expected to get a mildly suggestive photo from him showing not nearly as much as I had. That would be my signal that enough was enough. That would be disappointing, but at least we had fun with it for a few days. Maybe it would lead to something else later.
I realized at that point that I actually got aroused posing for him and that it would be a whole lot of fun to show even more than I had. In fact, I WANTED to. I wanted a man to be stimulated looking at me and thinking about me with little or nothing on. I wanted a man I'd never been with sexually to think of me in those terms. I wanted to be lusted after.
These were somewhat scary beliefs for me. I didn't hate my husband. I didn't want a divorce. But I wanted a man I worked with to get hard looking at a picture of me and, possibly, fuck me if he had the chance. What was wrong with me?
So I was pretty much a zombie after work, holding my phone, staring at it like that would speed up the arrival of Tom's picture. I didn't even know if he would do it that night, but I was unable to function in anticipation of it.
Then the familiar ring of an incoming text message literally made me jump from strained nerves. I opened the message and saw the image appear. I tapped on it.
I saw the torso of a man from the middle of his chest to just above his knees. It did look like the right shape to be Tom. He wore Speedo style briefs. Clearly visible underneath the tight fabric was the outline of the biggest, hardest cock I had ever seen.
OK, I can count on one hand...not even using all the fingers...all the erections I've ever seen in person. But I do go to porn sites. Don't judge me, please. Anyway, this cock was HUGE.