A couple of decades ago, I wrote a series of stories as a kind of therapy while my too-young marriage was falling apart. I've adapted them for Literotica, but they are little-changed. The writing style is a bit immature, the situations a little unbelievable, so be patient. Of course, they are fiction and of course the names have been changed.
This is the third story in the set. I'll be honest, it's probably one of the worst.
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3. Professional Courtesy
Donna was a research scientist where I worked. A petite Indonesian lady with a PhD and a beautiful, svelte body, I was amazed when I learnt she was 42. I thought she was years younger than that. At the time I never imagined I could be attracted to someone 16 years older than I was, but she was stunning - a petite dynamo.
She was also enormously wealthy. Her husband regularly dropped her at work in the Porsche or the Range Rover. He worked for some multi-national company, very high up.
One morning Donna came into my office to talk to me.
"I overheard you talking in the tearoom about being alone this weekend," she said, "How would you like to come to my house for breakfast tomorrow morning?"
"That would be great Donna," I replied, touched by her thoughtfulness.
"Great," she said, smiling broadly, "I'll see you at my house at 7 am. Do you know the address?"
I didn't know the address but she gave it to me and at 7 am the next day, Saturday, I arrived at Donna's house.
As I walked up the front path, she appeared in the doorway. She looked incredibly sexy, wearing a short, flouncy, pleated, tartan mini skirt, over black stockings, and a grey ribbed top, very, very tight and sleeveless. As I approached closer, I saw the stiletto heels, red lipstick and tell-tale bumps of erect nipples under the ribbed top.
I thought at the time that this was a pretty strange way to dress for breakfast. I was just wearing shorts and a polo shirt.
She greeted me happily and asked me to come in. Cheekily, I told her she looked very sexy today. She laughed slightly and leant forward as I walked past her into the house, so that my arm brushed her nipples as I went past.
She followed me into the house and motioned for me to sit down on a couch in the huge lounge room, before disappearing into the kitchen.
She returned with a tray full of croissants and coffee. She bent down in front of me to place the tray on the table, revealing the tops of her stocking and a little of her suspenders. She maintained the view by pouring the coffee in front of me.
Then, right on cue, she dropped a teaspoon on the floor and bent over further to retrieve it, in the process revealing that she wore a G-string. Her legs were slightly apart and she bent over so far that her skirt rode up and she showed the slight puckering of her brown anus, revealed by the inadequacy of the fabric covering her behind.
She wandered off again towards the kitchen but, before disappearing out the door, she spun around dramatically. Her skirt flared up as she told me to eat, revealing the sheer, lacey front of her knickers. The action seemed in slow-motion, enough indeed for me to notice the lips of her vagina, encaged in the lacey fabric before the skirt dropped again to cover her modesty.
She then returned from the kitchen and sat down next to me on the couch.
"Please," she entreated, "have something to eat. "
I took a plate and a croissant from the table, and began eating. I soon became aware that Donna was not eating.
"Aren't you having any?" I asked.
"Oh, just break me off a bit of yours and I'll have that," she suggested.
I tore a section from one end of my croissant and reached for a plate on which to put it.
She grabbed my wrist and pulled my hand towards her mouth. Engulfing the croissant and my fingers, she took it all into her mouth. She kept hold of my wrist as she chewed and swallowed the food. I was motionless.
