The drive up
When I found out my driving buddy was leaving me in the lurch last night, I decided to bite the bullet and offer my supervisor a lift with me, as he had driven me a few weeks ago so I wanted to repay the favour. Not to mention it makes the drive less boring, and we enjoy each other's company. We had known each other for over three years so were well past any awkwardness. He had turned down the offer two days prior, but I wondered if that was in part due to the fact my other friend would be along for the ride, and wasn't today. I hastily wrote the text but delayed sending it, pondering if it was a bad idea, if we shouldn't spend that much time together alone outside work. I hit send and threw the phone down while my heart raced. To my surprise, he replied very quickly with "okay, what time?" And it was set.
The next day I got up and dressed in my workout clothes as I planned to head straight to the gym. He calls them 'pyjamas'... I'm still not entirely sure why. I put my hair up in a messy pony tail without brushing it, splashed my face with cold water, brushed my teeth and put on a light dusting of foundation - just enough to cover my blemishes. I picked a figure hugging maxi skirt to wear later with a beige top and heel boots that he always manages to comment on. They make me look taller obviously, but they're also quite comfortable and wearing them makes me feel sexy - not in an obvious way, just that they make me feel more confident somehow.
As I drove to his house, my mind meandered to what he was doing during his morning rituals. Was he in the shower? Did his wife have his breakfast waiting for him? Were his kids up and about yet? Do they climb onto him while he lies in bed? And before I knew it, I was turning into his street.
I got to his house a little early as traffic was lighter than I expected so after turning around in the cul-de-sac and pulling in tight to the kerb outside his house I got a good look at his place. It was oldish but had been revamped, and was the nicest in the street. I wasn't sure of the etiquette - do I text him to say I'm here even though I'm early? Do I wait another 10 minutes then text? Do I call? Do I go knock on the front door? I opted to stay in my car to check emails and instagram; it's the middle of winter so it was the warmest option, and I wasn't sure what sort of reception I would get from his wife - I don't think it would have been as warm as my car!
While I browsed instagram, not really paying attention to the photos and captions, I thought about what we would talk about for an hour alone together. The usual topics - work, tv shows, our partners, the weekend - would obviously be discussed, but with him there was always more, deeper conversations, about goals, personality types, attraction...
Am I attracted to him? I think so - he has all the features of my "type". He is tall, and although about 10 years older than me, handsome, with dark hair and a beard. Only a few greys are coming through as to be expected at 35 or so, and they suit him, make him look even more authoritative and dependable. I think part of what makes him attractive is his smile - it's cheeky and devious but always so sincere. And his eyes - they are trustworthy and loyal, and I feel like they see through the bull shit. I think we flirt subconsciously - little comments here and there. He says I remind him of his wife, and has made more than one reference to the similarities shared by our personalities and physicalities. He often comments on my appearance - what I'm wearing, how my hair is done (or not done). Once, recently, he said "your boyfriend better watch out, especially with you in that dress". It was a tight-to-waist grey striped dress with three-quarter length sleeves and a sweetheart neckline that displays my dΓ©colletage quite nicely, while leaving enough to the imagination. I actually caught him looking down at my cleavage. It wasn't the first time I had caught him having a peek, and from his height I guessed he'd have a pretty good view! The thing is I sort of like it.
I wondered if he ever fantasised over me. I had fantasised over him before.
The main fantasy I had was that he would walk in on me in the disabled bathroom at our old office, while I was getting changed or putting makeup on, ready to leave the office for dinner or something. He wouldn't say anything, just look straight at me in the mirror with a lustful and commanding look on his face. He would lock the door, come right up behind me, and press his entire body into mine, wrap his large hands around my hips softly. I would feel his heart beating against my back, making mine race even more. I'd feel his breath sink into my skin.
He'd take everything out of my hands, one by one, still not saying anything. He'd grasp my hands in his, interlocking his fingers expertly between mine, then place them on the basin. He would kiss the back of my neck, starting from just behind one ear across to the other, eliciting soft gasps from me.
His hands would begin to roam up my sides and around to my breasts, which he would grab hold of and squeeze gently while meeting my gaze in the mirror, his beard still tickling my neck. He would have to bend his legs slightly, but he would align his cock with my arse and just rub up and down, stroking himself against my arse cheeks through his jeans, before pulling my hips back towards him forcing me to bend over the sink slightly, better positioning him to grind his cock on my covered pussy.
Suddenly he would hike my skirt up and massage my arse cheeks in his ginormous hands. In what seems like one swift motion, he would undo his jeans and pull my underwear down just far enough to expose my now-soaked pussy. We glance at each other for a fleeting moment in the mirror, then, with one hand on my hip and the other in the middle of my back, he would slide his hard cock inside me, making me sigh in pleasure. He would enter me slowly and teasingly then start to get a good rhythm, grunting quietly with every few thrusts. I imagine his dick to be sizeable - he's tall so I imagine it proportional to his body, with a nice girth that stretches me.
He would glide his hand all the way down my back; the contrast of the steady thrusting and the delicate touch bringing me closer to the edge. His hand would come to caress my breast; he would roll the nipple between his thumb and finger. Then, with one hand on my breast and the other on my hip, we'd stare at each other in the mirror as he increases the speed and force until he is furiously fucking me. I'd reach down to play with my pussy and his eyes follow my hand, although he can't see me playing with myself. I'd begin to make tiny moans as I get close to my orgasm. The sounds would make him start pounding me even faster, increasing the rate at which I'm moaning until I let out one big moan as I come hard, bracing myself against the basin and tilting my head back in pleasure. My pussy tightens around his cock and with one last thrust I'd feel him pulse and shoot off inside me. While he is still coming I'd pull away, spin around, kneel down and take his twitching cock in my mouth, swallowing the last spurts of cum and cleaning my own juices of his cock and balls. This would all take him by surprise and elicit another moan before he moves my head as his cock has become too sensitive. We'd clean up discreetly and he'd leave the bathroom while I finish getting ready.
My daze was broken when I saw him approaching the car, wearing the usual chino jeans, dark sweater and huge grin. He opened the boot and said hello while he put his stuff in then hopped in the passenger seat. I have a hatchback so he was folded up a bit, but it was cute. He said hello again, with the grin as I started up the car.
"You weren't looking, I was at the window doing a striptease for you," he said, grinning.
"Oh fantastic, sorry I missed it," I replied in my trademark sarcasm. Great, the flirting has started already.
"The house was tidy, the kids were well-behaved, Anna was going to pretend to be nice to you, you could've come up."
"Oh well had I known that I definitely would have, especially that last one, how inviting!"
"Yes... well when I told her I was getting a lift with you today, she asked which one you were, and I replied with 'the one that's going to replace you'".
I laughed and rolled my eyes, my usual response to his flirtatious remarks. Leading a research group of 6 or so females, Anna was not a huge fan of any of ours.
"I thought by now you should know what to make jokes to her about, and what to keep in your mouth!"
"I do but it's too fun to try and get a reaction. We've talked about this!"
"I know I know. You can't help but try to get a rise out of me and I can't help but resist; it makes you try harder."
"Exactly, and I will keep trying, because I'm not good at failing."
With that, we started onto a conversation about failing, which led to a conversation about succeeding, and goals, and moving, and so on and so forth until we were almost there. Just as we turned off the highway, we started to discuss our extended families, and he divulged that his dad, brother and uncle had all had infidelities, and that he was the black sheep in that respect. I didn't want to pry too much, and it was good timing to finish the conversation and part ways for the day. But not before he could make another comment about my body.
"Woah, you've got calves," he complimented.