Fucking Cynthia

I met Cynthia years ago when we both worked together. She was a beautiful brunette, 27, tall, slim, sexy, and wore gold and silver dangling jewelry on her wrists, neck, fingers, and ears. She dressed like a cover girl. She was totally alluring, and aloof. Her thick black hair reached below her shoulders. She had a cute little turned up nose, beautifully soft tempting lips, and dark eyes that saw right through me.

I was married.

Cynthia did not know, care about, or ever mention any concern about my wife or that I was married. She knew I was married, but as things progressed, that never seemed to enter into her thoughts.

To this day, she does not even know my ex wife's first name or anything about her except that she was running around on me and that we had been married for seven years.

Cynthia would eventually spend more and more time with me as I continued to work at night. Occasionally, she lingered and talked to me as I worked the night shift, hanging around near me in the television control room after her workday had ended. She later told me that she only wanted to be friendly, but it seemed to me, then and now, that she was clearly interested in a man. Me. A woman, staying alone with a man "only to be friendly". I don't think that is possible.

Cynthia lived alone in a small studio apartment. She had moved from Maine, and was starting a new, completely different life in California. We worked at a small struggling tv station, and her uncle owned it. Every day, she moved around the building attracting the attention of all the men, most of whom, of course, would have fucked her in a heartbeat given the chance. (She later told me that her uncle tried, unsuccessfully, to get her in his bed).

No chances were forthcoming, apparently. Who was her current lover? She was, no doubt, sexually experienced. How could she not be? There was some talk of her being the mistress of an older married Italian tv producer who did business with the station. I think this was likely, but she never mentioned it, and I never asked her about it.

It was obvious that Cynthia knew a thing or two about men. She was much too sexually inviting not to have been with a man by this time. She was gorgeous. Exciting. Secretive. Perfectly womanly. I began to find myself wondering what it would be like to have Cynthia beneath me on my bed.

Cynthia's uncle had hired her to run the traffic department. She produced the program log for each day's schedule of commercials and shows. He also let her have her own 30 minute weekly travel show, "The Vagabond", wherein she stood in front of the live camera and introduced a very colorful, entertaining, stock travel film. She was somewhat innocent and slightly nervous, and would tell the viewers what a nice part of the world she was about to share, and then I, the engineer in the back rooms, loaded, started, and aired the film.

Every Saturday, before she went on, she handed me the film that she had selected, and told me that it was very important to her that it started exactly correctly, right after her introduction. Otherwise, she would be left on camera with no film airing. Slightly embarrassing. I never let her down. There was a "preroll" involved, which meant that the film had to be started about 7 seconds before she finished introducing it, or there would be a delay after she intro-ed it.

Sometimes, she would come back to the control room after her live intro and would watch the airing of the film back in the control area. That was the beginning. Heretofore, I had only seen her from a distance, in the lobby, through a window as I worked. She was beautiful.

I could not help but be physically attracted to this gorgeous woman. She would appear on the evening when she aired her film live, all dressed and enticingly made up for the camera. Beautiful eyes, red lips, slender waist. Her long legs, her neck, her hair, all of her. She was perfect. Cynthia was a complete woman, lacking nothing to make a man happy. Completely, innocently, seductive.

Nature took its course. I became very attracted to Cynthia, the lovely woman frequently near me. I came to look forward to those all too seldom times when she came near and spoke to me.

I breathed the air around her as if it were a potion. She was enchanting me. Causing desire to arise within me without a single provocation except for her bearing and gentle, stimulating, demure aura.

I was, unfortunately, married at the time, but that did nothing to curtail my attraction to this sexually potent woman. My wife was also beautiful, but was fucking strangers. Not me.

Cynthia was beautiful, quiet, mysterious in a way, and, unlike my lascivious wife, seemed delightfully shy and seemingly innocent. Nonetheless, I did not think she was altogether innocent in the way that others might have.

One night, when she was near me at the station, I remember my mind wandering and me taking time to contemplate her pleasuring a man in the way I needed to be pleasured. I imagined her with her present or previous lover, whoever he was.

I took advantage of her and placed her in a sexual fantasy in my mind. I visualized her pleasuring a man, and exciting me in the process. This was becoming the woman who I wanted to fuck. My wife was not satisfying me. I imagined Cynthia taking me into her mouth and sucking me off.

I wanted to believe that she was experienced, and that she knew what to do to pleasure me. I did not want to be the one to take her innocence. I wanted her to be a dynamic sensual, sexual woman.

I visualized her taking a hardened cock into her mouth for her first time, beginning and continuing to stroke and suck, bobbing her head up and down on it until it gushed forth hot thick cum, and imagined her satisfied smile after she lifted her head from that hard, still throbbing, oozing dick, and her inaudible giggle as white fluid ran from the corners of her mouth, onto her hands as she continued to grasp and pump more from it. I visualized her cleaning the cum off of her clothing, off of her face.

I imagined her feeling her power over a man, able to elicit the gushing of his seed into her, her tinted lips now somewhat changed by the addition of his bodily fluid that had been gushed into her, across her tongue, around her mouth, and then, finally back between her lips as she released them from a softening cock. It was easy to imagine.

And so, I imagined Cynthia sucking off a man as she was, in reality, so near me. She was innocently standing in the control room, the focus of my carnal fantasy while I thought lascivious thoughts of her with her hand around my cock, her lips bobbing up and down my shaft as she sucked, bobbed her head up and down on it, and let her saliva keep it moist and slick. She was indifferent to me at the time, but without revealing it, I was having erotic thoughts of her. I was beginning to be constantly distracted by her form.

How different were the images of her sucking me off from the unknowing sereneness of the pretty woman now next to me, intently watching the monitor as her film played and I was busy readying the next program, my hardening cock still hidden in the folds of my jeans. If I was not careful, my stiff erection would be obvious. I turned from her and continued working.

When I got home that night, I formed her image of her when I was alone on my bed. I touched my cock, now exposed. I imagined Cynthia's wet red lips on my cock as I touched myself. I began stroking my hard cock, imagining her making me cum in her mouth. I jerked off hard, thrashed, and came in Cynthia's mouth. Then, alone on my bed, I let the cum run down my cock, through my fingers, and onto the sheets.

I rolled over and fell asleep, not knowing when my wife was to return to my bed beside me, back turned to me, distant, untouching, uncaring, unfaithful and filled with the cum of a stranger.

Cynthia was now the woman in my life, although she did not fully know that.

I did, however, sense that she was drawn to me, and began to hope that I could have her if I was patient and kind. I sensed a loneliness in her, even if she was fucking the Italian producer, and hoped that she was yearning for the touch of a man, the coupling of her body with another, and the natural desire for passionate touches would finally win me the place upon her bed.

Cynthia was young, full of life, very much a woman who cared little what other people thought, and obviously, sexually experienced, although I had no idea of her talents in this regard. I could imagine them, however.

She walked as a woman, adorned her body as a woman, ignored the glances of men, as a shy lady, and tempted all men around her as a woman.

Week after week, Cynthia was in my peripheral vision at various times of the day as she walked through the building. Not once did I fail to notice and admire her lithe body as I saw her going from one place to another in the small building that housed the station, and where we both spent a considerable amount of our time.

I fulfilled my work by actually running the station equipment that got the stuff on the air. Alone. The place had become a one engineer operation, and I was very busy during each of my shifts keeping everything running and streaming to the transmitter, which was located on a mountaintop a few miles distant.

Each night, (and another period when I worked two eighteen hour shifts on Saturday and Sunday, virtually single-handedly operated the place), I was alone and ran the station.

Some nights I was the only person in the building after all the others had left the building.

Then something began to happen. Cynthia began to linger a bit after delivering the next day's logs to me in the early evening. That was her last task, and signaled the end of her work day. She dropped them off and left. Typically. She went home, and my eyes watched her hips sway as she walked away. I wondered what was beneath her neatly ironed pants.

Something was happening, and I could sense it. Almost every day now, Cynthia began to stay a bit after delivering the logs, and chat with me as we were alone in the building, in the control room, as I kept working running back and forth with the various elements of commercials, programs, audio cartridges, slides, film, and video tapes.

I had to be on my toes so that the dreaded "black air" never occurred. A tv station requires a constant stream of video and audio to satisfy the viewers and of course, the managers. I had to be sure there was no interruption in any of that at any time. Sometimes equipment failures of other shortcomings resulted in slight panic events, wherein I had to immediately solve unanticipated problems.

Cynthia was sometimes hanging around with me after she finished her work. In the evening, Alone, for the most part, even if there were other people somewhere in the building.

I worked. But my focus was always on this wonderful sexy girl tempting me into making an admittance of my craving with a lustful statement whenever she walked in and lingered. I could imagine all sorts of ways I could satisfy my building lust. I dare not mention any to her.

She seemed to be teasing me with her presence. Daring me to take her. Wanting to be held. Her eyes looked into mine every night, and I believed I could sense an unspoken desire.

I sometimes would go home and jerk off thinking of beautiful Cynthia, thinking of holding her agains the wall with one hand on her throat while fucking her hard against the wall of the control room, heedless of possible interruption by an innocent co worker walking in. In my mind, I fucked Cynthia with her skirt pushed up and her panties on one ankle, she softly moaning, her arms around me, her hands on my ass, pulling me into her hot, wet pussy.

I imagined fucking her and fucking her alone in the building. Then, if the time before my next station task allowed, of lying her on the table in the room after pushing away the films and video tapes for which it was intended, spreading those long sexy legs apart, and burying my lips into her now-wet pussy and sucking, licking, tasting my own cum mingled with her heavenly wetness, and reaching my tongue into that beautiful cunt.

I dreamed of fucking Cynthia. I could not stop thinking of her ass in my hands as I pumped my cock in and out of her. I imagined her moans, her sobs, her incredibly bucking hips as she fucked me back and took me deep into her sweet little box, meeting each thrust with a sob, a reply with her hips erotically bucking back around me, my cock deep in her, she not wanting to release it. Moaning my name softly, "Ron.....Ron....oh..please, my.. my.... Oh Ron".

I could imagine the suction of her cunt pulling my cock in after it drew back to experience the return within her second after second. I dreamed of the tightness of her wet pussy all around my hard pounding cock.

I wanted to fuck Cynthia. I wanted to take her wantonly, to fuck and fuck and fuck that beautiful pussy while sucking her nipples with demanding force. I wanted to inhale her nipples, to feel them hard against my tongue. Harshly squeezing the sexual heat of her breasts in my rough hands.

I wanted to feel her ass in my hands, roaming all along those smooth, forbidden cheeks, squeezing them hard, slapping them a few times, just to let Cynthia know it was I who was taking her the way I wanted to take her, to make her my fuck-toy for that evening. My cock in her for my pleasure alone. She alone the one I wanted to screw. Seeing her eyes as I kept pounding in and out of her. My cock now giving her the release she needed all along without knowing it.

I dreamed of my tongue down her throat, deep in her mouth, fucking her mouth with my tongue, her own tongue replying with her lust, her surrender to the need to fuck a man's hard cock, to feel a cock invade her sweet innocent pussy. Her repressed desire to be fucked hard and close her eyes as she felt me enter her ever so secret, ever so carefully guarded and treasured pink pussy.

Unaware of all of this, Lovely Cynthia would stand behind me as I worked, being friendly but not intimate. She never touched me. Not even a light touch on my shoulder as I worked, or a brush of her fingertips against my hand as she gave me the next day's logs. She only wanted to be friendly, OK?

My tension and desire was building day by day. I could not go on like this much longer, with her nearness tempting me so strongly.

She and I talked of many things, none of them about any attraction between us. There was the time she lured me into her small sports car, parked in the studio. She wanted me to look at a problem with her car radio. Between commercials, I found a twenty minute time period when I could leave the control room to look at her radio. We were both in her tiny car. Her nearness was extremely distracting. I could have fucked her right there, except there was absolutely no way to fuck in that tiny car.

I resisted my instinct to take her head between my hands, draw her lips to mine, and kiss her deeply, letting my cock harden under her touch.

But I did not. I went back to work, with a hard dick and nothing to show for it.

Things continued like this for a while.

Finally, one night, Cynthia was complaining about a guy who lived in her apartment building. It seemed that she was annoyed that this creep was leering at her as she sunbathed in her bikini at the apartment building's pool. While agreeing that the guy was creepy, I was filled with understanding for this man. How could anyone ignore this beautiful woman laying so temptingly undressed by a pool? Her lovely legs, her firm breasts, her beautiful figure and sweet face..... so distressingly tempting. What man could honestly claim they were not desirous of her body?

I told her so. Without thinking. It just came from my lips. My admission, so long overdue.

Suddenly, unplanned, impulsively. I told her that I would LOVE to see her in her bikini next to her pool. I admitted my lust for her body. Essentially, I was telling her I wanted to fuck her. And she knew it.

I said, simply, "I would love to see you in your swimsuit, sunbathing."

Her eyes widened. My confession of obvious, unbusinesslike desire seemed to take her by surprise.

I don't know exactly what followed, but I remember feeling blood flowing into my cock as we talked about what I had just told her.

The next thing I knew, we had agreed to both go to her apartment after I finished work.

We did. I followed her somewhat nervously in my car, feeling traces of guilt for cheating on my wife. I ignored what my wife had been doing all these months, fucking guys she picked up in bars, sometimes in our own bed as I worked.

I remember feeling that I had to ignore my wife, and remember the woman I wanted instead, the lovely Cynthia.

We got to her apartment. I parked in a space she motioned to. She led me into the building. My heart was pounding. It was surreal. I was finally going to be alone with the woman of my dreams. I would have a chance to feel her close to me.

I could not think straight. It became a matter of letting my body follow her into her apartment without any thought on my part. I was dazed.

It was a small studio, but close to me, unbelievably close, alone, and aware of my desire was the woman I needed. She filled the empty apartment with her incredible desirability, her extremely tempting forbidden body.

I sat across from her, she reclined on her small bed. I remember only her on her bed, I cannot recall anything about that place. I looked at her eyes. They were accepting, anticipating my words, not knowing my intentions. Listening, seeing my soul.

I did not know my intentions. I was making it up as I went. We talked a bit. Finally, I leaned from my chair, approached her lips, said, "Let me see something", and my lips met hers.

She later told me she had no idea that I would start fucking her right there, right then. But I felt she surely must have anticipated this.

It did not matter. My lips were against hers, my vows of fidelity were undone, my desire for Cynthia was unfolding uncontrolled. Our lips met, my tongue touched her lips, parted them, ventured further. I felt the wonderful softness of her accepting wet tongue, touching mine, swirling around it, over it, below it, then into my mouth to bring me total knowledge of her mutual desire. She wanted me to fuck her. Now. On her bed. Fully. Deeply.

"Fuck me now, Ron, my darling, fuck me at last," she told me with her tongue.

We continued in this kiss. My mind was racing, then I was not thinking at all. My body, my lips, my cock, my tongue were acting alone, taking Cynthia without conscious thought.

Quickly, I pulled her well-tailored, business oriented pants down, down the length of her marvelous long beautiful legs, removed her wonderful shoes, and pulled off her now slightly-wrinkled pants. I reached the waist of her panties, pulled them down. She daintily lifted one leg so they could be removed, then the other. Her high heel patent leather pumps were lying askew next to her discarded lacy pink panties.

I removed my pants and my shoes. I kept my shirt on while I began to fuck Cynthia.

Cynthia Pike's beautiful pussy was now exposed to me, finally. Ultimately. My fingertips touched her wonderful wet slit.

I dallied in the wonder of her treasure. I felt her hot wetness increase as my fingertip touched her inside. I touched above her slit. She squirmed more as I touched her clit. She was breathing hard, moving against me now, feeling the pleasure of a man violating her valued secret treasure. Only select men could touch her pussy. I was the man who was touching her now. She softly moaned as she felt my rough fingers spreading her pussy lips apart, as my hand clutched my hard cock, guided it to her hot wet softness and wildly inviting womanhood, and my cock's tip began to feel how soft, how wonderful, how madly needed her pussy was. I felt my tip touching the now opening lips of her wet and wonderful cunt.