They say that all the best stories have their roots in the truth. This story is a fantasy, but springs from actual situations and experiences. I leave it up to the reader to guess at how far things actually went!
This is my first foray into erotic fiction; it would be great to receive your feedback!
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I guess it was inevitable. We'd been playing around the edges of an affair for years and now, after all that time, the moment when we took the plunge had finally arrived. I waited nervously for the knock on the door, starting at noises of passing cars in case it was hers, trying to find things to do to take my mind off what was about to happen. 'Get a fucking grip!' I admonished my reflection in the hallway mirror 'Calm down or it'll be a disaster!'
Dirty flirting was we had called it. It began as chatty emails within which I'd indulge in some harmless flirtation. It wasn't that I was looking for something new; it was simply what I did, I was known by all my wife's friends for being "all talk", a nice guy with a funny line in outrageous chat, but who was in reality, as faithful as a puppy. However, with Sally things were different. Instead of the usual squeals of indignation and scandalised laughter that usually followed my wicked advances, Sally responded with open enthusiasm. Try as I might I couldn't determine whether she was playing me along, or actually serious. I was taken aback and suddenly, intensely curious about how far I could push things.
I'd known Sally for a long time and I confess that I had never thought about her in a sexual way until the flirting had begun. I'd been a guest at her wedding for crying out loud! Where I was approaching fifty, Sally was still in her thirties. She had short, fair hair, a slim build and an open, bright smile.
Our e-affair settled into a cycle of flirtation. We would tell each other that we were doing nothing wrong, but by this time we were texting to make it easier to keep our activities secret.
Things would begin with a harmless innuendo that went back and forth, each text pushing things a little further, until it built to a pitch where we'd both be so turned on that we'd talk about taking it to the next level. At this point our consciences kicked in and despite huge frustration we would declare a cooling off period of no contact. A few days, maybe even a couple of weeks would pass and then things would begin again.
We had been going through this cycle for years now. There had been a couple of occasions when things had got really hot. Once or twice we had exchanged a series of graphic descriptions of what we'd like to do to each other, 'textual intercourse' as we had dubbed it and, twice Sally had popped round for a coffee when I 'just happened' to be alone and we'd lost control in a brief and breathless frenzy of kissing and over-clothes fondling. Each time we'd both stopped shy of going further, agreeing that we both had too much to lose and afterwards we spent several weeks guiltily avoiding any contact at all.
In one conversation I had talked about the frustration I felt and jokingly suggested that we should have sex just the once so that we could "get it out of our systems". Sally responded with trademark enthusiasm, but warned that it might take more than one time to work!
Each time I ask myself why I allowed the flirtation to carry on. I was happily married to my wife Jill and we'd been together for twenty-one years now, our two boys nearly grown men. Sally had married Max nine years ago, I knew from what she had told me that things weren't always great, but I didn't know if she was falling out of love with Max, or if she was simply looking for a bit of fun on the side.
The birth of Sally's first baby saw a hiatus of dirty-flirting texts for several months. I promised myself that I would not let things start up again. Not when a child's family was at stake. There was so much more to lose.
Things had been quiet for a while, and our texts had been just friendly banter, but two weeks ago I had celebrated my forty seventh birthday. I felt the presence of all the clichΓ©d paranoia's of middle age waiting patiently like circling vultures, getting ready to descend upon me. I'd joked with Jill that I was due for my mid-life crisis. She had smiled at me and told me that I wasn't allowed one.
The day after my birthday I was back in the office when my phone jangled musically to tell me that a message had arrived. It was from Sally apologising for not texting greetings on my birthday and asking if there was any way she could make up for being late, a winking emoticon making it clear what she meant.
I replied: 'I don't know, I'm pretty upset βΉ what did you have in mind? βΊ'
After a short pause a text arrived 'I'd like to suck you off.'
I nearly choked on my coffee at Sally's directness. Usually our conversations would heat up gradually, cloaked in so many innuendoes, double intendres and euphemisms, that I never knew if she was being serious or not; yet here was a bald, straightforward statement, without even a smiley face on the end to indicate that it was a joke.
My heart started pounding with the idea, my imagination going wild with what it would be like, my curiosity going crazy. At precisely the same time the sensible, rational voices of my conscience were coming up with reasons to not go any further under any circumstances. I ignored them.
'What a lovely and thoughtful present that would be! βΊ'
I pressed the send button and stared at the screen waiting breathlessly for her reply.
As soon her reply landed I stabbed at the keypad with feverish fingers to see what she had put.
'I thought so too! βΊ' The text read, 'But should I swallow, or would you like to cum all over my tits?'
Thankfully I was alone in the office so no-one heard my over-excited giggling. I bounced up and down on my chair scarcely able to breathe and I could feel my face flushing red. With trembling fingers I typed my reply.
'Could you offer me a pornstar-style cumshot all over your face and in your mouth? βΊ'
I paused before I pressed the send button, inwardly debating whether I would be pushing things too far.
I pressed the button.
For a full minute I stared at the screen as if willing the reply to arrive and wondering if I'd gone too far. Seconds seemed to drag out into hours and then, with the familiar jangle her reply landed.
'Sounds great! When are you free?'
After that, the flirting stalled as we both backed away from the edge. We voiced our usual reasons why it would be madness to go further (despite the intense frustration we both felt) and we agreed that it was a shame we couldn't just have a 'get it out of our systems' shag.
A few days passed without further texts arriving. It didn't stop me from visualising Sally kneeling in front of me, sucking on my hard cock until I spurted gush after gush of sticky cum all over her. I found myself daydreaming about this image at work and would have to take a minute to let things calm down before I could safely stand up and move away from my desk.
One evening, Jill greeted my return from work with a thoughtful smile. For an irrational, gut-churning second I wondered if she had somehow discovered something about my e-affair, but it wasn't that. It was something else, something that made a whole load of possibilities leap into view.
'My sister called, she's asked us down to her place for a few days during the Easter break.'