I Need It Dirty Pt 04

I didn't like to admit it, but at that moment there was nothing in the world that I wanted more than to be fucked. But was that going too far? So far, I had been able to mentally excuse what I had done with Steve as being devoid of any closeness, real intimacy or emotional involvement. It had, mostly been all about me doing things that he wanted and that I could deliver without any real commitment. Ok, we had been getting closer and I had become more adventurous but I was still able to convince myself it was about replacing the sex that I was missing even more now that my husband was living in New York

I am not a woman who likes looking at pictures of cocks. In the cold light of a photo they do nothing for me. But when one is right up close and personal and is stunningly hard it becomes an object of incredible beauty, amazement and, I suppose, power. And Steve's was close, awesomely hard and looked do very powerful.

I simply nodded and smiled at the little exchange we had just had as I sat naked apart from my holdups in his computer room surrounded by the unseeing servers and disc drives.

"Do you want me to?" he whispered.

"What?"

"Fuck you of course?"

He lifted my left leg up and nudged his thick knob against my gaping pussy. I didn't say anything as I didn't know either, what I wanted or, whether I should let him.

"Are you sure?" he rather uncharacteristically asked as he rubbed it along my wet and very available sexual opening.

"Yes," I whispered closing my eyes, half wanting him to fuck me and half feeling revolted by him and what I was letting him do to me. "Use a condom though."

I half expected him to object, but he didn't making me think. 'Perhaps he was as worried about me carrying something as I was about him.'

He was gentle at first; slowly guiding his thick cock into my recently underused vagina. Unlike with Kevin over the past year or so, I was so wet and turned on it slipped in very easily, but I still wriggled and sighed as I attempted to accommodate the whole thing. I'd always been satisfied by my husband, but Stevie's cock must have been at least an inch longer and much thicker. He pushed it in as far as it would go and held it there with his hands under me gripping the cheeks of my bum, lifting me up a little and pulling me more firmly into his cock as he pushed my knee back onto my chest so it was squashing my full boob.

"Do you like that?" he grunted. "Do you like getting fucked by my big cock?"

I nodded and gritted my teeth.

"Tell me how much you like getting fucked. Come on Jayne tell me how much you like it."

I'd never been very vocal during sex and didn't know what to say.

"Come on you slag fucker; tell me how much you want my cock. Tell me how you stuck up bitches like a real working man doing you."

I think he was getting frustrated at my silence because his thrusts became even harder and faster. He lifted my other leg into the air and pulled it outwards putting me in a lewd and wanton position that felt great.

"I'm gonna fill your fucking upmarket cunt full of spunk then make you wear your dirty fucking knickers to go home to your husband," he growled as he leant forward squashing both of my tits with my legs making his cock seem to go so far into me that it felt it might come out of my mouth. For obvious reasons I hadn't told him that Kevin was living in New York.

"Is that what you want?" he kept muttering as he pounded away at my pussy. "Do you want me to send you home with a cunt full of my cum and a pair of spunky knickers?"

I was totally gone now and I nodded my agreement as his nearly bald pubic area rasped against my fuller bush.

"Say it then! SAY IT!"

"What? Say what?" I gasped

"You know you dirty bitch."

"I don't, what is it?"

"Tell me that you want me to fill you. Fill you full of my spunk." Although I'd never said things like that before they did seem appropriate for the occasion as I did feel that I wanted him to fill me up with his stuff.

"Fill me Steve," I groaned half full of remorse at what I was feeling and saying

"Louder," he grunted as he squeezed my boobs tightly and battered my hole with his big cock. "Say it, use the real words not your stuck up genteel fucking bullshit."

"Fill me up Steve, please," I offered.

"Fucking cowbitch say it tell me," he growled pushing his cock as far up me as he could get and holding it there rigid and still."

It was an incredible feeling as the vile, filthy words spewed out of my mouth.

"Fill my pussy full of your spunk," I spat out feeling partly incredibly excited but at least as much demeaned and degraded.

"Not pussy you vanilla old biddy."

"Cunt then, fill my cunt. Fill my lovely cunt with your spunk," I moaned enjoying the sensation those words gave me.

Just as my climax burst over me his body stiffened as he gushed into the condom.

"Good girl," he sighed in that sexy husky voice as he eased my aching legs back down without removing his cock from me.

I sat up taking my weight on my wrists as Stevie continued fucking me slowly and stroking my boobs.

"Did you enjoy that?" he asked as he stroked my hair.

"Yes I did," I whispered."

When we eventually uncoupled he handed me my soiled panties.

"Is your old fart of a husband at home?"

I looked at my watch and saw it was nearly midnight. "Yes he will be home now," I lied seeing that it was nearly seven pm NY time

"I was serious," he grinned.

"How?"

"Put them back on."

"No I can't."

"You fucking well can and will," he snarled rubbing my panties along my slit before pushing them into my hand. Feeling the damp, warm satin and lace and knowing I was touching his sperm I was repulsed. How could I have let myself be so abused, demeaned and degraded I wondered as hardly thinking I unrolled them and held them by the waistband?

His stuff from earlier had soaked into the material leaving a set of white stains, which I found awful and exciting in equal parts. Feeling terrible about myself I bent at the waist, threaded firstly my left foot still with my high heel shoe on then the other into the leg hole of the tiny, pink panties. I pulled them up my legs and fitted the elastic waistband snugly round my hips. The dampness of his sperm didn't feel much different to when something had made my feminine juices flow, but the thought was vastly different.

As he locked the main door and waited for the alarm to engage, he turned towards me and said.

"I'll be getting off home then," as if there was still a question to be asked.

We both seemed unsure what to do next. Should I kiss him goodnight? Offer him a lift home? Shake his hand? I did none of those but said.

"I suppose so," walking to my car and not thinking of offering him a lift.

*

Driving the short distance home wearing the cum soaked panties from the sex with Stevie made me feel terrible. All the disgust and guilt began to hit me and once inside the house before even going upstairs, I stripped naked and threw my knickers into the Aga in the kitchen. I noticed that there were also some specks of the vile man's cum on the lacy stocking tops of the holdups so I threw them in as well.

I poured a large glass of wine and sat naked on a kitchen stool contemplating just what the fuck was going on with my ridiculous sex life. I thought back a few weeks when all of this with Stevie began.

I recalled getting home one night around eleven when Kevin was home and working in his study and he hardly looked up as I pecked him on the top of his head.

"Ok at work," he muttered not even looking up from his papers.

"Sure," I replied wondering if he would smell anything, but if I did, he hadn't noticed. "I'm beat I'm going to have a shower," I told him.

I was in bed and almost asleep when Kevin came up. The two pairs of offending panties had been carefully washed and were snuggling between some towels in the airing cupboard

The next day we were having lunch with some people from the local Rotary before in the evening taking a client to the Royal Opera House. It was all very elegant and stylish. I wore a soft wool, dogtooth suit and dark tights for the lunch at the Sopwell House hotel and an Alberto Faretti midnight blue, floor length, silk sheath dress with red killer-height heels for the opera. It was too tight for suspenders but perfect for holdups.

Sitting in the box listening to the rather boring music and the completely boring singing my mind drifted back to the past few evenings. I couldn't help smiling at just how different my usual life was from what went on in the office. Nearly all the people I mixed with were stylish, well-mannered, clean and presentable. They behaved with decorum and hardly ever said anything grubby or out of place. That was at such a variance as to how Stevie carried on, how he acted and how he treated me. In my world I was treated special, as a lady, men let me go through doors before them and they were polite and diplomatic. In my office world I was treated by Steve and acted like a slag, a slut or a whore. There was nothing diplomatic or reserved about him and what we did. My world was genteel and reserved, the office was 'in yer face' and anything goes.

I shivered with expectation when I thought of tomorrow night, seeing Stevie again and making myself aroused, wondering what we might do.

At home later that evening Kevin fucked me well more I fucked him really. It was quick, loving I suppose, a bit disjointed but really it was fucking boring or, should that be boring fucking?

After it, despite my recent sexual exploits and exertions, I couldn't sleep so, around one I got up, went to the kitchen and poured a glass of white wine. Sipping that and thinking I varied from a deep depression to sexual exhilaration.

I ran over all that had now gone on between Stevie and me and could still hardly believe that I had let him screw me. But then, I reconciled, that was part of the overall situation. Yes, it was being unfaithful, well sexually it was but not emotionally I told myself employing some probably tortuous logic. I was after nothing more from him than sex and as dirty a type of sex as he could offer and provide. That, I was realising was the draw, the attraction and was at the heart of our burgeoning relationship. For some deeply Freudian reason I wanted to exploit the sluttish side of my sexual character. I wasn't after candle-lit dinners, soothing music, crisp white sheets and romantic settings. No, to give me what I was after and probably needed, I wanted dirty, filthy, sordid sex. Not fun nor affection, not an affair when a guy takes me out, not commitment nor faithfulness and certainly not love but sex and oodles of it with no tomorrows.

Naturally I masturbated. It was good. And, of course, it was about Steve fucking me, but that had not been quite what I had hoped and thought it would be. Being naked, in his arms with my legs open and clasped around his body as he surged his thick dick up and down in me was not what I had expected. As I pinched and pulled my nipples and rubbed on and around my clit building up the orgasmic sensations so I realised that the fuck with Stevie was altogether too intimate. To fuck as we had we needed to be so close both physically and I saw now, emotionally as well and we were not the latter. I guess I hadn't yet learned how to fuck without an emotional involvement. That made me wonder whether I wanted to and ever would.

*

The following day I wore an expensive, black woollen dress and matching mid-height strappy heels. Underneath I wore a flimsy, as good as see-through, black lace bra that gave me the slight support my D cups needed, but hid hardly anything. I wore a matching black lace, thong and a pair of black holdups, the dress being too tight for a suspender belt even though I did consider it. I felt smart, professional and very sexy, but that I may be going mad. I could hardly believe that I was dressing to impress a jerk like Stevie or that I was assuming that we would play again this evening, but that was exactly what I was thinking.

My friend Paula even commented on how sexy I looked, asking if I was going somewhere special after work.

I tried to pass it off by saying, "Not at all it's just a dress and I am not seeing clients today."

"Oh no you've got the editorial meeting this morning, haven't you?"

"Yes, in ten minutes actually," I replied looking at the new Cartier I had just bought. "Sorry luv I have to get on."

Paula smiled. "Just be careful around Stevie dressed like that," she grinned as she went back to her own little cubicle.

My stomach fluttered at the thought of her guessing something could be going on between me and him.

The main conference room is in the middle of the editorial floor. It's an all-glass four-sided job not unnaturally termed the fishbowl by everyone. All can look in and all can look out. It was very distracting and totally impractical.

There were ten or so of the senior editorial team there including the proprietor, the managing editor, the head reporter and the senior correspondent. I was there as the senior sub editor and, I always thought general dogsbody. There were only two other women there.

As I sat through the tedium of the meeting that I felt was probably a waste of time and money, my attention wandered and a couple of times I saw Steve wandering around. The first time he caught my eye he leered. Half an hour or so later our gazes met again and the bastard went over to the table I had laid on the other evening. He perched on the edge, opened his legs then pushed himself back a little into the position I'd been in. That sent a surge of excitement through me. The next time he walked past the glass wall he put his hand up to the breast pocket of his denim shirt. Looking right at me he pulled a piece of white material up from his pocket. Whether it was really a pair of panties or not I had no idea, but the symbolism was so strong that momentarily I gasped and my heart started to pound. Charles the Managing Editor sitting next to me whispered.

"You ok, like some water."

I managed to splutter that I was ok, but did take a sip of water.

The day dragged. I was almost permanently aroused, but had to go from meeting to meeting with a range of different editorial staff so I didn't have the chance to talk to or be with the man who had fucked me on the table last night. I saw Stevie several times, but there were always others around so we couldn't talk, well not about the topic that was consuming me so much. Each time I saw him he smiled or winked, slid his hand down towards his cock or, crazily, pretended to pull a pair of panties out from the breast pocket on his shirt. It suddenly hit me that they could indeed be panties, but possibly belonged to another woman who, presumably he was playing with as he was with me. That sent a pang of jealousy through me.

Around seven the day had slowed down. Many staffers had gone and there was only a skeleton staff left to deal with last minute emergencies or breaking news. There was absolutely no real reason why Steve was still in the office but overall, he was pretty much a law to himself for no one really knew what he did, but assumed that it was important.

"Come up to my office," he said down the phone.

"Why?"

"Because I want to look at your tits."

How crude and pervy, but for some reason so fucking horny too.

By his managerial grade, Steve didn't really qualify for an office. However, he had a computer room on the fifth floor with several servers and other IT equipment in it. The fifth floor was smaller than the others and there was nothing else up there so it was rather secluded. At one end of the room there was another room, well not much more than a store cupboard really, that he had got permission to turn into an office on the grounds that the area with the servers was too hot, and H & S agreed. His office was quite secluded for anyone coming to it would have to walk the length of the computer room first. He kept the computer room locked so that access could only be gained by ringing a buzzer and having him unlock the door. Whether this was for data security reasons, as he claimed or because it gave him his own little sex nest, as the rumours hinted, I hadn't known, well not until now that is.

As soon as we were alone in his small office, without asking or saying anything he took hold of my skirt and lifted it up over my hips and held it there for what seemed an age getting a good eyeful of my legs and bum in my sexy lingerie.

"Don't," I said unconvincingly.

"Why don't you like me looking at your panties?"

"Not here and now," I muttered unconvincingly as I stood in the centre of his room with, once again my skirt round my waist.

"But I want to," he murmured. "And I just love stockings, did you wear them for me?"

"No."

"Who then?"

"Me," I flustered not at all sure I was making much sense, but then when ridiculously aroused as I was that was quite normal. "So did that please you then?" I said as nonchalantly as possible when he finally let me push the skirt down.

"Yes it did," he chuckled. "Turn around and you'll see how much."

I turned to see that he had pulled his stiffening cock out from his jeans.

"For Christ's sake Steve, don't be fucking stupid."

"Take your dress off and get your gums around it," he commanded in his soft Irish voice.

"What if someone comes?"

"Well hopefully we'll both do that," he leered.

"You know what I mean."

"Jayne, do you know anyone who has ever been to this office? This is Siberia and, in any case, they have to ring to get in the door's always locked. Now get that lovely, posh frock off. "

My eyes locked on his. I knew that it was an outrageous and totally wanton demand, a request that was ridiculous and inappropriate for two senior managers in a company and that it was creating an impossibly challenging situation. It was also creating one of, if not the, most horny set of circumstances I had ever experienced.

"You are sure the door is locked aren't you?" I croaked as my fingers as if guided by another force undid the top button.

"Course," he grunted stroking his cock so that it gained its full length and girth. It looked lovely. I turned round and moved close to him.

"Unzip me please Steve," I asked rather vampishly.

He slid the zip down and I slowly let it slide to the floor. His cock was now getting stiffer and pointing upwards.

Forgetting about where we were and all the other concerns, I really should have had I stepped towards him and began fondling his cock and balls making my heart race and pulses pound.

"Get on your knees and suck it," he growled. There was no malice in his voice, but he made sure I knew that he was in charge.

A second later I was kneeling in front of him and rubbing the bulbous tip against my face as I gently cupped his wrinkly scrotum.

My husband had always liked oral sex and over the years of our marriage I felt I had become pretty adept at it. At least I tried hard and used all of my mouth, lips, teeth and hands on a cock that I not only took deep into my mouth, but also wiped over my face, upper chest and tits and nipples

I opened my freshly lipsticked lips and slowly took it into my mouth. The second it entered my mouth I felt like a massive surge of lust as I realised I hadn't sucked a man other than Kevin for over twenty years. That realisation and the decadence of the situation with me just in my undies kneeling on the floor of his office made me feel like a sex crazed wanton harlot, and I was enjoying every damn minute of it.

"Mmmmmm good girl," he sighed as I closed my mouth and began flicking the end of his dick with my tongue. I really did feel cheap as I sucked and licked his awesome cock. As well as attending to that I squeezed his balls, tugged and scratched his scrotum and fondled his perineum as I alternated between licking and sucking the main offering.