She is a happily married woman that has never cheated on her husband.
He is a happily married man that has never cheated on his wife.
They worked together but never met, yet the connection was there. They traded pictures and their livesâ stories. They struck up a friendship and talked about religion and politics and life. They were so very comfortable with each other and so very attracted to each other.
Hey, it happens.
From her:
You and I agreed to meet. You will be down here for business with your Palm Beach connection. I can drive up and you can drive down and we'll meet somewhere in the middle, in a restaurant overlooking the Atlantic.
I tell my husband that I will be meeting someone from work for lunch. I get dressed to go meet you. I park in the lot of the restaurant, wondering if I have lost my mind completely. We agreed to just have lunch, sex was not going to be a part of this.
Dancing with the devil.
I walk into the restaurant and see you sitting in a corner. You look SO handsome, long sleeve shirt and tie, khaki pants. You stand as I walk towards the table, taking me all in. I knew you were tall, you told me so, but still I was not fully prepared for your presence. Iâm dressed in a black skirt hemmed just above my knees, no hose, strappy, black high-heeled sandals. A short sleeve pullover silky shirt on top, sexy yet conservative. The swell of my breasts visible from the top of the neckline. Yes, conservative, but with red lipstick and red lacquered fingernails and toenails. You take a step towards me, hugging me. I can smell you; clean with a hint of cologne, and all man.
I take the seat across from you, still holding your hand. "I'm SO nervous Steven."
"Relax babe. By the way, you look beautiful. I'm so glad you agreed to meet me."
"Mmmm me too, you look great too," I whisper.
We make chit chat about this and that, so easy to talk to, putting me at ease. And all the while you are still holding my hand. You turn my palm over and bend down to kiss the inside of my hand. "Steven, what are you doing? We agreed, just talk, just lunch."
"I know, we agreed⊠Maria, let me touch you. I won't do anything to make you feel uncomfortable and I'll stop the moment you tell me to." While you talk you get up and move the chair so it sits to my side instead of directly across. Your hand now caressing my face, "Let me babe, let me touch you."
Not waiting for an answer your hand travels to my neck, like a feather. My eyes are fixed on your face, watching you look at me. "Yes?"
"Yes...Steven."
Your hand travels lower, to my shoulder, over the silky material of my top and then down my arm, across my elbow, back to my hand. You pick my hand up and bring it up to your lips. This time I donât stop you. You kiss the inside of my hand, and then each finger in turn.
"Maria" you whisper very close to me, my hand on your face, tracing the line of your jaw, caressing your cheek, "Maria, you're so soft. I'm going to touch the skin that is exposed on your chest now." You are not really asking as your hand moves to the seam of my top and traces it. You close your eyes; I still watch you. God, so sexy; your fingers give me goose bumps, my nipples getting so hard. "You're so soft....mmmmm." You bend down and kiss my neck, I turn further towards you. The waiter walks up to the table. Asking something about food, as if I could even breathe! You order for us. I love a man who's in charge.
You are sitting very close and we speak in whispers. About everything. You smell so good; I want to kiss your adams apple and find the pulse in your neck and plant big, open-mouthed kisses there. Your lips so full and inviting; I really want to kiss your mouth. I feel myself getting so very wet. Madness. I should have known that I could not do this.
The waiter comes back with food. "I'll feed you if you feed me" I hear you say. I see by your expression that you're not kidding and the truth is, I canât think of anything at the moment that I would rather do than feed you and have you feed me.
"Okay, but fingers onlyâ I say.
"Yeah, that's my girl."
I take a dripping shrimp and place it in your mouth, your lips closing over my fingers before they escape your mouth. Warm and wet.
You cut a piece of the chicken and feed it to me, I nervously take it into my red-lipped mouth, my tongue licking your fingers clean.
From him:
Bringing the piece of chicken to your lips with my hand, discarding the fork. You open slowly, with hesitation, but I can see your chest expanding as your breathing deepens.
"Take it babe," I offer. "Its ok."
And you do. Your lips closing in, taking three fingers up to my first knuckles on each finger. I moan softly. Feeding you again, another piece of chicken dipped in some funky sauce. This next time you hold your mouth closed around my fingers, savoring the taste of the sauce, the spices of the chicken and, of course, my fingers.
"My turn," you suggest sexily. Your uncross your legs and lean into me, offering another shrimp to me as your other hand braces itself against my upper thigh.
"Your legs look great, Maria."
"Thank you," you reply as you blush. Our minds wandering to the first time I taught you how to have your incredibly long and shapely legs fucked.
"Would you like to try that, Maria?" knowing full well that our minds have wandered to thoughts of intimacy - the same thoughts in fact.
"I think so."
"Babe, nothing can happen you donât want to happen."
Eager to leave the restaurant, we leave much of our meals still there, and I drop enough cash to hopefully cover the meal and a respectable tip. We jump into the car Iâve rented and drive off to a spot overlooking the water that you know of.
My fingers trace along your hands, palms and along your forearms, as you lean down this time to offer me sweet small kisses. At the stoplights, my fingers trail along your neck, collarbone and over your shirt between your firm breasts.