My Affair with the Office Girl

I've had many, many women in my life but recently thoughts of Clare obsess me. I keep reliving my time with her all those years ago. I'm going to write it out. Sharing will be an exorcism.

I was twenty-one when I met her, had just landed a job as a trainee manager in an electrical warehouse in one of the six Potteries towns here in the U.K.. First day at work Clare came over and introduced herself. Just nineteen, she worked in accounts. Instantaneously I thought her special. Completely at ease in her body, she walked through the world as if created for her alone. Beautiful more than pretty: shoulder length chestnut hair that she always wore down; large eyes were green, her mouth wide with over-ripe lips. She had a strong but pleasing nose that had a splash of freckles. Her skin a warm hue of caramel. Barely five-one, she looked a size ten, I reckoned. A real tidy little package.

The sight of immediately touched something in me and I could not help but stare. When she saw me looking she got up from her desk and came over and said, "Hi, Handsome. I'm Clare". While we chatted about who we were, her eyes hunted down my soul

Even though I thought her stunning, I judged her skirt way too short for the workplace. But I can't blame her showing off her leg, they were exceptional. I would try to catch a glimpse of them whenever I visited her office.

Dan, the warehouse foreman, noticed the way I stared at Clare when she brought order sheets down to the loading bay. On her approach we would both stop what we were doing and watch her sashay her way through the warehouse. When she had completed her errand we would watch achingly as she went back up to her office via a short run of wooden steps. When gone, Dan always gave me a knowing wink.

It was Dan who told me Clare was married. What a blow! Not that I let that put me off; Clare was becoming a bit of an issue for me. At first I didn't believe him, thought he was winding me up. She looked so young and fresh faced. I immediately went to the office on some pretext, just to see if she was wearing a ring. I was gutted by the bunched gold, silver and stones on her finger: friendship, engagement, and wedding. Rings just like Carol, my girlfriend of the time, wanted. I'd got as far as friendship.

Dan also said Clare had a something of a reputation with the younger drivers. I asked him what he meant. He said I was a Good looking lad and would probably find out for myself.

He was tight about that.

One day I'd gone up to accounts and was talking to Cath, the accounts office supervisor but my mind was on Clare. I kept looking over at where she sat, trying to get a glimpse her legs and wondering if she was wearing tights or not. I decided she was; sheer, very fine denier. Those nude-look ones. She saw me gaping and smiled for me in this real smug way. Holding my gaze, she twirled her chair around to face me full-on while ostentatiously crossing her legs at the knee to show an expanse of under-thigh. Then she just sat there eyeing me while ever-so-slightly rocking her chair from side to side. Something passed between us as and I knew we were on..

In the days that followed, whenever I went on a break she would come down to the small scullery to make hot drinks for the other girls. She would see me walk past the office window and quickly follow.

We were in the small staff kitchen. By now her signals were blatant, the way she looked at me starting to consume my inners. Even though I was seriously involved with Carol, I could not resist the insistence of her eyes.

It was Tuesday morning and I was standing in the small kitchen waiting for the kettle to boil. The area was narrow and she came real close, her breast brushing my back as she eased her self past me. I turned to face her and looked her in the eyes, and god! The way she returned my looks. That look told me all I needed to know. I reached for her, placing both my palms on her hips and drew her to me. My cock was already hard when I pressed myself against her.

"Is this what you're after, Clare?" I said. I was expecting her to wriggle free but she didn't.

"I thought you''d never get the hint," she said, a great wide sexy grin on her face beaming up at me.

She went on her toes and we kissed. God! The way she pressed herself against me, her arms around me pulling herself on to me. Her tongue voracious in my mouth; no messing, just shoved it past my lips and let it slide where it would. Even though we might have been interrupted at any moment I put my hand up the back of her skirt and massaged her buttock cheeks though her tights, feeling the micro-mesh slide all over her silky panties. I was tempted to pull them down there and them but restrained myself. Any number of people could have walked in on us. And I certainly didn't want to get in my boss's bad books for uncouth behaviour. He was a stolid upright chap and would have gone ballistic to see his staff in such a wanton embrace.

Meeting up like that went on for maybe a week, the pair of us visiting the kitchen and bumping into each other as if by chance, me groping her like she might disappear in a puff of smoke. It was driving me mad to be snogging her and getting very little else other than the sensation of her cunt through her tights and panties, or my hand on her breast over her blouse.

We had to do something.

She said she would be walking to the shops at lunchtime so I said I could pick her up in my, car as if passing by chance. Neither of us wanted anyone to know we were having a fling.

So that's what I did. She slid into the passenger seat and I watched the hem of her skirt ride high, giving a glimpse of a white panty-haze beneath sheer denier. I asked her if she wanted to drive up to the woods just out of town. She said no, said she had a better place. She directed me to her house, two miles away.

She told me to park a little way up the street from where she lived while she went to check her husband wasn't home. She said he sometimes came back for lunch, but said if he wasn't there by now there was no chance he would come later. I told myself, never say never. It added to the feeling of subterfuge.

She went inside and a few moments later popped her head out the door and beckoned me. She reached out her arm as I walked up the street and took my hand when I on the threshold, pulling me in with a determined tug. We fell into each other's Arms as the front door slammed to behind us and kissed like it was out very first time. The kissing stopped and we looked each other in the eyes, both anticipating the other. She smiled coyly and took my hand and led through to the back living room.

I was frantic to get her undressed. I was sick of feeling-her-up through her clothes. This was passion unhindered. Heated. Not a gentle seduction.

March and the air chilly. The central heating gurgled and spluttered but had not yet warmed the room. I remember her standing half undressed in that small, back room. Her top and skirt were gone and the sight of her bare breasts, still taut with their ebbing teen uplift, made me ache with need. Her nipples were larger than I anticipated, perhaps, stiffened by the cold air - or maybe the excitement. Her tights and panties down to her knees, prevented from falling further by her suede boots.

All the same, she spread her legs as wide as her panties and tights allowed while I rubbed her cunt with the flat of my palm until she moaned out loud. Then I fingered her with three fingers. She made sounds like she'd never been touched there before. The speed and degree of her arousal shocked me. Her breathing became frantic, her cunt all unctuous. She gasped and moaned and then said she wanted to be fucked properly; repeated her demand over and in a breathy chant in my ear. But every time I tried to remove my fingers she held them hard in place on her clit, told me, "Stay just there, like that — yes!"

I prised myself from her and she moaned like a woman bereaved, barely able to speak when she asked if I had condoms.

While I retrieve them from my jacket pocket, she took off her boots and removed the tangle of tights and panties. She lay on the sofa her with legs spread, displaying the raw gash of her sex. Her eyes watched every move I made while she gently touched herself.

I did not bother to take off my shirt or socks, just my jeans. My cock led the way and she took it in hand and guided me into her. She was so wet that I slid into as if into quicksand. In that first push into her velvet tightness, I was overwhelmed by the actuality of her beauty and presence, still not quite believing a girl so lovely could be giving herself to me so readily. We animal-fucked. Joined as one, we heaved and rolled. She captured my torso between her thighs, knees way back, heels hard in the small of my back.

I did not last long. I could not contain it. When I felt the explosion building I pushed deep and let my cock spasm its contents into her core. She seemed a little put out that I had cum so soon, but she was a beautiful young creature and any man would have found themselves as excited as me. At the age I am now, with all the dulling middle-age brings, I doubt I would last any longer now than I did back then.

I said I would be ready to go again soon. She said no; she had to be back at work.

So did I.

As we dressed, I asked her if she didn't love her husband anymore. Why else would she be doing this? She told me she loved her husband completely but they had an arrangement, could each take a lover for a week or so as long as it was all up front and out in the open. She said they had agreed to be totally honest with each other. She had liked the look of me and had decided to have me.

I asked her if she told her husband about me. She said she wasn't stupid, would never mention one of her 'adventures', she called it, while it was on-going, but might later.

She asked me about my girlfriend, Carol. I showed her the photo I always carried. She thought Caroleee gorgeous. I could tell she meant it by the look in her eyes. She asked me what Carol would say if she knew I was cheating on her. I said I didn't like to think.

Clare said I should ask Carol if she would like a threesome.

"You mean me, you and Carol?" I said.

"It would be fun. There something about Carol . . ."

That really floored me. Back then I could not believe anyone would just come out with something like that. The people I knew in my small world up in the north of England just did not say stuff like that. I managed to ask if she were serious. She said she would not say it if he weren't. Such a scenario was not on even on my radar, had never crossed my mind even once, ever.

But her words set my mind a thinking.

I agreed to call for Clare the next day at eight-fifteen, half an hour after her husband left the house and forty-five minutes before we were due at work ourselves. She answered the door immediately, practically dragged me inside saying something about not wanting the neighbours not to see me. She wore a satin nightgown cut low, in a classic Grecian Attlee. She led me into the back sitting room and I watched how the gown clung as she walked. The room was warm and the smell of an earlier cooked breakfast and coffee hung in the air.

Her buttocks cock-pleasing sumptuous beneath the cling of her gown. I held her to me while we kissed, savoured the material sliding here-and-there as my hand caressed her lush cheeks. I gathered the fabric in my hands and was astonished by its density and wig, lifting it from her hips and up over her body. She broke our kiss to raise her arms high to allow the silky garment to slip over her head. Free of it, she shook her head with vigour sending her long hair whipping wildly, then allowed it to settle back in place while brushing strands from her eyes. I kissed her hard and deep and held her naked flesh to me while totally relishing the moment. For me there is something piquant in having a naked woman in my arms while I am still fully clothed. They acquire a vulnerability possessed at no other moment.

Even then I knew this was a unique moment. I loved the way this beautiful young woman now pressed her whole body against mine, responding to my kiss with subtle bodily movements, fluid and sensual, almost ethereal. I thought of her loser of a husband and wondered what kind of idiot he must be to sanction his wife's infidelity. What an arse!

I lowered my head and sucked each breast over and over, my mouth going from one to the other. My finger plied the crack of her arse and then rubbed her clit. I went on my knees licked the bush of her pubes while she stood, then up straight again to fill her mouth with my curled tongue.

My request that we go up to her bed but was brusquely refused. She said she would never betray Kevin like that - by taking another man into their marital bed.

So I had to make do with fucking her on the sofa again. I stripped off all my clothes this time, while she again waited for me naked on the couch, her legs wide and arched, her fingers lazily touching herself, delving her own mist cunt.

What can I say! It was sex. You Don't want to hear clichés or lies.

Again, we were pressed for time. She went upstairs to dress for work while I pulled on my own clothes and went to the downstairs bathroom to dispose of the condom. She appeared ten minutes later in her works clothes; blouse and cardigan; short skirt, tights and boots. I remember sitting and looking at her while she made a few final touches to her makeup in the mirror that hung over the mantelpiece thinking how beautiful she was. I found myself admiring her no-nonsense attitude to shagging. She had seen me and liked what she saw and so had decided to have me.

I saw her three more times for sex. Before the last time we made lover she told me it would be our last meeting together, that it was, time for us to stop before feelings were stirred. She thanked me for our moments together. But it was too late for me, by now I had begun to fall in love with her. If she had asked met I would have left Carole to be with her. I told her it couldn't end just like that. She said it would have to, said she would see that it did.

Eventual I had to accept she no longer needed me as her fuck-buddy. I still remember the last time we made love. She had taken a few days holiday due to her. One day, I visited her at lunch time in her home. She knew I was coming and had dressed up special for me in a little black mini-dress and heels as if going out for a night on the town. I undressed her slowly, like a precious gift.

As a parting gift - something special to remember me by she said - she gave me blow job. This was something Carol rarely did for me. I remember Clare licking in long passes. When she sensed my climax approaching she tried to dodge the bullet but had left it too late and ended up with cum in her hair. She stood up fast to look in the mirror over the fireplace, horror in her eyes, "Oh fuck! I only just washed it." Then suddenly she was laughing, falling back down to me and holding me with all her strength, forcing me to kiss her. I did. Long and deep.

Afterwards, we lay naked in front of the gas fire on the duvet she had spread on the floor for our lovemaking. For fifteen minutes we lay in each other's arms and I felt a tremendous sadness. When it was time for is to separate, for me to get back to work, she smiled a thank you smile and then kissed me. I thought of her husband, how he was the luckiest man alive to have a wife like her. But I was absolutely certain I would not be able to share her with anyone if she were my wife.

Soon after it ended I was moved to another branch.

A year later I was out for the night with Carol when I saw Clare in a bar up town. She was wearing the same black dress she had worn for me the last time we made love. She was with a group sat at a table; two blokes and a female. The younger of the two men I guessed was Steve her husband. He looked ordinary enough. I pitied him. The others were probably her sister and her husband. The girl had the same fetching, dark looks as Clare, but was perhaps two or three years older. Clare was laughing at some remark the other girl had made when she saw me from across the room. I caught her eye just as her face was completely animated by the laughter. She looked so radiant, so alive. When she saw me she held my gaze and smiled the sweetest smile and then turned away.

I don't know why I did it but I pointed Clare out to Carol, saying she was a girl who used to work at my old place.

"Which one is she?" she asked. "They look like sisters."

"The younger one is Clare."

"Her in the black dress?"

"Yeah."

"Aren't you going over to say hello."

"I hardly knew her.

"She looks nice."

"Yeah . . . she was," I said, my heart nearly breaking.

I never saw Clare again.