Our First Time

There is a first time for everything.

As well as writing our own adventures, Andy and I like to read other people's stories on Literotica. For the inspiration to write this story I am indebted to janon314 and their most recent story "Plain Jane out of her comfort zone". I have read a number of their stories as the exhibitionist and voyeur stuff is so well written. This one though had so many similarities to how Andy and I first got together that we felt inspired to tell that story.

God where to start. Regular followers of our adventures will have me down as confident, sexually adventurous and an exhibitionist. This was not always the case. When I first met Andy, I had recently just taken on my first management role in the company. He was brought in as an interim Assistant Director of a different team in the department for a 12 month period and I developed a crush very quickly...he was just my type physically and from the way he talked about things, I knew we shared a common sense of humour and outlook on life. Seeing him around the building always brightened my day, and I will admit that I often engineered it so I would bump into him.

At this point, I had left university only a couple of years before, was living with my boyfriend and was almost painfully shy, though I had learnt to overcome that in work situations where I was confident in my abilities. After his team had inadvertently caused a pile of problems for my team, I hauled him into my office where, despite him being more senior in the business and around 10 years older than me, I proceeded to berate him and explain carefully what he had done wrong and how he needed to help us in the future.

It was a warm day, and I was just in a vest top and jeans, he was in a shirt and a tie but had rolled his sleeves up neatly. I have a thing about this as a look...capable, in control and ready for anything, so my pussy was traitorously open and moist whilst I was trying to keep a straight face and tell him off. I had a tiny office, and we were standing quite close. He listened carefully and asked a couple of questions before apologising. He promised to bring others of his team in for me to brief and smiled warmly at me before he left. I could feel my face flush and knew that the flush would have covered half my exposed cleavage, hopefully after he had left. I fanned myself alone in the office, trying to get back to an even keel, my mind replaying him standing there with his sleeves rolled up and his smile....

As good as his word, he brought his team down to meet me and brought new members whenever they started. Each time this had the same effect on me, my pussy lips would swell slightly and moisten, and my nipples would harden. I knew by this time that he was married, and he never appeared to notice my heightened level of excitement. Maybe I was succeeding better than I thought at keeping a straight face (he told me years later that I had a dark fierce look that suitably terrified his staff -- certainly, they rarely screwed up again).

Whilst I was shy and only with my second boyfriend, I was not sexually unaware and had long ago worked out how to make myself cum very enjoyably. On a couple of occasions, I had to take a walk to the Ladies and bring myself to orgasm, just so that my mind could focus on work.

And then one day he left, his interim work had come to an end. Naturally, as he didn't realise that we had the level of intimate relationship that was in my head, he didn't call in to say goodbye. I was desperately disappointed and frustrated in myself for not being brave enough to talk to him socially. Work was back to its usual level of dreariness, and whilst there were visitations from other senior managers, some of whom even managed to talk to my face and not my tits, none of them did it for me.

Three years later, I had moved into a more senior role in the company and was happy enough but still thought wistfully about him and how our interactions had brightened the working day. There was something about Andy, something stronger than any other crushes I'd had, and it hadn't been just physical, I was drawn to him on all levels.

One day, I stomped into the office for a meeting...and there he was again. I nearly squealed with excitement. Turns out he'd joined the company again as an assistant director, this time on a permanent basis.

Now I got to see him regularly at meetings and on occasion we ran particular projects together. Work was suddenly much brighter and previously dull meetings became interesting because I could sit and sneak admiring glances at him. I spent those meetings in a slightly heightened level of sexual arousal, even though there were others in the room which caused some dampening of this feeling.

So, you would expect of course that I would have told him all this and dragged him brazenly off to a stationary cupboard somewhere for a snog at least or a fuck at best -- absolutely not. I continued to stew in my own juices, literally sometimes. After about the tenth meeting where I had practically forgotten my own name because I was so tongue tied and distracted, I gave myself a stern talking to and decided exposure therapy was the answer...if I could pluck up the courage to talk to him then at least we could maybe be friends and I might actually be able to function as a normal human being in his presence.

It was a very good strategy. Not only did I look less of an idiot in meetings, but it also turned out my suspicions were right and we had lots in common- we loved the same kind of music and books and we shared the same sense of humour when dealing with the challenges of work.

It was good to have a work buddy (a very attractive one), and I felt immensely grateful for that even if it couldn't be anything more. He never really talked about his wife; but he was married, I should behave. As for me, my relationship was fine; not amazing, but not something to throw away. I would go home to my partner most nights, my heart light, and my pussy prickly if I had spent time with Andy, to listen to him rant about his day whilst I cooked his dinner and watched what he wanted on TV.

As our friendship developed, we began to open up a little more to each other and I just felt that I could tell him anything with no judgement, and from our conversations I figured he felt the same. We talked about the relationships we were in, but I still didn't tell him how I felt; I had now reached the point where I worried that if I told him, it would ruin the close friendship which was increasingly important to me and my sanity.

So, despite regularly getting to the point that if he had ordered me to stand up, peel down my sticky knickers and bend over the meeting table I would have done it in a heartbeat, I said nothing.

And then came the annual Corporate Event. I guess every organisation has them, where the senior members of each team are taken away to a hotel for a couple of days and nights and the strategic direction of the company is debated, mixed in with bonding exercises.

Normally this only involved the very senior team, but this year they realised they had some spaces free at the last minute, so feeling benevolent they extended the invite to the next level of managers. Fuck -- I hated this sort of event, full of pompous self-aggrandisement from people I would normally do everything possible to avoid. It brought all the shy and low self-esteem parts of my personality out. I tried hard to find a way out of it but was told that it was "good for my development" to get some exposure to the executive. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

On the day, I set off in a foul mood having carefully packed my bags for a couple of days and nights. Arriving at the venue I stomped in trying unsuccessfully to remove the petulant scowl from my face. As I reached the space being used for arrival coffees and cakes I faced my worst nightmare -- 50-60 people networking like bastards. My personal hell. Luckily as I skirted the crowd, I spotted Andy hovering quietly alone at an outer edge. My mood lightening, I made a beeline to him. I felt an overwhelming urge to cling to him and weep with relief, in my foul mood I had quite forgotten he would be here, but I managed to briefly hug him and kiss him on the cheek. He looked at me bemused; this was not how we greeted each other. Then he returned to surveying the crowd.

"Jesus Christ, I hate these fucking events," he muttered, "waste of fucking time, as if the bastards even listen to us. Look at them, I fucking hate networking."

My heart lightened; now that we knew each other well, I knew he had a healthy and regular use of invective, but I had not heard him swear quite so consistently at one thing before. Clearly, we felt the same about this event. We could at least make it tolerable for each other.

"I clearly missed the memo on the fucking dress code," I muttered. Everyone one else was in casual dress and jeans; Andy had on a grandad shirt and jeans and had his sleeves rolled up already. I had on a work dress, with a tight bodice and a skirt that was not too short and flared slightly from the hips. I had hold up stocking rather than tights and knickers which were already beginning to steam at his appearance.

He grinned and said, "you always look pretty hot to me." Which whilst it was slightly rote caused a definite flutter

"At least they feed you at every available opportunity and the booze is relatively free flowing tonight," he said with a wry smile. "Come on, I checked the workshop tables, and we are together most of today, let's go and grab seats."

We went through to conference room and sat together and both of us got our laptops out to quietly check what was happening at work.

"Look at this," he said, and turned his screen to show me something, which allowed me to lean closer to him.

"Yeah, fuckers," I said, "I have already sorted it." And I turned my screen his way to show him an email I had already sent.

As he leant my way, his leg touched mine and I felt a charge run through my leg straight to my pussy. Noticing me stiffen very slightly, he apologised and moved his leg away from mine. Dear God, I was thinking, just run your hand up my thigh and stroke me, I am yours. And my thighs parted as I thought it. Clearly, he didn't notice, and I said nothing. But this was going to be a long couple of days of behaving as if everything was normal.

The day was better than anticipated, partly through sitting next to Andy, but the topics discussed were interesting and I bizarrely found myself enjoying it. Lunch was good and rather than talking to others, we had a walk in the sunshine before returning to the afternoon session. This was just fabulous in its own quiet way, I don't think we had just walked and talked like a normal couple, and it just felt right. I was melting and desperately wanted to kiss him or worse, drag him behind a bush for a grope and a snog. Before the next session started, I took myself to the Ladies and sat in a stall to sort things through in my head. He is my best friend, he is married, and he has shown no sign that he wants more, I thought, I am going to have to tell him how I feel sometime, but what if that ruins everything? I resolved to behave myself.

The afternoon passed in a warm companionable way. Twice he touched me to attract my attention, once on the arm and once on the thigh. The skirt had risen up my thigh with being seated and was dangerously close to my stocking tops. He was looking the other way and had reached towards me before squeezing my thigh. I again felt a jolt straight through to my pussy and he, realising what he had grabbed, blushed, and apologised profusely. He whipped his hand away, if he had left it there any longer, he would have felt the heat from my pussy which was about two inches away. I breezily told him not to worry, we knew each other well enough for that, whilst screaming for more inside.

At the end of the session, we had about an hour and a half before dinner, so bags were collected from cars, and we checked into our rooms. Andy explained that people would dress more formally for dinner, but I was fine as I was - which is good really as I had brought several dresses, but they were all similar in style.

In my room, I peeled my dress off then stood in front of the full-length mirror in my bra, knickers, and stockings. My pussy was sticky and prickly but behaving itself for the moment which was good as I had only brought enough pairs for the couple of days we were here and was going to run out very quickly if I had to keep changing them. I looked myself in the eye in the mirror and repeated "he is my best friend; he is my best friend...."

I then looked at the range of dresses available to me. As these were work wear, there was no cleavage on show, but the skirts were agreeably short. I have good legs and no problems with showing them. I did, however, realise that the phrase "people would dress more formally for dinner" would mean that some of the women would be in their finery with cleavage and legs on show and I hadn't come prepared for that.

In the end, on the basis that I wasn't trying to attract anyone, even the person I would love to attract who seemed to be oblivious to my charms, but that I needed to compete, I decided to go braless. My boobs were largish but firm, they would stand up for themselves for the evening and would move delightfully under the dress.

We had agreed to meet in the bar 20 minutes before dinner and I arrived just after Andy. He was in a jacket and tie and looked entirely edible. He ordered me a drink, and then as we talked was clearly trying not to look at my boobs. The bodice was tight, and I realised my nipples were standing out happily. I had another rush of moisture to the pussy and slammed my drink far too quickly. We went through to dinner and found we were on the same table but opposite each other. "Probably best," I thought glumly.

The meal was challenging; the food was good, but I was sat between two people who knew each other and were alternately talking work and flirting across me, without ever engaging with me. Andy, on the other hand, had someone who was determinedly bending his ear about something probably work related. We made eye contact on several occasions and shared an eyeroll.

At other times, I caught him openly staring at my tits whilst he was talking to the other guy. We both drank far too much of the free wine and I barely survived the mercifully short speeches. As dinner drew to a close, people began to move through to the bar; the couple either side of me had perhaps gone to find a room, I didn't care by that point. I stood, swayed slightly, and realised I was pissed. I glanced at Andy hoping he was about to stand as well and realised he was still trapped. He took a large swig of wine and rolled his eyes at me again.

"Fuck," I thought, "if I stay here, I am going to say something to him," So I blew him a kiss and wended my way out of the restaurant and headed up to bed. I glanced once over my shoulder, to see if by any chance he was following me, to see he was stuck where he was but watching me as I left, with a strange, possibly drunken, intensity. In my room I stripped off my dress again, and knickers and stockings, and stood in front of the bathroom mirror.

"Naughty nipples," I thought drunkenly, "giving away my lust." And I tweaked and stretched them both, before caressing both boobs. I crawled into bed naked, too drunk and tired to find my usual pyjamas. It felt decadent to be naked under crisp sheets, even if I was alone. I ran my hands down my body, caressing and stroking my boobs, before moving down to my pussy. I spread my thighs wide and opened my pussy lips with the fingers on one hand. With the other, I ran a finger through the now parted lips marvelling at how wet and swollen they were. I circled my clit with a sticky finger, slipping it over and under the swollen hood in a practiced way. The first orgasm was remarkably quick and intense. As the body relaxed from its spasm, I closed my eyes and dipped one, then two fingers into my pussy, wishing it was Andy or that I had at least thought to bring a toy with me. I began to rhythmically pump two then three fingers into my pussy, whilst returning to my clit with the other hand. Five minutes of this, my hips beginning to flex on and off the bed, my pussy and fingers soaked in juices, I came -- this time it rolled on and on for a while. As I licked my fingers clean, I realised that I had been thinking about Andy and the look on his face as he stared at my tits all the time I had masturbated.

"I am going to have to deal with this somehow," was my last coherent thought before I turned out the light and crashed out.

The next morning, I awoke to an initial disorientation; I was naked in a strange bed, my pussy lips felt swollen and something unspeakable had happened to my tongue, which was coated in fur. It slowly came back to me and when I rolled over, my head pounded gently. Groaning, I remembered spending most of the day lusting after and telling myself off about my feelings for Andy and then drinking far too much. I crawled out of bed and made my way to the bathroom. After a long drink of water to wash down two paracetamol, a longer shower where all parts of me were thoroughly cleaned and brushing my teeth and tongue, I was feeling human. I washed, dried, and straightened my hair, which always makes me feel ready for the day.

I took the opportunity to stand and look at myself in the full-length mirror again and considered what I would do. This clearly couldn't carry on like this. He was my best friend, I clearly had feelings for him, and I would have to find a way to tell him, regardless of the possible outcomes. It was the only way forward.

"You can do it," I said to my naked self, noting that just thinking about him had caused my nipples to erect, "you have to find a way."

I decided that eggs and bacon would be my saviour and quickly dressed, rolling on stockings again and pulling on my knickers. I decided that a bra was needed if I was supposed to be businesslike and perhaps better if I was going to focus on feelings and not just lust. Lastly, I pulled on the third of my dwindling stock of dresses, noticing critically that the skirt was if anything, slightly shorter than the others and headed down for breakfast.

Andy was there already, looking very much the worse for wear. He groaned as I sat down and smiled weakly at me. He confessed that after I had left last night, he had disconsolately decided to have a nightcap and had rather more than one. During our conversation I noted him looking hopefully at my chest and hiding a slightly disappointed look that it was all safely covered. Looking at the state of him, I decided now was not the time to discuss our relationship, so settled for a general conversation about the day and the agenda. Duly loaded with breakfast, and in Andy's case, caffeine -- we made our way through and sat again in our seats in the main conference hall. It was sparsely populated and several people looked worse than Andy.

He did lean across and whisper in my ear, "After inappropriately grabbing your thigh yesterday, please feel free to grab mine." This was accompanied by a smile and a wink.

"Like this," I said and rested my hand lightly just above the knee.

"Yeah, that's ok," he started to say, but cut off with a strangulated "g'naah," as I smiled sweetly at him and then ran my hand right to the top of his thigh, stopping short of his groin.

"It was really no problem to me," I said with a grin, "feel free to do it again."

Looking me in the eye, as if this was a bet or challenge, He put his hand on my knee and then did what I had done, running his hand to the top of my thigh. I don't think he had realised I was in stockings and there was another surprised grunt as his fingers touched bare skin at the top of my thigh, and he withdrew his hand as if stung. I continued to look at him and smirked at his look of confusion and surprise. Inwardly I too had groaned as he touched me, relatively intimately for the first time and my pussy did its usual swelling and moistening. We then both grinned at each other and I could see him considering what to try next when others joined us at the table.