Road Trip

It's been two months since I've seen Andy. There have been a handful of phone calls, mainly about work, since he was transferred to our East coast office. Frankly, I was grateful for a bit of space. Seeing him, being with him, was way too intense for me sometimes. There's clearly something very powerful there, that neither of us can articulate well, even though we've tried.

No one has ever affected me this deeply before, and I know, if things were different, if we weren't both married, we could become totally lost in each other.

The intensity had become simply too much for me. I am trying to work on my marriage. I'm married to a really nice guy. But I've have this nagging feeling that he's not the nice guy for me, if you know what I mean. Things were already on their way downhill, in a totally mundane kind of way, long before I met Andy at work. It wasn't, however, until I met Andy, and really got to know him that I realized what was missing.

My perfectly nice husband has never has affected me to my core the way Andy has. Honestly, no one I've ever met has had this kind of lasting, powerful impact on me before. There's something so powerful and erotic about Andy that I just can't hope to recreate with anyone else.

The two months break has been good. I've tried to really focus on work, and on finding the good things in my marriage, hoping that I can find something, if not the same, then at least as powerful as the erotic and intellectual hold Andy seems to have over me. Some days I think I'm making progress. Others, find myself looking over real estate ads wondering if we can afford two houses in this neighbourhood so the kids' school routine isn't messed up.

Andy and I did have plans for a business trip about a month ago. It was perfect. In a city neither of us lived in, plus my husband and kids were away with friends and wouldn't be home when I got back, so I had an extra time-space buffer to come down from what was surely going to be an intense few days.

The hotel rooms were booked, and travel arrangements made. Then 2 days before, Andy cancelled. I was not happy. And I was cross enough that I thought it might have a chance of being over. I felt like I'd successfully parked the whole idea of Andy, and honestly, didn't think a whole bunch about him over the next month, other than the odd, stray recollection of some of the incredibly hot, stolen moments we shared over the last 6 months.

So, this past 2 months we've talked on the phone, all very businesslike. As colleagues and friends. When it became apparent a week or so ago that we would need to go on another overnight trip, this time with some other colleagues, I was pretty certain it would just be platonic. I really had no intention of doing anything with Andy, and didn't think much about it.

Then yesterday, when I was packing for the trip, I told myself, the reason I was packing my new Agent Provocateur lingerie had nothing to do with him. At least I didn't pack condoms. I did, however spend extra time curling my hair.

He texted me, "the eagle has arrived". Which I took to mean he was parked down by the entrance to the building and I should come down so we could leave for the 3 hour drive.

"Fab. I'm coming right now", I texted back.

I knew, as I was typing it, what I really meant that comment to achieve. But still, I was in denial. The denial lasted about as long as it took me to get from my office to the car.

I came down in the lift.

I walked to his car.

I opened the door.

And, despite the 2 months away, I was instantly transported to that place he takes me, without fail, whenever I see him. Somewhere erotic, wet, kind of dizzy. A place where all I can see are his long graceful fingers, his brown eyes and the back of his neck. Where all I can smell is him. The cologne he wears, but also, the smell of his skin. It's a place where all I can think about is how much I want to run my nails through his hair, down the back of his neck, and pull him in to kiss me hard.

I swallow hard and we start to talk. About work. About his boss, about mine. About our families. I smile and listen, but I can't hear him over the unbearable longing I feel to touch him. Kiss him. Taste him.

I think he's talking about then meeting he has on Thursday. I can feel myself answer him, but really, I am not here at all. I'm thinking about the last time I saw him. 2 months ago, we met for Friday drinks at a sunny patio after work. He was in town for a meeting. We flirted hard for an hour or so, but both had commitments. We walked down to the parking garage together and he pinned me up against the elevator wall, roughly shoving his hand into my bra and kissing me violently. Just. The. Way. I. Like. It. Al little bit rough and a whole lot hot.

We got down to his car, and were on each other as soon as the doors closed. His hot tongue in my mouth. Then his teeth on my nipples. His hand between my legs. Why did I wear the pants with the side zip? Stupid. I rubbed the head of his cock teasingly through his jeans. People were walking by the car. This made him so hot. He loves public sex, and I love to make him squirm. When we are in that place together, there is pretty much nothing I wouldn't do.

I snap out of my daydream. We're halfway through the car ride, and I figure I could easily fuck him by the side of the road if given half the chance. Snow and all. I don't care.

We stop in a little town midway to pick up a few things at Wal-Mart. He tells me he has to pick up toothpaste. He forgot his. I don't believe him. As we get back to the car, I tease him about having stopped to buy condoms. His smirk tells me what I suspected. This is going to be interesting.

We drive the rest of the way. The flirting is more intense. Less flirting really, than outrageous winding up. I love winding him up. I love being wound up. I spend the rest of the drive playing serious fucking music from my iPad in the car and telling him, in exquisite detail how much, and which ways I want to fuck him. I haven't even touched him yet.

We get to our hotel and check in. Side-by-side rooms? It's like the check-in clerk was listening to my thoughts! I ask the receptionist what room our colleague is in. I need to gauge whether there's a line of sight to our doors. There isn't. Our colleague is in a completely different hallway.

We agree to meet in the lobby in 20 minutes. Enough time to shave my pussy and put on those amazing panties and bra. I have to stop myself in the shower. Just shaving my pussy so close and smooth feels so good I could practically come. I'm just putting on my shirt as he calls. "I'm coming." I say. "Just putting my shirt on. You should see this bra. It barely covers my nipples."

I hear his sharp intake of breath and know I've hit the intended mark.

I meet him in the lobby, and we make a guess about which restaurant our colleagues, who arrived earlier, would be at. We choose one several blocks away, and settle in. We order drinks, and dinner. We drink a lot, but we both barely eat. We pick at our food. Neither of us really is in the mood for dinner. I am at a loss for words as I imagine him grabbing me and fucking me right there, on the table in the restaurant. I must have made that little noise I make when I'm thinking about him. The one that tells him I really can't wait to touch him.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks.

The game has begun. The one where I tell him, over the table, in minute detail, what I'd like to do to him. I like this game. I could play it all night. "Well," I say, looking up through my eyelashes at him, "I am thinking about how much I'd like to grab you by the back of the head."

"And do what?" he asks, feigning innocence.

"...and dig my nails into the back of your neck. Run my tongue down, slowly, from your neck, down your torso, to your cock."

"and?"

I take a paper napkin from the holder, and a pen from my purse. I write, upside down so the words are facing him across the table, "I want to suck your cock until you cum all over my tits", it reads.

I prop up one foot, encased in a black leather boot, between his legs, lean over the table and whisper, "I want you to be rough. I want you to hurt me a little bit." I take his hand and slide it into my bra, using my hand to force his fingers to pinch my nipple hard. His eyes narrow slightly and I can hear him suck air in through his wet lips. It's time to go.

We dash across the road, back to the hotel. He doesn't work in our office any more, but I do, and suddenly, I am worried that one of my colleagues might see me. Even a few gins and tonic can't dull that fear. He can tell I am afraid of this, so, after some discussion, bids me goodnight and goes to his room.

I sit, stunned, on my bed for a full five minutes. Wondering what I am going to do with myself. I pick up the phone and dial room 120.

"Hello?"

"Were you expecting it to be someone else?"

"I'm glad you called."

"I am sitting here, trying to convince myself it is a bad idea to come next door to your room."

"I am afraid I can't help you there." He says, "why don't you just come over. We can take it slowly."

"I'll be there in a minute."

The door is ajar. He's waiting. The top three buttons of his shirt undone. He can't possibly know how much I love to look at his chest. How much I was to run my nails over it. Bite it, kiss it. Aside from his graceful fingers, and his, perfect, delicious cock, his chest is my favourite part of his body. I haven't got to see it often, as we don't get much private time together. I walk, slowly over, and run my fingers through the wiry hair on his chest. Brushing my lips over it. Inhaling the smell of him deeply. I could do this for hours, but I also desperately want to fuck him. Hard. Now.

I peel my silk shirt over my head. I'm standing there in a silky black camisole, black and cherry-pink bra peeking out, skinny jeans, bare feet with red, glossy toenails.

Suddenly we are on one of the beds, kissing and running our hands over each other, completely wrapped up in the feel of each other. The taste.

I bite his neck gently, grabbing him by the hair, running my free hand down his chest, to his jeans, reaching for his belt, undoing it.

I slide his jeans off him, and take mine off too, revealing black panties I chose for their silky softness. I slide myself astride him, gently rubbing my silky pussy up and down the length of his hard penis. Kissing the back of his neck. He's got my left nipple in his mouth, biting gently, his other hand pinching the right one. Too gentle. I close my hand over his, and force him to pinch harder. He moans a little. So do I.

I slide down the length of him, making sure my round breasts, hard nipples brush his cock. I pull off his underwear and take his cock in my mouth, sucking it and using my hand to stroke up and down the shaft and his balls.

I slide back up his body. Using my finger to push my panties aside, I slide the tip of his cock barely into the wetness of my pussy. I slide my clit up and down the head of his cock. It is wet from me. I lean over, pin his hands beside his head and whisper, "I want to fuck you. So. Hard."

I slide on to his cock, wrapping it in my hot, wet pussy, and sliding up and down. Slowly. Kissing him. His neck. I am so close to coming, and he knows it.

"I want to make you come." He growls.

"No. Not yet", I say.

I move up and down his cock. I can feel the ridge where the head meets the shaft of his cock, slipping in and out, and I can feel it rubbing against my clit."I really don't want this to stop." I say, "I love how this feels. I love fucking you. Do you want me to fuck you?" And then I'm so close to coming anyway, that I just have to stop, or I will.

He grabs my ass, and sucks hard on my nipple. I let out a shuddering moan and fuck him faster, deeper. He makes me come. I feel his cock deep inside me as the most delicious, intense orgasm rolls over me. After 6 hours of foreplay and flirting, I feel like I might pass out.

"I want you to fuck me from behind." I say, when I can catch my breath.

He obliges.

I lean over the bed as he grabs my hair and begins fucking me hard. It feels so intensely good to feel his cock slamming into me and I want to make him come as hard as I just did. "Fuck me like I'm your dirty little slut." I say.

"I'll fuck you hard, you slut. I'll make you come."

He fucks me hard. But what I want, more than anything is to taste his cock. And have complete control over making him come.

"I want to suck your cock till you cum on my tits." just like the note at dinner said. His eye open slightly wider, he smiles and I push him down on his back on the bed, easing myself down over his cock. Using my hand as well as my hot, wet mouth I suck his cock, paying special attention to his balls and the head. I can taste myself on him, and this makes me even hotter. I love that taste. I look up at him, adjusting the angle of my head so that he can watch his penis slide in and out of my wet mouth. I can tell he's getting close to cumming so I slow down a little, and stop, briefly I start again, and this time, when he is close, he flips me over on my back and before I know it, I can feel his hot cum on my skin, covering my tits, throat and hand.

I tell him, he's got a bit of time, but I want to go again. He laughs, and reminds me about our early meeting in the morning. I run my fingers through his chest hair for a while, wondering, if I went down on him again, how long it would take me to get him ready to go again? It's 11:30, he is right about that meeting.

I slowly get dressed, kiss him one more time and head back to my room. On the way, I am already planning the next business trip.