I don't date married men. I mean, don't. But he was so goddamn fucking sexy.
I'm 5'6, with dark red hair with strawberry blonde highlights. My body is strong, not petite but feminine, with muscles I've honed over years working a man's job at a warehouse.
I have C-cup breasts with dark pink nipples that almost match my hair when I'm aroused, and a couple nice big handfuls of ass. I am lean everywhere else, but any fat that sticks goes straight to my rump. So far, I haven't had any complaints.
He is exotic, Egyptian, with large almond dark eyes. He's 5'5 with a lovely, lean, very hairy, tightly packaged body and the cutest little ass. His skin is the color of caramel just before it burns. He's strong enough to lift me off my feet and throw me into bed. And his cock... well, we'll get there.
At first we just talked and cut up at work. He told me his wife was pregnant and I congratulated him. It went on like that for three months. We became fast friends. Then things changed.
I saw the way he looked at me and knew he had a crush, but I had no idea he was completely obsessed with me.
One Sunday night I was working in the back of the warehouse organizing files for the boss. It was midnight. I was tucked away in a dimly lit storage room.
The door began to open, a crack of yellow light widening from the hallway as he stepped inside. I had had a feeling he would visit me that night.
"Hello, beautiful girl, " he practically whispered. Mmmmmm...... The way he said "girrrrlll," rolling the word around his mouth, gravel in his throat, heightened my awareness of my pulsing pussy.
"Huh? What did you say Amun?" I asked, just to get him to repeat himself.
He has pretty much a Pavlovian effect on me. The minute I see him my slit starts drip drip dripping.
"Beautiful girl!" he said louder. "And hello." He raised an eyebrow, grinning as I walked toward him, my labia quickly moistening. I was sure he'd smell me before long.
He'd spent 12 weeks gently, steadily, insistently seducing me. Calling me beautiful girl. Asking probing questions. Allowing me glimpses of the poorly concealed lust in his eyes.
He was beautiful, with his large kind eyes, his expressive face. His innocent countenance.
And God.
That.
Mouth.
I needed to devour it. I needed his lips and tongue to explore me, to push me open and taste my clit...
I said hello too casually and smiled, brushing his arm as I passed him on my way to grab another box.
"Pamela," he said, reaching out to touch my shoulder, "Can I tell you a secret?"
His expression was serious, his eyes searching.
"Of course! Always. Join me for a bit," I said as I led him to the beat-up green sofa in the back of the room. The door clicked closed. No one would be looking for us. We were on the clock until 6 a.m. My heart sped up and I felt the pulsing again in my pussy.
"Pamela, may I take your hand?"
I hesitated, hearing my breath in the dark and silent room.
"I... it's not a good... Maybe we should..." I stuttered as he touched me. I didn't resist. He brought my hand to his lips, grazing my knuckles and kissing the back like I was royalty. His mouth lingered on my skin, and the warmth carried up my arm and spread into goosebumps down my back.
He locked eyes with me, turned over my hand and kissed my palm. This lasted even longer, and my suspicions about the feeling of his lips were confirmed. A small squeak escaped me.
My inhibitions faded, and I imagined Amun on his knees in front of me. He pinned me to the wall with his hand on my waist. His breath tickled the peach fuzz between my thighs.
His tongue lit me on fire as he proved for my clit.
I snapped back to reality and found myself leaning toward him, focused on his mouth.
He put his hand out to stop me, and I took a deep breath and sat back.
"Wait Pamela. I have to say something. I must confess. You are the most beautiful girl I've ever seen."
Ohhhh. Those words again. Beautiful girrrrrlllll.
"I think about you all the time. When I wake up. When I sleep. And... well, let me say this.
"I was a virgin when I married my wife two years ago."
