The Love of a Shy Gee

I have never been called, "good with people." I always had trouble forming relationships, even as a kid. My friends tended to be work-acquaintances, and women called me "cold" when they broke it off. To be truthful, they must have been right, because I barely felt it when I was inevitably dumped, and I can objectively look back at myself and see how I was an asshole to almost everyone.

Then everything changed because then I met you.

We had worked together for a few years. I immediately noticed your good looks, but I was professional and I remained detached. Then we started working closer on projects, and I got a chance to appreciate your intellect, curiosity, and infectious humor. There were no bad days to you, there were no bad co-workers. You had a way of treating people with joy and brightness, and you made everyone around you feel like a better person.

This lit a spark somewhere within me. Silently, invisibly, inexorably, you touched me deeper than anyone had before. I was helpless as the feeling grew stronger, although I tried to fight it. I rebuked myself a hundred times a day, but still that spark grew and grew. It didn't help that I on some level, I could feel that spark growing in you as well.

We grew closer, our relationship more of a friendship than a professional acquaintance. You brightened my day and laughed at my jokes. We would eat lunch together more often than not. Then one day, over lunch when everyone else I had left, I confessed.

It was foolish and thoughtless of me, as I knew you were happily married. I had sternly told myself to remain silent, but the feelings welled up and I came to the point where I had to say something or go mad.

My profession of love was halting and I stuttered more than spoke, I was so afraid of your rejection and the end of our friendship. You didn't say anything in return, but I thought maybe you wanted to and maybe it would have been better if you had. If you had spoken up, agreed with me, admitted feelings for me too, it would have relieved the pressure inside and the awkwardness of the moment, but what would we have done then? I did not consider all of this until later.

I considered it at length when you started avoiding me.

I looked for you every day, every hour, every minute. I would catch myself looking around all over for you, then I felt foolish, and then I started looking for you again anyway. You had always been a distraction to me, but after you separated yourself from me completely you became a compulsion, an obsession.

Four endless days later I found the note on my desk when I came in. It asked me to wait until after close and meet you in your office. It said you wanted to talk. I did not have a productive day.

*************************************

Your office door is ajar as I approach; I push it open and walk through. You are there, by the door, waiting for me. I walk past you, into your office, but you are avoiding my gaze. Neither of us say anything. You wait a bit, looking out the door, but it is late on a Friday, and everyone has gone home long ago.

You push the door, letting it drift toward closed, and walk to stand in front of your desk, facing the back wall. The door closes softly behind me, already locked.

I say your name with a question mark. Somehow that single word, your name, carries all that is about to happen. It carries a sparkling message, a flash of inspiration that we can both see. The denial is over, the tease is spent, and the game has played out to this point. You have made some kind of decision, but I do not know what it is yet.

There is a tear in your eye, and you stand rigid, with your back to me. But you do not leave, you do not tell me to leave. I can see you are torn between two conflicting needs, decision or no. Hesitantly, you remove your wedding band and place it in the center of the desk before you.

The ring on the desk is bright in my eyes, but you are brighter. My stomach is solid pressure, my chest feels like it is burning up from inside. My skin is tingling all over, and I feel like I am just outside myself, to one side. My body slowly closes the distance with you, as if it is pulled by a string. I do not feel like I initiated the action.

As I move closer, you tense up more. The air between us is humming with heat and pressure, it feels like lightning is about to strike. I say your name again, but softly this time, very close, and you jump. Your head is down and your eyes are closed tightly. It is as if the pressure between us has collapsed the air, leaving a vacuum that draws me closer. I am huge and you are tiny, I loom and you cower.

I am close enough that every breath I take is scented with the scent of your hair. I place my large hands flat on your tiny shoulder blades. My fingers stretch up over your shoulders and my thumbs touch each other just over your spine. Touching you seems to complete a circuit somewhere inside me and there is a tingle in my body that is slowly feeding a fire burning in the center. I can tell that you feel it too, because you are tense and trembling beneath my touch, but then you sigh and your muscles begin to loosen in response to the warmth and gentleness of my contact. I slide my hands across your back, one hand goes up, one hand goes down and then I switch. Up then down, up then down, I continue sliding my hands on your back as you relax. The fabric of your blouse bunches under my hands, and I briefly contact bare skin at the base of your spine.

My hands continue to slide, and I touch your bare back again, my fingertips barely beneath the waistband of your skirt. You make a sound, not more than a whisper, and my hands slow to a stop with one hand on your shoulder and one hand on your hip.

Gentle pressure bends you forward. Your hands find the desk in front of you to support your slight weight, and a breath I did not know you were holding slides out in a soft moan. One of my hands slides forward to sooth your neck, your hair, and then the other hand slides back and then down your leg until it finds the hem of your skirt. Your scent is musky and it fills the air, intoxicating us both. You smell like cool linen, clean air, and fresh flowers, all at the same time.

You stretch, arching your back, and with a swift motion, I flip your skirt up so that it lands on your back, exposing silky panties and bare legs. The world around us fades to a gray buzz. There was an instant, quickly passed, where we could have stopped and had this be no more than an innocent interaction, even though we would both know it was not. In my mind I felt that moment coming, and dreaded it because I did not know what I would do when it came, it felt like a moment of truth that I could not see past. But that moment is over now, and like all other moments, it passed almost as soon as it began; crossing the line was surprisingly easy. I feel like I did not make a decision at all, like the momentum of my feelings and our actions simply carried me over that point and I barely noticed.

I push the skirt up higher and my hands are on your back now, above your panties. They slide down the edges, across your sides and underneath, along your belly. You moan as my fingers again dip inside the waistband of your panties. I pause, then retract a bit, not ready yet to undress you. Now my fingers trace back up to yours sides and down along hips and outer thighs, and then back up to fondle your ass. Your skin is tight and pebbled with goosebumps, but still soft and warm beneath the cool, slick material of your panties.

My whole world is your texture, your warmth, your smell, your fine downy hairs golden upon your pale skin. I drop to my knees behind you, my face is inches from your skin, so close that you shiver from my warm breath on your bare legs. Your body is like an open floor, bent over like you are, only your panties protect your ass and the base of your vagina from my intensity.

You are quiet now, holding your breath. Tense like a bow string, you tremble.

There is a gentle moist sound as your tongue wets your lips.

My probing fingers find the contour of your ass crack through the thin material of your panties. I press in with one finger, tracing the curve of your ass around. Almost involuntarily, your legs slide open wider, allowing my fingers to slide over your anus, over your cunt, and up and around to your pubic mound. The feeling of rough pubic hair beneath the smooth cloth of your silky panties and the enveloping smell of your sex and the heat of your body near my face all ring my head like a gong. My finger slides slowly back and forth, pussy to ass and back, lightly touching, as your cunt lips swell and your panties start to get damp. You are softly moaning constantly now, and you are radiating heat. I find the sensation inviting, like a warm hearth on a cold snowy day.

My finger presses in more now, still outside your panties, but between your cunt lips. I can fell your clit swelling; I can feel your honey-hole. You moan softly, your head between your arms, your knuckles white where they grip the desk, your knees are trembling. I stop, waiting for you to steady again.

Using my fingertips, I slide your silky panties down. You groan deeply as I slide the panties off your ass and down your legs, the material has ridden up and I moan in response as the crotch pulls down slowly, first revealing the wrinkly anus, then your swollen pussy framed by pubic hair.

My face is pulled closer, and I run my tongue along the outside of your ass, and the insides of your thighs. I work closer and closer, as your back arches more and more, and your legs open wider and wider.

My tongue dips into your cunt, your nectar rolls over my tongue, sweet as honey. I move my tongue rapidly, sliding it down to flit against your clit, and I am rewarded by your first loud sound. Your entire body quakes and heaves as I trace your pussy with my tongue, and then I bear down on your clitoris, my nose in your pussy like a tiny dick. You shout and shake, riding my face as I use my mouth to guide you through your first orgasm of the night.

When you slow, I stand up and press forward, my hands flowing up your body, across your hips, across your flanks, under your blouse. My cock presses your crotch through my slacks. You grind against me slowly, groaning quietly but continuously as my fingers find your bra. I scrape my fingernails across your bra's material, tickling your rock-hard nipples.

Your groaning grows louder, more insistent. You start to grind into me harder, but I stop you. You stop, quivering beneath my touch, waiting for me. You are mine.

I am at full erection now, and my pants are very tight. There is some pain, but I barely register it, as aroused as I am. Still, it is a relief when I open my fly and free my cock from my pants and slide it along the slit of your vagina. The precum on the tip merges with the pussy's juices, lubricating the motion. Besides a slight quiver, you hold yourself still, panting loudly.

First I slide your skirt off, taking your half-off panties with it. I then turn you around, and kiss you as you remove my pants. My hands slide their way up your sides again, taking your blouse with them. I lift it over your head and away, and then focus my attention on removing your bra while nibbling each nipple as I slowly expose them. I have to pause briefly while you remove my shirt, but soon my lips, teeth, tongue, and fingers are back, hard at work on your pleasure.

You lay on your back now; your nipples ride the waves of your pale breasts. Your hands are above your head and you are stretched out. Your butt is off the desk and you brace yourself with one foot on the floor, the other thigh is rubbing against my hip. Pale thighs lead to a tangled mass of dark hair, curly, beautiful, aromatic with your romantic, erotic, heady scent.

My hand grips your breasts; pulling them firmly but gently, with the nipples scraping my palms. I tease your pussy with my cock, gyrating my hips while the fingers on my other hand gently stimulate your clitoris. Your eyes are closed; your body is splayed open before and beneath me. You have surrendered to me, but I can feel your anticipation for what happens next.

I lean down again and kiss you. Our mouths are open, our lips sealed against each other. Our tongues dart and dance, gently probing. You taste salty and sweet, and your mouth is surprisingly strong. Your arms are around me, one hand upon my back, and one hand tangled in the hair behind my head. I breathe the air of your lungs and you breathe mine. As I pull away, your mouth remains open, and your eyes are closed and your hands remain locked, pulling on me. I can tell by the shape of your lips that you are longing for my lips to return.

I enter your body.

You are warm and tight, you are slick with sweet juices. I slowly slide all the way in, and your eyes flicker open and you cry out, breasts arching up. The hand on my back is a claw, sliding down to my hip. Your other hand slides down my chest.

I am holding your hips now, sliding in and out of your cunt. You have both legs locked behind my ass and your arms are on my shoulders. We work as one machine, pumping together, pumping apart. We start slow and gentle, but as time passes, we are start moving faster. We fit together perfectly, instinctively matching each other's motions, anticipating and reacting to each other. We perfectly balance the giving and taking of pleasure.

I am creeping closer and closer to climax. You are wild and loud beneath m. Your legs, your arms, your pussy muscles, your stomach muscles. All of them are working, you pull me and push me, begging me to speed up or slow down, but I do not care. I am setting the pace a notch below the speed I want. Taking my time, enjoying the view of your body pulsing below me, enjoying the grunting and moaning sounds you make at every motion.

Enjoying the wet sound suction sound of my cock in your pussy, the slap of my balls slap against your ass. Enjoying scent of your warm flesh, erotic juices, and the smell that is just plain you and no one else.

You reach climax, your orgasm more intense for waiting. All of your muscles clench, your face clenches like you are in pain but your pussy feels heavenly, pulsing and clenching around me. Your neck is taught and I can see your heartbeat hammering there. You tighten up, sucking in. Eyes closed, holding yourself higher, off the desk. You moan loud and long, clenching your hands upon my shoulders. From here I enter you deeper than I thought possible, and I know that I am going to cum too.

You hold like this for a half-second-eternity, and then you release, your orgasm leaving you in a loud groan, sweetness and colors and light rushing from you. My balls burn and I release at the same moment, filling you full of semen as you finally relax, our warmth and sexual smell surround us like a cloud, I close my eyes and slump against you. There is nothing but this moment, this place, our bodies, our souls.

You are spent now, damp with sweat, but still sweet. I rub my hands over you again as I pull my flaccid member from your sweet sex. I lean down again on trembling muscles and we kiss again, long and sensual. I can feel your body below me, lightly touching mine. We look into each other's eyes, and there is wonder. Wonder at what we just did, the suddenness of our complete connection, the passion that escalated exponentially, the abandon with which we surrendered to that passion.

We clean up as best we can, and I gently, lovingly, place the wedding band back on your ring finger. I do not know how you will reconcile this with him, but I do not wish to destroy a relationship that brings you happiness. I know that this thing between us that has been growing will not go away, not now that we have fed it, but I cannot feel shame at what we have done and I know that you do not either. I also know that you think you should feel shame, and the lack of it is bothering you.

We leave together, out into quiet of the darkened office, serenaded by the distant sound of vacuums. We hold hands briefly, and I press something into your hand, a key to my apartment. Then we walk separate paths beyond the door, our fingers slowly sliding apart.

We will be together again, soon enough.

We still see each other every day of course, as we work together. We maintain that we are friends, but where we used to spend lunches and the between times of meetings chatting comfortably, we do not seem to speak that much. We look at each other, we surreptitiously touch each other, and we blush. Our time is quiet, but warm. The hunger continues to grow.

Until one night, you use my key.

I am relaxing, watching some TV, when I hear the door click. I look up and there you are. If is funny, because it does not startle me. Somehow I knew you were coming before you were outside my apartment, I just look up and there you are. Your eyes are alive with hunger, and need, and sadness, and some irritation. I turn slightly from the TV toward you slightly and I smile, and before I know it you are in my lap.

We make love slowly that night and into the morning, naked on the couch, I am sitting up and you are straddling me, our heads are upon each others shoulders, and we are having a conversation as much as we are fucking. You tell me about the fight you had with your husband that night, about the growing dissatisfaction in your life, and I listen, saying little, absorbing every detail.

We are like that for hours, naked and pressed together, my cock inside your body, we are barely moving, but having animated, intimate conversation. I have never had anything like this connection with anyone before, and yet it feels like this is normal, and all the times that I have not been literally inside you while I connect with you verbally are strange.

We spend the next four days together. We use vacation time to get out of work, and spend all our time in, eating only what we can get delivered. The hours of the day mean little with the window shades pulled down. Your cell phone rings a few times from its lonely perch on my door-side table. Actually it rings quite a bit. We both know without looking that it is him, wondering where you are. We ignore it. We eat touching each other, we bathe touching each other, and we sleep touching each other, and the rest of our time is spent making love.

We try some different positions, but mostly we just enjoy the feeling of our bodies together. We know every curve and blemish of each other's bodies, and we hunger for more. We tell each other everything about ourselves, our childhoods, our hopes, our desires, even our secrets. We hunger for deeper connections with each other, and we are trying to merge into each other in every possible way. I come to understand that until now, until you, I had never loved. I love you truly, and fully, and deeply. I tell you all about it, I have never been this transparent with anyone. By the end of the third day, I realize that I have never known another human being like I know you.

It is Ironic that this is the reason our time together will end.

Knowing you as well as I do, I cannot help but see the conflict you are in. You love your husband; have always had a great relationship. You fought before coming here, but that does not begin to touch the solid relationship you have had with him for decades.

You love me as much as I love you, but your surrender to this sweet madness we find ourselves in comes with a higher price for you than it does for me. You also love him, a deeper, steady love, and you have a history with him that your time with me cannot touch. You didn't surrender to me intending to give him up, and you did not come here intending to leave him forever, but I can see it in your eyes that now you are willing to sacrifice this part of yourself if I ask you to stay.