Susan was just another woman who worked in the same office. I knew and was somewhat friendly with her husband, but she didn't stand out in any way as a hot sex-starved woman. All our interactions were casual, business-oriented, and pleasant.
She was tall with a plain, not unattractive face. She wore glasses and no makeup, and her hair was brown and medium length in a nondescript style. She dressed very plainly and there was no hint of the body she hid underneath her clothes, despite breasts that were a little larger than average.
There was absolutely no indication of the smoldering sexual fire that burned inside her; no indication of the sex-starved, wanton, cock-hungry vixen she hid away from everyone. I would have thought she was quite the prude, and I ended up learning how wrong I was.
We ended up working on the same project for quite a while and struck up a friendship of sorts. On breaks and after hours, somehow there she was and we ended up talking about life, work, and the world at greater and greater lengths.
I didn't really notice how she steered our conversations the way she did. In hindsight I can see the calculations behind the subjects she brought up, but as we grew closer and more open with each other, almost as if she was another one of the guys, our talked turned to sex and our marriages.
Mine had sadly become sexless at the time and she opened me up to discussing it as she related that hers was the same. We ended up talking about how much we loved our spouses and lamented that the fire had been extinguished in our marriages. We agreed how natural sex was and how important it was to the human animal.
There was no doubt that she had her sights set on me and I suppose I'm an idiot for not seeing where things were going, but she ended up drawing from me what I liked doing sexually, my predilection for lingerie and heels, and what aroused me, while never really sharing her own desires.
She was smart and a good conversationalist and I felt comfortable talking to her. I didn't really notice that she always seemed to engineer a way to be around me and eventually it was a surprise when another secretary told me she had a crush on me.
I started to notice how she would touch me quickly when I made her laugh or when she shared something personal. I also noticed that the flats she usually wore had been replaced by heels and her tops had become tighter, showing off her cleavage. Her skirts had become tighter too, revealing the shape she had kept hidden up until then.
One floor of our building was under renovation and we began a routine of sneaking up there together to share a cigarette (a nasty habit I have since broken). I began to realize the rumor might be true when she would tell me how tense I looked and stand behind me to rub my shoulders.
At one point my back was itching like crazy and I asked her to scratch it. That really was the turning point. Not only did she scratch it but she pulled my shirt tail out and put her hands up under the material to scratch and rub my back.
Her hands on my skin and the awareness of how she felt aroused me and I grew hard under the touch of her hands on the bare skin of my back. As we repeated this on ensuing days, the massages grew longer and progressed into sensual touching with her fingertips. She'd go on unless I stopped her or we got interrupted when hearing someone else approach.
The final straw, and what really started the real story I'm telling you, came one afternoon when we were alone in my small office and deep in conversation. She asked if anything had changed in my marriage and she confessed that nothing had changed in hers
"No," I told her, "and it's getting really frustrating for me."
She leaned forward in her chair and looked me straight in the eyes. With an absolutely straight face she told me in a low voice, "I'll be your slut. I'll be your whore if you want me to."
My cock sprang instantly to attention in my pants but I was so taken by surprise that I didn't know what to say. I laughed it off, actually, and made some excuse about having to go, standing and immediately turning so she wouldn't see my hard cock straining against the fabric of my pants. She followed me out the door and we parted to go our separate ways in the building.
The next day a knock came of my office and she poked her head in with a frown. "You didn't react yesterday when I said what I said," she told me.
"I know, Susan," I said and then stammered out some excuse and said we'd talk about it later.
"Ok," she replied, and gave me a small pouty smile. We didn't cross paths again for a couple of days, which thankfully gave me some time to absorb her brazen offer.
I am a very sexual man and a bit of a Dom, something I never explored with my wife, and Susan already knew of my fantasies, especially those that involved submissive women in sexy lingerie and heels. I couldn't stop thinking about doing some of those things with her and ended up with a painful erection every time, one I had go and relieve all by myself.
I kept hearing her voice in my head, "I'll be your slut. I'll be your whore..." Finally I determined I had to tell her how I felt. We met on the floor under renovation and as she entered with a smile on her face she immediately asked if I needed my back scratched.
"That would be nice," I told her and she moved behind me and lifted my shirt out to get her hands on my bare back. This time her hands were all over my back and running up the sides of my torso sensually. My cock hardened immediately.
"Susan," I told her, "you said that I didn't react when you told me what you wanted, but I definitely did."
She leaned and brought her mouth close to my ear. "You did?" she asked, and I reached back behind me and took one of her hands, pulling it out from under my shirt and putting it over the bulge in my pants.
