Training Sharon

The first time I saw her I wanted her. Her hazel eyes were framed with chestnut hair, and her lips were so plump I knew I could take a bite and taste sweet juice from them.

I talked professionally to her, as she was a customer (but a very hot customer). We met several times, always leaving me hard, but never beyond friendly. She was in school, working on a secretarial degree, and her husband of only a year had died, leaving her enough money, but barely.

We discussed the fact that without experience no one would hire you, and you couldn't get experience until someone did. Then my secretary told me her husband had been transferred; tears all around, she was good at her job, but suddenly I needed a person just like Sharon. She was so thrilled when I offered it, she jumped up and hugged me. Those tits were every bit as big as I had thought and pondered and dreamed.

Now we were alone every day; between clients, true, but there's always a few minutes here and there, and lunch. (Everybody's gotta eat, right?) I believed the eye contact was longer, the smiles bigger, the flirting more often. Maybe. But there was a new husband, and a wife at my house. A wife who made it clear she wanted my hands off her ass that we were adults and all that sex was for teenagers dating, not married adults. Funny, I thought it was the reverse.

We talked. She was totally an innocent virgin when she married straight out of high school, as was her husband. Sex was not nearly as much fun as she had hoped, and every bit as much a duty as her mom had told her it would be. Then hubby had turned up with Cancer, and died quickly, leaving her in limbo. Not in College, not working, without any single friends; isolated.

Work itself gave us endless subject matter -- a new copier neither of us could figure out. What color to paint the bathroom? Through all of it, I felt an easier and more comfortable rapport, a growing level of trust, both ways.

Finally I had a new computer with some new software, and going in to work on a State Holiday sounded like more fun than hanging with the bitch at home. Would Sharon be interested in some overtime? Non-mandatory overtime, to learn the new system together? She would indeed.

No customers, doors locked, no answering the phones. She walked in with the tiniest shorts I had ever seen, and a loose blouse that gave her boobs lots of space to bounce. My dick was so hard I couldn't stand up, and had to motion her over beside me. The smell of her was way distracting, and I couldn't teach or learn the system.

Finally I suggested a holiday drink --neither of us used much alcohol -- and we touched glasses, and then hands, and then my hands slid around her wrists and pulled her in, with no resistance, and she responded as eagerly to my kisses as I had hoped. She had this way of sucking in my lower lip and biting gently that drove me wild.

Soon we lay upon the couch, licking each other's faces and confessing the attraction we had both felt from the start. Why didn't you TELL me? Why didn't YOU tell ME? And more, what do we do now? We're both married and have families, kids; we can't just elope.

For six months things got hotter week by week. I started rubbing her neck while she answered the phone, and she would lick my ears while I tried to type an e-mail. I started gently massaging her butt when she was standing, and letting my hand slip down under her blouse to tweak a nipple; especially fun if she was trying to sound professional to a caller.

We started spending lunches in the office crawling all over each other, but still... her husband had had a vasectomy, my wife was on the pill. How did either of us explain condoms, or God forbid, a pregnancy. One afternoon we used up four hours undressing each other and touching and caressing, but I couldn't put it in, and I couldn't put it away.

One other hitch.

Sharon had never had an orgasm. Her husband wanted sex therapy, and she was afraid it would either give her away or at a minimum force her to spend more time in bed with his often drunk and malodorous self, berating her for 'not responding.' She might not cum, but she could soak the couch through blue jeans. She was not dead.

I took her sailing on a day when 'others' would be along, but somehow no one else would up there, and then we had even more privacy and bunks. I brought condoms; we used five. She cried, but they were tears of knowledge that we couldn't go backwards.

Then we had a year of happy times; happy at work, anyway. One day she canceled the hour before lunch but didn't tell me. I opened the door to have her hurl me into the couch to show me the red panties she wore just for me. I could slide into her by pushing them aside, and I did. And a little later I took them off and slid in again.

Bad times came when her family and my job forced us apart. I had another secretary, but she just worked there. Then I had to move with my job, and I thought I'd never see Sharon again.

Five long years passed, and by magic, business pulled me back to the same town. I called her up, on a chance; she said we could do lunch, and I shrugged; it would be good to see her again anyway. She lasted five minutes in my motel room, before I had her naked on my bed, riding me cowgirl like we had never stopped.

We knew then we had to continue. My marriage was gone, hers was on life support. I found a reason to get back to the area, and she met me in a resort. We went a little slower then, we had three nights.

I lay across the bed, face down, as she massaged my back, straddling my right leg. I loved her touch, but then I felt the heat and the wetness on my thigh, and read her mind. I spun around and entered her with so much energy that I left teeth marks on her breasts and ass. We didn't care who saw them. I was amazed at the amount of fluid she could produce, and told her so. She said you don't understand I haven't been like this for five years; she thought she would never make real love again.

I had my goals set out. First I got her accustomed to being naked with me, then to my mouth between her legs, and to the feel of my hardness in her hands and mouth and cunt.

The next time we met she brought a 'sexy nurse' costume to wear for me, and I brought butt plugs. The costume didn't last long, the butt plugs fit but weren't her favorite. What she liked was doggy style, so I put her on her hands and knees as often as I could catch my breath.

One day I bought an orange, and we peeled it and ate it one section at a time, held between our lips as nectar spilled all down our faces and throats. Then I spilled a little nectar of my own to mix with hers, and we did it all again.

I rode her in the knee-chest every time, even though she protested that the others were fine as well, but I listened to her body. The fourth time I fucked her like a bitch in heat she spasmed and fell to the bed beneath me. I thought I had hurt her, but all she said was My God, So That's What I've Been Missing!

I have her trained now. When my lips meet hers she wets her pants. In fact, she soaks them on the way to meet me. We like to kiss, so we do that for a long time, usually until our lips are mauled, but our hands stay busy, too. She often 'forgets' her panties when we have to get food, and she likes to remind me of that fact when I'm doing something else, like driving, where touching her is difficult -- not impossible, just difficult. I'm what's hard.

When I push her over face down she raises her bottom in anticipation, and I push into her warm wet place with all my might. I hump until she collapses in ecstasy, and then I wait until she is coherent again and fuck her some more.

Last time we were together I let her lick my cock, and she bobbed her head up and down my shaft until I thought I would go insane. Her lips skated around my purple head as if I had a candy cane for her, and she took me so deep within her throat that I disappeared into her face. I had to fist myself, I couldn't wait, but I shoved my abergine plum back between her bruised and swollen lips before I burst, filling her mouth over and over with all the thick white rope I had stored. She never broke eye contact, and she swallowed every drop, finishing with a sultry lick of my last drops from her surfaces, and then a lick to my wilting glans. I tried to rise, I struggled for a moment, and then I shuddered in defeat.

She knew I wanted anal the last go 'round, but we remained too pressed for time and space, and our one attempt was doomed from the start. Too many other things to do! Now she knew I wanted to bury myself deep within her anus, but she was scared. Even the butt plugs did not convince her that she could handle my size back there. She let me lube her up, while she participated in oiling my penis, and then I tried to put it up her ass. We haven't mastered that yet, I am quite thick, and she has never experienced back door glory before. I am a patient man, however, and we can fix that problem.

My newest difficulty lies with my new wife. She knows of Sharon, and approves; she likes to hear the details. But she wants to watch, and Sharon doesn't want to share.