Peters Plans

Peter sat at his new desk in his new office in his new job.

Everything there was alien to him but he was intent on making a good impression.

So, why couldn't he concentrate?

He knew why. There was something, or more to the point, someone, on his mind. Why, oh why, couldn't he get Claire out of his head?

He was happily married to someone else and everything to do with Claire had come as a shock.

They had known each other for years and he'd always had an idle fancy for her. But that had been as far as it went.

Peter forced his brain back to where he was and tried to focus on work. He was a journalist, a news editor, and he saw this job as a stepping stone. He only wanted to be here a year so really needed to get the editorial team in shape sharpish to enable him to move on to bigger and better things. And to do that, he needed to keep his mind on his work.

Peter was 33. He had been married for five years to a wonderful woman and he had never been bored. He wasn't bored in the marriage now and he didn't want it to be over, but he also wanted Claire.

Claire and Peter used to be colleagues. They had always flirted and months ago they had shared a drunken kiss. The next day, wracked with guilt, Peter had confessed to his wife. Contrite and sorry, he had put all his effort into making his wife know she was his number one. Whenever Claire had come out socially, he had felt awkward and avoided talking to her.

Eventually, Claire had stopped coming out and he had felt relieved.

But, a few weeks ago, Claire went to a party at his marital home. Peter was drunk and when he looked at her he realised he still fancied her. All night he fought with himself and tried to avoid looking at her or talking to her. In the end, he couldn't help himself and sat next to her.

"I really fancy you," he had confessed. And that was the start of the affair.

Now, he found his thoughts occupied with Claire and the endless possibilities of what they could do together.

He thought about her body, which he had first seen naked not long after his confession. She was tall, with long dark hair and pert breasts. He thought of her sturdy thighs wrapped around his waist, pulling his cock into her, as had been the case only two days ago when they fucked. Peter felt himself begin to harden and again struggled to focus his mind elsewhere.

At that moment, his telephone rang and he had the welcome diversion of talking to an elderly lady complaining about rubbish collections in the town. As he furiously scribbled in his notebook, he thought about what sort of story it would make and thoughts of Claire were, temporarily, erased from his mind.

Driving home from work, his mind began to wander again. He had so many ideas of what they could do together but he didn't know how far he could push Claire. She was obviously inexperienced yet sexually frustrated. After her initial shyness when they were alone together, he sensed she was opening up to him and eager to please.

Last weekend she had visited him at his new offices wearing a corset specially purchased for the occasion. Peter knew she had probably never bought underwear for any other purpose than comfort before. The sight of her in the black and pink lace corset had excited him more than he could imagine. He had touched her pussy through the lace of the knickers.

"You're really wet," he had said. And she was, soaking wet, although they had barely, at that point, touched each other.

After that he had pulled aside the crotch of her knickers and pushed his cock into her.

The rest of the week flashed by. Peter worked hard to keep Claire out of his mind at work and threw himself into getting enough news to fill the paper. But secretly, in his down time, he was planning something special for this weekend, something he hoped would surprise and excite Claire. Luckily, his desk faced away from everyone else in the office, so when he felt his cock start to stiffen at the thought of his plans, he just moved closer to his desk and immersed himself in his work. No one could possibly have known what was going on in his trousers.

On Saturday, Claire arrived early at his house. He hadn't told her any of his plans so he knew she had no idea what to expect.

She looked pretty - virginal almost. She was wearing a sheer white gipsy skirt, vest top and flip flops. Peter smiled inwardly at the thought of making his 'virgin' into a whore.

After the usual greetings, Peter led Claire slowly upstairs to the bedroom. There, he pushed her on the bed and started to kiss her - at first gently and then with more force. He breathed in her sweet scent as he eased her out of her vest top and undid her bra. He knew his cock was rock hard in his trousers and he pressed the bulge into her fully clothed groin. Underneath him, she moaned and pressed back.

Then, Peter unzipped her skirt and pulled it down - slowly past her hips and buttocks before pulling it off quickly. Then, he dispensed of her pants.

Now, he had her exactly where he wanted her. She was writhing on the bed in a fit of desire. She wanted him, he knew that, but today she was going to have to wait.

Reaching to the side of the bed, he produced an oblong of black silk. She looked at him, puzzled.

"Relax. I won't do anything you don't want me to," Peter told Claire. He knew she was apprehensive as he tied the blindfold around her head, but reassured her with a quick kiss.

Then, Peter took Claire's arms and held them above her head. Using more black silk scarves, he tied her wrists to the bedstead.

He looked down at her. He was fully clothed, but she lay naked on his bed - her sense of sight taken away and movement severely restricted. The black silk of the scarves contrasted with her fair skin. She was tanned, with hundreds of freckles - no doubt the result of a recent holiday - but he knew she was usually pale and interesting. Just as Peter liked.

Now he had her exactly where he wanted her. And he was going to make the most of it.

He knew she was a novice at this so he planned to take it slowly - hence the silk scarves and not the chains he hoped to move on to eventually.

He pulled a feather out and, very slowly and lightly, moved it over her body, tracing her shape. She let out a small giggle, obviously ticklish.

"Shut up. Be quiet," Peter ordered and she stifled her laugh. Her face instantly impassive.

He moved the feather up the inside of her thighs. As he moved closer to her groin, she involuntarily parted her legs, revealing her wet pussy. He traced the shape of her pussy lips with the tip of the feather and she let out an almost inaudible gasp.

Peter put the feather down, but he was not finished.

"Turn over," he said, and she obliged immediately. He picked up the feather and traced up the back of her thighs and to her buttocks, which she raised to the touch. Unable to stop himself, Peter dropped the feather and raised his hand to slap her ass. Again, she gasped. Peter slapped her harder.

He quickly took off his clothes and got onto the bed, kneeling next to Claire.

"Move your body so your groin is over my knees," said Peter. This she did, and he felt her pubic hairs grazing his legs. Then, he lifted his hand and, instead of slapping her, spanked her hard.

"Harder, harder," she groaned. Peter did not need to be asked twice and bought his palm down on her buttocks hard. He looked and saw red marks forming on her skin. So he spanked her again and again, harder and harder with each blow.

He could hear her breath rasping as she tried to cope with the pain and pleasure he was inflicting on her.

Quickly Peter moved from his position and kneeled behind her, pulled her up, and entered her. He knew she was near orgasm - and he knew he was too.

"Harder, harder," she cried. And with each thrust he spanked her ass. Eventually Peter could hold himself back no longer. On the brink, he pulled out and came all over her ass, back and thighs. Exhausted but satisfied, he watched the sheen of his come trickling between her buttocks and the back of her left thigh.

His 'virgin' had acquitted herself well for her first taste of bondage. He knew he could push her further next time.