Swati Strays Ch 01

This is a cheating wife story that does not include elements of cuckoldry. I say that only because that seems to be a hot button issue in this category, and I wanted to offer fair warning, regardless of where you stand on the issue.

This story was written at the encouragement of a reader, who explained her fantasy to me and asked me to write about it. I love hearing from other members of this site, either via email, in comments or in the bulletin board area. Feel free to reach out any time.

Please enjoy!

*****

Swati sat anxiously at her desk, periodically checking her watch.

4:41pm.

4:45pm.

She listened for the footsteps of her colleagues, each of whom tended to cut out a bit early on Friday.

4:48pm.

4:50pm.

Finally, she heard her ten associates coming down the hall, passing her door on the way out. As they passed, they each poked their head in to say goodbye.

"Have a great weekend, boss!"

"See ya, Swati!"

"Give that beautiful daughter of yours a hug for me!"

Her employees loved her. She was the ultimate player's coach, always willing to put in the extra time with them, and allowing them enough of a leash to make their own decisions, with only just enough oversight to prevent everything from going horribly wrong.

Perhaps more than anything, they appreciated that she let them bow out early for the weekend, while she would stay an extra hour or so, and yet not harbor any resentment about it.

Swati, meanwhile, loved her employees, and loved her job. She had moved to California from India to take this position, and knowing that it was a huge commitment, had poured her every effort into it. As a result, she had earned promotions and raises at a more frequent pace than her colleagues. They, too, though, could not harbor any resentment towards her, as they knew she deserved it, and she always paid respect to those in the company who helped her get where she was.

Her home life was stable, steady, consistent. She had a loving husband who was, for lack of a better term, completely boring. As dedicated to his work as Swati was to hers, he lived a conservative life that permeated his politics, social life and his marital bed.

Swati loved him, no question, but her mind was constantly bombarded with sexual, borderline perverse, fantasies. And while her employees might have admired her for working late on Fridays, Swati would anxiously await this time for the rare moment of privacy it granted her. Constantly surrounded by her family or colleagues, she would "work late" on Friday to enjoy some quiet time.

She watched the security monitor on her desktop, waiting for the last employee to head out to the parking lot, and then she opened up her favorite website: literotica.com. She browsed quickly through her list of favorite stories, selected one of the dirtiest, and sat back in her chair.

"Suburban MILF is captured and turned into a fuckpig," she read the description out loud as she parted her legs and let her left wrist nuzzle against her sex. She had read this story many times, but she still read every word, reveling in the pacing and delayed gratification she could achieve by not jumping to the "good parts."

Of course, what she loved about this story was that it didn't dwell in the back story, and it still got to the action relatively quick. And once it got there, it was explicit and filthy, just as she liked it.

"Present your cunt," the protagonist's master commanded of her. Swati always waited until this line to spread her legs wider. Without fail, a damp spot would emerge through her panties by now, and she loved the sensation of the warm slick between her thighs.

Imagining the master's crop was touching her slit, she pulled the stapler off the top of her desk and gently ground the smooth top of it against her crotch through her jeans. Her ass cheeks clenched as she pushed her pussy off her chair and into the stapler, appreciating its rigidity. There wasn't anything on the stapler to simulate the veins of a cock, so it was nearly impossible to stimulate herself to orgasm. But that is what she liked about it. For now, she just wanted a tease.

As she got to the part of the story where the fuckpig suburban wife has to service her master with her mouth in order to get him to delete some scandalous photos, she imagined herself in that position. Kneeling, mouth stretched wide around a domineering cock, looking up into the eyes of her captor. She wanted that so badly, but knew that it would never happen. Her heritage was that of a society that frowned upon sexual openness. For her to even suggest something outside the realm of vanilla sex to her husband was out of the question.

She knew that the fact that it was so taboo was what made it so enjoyable for her. And she believed that reading erotica, instead of viewing explicit videos, was a good compromise. It never made her feel too guilty, but it could still satisfy her desires.

She rubbed the stapler harder and quicker against her pussy as the master built his way towards climax. Tonight, though, she would not reach that climax.

A quick rap on her office door startled her.

"Hey Swati, I..." Rico started before stuttering to a pause.

Swati dropped the stapler, which landed with a bracing mechanical clang between her feet behind her desk.

"Uh...sorry to interrupt. Just wanted to see if you needed a ride home."

Rico was the office Swiss Army Knife. He was their runner, their fixer, and, most steadily, their chauffeur. Swati had fantasized about him from time to time, primarily because he had a significant resemblance to one of her favorite Bollywood icons. Though he was Mexican, his skin tone was similar to hers, and she considered her infatuation with him akin to camping in the back yard: familiar, but pushing boundaries. The fact that he had rippling muscles that seemed to pop through whatever he was wearing didn't hurt, either.

"Shit," Swati replied. "Sorry, what time is it?"

"Almost 6. I know you tend to stay late, and I was just about to head home myself. I could drive you, with the company car, if you want."

Swati normally took the train - just a few stops - and then walked the two blocks to work, but occasionally she would accept a ride from Rico. It was not inappropriate for him to knock and enter like this, given her open door policy. She couldn't be mad at him for this intrusion. But she hated herself, and her flushed cheeks belied that whatever she was doing was not office appropriate.

"Uh, yea, please. Sorry," Swati said as she leaned over and picked up the stapler.

As she lowered her head beneath the desk, Rico noticed something familiar in the reflection of the window behind her. The very banner and website design of a site he visited several times per week. It was then that he confirmed his suspicions that she had been pleasuring herself when he entered. He smiled an amused smile that he quickly straightened when Swati returned to her chair.

Wanting to act as if she was just finishing up when he walked in, she closed her laptop and stood up, grabbing the coat from her chair and making her way to the door. Rico, ever the gentlemen, held it for her and then closed it behind her.

When they got out to the parking lot, Rico locked the front door and led Swati to her car. She was following with her head down, ashamed that she had nearly, and perhaps actually, been caught masturbating at the office. If he had caught her, she thought, Rico seemed impressively straight-laced about it.

Rico opened the back door for her and them climbed in front. He started the engine, paused briefly, and then turned it off.

"Is everything OK?" she asked.

"Yes, Swati, I'm sorry. I left my phone in there. I'll be right back."

He promptly left her in the back seat to think about what had just happened. Of all the people to catch her, it had to be the one guy she had a crush on? And how could she have missed him on the security camera? Where had he been when everyone else left?

Rico, for his part, had his phone on him the entire time. An idea had struck him like a lightning bolt, and he acted on it impulsively, not even sure if he wanted to. He entered the building and went back into Swati's office. He opened her laptop as he sat behind her desk, knowing that she did not properly shut it down. In a few seconds, the light came on and there it was, the Literotica story she was reading.

"Holy shit," he muttered to himself. He clicked back on the browser a few times to land on her user page "Favorites" tab.

"Neglected wife finds joy in submission? Suburban MILF is captured and turned into a fuckpig? Indian Wife Gone Bad, Husband catches wife with dirty old neighbor?" He read everything out loud in astonishment. Swati had seemed so prim and proper literally every instant he had spent with her. He could not believe that this was the kind of thing she fantasized about. He wondered if she would have an interest in acting any of these out, or if she had already.

He took a quick picture of her favorites page so that he could study it more at home, then closed the laptop and returned to the car.

"Sorry about that, Swati," he said as he reentered the car. He held his phone up and gave it a little shake to show that he had been successful in retrieving it.

"No problem, Rico. Thank you for taking me home."

...

Rico drove home that night in a blur. He had always liked Swati. A lot. Both professionally and personally. And the last thing he would ever want to do is cause her harm. But he couldn't get the thought of her reading Literotica at work out of his mind. He didn't want to enact anything nefarious, but that didn't mean he couldn't have a little fun.

After dinner, he executed stage one of his plan. He opened up Literotica, found her username, and clicked the Contact tab. In the dialog box, he wrote the following:

"Hey there. In browsing through this site, I noticed you and I have liked a lot of the same stories. I think you might enjoy some of mine, which were written with similar themes. I write under the pseudonym Abob1. I hope you get a chance to read them and let me know what you think."

He went to bed with fantasies of how she might respond. He knew she would like his stories, given the other stories she had favorited. But maybe she didn't socialize on the site, or maybe she used a fake email to register and never received any emails from the portal.

But in the morning, there was a response.

"Abob1, thank you for writing. I actually have read some of your stories before and loved them. I particularly like the Fulfilling the Prerequisites storyline. I, myself, have similar fantasies, though I doubt they will be fulfilled in real life."

This was nearly the perfect reply. An admission of her fetishes, and an inkling of hope that they might actually happen. He quickly replied.

"Thank you for getting back to me. That was my favorite story to write. Took a long time, but it was worth the effort.

If you don't mind my asking, why wouldn't your fantasies ever come true?"

After breakfast, she replied.

"Given that this is anonymous, I don't mind sharing. I am of Indian heritage, and in the area of India where I grew up, nobody ever talked about sex. My husband and I have only ever been intimate with the intent of conceiving, which we have only succeeded in doing once. We have a beautiful child, but our sex is dull, pedestrian, anemic. My husband doesn't even like me to see him naked, and he never seems to want to see me, even though I would be considered sexy in most societies.

Any ideas on how I could break out of this rut? Lol! #jokingnotjoking"

Rico couldn't help but to feel sorry for Swati. Maybe this is why she was a workaholic. Nothing exciting to come home to. And damn, what a waste of beauty.

He clicked reply, but could not decide what to say for several minutes. Finally, he wrote:

"Sounds like you need to break up the monotony a little. My wife and I went through something similar a few years ago. This might sound like a typical guy solution, but it worked. I did some innocent flirting with a girl I liked in the office. It never amounted to anything, but it revved me up sexually. I would arrive home insatiable. My wife never knew what came over me, but she liked it. It reignited our fire.

Might you be willing to try something similar? Is there anyone in the office you find at least mildly attractive? "

After clicking send, his heart started racing. He had made the whole thing up in the hopes that Swati might try some innocent flirtation with him at the office. He didn't even have a wife, let alone relationship issues. But he thought trying to relate to her issues might help ease her tensions.

Before he had time to dwell on it, he received a reply.

"That does sound like a typical guy solution. Not sure I could get away with that, especially since I'm in charge. I could get in some serious trouble if a subordinate is made uncomfortable by my advances. Thanks, though."

He quickly wrote back, sensing that the "thanks, though" was an indication her interests were waning.

"Don't be ridiculous. No heterosexual man has ever minded a beautiful woman flirting with him. Even if the chances are zero, its flattering. It gives them confidence. Trust me...do something on Monday that could subtly be considered flirting. Try wearing something just slightly fancier - or more flirty - than you would typically wear at the office. Nothing blatant, so it would be easy to justify, and defend, should it ever come to that (it won't)."

He was thrilled with her reply.

"We'll see. I'll let you know what I decide."

...

Swati decided to do it. What could it hurt? A little innocent flirtation would never get her in trouble. She wouldn't cheat on her husband. She'd recognized other women in the office hit on a couple of the guys in a lewder way than she planned on doing it. They probably wouldn't even call what she was going to do flirting.

She did decide to wear a pencil skirt, which she would normally reserve for meetings with the board. No doubt, it would be considered conservative in most circles, but her co-workers noticed the shift away from her typical pant suits.

"Hey, boss. What's the occasion?"

"Did I miss a memo about the corporate brass coming in today?"

"Damn, Swati! Looking good!"

This last comment, from one of her female colleagues, made her blush. Apparently her change in attire was more obvious than she anticipated. But for as conservative as this look was, she began to wonder if perhaps her typical ensemble was a bit too hyper-conservative.

One of the last employees to arrive was Rico, who poked his head in to see how far Swati had gone for him. He was thrilled that she had dressed up a little, but was disappointed she didn't go a little further with it. Not wanting to let on, he kept himself composed.

"Morning, boss. Have a good weekend?"

"Oh, good morning, Rico. Yes, nothing out of the ordinary, you?"

"Same," he replied. "You know where to find me if you need me."

In that brief interaction, Swati felt herself flush. She sensed her breasts swell gently, and the hairs on her arms stood up. Literally no sign of flirtation on either part, but it was exciting for her, given the assignment her online correspondence had provided. Ultimately, though, she was a little disappointed he didn't specifically say anything about her look.

A few hours into the day, she received an email alert on her phone. It was from Abob1.

"I would love to see a photo of what you chose to wear today."

Swati gulped. She knew she could disguise herself well enough to avoid any sort of blackmail, but the idea of sending pictures of herself to any man, especially one that wasn't her husband, gave her a tingle. She pushed her chair out from her desk, switched her phone to selfie mode, and positioned the frame so that it cropped her head, but caught the rest of her seated body. She sent it off to him.

A minute later, he replied.

"Thank you for the picture, but I'm going to go out on a limb say that you didn't compel him to make any comments with that outfit. You're hot, no question, but if you want to initiate office flirtation, you probably have to be a bit more obvious. Try undoing the top button or two, show a little cleavage. Send me an updated pic."

Swati skin was starting to glisten now. She had never done anything remotely sexual with anyone other than her husband, and this was much more thrilling than anything they'd done together. The reserved part of her mind wanted to ignore this request, get back to work, and reengage on Friday when she typically masturbated after work. But that was five days away, and she was too turned on at the moment.

She locked the office door and returned to her chair. After undoing the top two buttons, she sat back in her chair and took a similar picture, this time showing a healthy dose of cleavage. Her shirt hung open obscenely, her bra was clearly visible, and the design of that bra exposed most of her breasts. Before snapping the pic, a naughty thought came over her. She uncrossed her legs and left her knees a few inches apart.

She sent that pic off to Abob1, excited to see his reaction. She didn't have to wait long.

"Now THAT is what I'm talking about. Try engaging your crush looking like that. Let me know what he says."

There was no way she was going to talk to Rico looking like this, no matter how exciting the thought was. But she wanted to act before she talked herself out of it, so she buttoned one of holes in her shirt and picked up the phone to call Rico's extension.

"This is Rico," he answered.

"Rico, could you please come by my office for a second?"

"Sure thing, boss. I'll be right there."

Now Swati started to panic. Caught up in the moment, she had committed to a bit of innocent flirtation with a coworker, but she now realized she had no further plan. She tried to think up something to say, but came up with nothing. A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door, and a jiggle of the handle.

"Swati?" Rico asked from the other side of the door.

She had forgotten she'd locked the door. "One second!"

She came from around her desk and walked on shaky legs to the door, unlocking it and opening it for Rico. As he stepped in, the first thing that caught her eye was his bicep, and that dose of masculinity alone caused her to trip over herself as she stepped backwards. Collapsing to one knee, she found herself at his feet, her head level with his crotch.

"Swati, are you O..." he lost his voice as she looked up at him. At least five inches of cleavage appeared below him, and he couldn't help but to stumble over his words as he caught her in such a prostrate position.

"Are you OK?" he asked, as he bent and gripped her forearm.

"Yes, sorry," she said, as he helped her to her feet. She wiped a few loose strands of hair from her face, tucked them behind her ear and smiled courteously, trying to compose herself.

"You wanted to see me?"

Her collapse had caused her to lose all focus, and now she was the one stumbling for her words.

"Yes...uh...Rico...I wanted to know if you could drive me home again tonight."

Rico's eyebrow curled in mock curiosity. That was the kind of thing she could have she could have easily asked over the phone. They both knew it, and she kicked herself for being so transparent.

"Sure, Swati. Of course I can."

There was an awkward pause, lasting a few seconds, where they simply locked eyes. The short distance between them felt dense with tension. If either of them had made a move for the other in that moment, they might have torn each other's clothes off right there in her office. But neither did.

"I'll come by at five and walk you to the car?"