The Awaening

This involves sex with a man and a married woman. If this bothers you...later.

"Damn! I swear you have to be the luckiest man on earth," Walter Collins sighed as he took a sip of beer.

Greg looked over, "What are you talking about? I mean, I'm happy. I love my job, not just telling you that because you're my boss, I do love it. I have a nice house, a nice car, beautiful wife," he took a sip of his beer, "But, I don't seem to get promoted and Tracy makes a lot more than I do, the house is the bank's and the car is a lease. Not sure how lucky that makes me."

"You're shitting me! Tracy is not just beautiful, she's a fucking goddess...a body men would sell their soul to the devil to spend a night with. Name one model or actress...hell, open up a Cosmo magazine and find a single babe even close to your wife and I'll get you that promotion. But that's not why I said you're a lucky man," he grinned at his employee, "a total babe and a sub. Shit, man. You won the lottery!"

"A sub? What the fuck are you talking about? I know I keep saying that, but you're making no sense. What is a sub? And how do you know her...oh yeah, the picture on my desk."

"Dude, you are really naive. A sub is a submissive, a woman...or a man who desires to be controlled... you know, sexually," he said studying his employee's face. "I'll bet she lets you do whatever you want to her, and will beg for more."

"Oh shit, you'd better not ever say anything like that around her. She's a director over at Gold and Stanton and she'd rip your balls off if she heard you say that shit."

Walter laughed, "Wow! How long have you been married? 12 years? Shit! You don't know her that well, do you? I'll tell you what, invite me over and I'll show you. If I'm wrong, I'm wrong and you get the position as Operations Director that's opening up."

"This sounds like one of those stupid bets, you know the ones in those stories. Sorry, I'd like to earn the Director position without betting my wife," he said before sipping his beer.

The older man laughed, "No betting your wife, I'll not be taking her home with me or anything like that. If I'm wrong, Director. I show you your wife is a sub, and you'll win again. You want her to suck your cock? She'll drop to her knees before you finish the sentence. You want anal? She'll dash to the bathroom for the KY. I'm just being a friend," he said looking intently at the younger man. "But I know I'm right, so don't pack up your office yet." He drained his beer. "Tomorrow night. I'll be there at 7 for dinner."

"Anal! You're dreaming. She'd never in a million years..."

"I have to go. You'll see," the man stood up. "And she'll happily clean your cock afterward," he said as he headed for the door.

Greg started to stammer a reply, but his boss was already at the door. He looked at the paper in the bartender's hand and sighed, 'Why do I always get stuck with the tab?' he thought.

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

"Why?" Tracy demanded, "Did you invite him? Hell, you can cook since I don't have time. I need all of tomorrow evening to prepare for the meeting with corporate on Thursday." She glared at her husband, "Damn it, Greg! You know how I hate it when you make plans without consulting me first."

Greg looked sheepish, but internally he was doing cartwheels. Walter was full of shit if he thought he could get Tracy to be even the tiniest bit submissive. "Ok, I'll cook. We'll make it a short evening. It's fine, I'll take care of the dishes also."

Tracy glared at her husband, "You will and you'd better start cleaning now. We're not entertaining in a messy house."

Greg came into the bedroom, "Everything's set, the house is clean...whoa, I thought you were pissed at me," he said rapidly removing his clothes.

Tracy lay on the bed naked, stroking her pussy, "I am. You need to take care of this before we go to sleep," she removed her hands and opened her legs. She closed her eyes as her husband crawled onto the bed and pressed his lips against her wet pussy. "That's it, yesssss, suck my pussy," she sighed. She played with her nipples while opening her legs wider, humping against his face.

When they'd first started dating, Greg hated doing this and she wasn't nuts about it either as he wasn't very good at it, but one night he'd penetrated her with his tongue...deep inside her. She'd never been with a guy who could literally fuck her with his tongue. It turned out, this was the only way she could cum with him.

Greg pressed his face hard against her crotch, his tongue flicking the warm hole, his upper lip grinding against her clit, having to constantly swallow her juices.

Tracy thought about Brett over in sales who was constantly hitting on her and looked to be packing serious meat. Today he sat on the edge of her desk with his firm cock outlined as it lay down his leg, the smirk on his face as he saw her stare at it. 'If I could get Greg to let me fuck Brett...just once, ok maybe more than once and make him lick my pussy while riding that huge cock, Oh God! That fat cock inside me...cumming inside me...then Greg's tongue cleaning me out!' she thought as everything exploded.

Greg gripped his wife's hips as she screamed out and bucked against his face. She always came like this, but never this violently. He sucked all her juices as she grunted and writhed against him, his cock rock hard ready for relief.

After she'd collapsed back he crawled on top of her, lined up his cock, and slid inside her.

She pushed him hard off her, "no, stop. Sorry, but we can't do this. I'm fertile right now. Can you go somewhere and take care of that? Anyhow, I don't want your cum leaking out of me all night. She pushed him off and leaned over to turn off the light.

"I'll wear a rubber, or you could return the favor," he said plaintively.

"You could but you take too long when you use one and I could suck you off if you'd not pissed me off. Goodnight," she said as she rolled over.

'Right,' he thought. It was never the right time to get Tracy to suck his cock. It had been over a year since she went down on him and she'd never let him cum always telling him she got him ready, so he can finish himself off. Greg rolled off the bed stroking his cock and went into the bathroom to finish and then get ready for bed. Maybe she'd be in the mood in the morning or after work. 'Shit! Walter is coming over,' he thought.

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

Greg answered the door. Everything was prepared, the roast beef, salad, and twice-cooked potatoes. He'd picked up a Barolo that rated very high. This was going to be the night when he'd proudly announce he'd be at the same level as his wife. "Come in, Tracy is just finishing up a call. She'll be right down," he said. "Wine? Sit anywhere."

Walter looked around, "Nice house. I can see why you like it. No street lights, large lots. It's quiet out here," the man said approvingly. "Scotch, if you have it."

"Neat, blend, single malt?" Greg asked. Hearing the response he headed into the kitchen.

The older man sat on the couch looking around. He observed everything was neat, with no clutter. A sign of a busy couple, no kids, career-driven. "Thanks," he said accepting the tumbler.

"I'll get Tracy. She should be finishing up her call," Greg sighed as he headed down the hallway.

Walter felt an anticipatory throbbing in his groin. He wasn't happy Tracy wasn't there to greet him, considering it rude for the hostess not to attend to her duties but heard their voices coming back down to the living room. He stood as she entered the room. "Tracy, It's good to see you again," he smiled.

The tall blonde hesitated, "Have we met? But welcome to our home. Greg's talked about you enough. I hope he's made you comfortable," a smile not reaching her eyes. "I apologize, but this has been a busy week and well, I wasn't given much warning." She glanced at her grey wool suit apologetically.

"Your house, you should be as comfortable as you want," Walter said, studying those curves he knew well. He looked her over, "I think you look very professional."

Dinner was relaxed with Walter asking Tracy about her job, the number of her reports, and responsibilities. At first, she gave brief answers as she leaned back in her chair, but his interest seemed real so she relaxed and leaned forward. Both men noticed when she took off the wool jacket and undid the top two buttons.

Both men were not shy about looking as her blouse opened up and the vee exposed those creamy mounds. Perhaps it was the wine, the warm temperature, or the company but Tracy seemed looser than she normally was around strangers and was soon talking about her work responsibilities.

When dinner was done, they retired to the living room. Walter took the couch which surprised Greg as he'd assumed he and his wife would sit next to each other, but as he took one of the two chairs opposite he wasn't surprised when the older man patted the seat next to him. This will end well for Walter if he tries anything, he thought.

Tracy hesitated but then sat down, pulling the skirt down over her knees and crossing her legs.

"You look like you're in a business meeting," the man chuckled. "If I weren't here, would you have changed? Perhaps sweats and a tee shirt?"

The blonde nodded, "Sure, but we have company so I wouldn't change into that."

"But a wool suit?" he asked. "I'd want to get out of that if I were you, guests or not," he said. He looked over at the jacket hanging on the back of her chair, "You wear clothes like that every day?"

The woman nodded wondering why the man seemed so interested. "Except in the summer, then I have lighter linen suits."

"Don't answer if you don't want to, but you have an incredible figure. Why do you hide it?" Walter asked as he drained the last of his scotch.

The woman looked down quickly at herself, then over at her jacket, "I'm comfortable with my body, not trying to hide it. I just don't feel the need the flaunt it," she paused, "Well, I guess as a woman I want to be respected for my mind, my decisions not my...figure."

"I can see why," Walter chuckled, "You have men perhaps focussing on you...your assets rather than what you are saying? I could never put myself in your shoes," he glanced at her feet, "well, maybe those, but never anything like those spikes you women wear."

Tracy relaxed enough to ask what had been bugging her, "Why did you say 'Nice to see you again?' I am sure we've never met."

Walter held out his empty glass to her, "It's a long story and I could be persuaded...."

Greg started to get up, but shockingly, his wife took the glass and went over to the bar, refilling it. She had always expected him to be the host when they had people over. He'd always written it off thinking once a manager, always a manager.

Tracy handed him the refill and sat back down, her left leg curled under her as she faced the man, "Ok, does this persuade you?"

Walter laughed, "It's a good story. A long one," he looked down at the shadows between her open legs and then around the room, "It's warm in here. I'll tell you what, go back and change out of your work clothes and into...something comfortable, something red...something slinky, something satiny with matching heels?"

Tracy sat back looking at the man, 'How the hell does he know I have...' She glared at Greg, "Did you...?"

Greg had no idea what Walter was talking about, nor could he remember anything red in Tracy's closet...just blacks, navy, grey..." He shook his head at her.

"How did you know...?"

Walter took a sip, "Every woman has that fantasy girl inside. The dress you wear for 'girl's night out,' to flirt with the strange men. It was a shot in the dark, but I'd like to see the true you when you're not hiding behind the corporate facade." he smiled warmly at her.

"I may have had something like that at one time, but I'm sure it went to Goodwill or donated somewhere," she said.

"That's fine. You probably aren't all that interested in the story anyhow," He took a sip, eyes glued to hers. He nodded and smiled as she stood and headed back down the hallway.

Tracy looked at her closet and started to get angry. 'Who is this man to come in and tell her what to wear? To see more of my legs? Fuck-me heels?' She pulled out dress after dress, each one demure, and modest but then she saw the red glow in the back. Seemingly on its own, her right arm reached for the hanger and pulled out the tiny crimson satin garment. She hadn't seen this garment in years and wondered if it would even fit. Her classmate made her wear this...made her take it off. She's sworn she'd tossed it and the shoes..the shoes! She bent over and pulled the box out. She still had them.

'Not a chance,' she thought, 'no way in hell would I wear this for a man I'd never seen in my life before tonight!' she thought but as if on autopilot she took the dress over to the bed and stripped all her clothes off. 'Will it still fit?' she wondered. 'I'll try it on then change into jeans or something.'

She stood in front of the full-length mirror studying her body. She did have great legs, long and slender, with a nice thigh gap. She admired her pussy. She could use a waxing...it had been a few weeks, but that shouldn't matter for tonight. Narrow waist above perfectly flared hips. She cupped her breasts. No sag, solid C-cups, large nipples. She was a B-cup back then. Her nipples seemed puffier...She gasped as she unconsciously pinched them, her knees buckling. 'Wow! Where did that come from?' she wondered. She couldn't remember the last time they were so sensitive. She dropped her hands and turned to check out her butt. Still taut, round. She went over and slipped the dress over her head hoping it wouldn't fit.

She looked again in the mirror and gasped. She looked...Christ! Like a whore, a high-class whore but no woman wears this unless they've been bought. She actually wore this? The thin material clung to her body as if painted on. Her braless tits jutted proudly out, the shape of her erect puffy nipples proudly displayed, even her fine bush could be made out under the taut fabric. 'No way! Not a chance,' she thought, but she sat down and pulled on the matching shoes with the 5" heels.

Greg gasped and stood up, "Holy shit! Tracy, where have you been hiding that?" he asked as she seductively walked into the living room. 'Oh my God!' he thought, 'I have to get Walter out of here soon.' It was obvious she wore nothing under this dress and couldn't wait to peel it off of her later.

Walter sat back looking at the girl. He patted the seat next to him, grinning over at Greg as she walked gingerly in those heels. "See? I knew you had that side of you hidden inside. You look like a million dollars," he smiled, "or $10,000 for the night."

Tracy felt a quick ache between her legs hearing him say that coupled with the subtle leer in his voice. She sat down attempting to retain her modesty and wanting to laugh at the effort. She kept her legs together and turned her head and looked at the older man. "Ok, happy that I am lowering myself to your whims?"

Walter chuckled, "I am. But I'll be happier when you're comfortable like this. It suits you. Ok, I'll tell you where I've seen you, but relax and face me," he said a bit more firmly.

Tracy inwardly groaned as she realized the futility of retaining any modesty, her dress barely covered her pussy and no matter how she sat, the men could see between her legs. She turned towards the man and sighed, "This better be good."

"It is," Walter said, "and it's nice to finally meet the real you," he smiled as he looked between her legs.

Tracy's thoughts about how she couldn't look like more of a whore now sitting facing him, her legs parted exposing her moist lips being reinforced by his comment made her blush furiously. Was she truly a whore inside? Her embarrassment was nothing compared to the arousal, the beating of her heart. "Ok, let's get this over with. I still have no idea why you thought I'd own anything like this. I'll listen to the story and then I'll change into jeans or something a lot less slutty," she said firmly.

"15 years ago, I hired an intern. He wasn't particularly bright in a business sense, but he had views of the world, an artistic sense I decided that our business lacked. We were damn sterile, to be honest. He became more and more involved in a lot of our product development and marketing. We grew. The products were better accepted and we had more repeat customers. He became almost a son to me," he said. "He got hired away out in LA and was working in their R&D division and doing well last I'd heard."

"Last month, a man was at my door with an envelope," he paused and looked down. "He told me a former employee left me something, something I might be interested in. I checked who left it and his name was Tony. Tony Wallace," he said softly looking at Tracy.

Greg saw his wife put a hand to her mouth, "Tony...Tony's dead?" she asked. "You said 'was,'" she said softly. She looked down at her dress, "And he sent you..."

"He did. You know what he left me, don't you?" Walter said softly fingering the material on her dress, "So, yes. I've seen you before. A lot of you," he looked at the woman appraisingly, "Impressive. You haven't aged a bit."

"Who's Tony?" Greg asked. "What did he send you, what do you have?"

Tracy glanced over at her husband feeling dizzy. She'd thought they'd never be seen by anyone...Tony promised her he'd never...

"What?" Greg said more loudly, "What are you talking about?"

Walter looked at the blonde, "I think you should tell him."

Tracy turned to look at her husband, "Junior year you went over to Oxford and we were...apart," she said, "Tony and I partnered in my photography class, and we were given a project," she said softly. "It involved this," she fingered her dress. "Professor Marks said whoever produces the most erotic shots that could be published in a mainstream magazine would get the one A he gives out each class," she looked down at her hands, "you know, copious amounts of skin but you know...no bits," she said softly. She looked over at Walter, "How? How did Tony die?" she asked with tears forming in her eyes.

The older man patted the smooth thigh, "Cancer. It wasn't pretty I heard. Brain cancer. I know how you feel," he sighed, "he was like a son, as I said, but he told me about you, a lot. You were the one who got away."

Tracy looked at her husband, "I never told you. Um, we...look, you were in England and we broke it off before you got back," she sighed. "I guess we were a thing for a while."

Walter's voice became firm, "No, don't skip over the details. Tell him. Tell your husband what you and Tony did."

Greg was torn. He felt a hormonal surge coupled with anger hearing his girlfriend at the time was fucking around. He expected Tracy to tell Walter to 'fuck off,' but she simply responded.

"We were doing the shoot, I was wearing this and, well, you can see I can't wear anything under it. I was pulling it down, the hem up as Tony's camera clicked away. It became little more than a prop covering my naked body."

"Go on, show us," Walter ordered. "I'll be Tony," he said removing his phone from his pocket.

The tall blonde stood and posed in the middle of the room. She never looked at her husband as the older man started clicking and giving orders.

"There, now show your leg, pulled the dress up, oh nice. You have the longest legs I think I've ever seen. Turn around, pull the material over, yes. Nice ass. Bend over, no, open your legs, perfect. Turn back and face me, not undo the strap around your neck. let the material slide down so your nipples catch the hem," he ordered.

Greg's cock was getting uncomfortable as he watched his sexy wife show more and more skin to a stranger, now with the entire tops of her huge breasts fully exposed.