Persistence Pays Off

When I arrived at work the next morning, I was anticipating a very awkward scene. I wasn't sure whether to expect her to avoid me from now on, or that she might someday address me directly. As it turned out, the latter scenario was the correct guess.

Slightly averting my glance, I saw her walking down the corridor directly towards me.

"Here it comes," I thought, and tried to keep away feelings of dread and foreboding.

"Let's talk," she said. She gestured towards my empty office, which promised more privacy for the both of us.

Pushing the door to my office closed behind her with her right foot, her body language was immediately apologetic. So were the words that followed.

"I'm sorry. I haven't allowed myself to be sexual like that in a long time. When my husband stopped being interested, I told myself that I didn't need sex anymore. Being with you last night made me realize that I did."

Not missing a beat, she leaned in for a kiss. I tilted my head slightly to the side as her lips remained stationary, waiting for my contribution. Accepting her mouth eagerly, I embraced her strongly with both arms, pulling her close to me. Before long, my hands trailed down to her ass and grabbed greedy handfuls.

"Not here," she said, her voice suddenly raspy.

"Tonight. Your place this time."

Five o'clock dragged on as I rushed through my work. As not to arouse suspicion, we both took our own cars to my apartment complex and parked in an outside alleyway. Arriving first, I stood on the brick steps leading into the back entrance of the building, waiting.

I saw her round a corner, and then locate me with her eyes. She smiled ear to ear at me, which in turn made me grin back.

I held the door open to for her. She followed behind me, up two of stairs. The building was seventy years old and as a result, an elevator had never been installed during its construction.

Now that I'd gotten my wish, I began wondering what she was thinking and what she really wanted from me. Every woman I've ever slept with has different wants and desires in bed. No two women are ever the same that way.

She sat down on my bed and removed her earrings and jewelry. Her engagement and wedding ring had been taken off long before. High heeled shoes were kicked off into a spare corner of the bedroom.

I wordlessly helped her with the zipper to her dress. This time, it was her turn to take the initiative, to make a specific request of me. I was to be the one lying on my back this time.

Giving me a blowjob turned her on in ways other sex acts could not. It may have been the aspect of control. I enjoyed the sensation, to be sure. I've never been able to have an orgasm when being sucked off.

I'll never turn it down, but I'm far more interested in the main course than in the appetizers. The act of fellatio itself was arousing enough for her to make penetration surprisingly easy, once we got there.

She crawled between my legs and took my mostly erect cock in her mouth.

"I've been wanting to do this to you for months," she said, grinning lewdly.

She kept it up for as long as she had strength in her jaw. When she could no longer perform, she straddled me, facing me directly. Grabbing hold of a saliva-wet cock, she guided it into her. It took all of three seconds for all of me to slide into her. Rocking back and forth, she closed her eyes. I thrust up against her as she thrust downward, impaling herself on me.

Feeling like a kid in a candy store, I wanted to try everything. Like the first time we had sex, I now focused squarely on her clitoris and vagina. I was trying to return the favor. But in the middle of what I was doing, I was interrupted.

"I know you're good at this, but it doesn't really do all that much for me."

Cunnilingus had been a calling card of a sort for me. It was disappointing to know my services weren't needed. But they were especially wanted in other areas, so before I had time to pout or complain, there were lots more to do and see.

Even so, it's always disappointed me when my talents with lips and tongue go unappreciated. She felt that oral sex was a most appreciated tease, but could not climax that way.

She indicated that she wanted me to insert a finger or two into her anus. That alone would cause an orgasm, I was told, and it would be stronger that way. Most women I'd slept with had never dared go anywhere near there.

Several minutes of lubricated penetration later, she was finally ready for anal intercourse. An extremely auditory lover, I get off easily when hearing sounds of arousal. She was tremendously vocal.

"I didn't used to be like this until I was 40," she said. "I could never have an orgasm during penetrative sex."

Ten or fifteen minutes later, I shot into her. My orgasm seemed to trigger her biggest one. Every time we fucked the effect of climax was always the same for her.

Her eyes would roll back into her head and she would let out a sigh that was equal parts contentment, relief, and temporary disorientation. She lay on the pillow for whole minutes, processing what she felt.

Before that instant, she'd been pulling and tugging madly against my shoulder blades. Like a crazed puppet master, she made sure that I thrust my cock into her from all the best angles for her.

I felt a little like she was using my arms and shoulders as the steering poles for downhill cross country sledding. My desire to get her off was such that I was willing to submit to the practice.

She knew what she needed. I only wished that there was something I could do to assist, though I'm sure she'd have told me first.

She had a childish sense of humor, I learned. I'd never been privy to this secret side of her before we became lovers. At the conclusion of our lovemaking, she would rush to the bathroom.

My semen would drop out of her into the toilet, due to gravity, an act that never ceased to amuse her. I never saw the humor.

She kept her hair up almost all the time, perhaps feeling that an older woman with long hair was not especially desirable. I couldn't have disagreed more.

With her hair down, she looked fifteen years younger. The dark olive tint of her skin was particularly accentuated, though I had to say that I was never entirely sure what her original hair color had once been.

Now that the door had been opened, how often would this happen? There was something fun about adultery, fun about being wicked and sneaking around, fun about defying convention and morality.

I never wanted this to be much more than an occasional good time, but how did she feel about it? From habit, I knew that her real thoughts would not be revealed for a long time.