All characters are fictional. Any resemblances to persons living or dead are coincidental. This story involves infidelity, so if that bothers you, please skip to another story. Relax and get horny. It's only Literotica.
"Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them" - Thoreau
Stepping into the break room, Tom was pleased to see that his usual seat next to Cerina wasn't taken. Cerina smiled at him as he sat down to her left. Her face was one of life's secret pleasures for Tom.
"Hi, Cerina," Tom said with a shy smile.
From the first day that Cerina had begun working at their company, Tom had been infatuated with the young woman. Her long brown hair, parted in the middle, framed one of the most beautiful faces Tom had ever seen. Cerina was of Italian ancestry, and her mischievous, long-lashed, brown eyes were a pleasure to gaze into. Tom liked lips on the full side and Cerina's were slightly so. Her 5'5" frame supported her shapely body. Having been a footballer (soccer player) in school, Cerina's legs were somewhat muscular, well defined, and yet very feminine. She seemed to enjoy showing them off with mini-skirts and shorts.
For an American like Tom, the first time he heard Cerina speak was also a delight. Having been raised in England, Cerina had a sexy British accent. Tom loved British female singers like Annie Haslam and Harriet Wheeler, and though Cerina wasn't a singer, hearing her voice each day was almost as pleasant as seeing her beautiful face.
Cerina had married an American when she was twenty, and had been living in the U.S. for seven years. Her six year-old daughter was the light of her life.
Cerina's perverted sense of humor was a close match to Tom's. She was intelligent, understanding, open-minded, warm, and friendly. Tom had to make a conscious effort not to allow others to see his desire for the younger beauty.
"Morning, Tom," Cerina replied in her heart-melting accent.
Cerina's attraction to Tom had been a more gradual process. At fifty-one years-old, he was old enough to be her father. Standing 6'2" and 215 pounds, he was tall and muscular. His salt and pepper colored hair was short, straight, and neat. He wasn't movie-star handsome, but Cerina thought that he was a nice-looking man. Even the slight bags below didn't detract much from his warm, turquoise eyes. His lips were on the full side, which Cerina found sexy.
As a draftsman for the company, Cerina discovered that Tom was artistic, and that he did fine quality pencil drawings for relaxation. He was on the quiet side, but shared her slightly twisted sense of humor. He loved music ranging from The Beatles to Frank Zappa. His conservative appearance belied more liberal views. Cerina also discovered that Tom loved British music, comedy, and literature. He was smart, thoughtful, and one of the most interesting people Cerina had ever met.
The fact that Tom was an agnostic and Cerina was a church-going Catholic could have been a source of friction. However, both believed in live-and-let-live, so their few religious disagreements were amicable. Cerina discovered that Tom was simply a nice human being, and his agnosticism became irrelevant.
There was some good-natured teasing between Cerina and Tom about their religious differences, their age difference, American versus British, and a little bit of mild, sexual teasing. Their unspoken, secret attraction grew.
Cerina shifted in her seat and said quietly, "Oww..."
"You okay?" Tom asked.
Lapsing into Cockney for effect, Cerina replied, "Me bloody foot 'urts. Dunno what I did to it."
Almost without thinking, Tom said, "Slip off your sneaker, rest your foot on my knee, and I'll massage it for you." Cerina and the other three ladies chuckled. All had been friends with Tom for a long time, and they kidded around sexually and otherwise. Sometimes the conversations got quite raunchy.
Tom continued, "We can warm up some moisturizing lotion and massage your foot with it."
"You're quite serious, aren't you?" Cerina asked.
"We can skip the lotion - no big deal," Tom shrugged. He would have gladly performed that simple service.
Her voice dripping with pleasure, Cerina moaned, "Ohhh man..." Then she added with a laugh, "I could see the boss coming into the break room and there I am moaning."
Everybody laughed. It appeared to Tom that the prospect of a foot massage really appealed to Cerina, but not in the workplace, and she was probably uncomfortable with the idea of another man massaging her feet.
An older brunette named Kelly grinned and asked, "Do you massage your wife's feet?"
"Yeah, sometimes," Tom shrugged.
"Does your wife know how lucky she is?" Sally asked.
"I got plenty of faults," Tom smiled. It was his way of saying, 'no', without sounding critical of his wife.
Deb spoke up, "My husband will rub my back for like two minutes, then ask me how it was."
"Just like sex," Kelly chuckled.
Cerina said, "My husband won't even touch my feet, let alone give them a warm lotion massage." Turning toward Tom, Cerina smiled and asked, "Do you do back massages too?"
Tom grinned and replied, "Guaranteed to melt your fillings."
The four women giggled boisterously.
"Oh baby," Sally laughed.
"Don't your husbands like to give you pleasure?" Tom asked.
The four women glanced at each other.
Kelly said with a grin, "Apparently not."
Cerina grinned at Tom and said, "Oh sure, the Godless pervert bloke knows how to pleasure a woman, while our good Christian husbands just take us for granted."
Tom and the others laughed.
Then Tom smiled at Cerina and replied, "And if the church lady changes her mind about that foot massage, just let the Godless pervert know."
For the remainder of the day, Cerina's thoughts kept drifting back to the conversation at break. She thought about how nice it would be if her husband would give her some of the simple sensual pleasures which Tom had described. It reminded Cerina that her husband took her for granted. Cerina then caught herself fantasizing about receiving a foot and body massage from Tom. His skilled hands massaging the day's tension from her flesh. As her thoughts of Tom became more erotic, she drove them from her head.
That night, Tom's dreams were of Cerina. When his clock radio went off, Cerina's shapely legs were wrapped around his head; his face buried in her muff.
