"Susan, you don't want to leave now," he said.
There was a low growl to his voice. It wasn't threatening, nor was it demanding. But my god, it was sexy. No man should have been given a voice like that. When he adopted that tone, and he didn't all the time, but when he clearly wanted something from me, as he did now, the sound sent a shiver through me and made my already dripping pussy clench.
Jack was right of course. I didn't want to leave. But I knew I should leave. I had to leave. He was my best friend's husband. Kelly was the woman I had coffee with every morning on our break, the woman I ate lunch with in the cafeteria and walked in the park with during our lunch hour, the woman who cried with me when my husband left me, the bastard, the woman who helped me understand what a shit he was, and why I was better off without him. Now I was with her husband in a bedroom at a faculty party. The rest of the party was going on a floor beneath us, making all the usual noises of a cocktail party where thirty or forty people have had too much to drink, and are talking to loud to be heard by anyone except those they are close to.
That was how I had found myself here. I was talking to Jack downstairs in the midst of the party after several drinks and I couldn't hear him. He had taken my arm and escorted me down a hallway and up a set of backstairs. Just having him take my arm sent an unexpected charge of lust through me. I had known Kelly for over a year, but I had only met her husband once or twice, each time very briefly. I had noticed he was handsome, but tonight was different—very different.
And now we were in this room-a room holding only two things my erotically charged mind could see—Jack and a very large bed.
"But you don't want to leave do you?" he said as he stood across the room from me.
"But Kelly . . ."
"Don't worry about Kelly. She doesn't need to know." His voice had a rumble I just couldn't ignore. I was so turned on I could feel my nipples, hardened into little knots, pressing against the fabric of the little black cocktail dress I was wearing.
Now he was standing next to me. I could smell him. It wasn't after shave. It was just his masculinity. My god, if I had thought his voice was enticing. It was nothing compared to his aroma as he stood close to me. And there was a heat coming off his body that just spelled sex. No, I didn't want to go.
And I didn't go. He wrapped his arms around me and leaned down towards my face. I thought he was going to kiss me, but he didn't. Instead he pushed my thick brown hair aside with a hand and begin to kiss and lick that oh so sensitive place where my neck met my collar bone. How could he know? How could he know just how erotically charged that spot was?
I moaned when his lips and tongue touched me there and it became a squeal when his teeth joined in with a series of soft nibbles. All resistance on my part was gone. My arms were around his neck pulling myself up to him. I stood on my toes and kissed him. It was a long sensuous kiss, tongues dueling, and just crammed with lust. Oh yes, god yes, I was thinking. Don't stop. Good god don't let this stop.
His hands drifted down until they were cupping my ass, pulling me into him. I could feel his rock hard cock pushing a groove into my lower belly, while those big hands were kneading the cheeks of my ass. I was on fire. Kelly? Who the hell was Kelly? Did I know a Kelly? All I knew was that I wanted that hard dick that was pressing into my belly.
Now he had one hand massaging one of my breasts. Every time he slid his fingers over my swollen nipple it sent a shock straight to my clit. The other hand had pulled my dress above my hips and was massaging my bare ass (I had skipped panties and a bra with this dress because the snug outfit looked better without. In theory it had built in bra cups, but they didn't really do much, which made the outfit very sexy on someone with breasts as large as mine). He pushed the straps of my little black cocktail dress down over my shoulders, and I cooperatively freed them from my arms so he could push the top off my breasts and down to my waist.
We had switched positions. I now had my hands on his ass pulling him into me, savoring the feel of that rigid prick pressing against me. He was leaning back, using his hands to fondle my now exposed tits—cupping them, lifting them, mashing them, rubbing the nipples with his thumbs, sucking on them, and caressing the nips with his tongue.
My clothing now formed a broad belt around my waist, leaving me naked but for a band of cloth, placed where it simply didn't matter, and a modest string of pearls around my neck. While he was pushing my dress into inconsequence, I slipped a hand between us and was massaging his cock through his trousers. He was hard as a rock and felt huge. I had to have that cock.
This was wrong, so wrong in so many ways. He was my best friend's husband. He was a colleague, an assistant professor at the university where I worked as an executive assistant in the admissions department. Kelly sat at the desk next to mine. We were in a bedroom of the Vice Provost's house. Coats were piled on the bed that someone leaving the party might want to retrieve at any moment, and with my dress in a band around my waist, I was totally indecent. But oh my god, he smelled so good and his voice—my god what a voice. It was whispering, no not whispering, but growling, obscenities in my ear, about what he wanted to do to my tits (as if he wasn't doing enough to them already), how he wanted to rub his cock on them, and where else he wanted to put his cock. And how, after he did those obscene things with his cock, he wanted to spray his cum on my tits. I'd never had a man talk to me like that before—and I was on fire. Yes, that cock. The hard one I was massaging through his pants. I had to have that cock.
I sunk to my knees and released his belt. He stood looking down at me, a fire in his eyes that had only been hinted at before. He groaned when I stroked his cock through his still fastened trousers, using the flat of my hand, rubbing the underside as I stroked it. I released the fastening on his pants and then slowly drew down his zipper. I should have been hurrying. Someone could come in at any moment. But I wanted to savor this. There was something obscenely sensuous about dragging the zipper down so slowly, one click at a time, and watching his rigid cock, still clad in his straining underwear, slowly emerge. When the zipper was halfway down, the upper half of his cock covered only by his thin knit undergarment, I dragged a finger nail down the exposed underside, starting at the tip and stopping only when I reached the still fastened point on the zipper of his trousers. I heard him gasp.
Eventually his pants fell to his feet and I could see his cock perfectly outlined in his white under-garment. There was a damp spot where the head pushed against the fabric. It was shinny with leaking precum. I put a finger on the spot and then pulled it back to my mouth for a taste, leaving a silken thread of sex between my mouth and his still covered prick. I used my thumb to rub the slick precum leaking through his briefs around on the tip of his prick. He groaned again in response. Then I rubbed my face back and forth across his still covered prick, inhaling an even stronger dose of his masculine aroma.
"Suck it," he growled.
I looked up at him and smiled. I had every intention of sucking his cock. I was just relishing the lust of the moment. I hadn't had sex with anyone since my husband had left me a year ago and damn little, and quite unsatisfactory, sex with him for two years before he left, and I so needed this.
"Now. Suck it now," he said. "Someone might come in. We haven't got all night."
