Office Sex: Andrew

I've worked with Andrew for nearly six years. In that time, we've grown close - he calls me his "work wife", which never fails to get a wry smile from me. Aside from my husband, I think I'm closer to Andrew than any other man I've known: since the events of this story, he's told me he thinks of me more than his wife.

One of the main reasons for our friendship is our similarity in age. The others in our office are either much too young or far too old for me to even consider. But Andrew's different. Like me, he's in his mid-thirties and, like me, has been married for nearly a decade. We talk about everything: from work-related dross to full-on sex tips. It was on my suggestion that he treats his wife regularly with his tongue - he's confided that the rewards have been unbelievable.

Despite working beside him and texting outside of work, our social calendars have kept us from developing beyond just "co-workers". That's not to mean I thought of Andrew sexually before the events I'm about to detail. I considered him off-limits due to our married statuses: which is to say I'd never even thought of cheating on my husband and certainly not with a married man.

But I did.

We were out of town on a business trip. The hotel we were staying in wasn't particularly grand, but it was up-market enough for us to have several meetings in the function suite before retiring to the bar. The first day was an almost complete success, with only one potential client resisting Andrew and my combined charms. For the others that decided our firm was the right one for them...well, they never lacked for a drink all night.

As the new clients grew increasingly more drunk, several of them made passes at me. There were hints, some subtle and some not, about better deals if I cared to discuss terms in the privacy of my room. I deflected their advances, noting Andrew's amused grin. A couple of times he encouraged them, taking great enjoyment from my polite refusals.

As midnight approached, I called it a night. I thanked the new clients for meeting with us and told Andrew I'd see him in the morning. He glanced around and pulled a face, as if deciding their company wasn't as good as mine. Before I had even reached the door, he'd excused himself.

He drunkenly slipped an arm over my shoulder as we crossed the lobby to the elevators. I raised an eyebrow at him. "Not enjoying yourself?" I asked.

He shrugged. "That blonde was making eyes at me. It was getting depressing."

I glanced back, seeing the young woman staring after him hungrily. "She's cute. What, was she not offering the same thing the guys were sending my way?" I smiled as I teased him.

He gave a small laugh. "She's too young. I like my women a little older, a little more experienced."

I made a face. "You like older women?"

Andrew's grin was infectious. "Yeah, like you."

I shoved him playfully as the elevator doors opened. Stepping inside, the air conditioning immediately made my bare arms rise in gooseflesh. "God, I thought the lobby was cold!" I crossed my arms for warmth.

Andrew had maneuvered to stand at the back of the elevator. He stepped close behind me and took hold of me, rubbing my arms. I put my head back, leaning on his chest and let him fondle my upper arms.

A familiar heat began to spread from deep within me. I gave a small, contented sigh. Andrew's hands on me felt great. Thoughts began to form, the kind I'd never considered before. Through our time together, I've gotten insight into what he likes in a woman, how he likes to be touched. I've seen him shirtless: I could describe his abs and the intense work-out he does to maintain them. I could guess what kind of face he makes when he comes.

But at that moment, with us standing in that elevator and his hands on my body, I didn't want to merely guess. I wanted to know.

I wanted to know if his ass was as toned as his chest and stomach. I wanted to know how it felt for his hands to roam other, more intimate places. I wanted to know if he was as big as he joked.

I pushed back into him, getting as close as I could. I rubbed my backside on him, very slightly, just to gauge his reaction. The hardness pressing against my back was all I needed.

Andrew cleared his throat. "What are you thinking about?" he asked with exaggerated innocence.

"I was thinking about what the men in the bar were saying to me." I caught his eye in the mirrored wall.

His eyes flashed. "D'you want to go back and take them up on their offers?"

"Not them, no," I said, hoping I didn't need to say any more. From the way he looked at me, his eyes running up and down my body, he knew exactly what I meant. Warmth flooded through me as my heart beat quickened.

The elevator stopped. Andrew gently guided me by the shoulders out and down the corridor. All indication either of us had been drunk was gone: every nerve was on fire, waiting for his signal.

We walked, his arm looped around my waist, to my door. I fumbled in my purse for the key and opened. I turned to him, stood as high as I could in my black heels, and kissed him. He resisted initially, but gave himself to me when I cupped his cheek. His aftershave was faint after a day of travel and meetings, but it had kept its fragrance.

We parted, my mouth slightly open in eager anticipation. Andrew touched his fingertips to his lips. "You taste sweet." A cloud fell on his expression. "But we shouldn't..."

I nodded, hating myself for the yearning coiling inside. "No, we probably shouldn't." I stepped over the threshold of my room. Unable to look at him, I muttered a hurried goodbye and closed the door.

I put my forehead against the wood and listened to Andrew sigh deeply before walking towards his room. My mind raced, imagining what his stiffness would feel like buried deep inside me. The remainder of my night flashed before my eyes: strip, clean my make-up off and a shower where I would answer my blazing desire.

The shrill telephone broke me from my plans. Frowning, I lifted the receiver. "Hello?"

"Hey," Andrew said. My heart skipped like a schoolgirl's. "I've just poured a nightcap. D'you want to join me?" He tried to sound nonchalant, but I could hear the hunger in his voice.

"Sure," I said instantly. I didn't think: if I thought, I'd lose my nerve. I hung up.

I was out of my room and standing outside Andrew's quicker than I thought possible. Before I knocked, I smoothed my short, business-casual dress down. The red was vivid against my pale thighs. Swallowing my unease, I knocked.

Andrew opened it. Any witty greeting I had been about to deliver vanished at the sight of him. He had gotten out of his suit, taken off his shirt, and stood like a fashion model in tight white shorts with a glass of vodka in his hand. "Come on in," he said, standing aside.

I stepped into his room, taking his glass from his hand. In one gulp, I emptied it, the fiery liquid burning my throat. I crossed to his bed and looked back at him. Nerves jangled in my stomach, untouched by the vodka. "This is a one-time thing," I told him.

He nodded, closing the distance to us. His underwear strained to contain his engorged shaft. There was hesitation in his movements. He wanted this, he wanted me, but he needed me to make the first move. If this was to happen, he wanted me to be the one to forget my wedding vows first.

I put a hand out to stop him coming too close. "Take your shorts off," I ordered. He slipped his fingers under his waist band and paused. "Now, Andrew. I've been thinking about what your cock looks like and you're going to show me."

He eased his shorts down. His erection was pointing directed at me. I licked my lips, already tasting its saltiness. I stepped forward and took his shaft in my hand. Andrew gasped. His lance throbbed with his pulse. I stroked him slowly.

He raised a hand to my breast, fondling me through the thin material. My nipple stiffened instantly. I raised my face to his, kissing him forcefully. With my free hand, I grabbed the back of his head and lowered his ear to my mouth. "I'm going to fuck you," I promised. "But first..."

I trailed kisses down his hard body. I knelt in front of him, licking his whole length from balls to glistening tip. As I did so, I held his gaze. He moaned as I tightened my grip, milking the drips of pre-come into my open mouth. I swallowed his juices and licked my lips and then greedily took as much of him as I could into my mouth. Andrew murmured explicit nothings and wound his fingers in my hair.

I quickened my pumping of his shaft. My tongue was relentless in its ministrations. He growled and started to move his hips. Faster and faster, he went, forcing him down my throat. I grabbed his ass with one hand and massaged his balls with the other. His approaching climax became almost tangible.

I rocked back, pulling him from my mouth. His juices covered my face, but my sex was aflame and wouldn't be sated if Andrew came down my throat. "I told you I was going to fuck you," I reminded him.

He nodded and helped me to my feet. I was about to make demands of him, but he dropped to his knees. He pushed the hem of my dress to my waist and licked my soaking slit through my panties. I moaned, unable to recall the last time I was licked so lovingly.

His tongue ran long, hard strokes along me. He hauled my underwear down, exposing my smooth mound to him. I lifted a leg over his shoulder, giving him full access to me. He lapped my outer lips, tasting my wetness. I gasped and curled my fingers in his hair when he slipped a finger inside my folds.

Whilst his fingers worked their magic, he sucked on the nub at the top of my sex. A low moan escaped my lips. Andrew ran his tongue in long, flat strokes whilst his fingers quested for the hidden spot.

I shuddered, my breath coming fast and shallow. I squeezed my breasts, relishing building tension within me. I was close, ready to come on his face.

A gentle pressure appeared at my ass. Andrew slipped a moistened fingertip into my hole, getting a surprised squeal from me. My husband never showed any interest in that part of me! It felt wonderful, especially combined with his fingers still inside me and his skilled tongue.

My hands became fists and my toes curled in my shoes. "Fuck," I panted as my orgasm peaked. My body shook uncontrollably as Andrew kept his fingers working, licking my flowing juices as I came.

I pushed him away, my entire body too sensitive in the aftermath of my climax. I grabbed his bedside table to steady myself and wait on my shudders subsiding. Andrew grinned at me, his ramrod straight manhood and dripping.

My hands were shaking as I unzipped my dress. It fell to the floor at my feet. My bra joined it and then I was standing in nothing but my heels. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled my to him, taking my nipples in his mouth. I arched my back, giving him as much of my breasts as I could.

He threw me roughly to the bed. I spread my legs, inviting him to me. He grabbed my hips and dragged me back to him, his tip finding my waiting passage. I wrapped my legs around his backside and pulled him into me.

He filled me completely. His thrusts started soft and gentle, almost loving, but I bucked my hips urging him to go faster. He lay over me, his rod pounding into me. He reached between my legs, rubbing his hand against me in time with his hips. My eyes rolled back into my head as he hit all the right spots.

My second release was a surprise. I screamed, burying my face in his shoulder. Waves of ecstasy washed over me, taking me far away. Andrew was oblivious; he kept his intense rhythm, hammering in and out of me.

Through deep breaths, I commanded him to "Come for me!"

Andrew's pace quickened further. The sensation was exquisite. Every nerve was on fire, yearning for more and less stimulation. My body fought with itself, driving me wild.

He paused in his exertions long enough to roll me on my side. He rammed his entire length into me with deep, hurried motions. My walls clenched him, my muscles still spasming after my last climax.

His face contorted beautifully, signaling his imminent release. "Fuck me," I shouted repeatedly, pushing back against him. A moan started low in his throat and quickly built to a loud, animalistic growl. His pounding intensified briefly before he shuddered. Warmth flooded into me.

He rolled off and flopped to the bed beside me. I turned to face him, feeling his seed leak from me as I moved. My hand fell to his deflating member, cupping him. He jerked at my touch, his body as charged as mine.

He sighed. "This can't happen again."

"I know." I took my hand back, our mingling juices running between my fingers. "This is only for tonight."

He nodded. "Tonight, and the rest of the trip?" There was no mistaking the hopefulness in his tone.

"We'll see," I said, patting his chest lightly.

We drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, I woke alone in his bed. The sound of running water came from the bathroom. I rose, noting that we had almost two hours before our first meeting of the day, and crossed to the bathroom door. "Andrew?"

"Hang on!" was his agitated reply from inside the shower cubicle.

Frantic sounds came from behind the curtain of steam. Smirking, I threw back the shower door to reveal Andrew standing with his soap-covered manhood in hand. "Want some help?" I asked, stepping into the shower.

I kissed him, running my tongue down his neck and across to his nipples. The water flowed between us, washing the soap from his body as I replaced his hand with mine. He tensed, his muscles rippling. I stroked him with long, deliberate motions. His hands found my breasts, massaging and caressing them.

At his touch, my body came alive. I pumped him faster, wishing he was inside me. One of his hands dropped, searching for my centre. I gasped as he rubbed my lower lips. My folds parted for his fingers: I wanted every part of him. My readiness surprised me: Andrew's fingers curled inside me with no resistance.

Sensing the same thing, he took hold of my hips and turned me around to face the streaming shower. Water cascaded over my body and down my back. He lifted one of my legs and stepped close behind me.

The faint pressure of his tip pushed at me. I sighed deeply as he lowered me onto his waiting member. I'd never had sex in a shower before that morning; the sensation of the water on me as Andrew slid in and out of me.

He held me steady with each thrust. Of their own accord, my hands sought my sex, rubbing furiously at the neglected spot at the top of my cleft. Within moments, I could feel a heat rising as if from my toes.

I opened my mouth, panting in the stream of water, unable to keep quiet any longer. "Oh, fuck!" I gasped. My knees quivered. I could only stay upright because Andrew held me in place.

As with last night, he was relentless. If anything, my orgasm only encouraged him to go faster, harder. He plunged inside, filling me completely. My hands splayed against the cubicle walls to steady myself as he pounded me. He was rougher than my husband had ever been, but I found Andrew's style exciting.

Suddenly, I found myself wishing this wouldn't end. "Don't stop fucking me!"

He grabbed my hair and pulled my head back. He was treating me like a slut. That thought drove me to submit to him fully. He rode me, a hand creeping around to stroke my sensitive pearl. I squealed, knowing how near my next orgasm was.

Andrew pulled out of me. My frustrated moan turned to a scream of mixed delight and pain as he thrust back inside me. My climax was perfectly timed with his: he exploded inside me as intense waves rolled over me.

He staggered back. Breathing hard, I turned to look at him. Come dripped from me to the shower floor. "I've never been fucked like that before," I told him truthfully.

He smiled. "We're here until tomorrow. I'll fuck you like that whenever you want."

I sank down to sit on the floor. "We've got meetings all day."

"But not all night," he answered mischievously.

I threw the soap sponge at him. As he cleaned himself, I relaxed back and gave him a show. I slid my fingers into my velvet warmth, his spent juices making me slick. With two fingers gently massaging the inner spot and my other hand working on my nub, I was moaning and writhing on the tiles in no time.

Andrew had given up any pretense of washing, electing instead to stroke his growing organ. It would be some time before either of us got out the shower.