An Office Lust Affair

It had seemed the perfect answer. Go back to work. Not full time, but just enough to relieve the crushing boredom that my life entailed. Two grown kids at uni and a workaholic husband who was away from home at least a week a month at the New York office of the lawyer firm where he was a partner. On top of that he worked murderous hours, often twelve or fourteen hours and entertained frequently. But then he explained corporate lawyers have to. I suppose I benefitted from it in some ways, probably many. I had more clothes than I knew what to do with, I had fantastic holidays even though Richard was always on his mobile, ipad or laptop and I got to go to all the top restaurants, clubs and sporting events. I accompanied him on fully paid trips to New York, LA and most European cities whenever it took my fancy, I had a brand new car every year and we lived in a huge house that I hated, just outside St Albans.

So what's the problem many would ask? There's two actually: I am so bloody lonely and I so fucking frustrated I masturbate most days and have the wildest fantasies.

I have contemplated an affair or a fling a toyboy many times, but so far had resisted it.

All that changed when I went to work.

I wasn't looking for an affair. I didn't want a guy to be dipping his pen in the company ink and I certainly had no intention whatsoever of doing anything that might ruin my marriage. I hated the lonely and frustrated situation I was in, but was even more scared of being divorced. And in fact I didn't have an affair but I had a series of such extreme and intense, dangerous liaisons it gave me all the thrills of an affair without having to make the excuses and tell the lies that affairs demand.

The incongruity of it was the guy with who I had these liaisons and how he got me involved in them. He was not at all my sort, if there is such a thing that is for since marrying Richard some twenty plus years ago there hasn't needed to be a 'my sort' for I have been physically totally faithful. Emotionally I may have strayed with my fantasies, my thoughts of having a discrete affair or a virile toyboy. Certainly Richard would have considered my frequent, almost daily, masturbations as me being unfaithful and without doubt he would have thought that my occasional cybersex, sometime accompanied with phone sex as me being a philanderer as well as a slut. In my heart and mind when I let my imagination flow I knew that deep down he would be correct in thinking that. But then he had never objected and had even encouraged me being the 'lady in the drawing room and the whore in the bedroom.' And on top of that he had for many years now used his hobby to provide both of us with some wonderful sexual experiences by photographing me as I undressed and then played with myself.

*

As chat up lines go it was certainly different.

"At least give us your knickers to sniff then" he suggested with a mischievous glint in his eyes after I had told him that I wasn't interested in giving him a blow job.

I had been working at the newspaper as a Senior Sub-editor for a month or so and had slowly got to know everybody including Stevie Taylor. He was the IT King at the local newspaper group where we both worked. Amongst the women in the company I had heard that he was known as 'the Office Bull' because he had a reputation for bedding a lot of women. He was also known as sleazeball; I preferred the latter description. What was so strange was that although he made my flesh creep he also turned me on in almost equal measures. I put it down largely to him being so different to anyone else I knew.

He was a bit of a loud mouth, was arrogant and assumptive as well as being foul mouthed and crude. That said he had a degree of charm. He was Irish and had a lovely brogue and the cutest twinkle in his stunningly blue eyes. He was tall, around six two and looked fit and trim. He had black, wavy hair that he wore quite unfashionably long and he was good looking. He was witty and humourous, was noted for his generosity and treated everyone the same whether they be the tea boy or the Managing Director. He was in his late twenties and had apparently got a first class honours degree in computer science; he was frighteningly intelligent. At first there was nothing that suggested he would be my 'saviour,' the man that got me back to start fucking around and the guy that helped me solve in the mist dramatic way my frustration.

We were working together on a short-term project to archive past articles and stories on a new computer system. I was being paid quite an outrageous bonus for the extra work as it had to be done outside the normal working hours of the newspapers. That meant either, early morning between five and eight or evenings from six to twelve and late. As the offices were in Harpenden just a ten minute drive away and as I was alone so often the anti-social hours didn't bother me.

"Nooooooooo I will not!" I sighed as I dismissed his request.

This was on the Monday evening of the second week of the project. I had agreed to do most of the Kepez Escort early morning work for he had said.

"I'm fucking terrible getting up in the morning Cat; waking that is not getting it up for I love early morning sex."

I didn't reply. He went on.

"But then I don't usually get to bed to two, well sleep that is if you know what I mean" he'd explained leering at me.

"Yes I know what you mean."

"What about you and your husband do you do it at night or in the mornings?"

I ignored him.

"Or do you do it both?"

"Leave ir Steve."

"Or maybe neither Cat, are you on a low sex diet?"

We were doing our evening shift and were the only people in the office at that time of night. As usual, he was taking every opportunity to introduce sex into the conversation. Although I'd worked for the Company for over a month now this was the first time I'd ever had to work closely with him and it was a little bit unnerving.

"I bet you wear really sexy knickers," the pervert continued. "A thong? A tiny G-string? Open crotch? Yes...that's it!" Stevie chuckled when I glared at him, "I bet you're wearing cheap, red tacky open-crotch knickers!"

"Fuck off you pervert" I snarled.

"Oooo I love it when you talk dirty to me. I bet you love wearing them."

I am not!" I maintained. "Now let's get back to work". I knew I should ignore him but he just kept going on and on like yappy terrier. In a strange way, though, I enjoyed it. Maybe that was because nobody nowadays talked to me like that or showed much interest in me. Richard was away so much and worked such ridiculous hours when he was home that there was little time for sex. It seemed that recently we only had sex when he took photos of me and I was beginning to think that he needed that to get it up!

Stevie was incorrigible; all he seemed to do whenever I saw him at lunch or whatever was talk about sex; his conquests at the weekend, his potential conquests, magazines that he'd seen, porn on the internet and girls he wanted to have sex with.

"I just adore ash-blondes" he smirked at me looking at my shoulder-length ash-blonde hair.

"Yeah I'm sure."

"Course I do and when the hair is on a MILF I get hard just looking at her."

"Oh shut up, you say that to all the women."

"No only to ash-blonde MILFs."

As I look back now it was probably 'sexual harassment in the workplace', but Stevie was one of those people that oozed charm and charisma meaning that everyone just laughed along with him and he got away with being outrageous. Just just why he seemed to zero in on me I didn't know.

"So what type are you wearing then?" The fairly good looking, well-built sleazeball continued verbally beating me down.

"I'm not telling you!" I retorted knowing that I was becoming flustered. I wondered if it would be simpler just to tell him. This was the third night in a row this week, for us to work together until midnight. Stevie had finished his part of the job so had spent the last hour or so asking me to go into the toilets for a 'quick shag because his nuts were busting.' He said it in a way that made you wonder if he was really serious or not. Anyway I consistently refused his lecherous requests and that didn't seem to faze much and certainly didn't deter him.

It wasn't that I was completely repulsed by him for I did find him slightly, exciting I suppose is the best way of describing my feelings, but I couldn't, could I? I was married so I was 'unavailable' and I couldn't risk him mouthing off about fucking me. After all I was one of the senior management team, I worked as a correspondent, journalist and sub editor and so many people knew me and Richard that word could easily get around and to him. 'Fuck' I thought as I was driving home in my BMW 330 'I am making excuses for me fancying him and am working out reasons not to give in to his advances. I should just accept I don't want the jerk.' But I knew that wasn't true and was beginning to think that if I was certain that I could get away with it then I would be sorely tempted!

"I have always fancied big boobed, older birds like you?" He suddenly blurted out referring to my quite rounded and, if I do say it myself, pretty good figure. At the time I was forty three. I am five feet six tall, weigh just over nine stones, one hundred and thirty six ounds, and have a thirty five inch D cup cup, twenty five, thirty five inch figure.

"I'm not even your type." I muttered as I kept furiously typing so I didn't have to think about him and what he wanted to do with me.

"So" he grunted sipping his coffee. "What is my type, then?"

I shrugged my shoulders, "Common, slutty, trampy, easy women that wear too much make-up and not enough clothes.....tarts!" I felt like I'd won a small victory when he finally fell silent for a moment or two.

"I've got to admit," Stevie heaved a sigh as he eased closer to me slowly enunciating every word slowly into my ear, "Actually....I have fucked a lot of women like that...but I like a challenge Kepez Escort Bayan too and I've literally fucked the arse of women...... just like you!"

He was so close to me now I could smell him. It wasn't a bad smell but not a pleasant one either...just 'his smell'. He had dark shaggy hair, hardly ever shaved and dressed very casually which made him stand out in the fairly conservative office. His choice of clothes always looked like someone else did his shopping for him. Nothing ever matched and he did like bright colours which is unusual in a man. He probably thought he looked a bit like Brad Pitt or that singer in Oasis.

I on the other hand am always smartly turned out dressed in professional business attire; usually from Topshop or M