That reminds me. My birthday is next week and it must be going to be a huge surprise party. Over the last seven weeks, since that Sunday, I’ve come home to one or another of the single girls from my old work group and twice to girls from my new work being at home. In all cases, it was obvious that I was interrupting something. Dave has also been late home much more than usual and has had to ‘work’ at least some of most weekends since then. He’s also got in the habit of going somewhere out of my hearing when his cell rings sometimes and I notice it has a new password. I can’t wait.
Anyway, Dave came home sweaty and tired after helping Paula. He enjoyed my meal but then promptly fell asleep on the couch. I was horny but tired so I let him sleep. Any lingering worries I had were dispelled when he woke me in the middle of the night. In the darkness, his style was so similar to John’s that I could interchange them in my head. It was absolutely delicious and I came strongly.
That should have been the end of the story, but it wasn’t. I realise now that my newfound resolve was doomed to inevitable failure. The memory of the guilt at standing Dave up on Saturday night was soon forgotten when I got to work Monday. John treated me as politely and professionally as I’d hoped he would when I first started working for him.
I came to the realisation that without the stolen kisses, occasional gropes when he passed me, and the flirting, my job was actually quite dull. On the plus side, the other girls in the office had finally accepted me and I was making some good friends. I jumped online at every opportunity and read cuckolding stories, but they’d lost much of their magic now I was monogamous again. At home, just about every time Dave grabbed me and demanded his conjugal rights, I closed my eyes and thought of John. That still made it very special. Most of all, of course, I missed the ego boost that came with being pursued by the magnificent specimen that was John and being in a position of total control in deciding if he was going to score or not. In summary, I’d ended the affair because of the fear of being caught and shame at how it was affecting my marriage. Not on my terms.
It was the second Monday after my resolution that I cracked. It was mid-afternoon, just after I’d read a particularly hot story, I quietly locked my outer door and opened the door to John’s office. He was on the phone. I only listened long enough to establish he was talking to one of his friends about golf, before sliding under his desk. His face took on a huge smile as he leaned back in his chair. I unzipped him and took him in my mouth. His face took on a look of bliss, as I looked up at him. Remarkably, he kept a fairly good conversation going for the five minutes it took. The only way I knew his end was near was when his grip tightened on my hair. He turned and pressed the microphone end of the handset into his shoulder as he groaned loudly and unloaded. Judging by the amount that came out, he still wasn’t getting much at home. His eyes crossed in ecstasy again as I made a big show of tilting my head back and swallowing. He gave me a huge smile as I extricated myself from under the desk.