That night, at dinner, he was effusive with his compliments and I subtly turned the conversation to where we’d left off on the last trip. He eventually let on he’d love to have an affair with me but was terrified of being caught. Like a good executive assistant, I briefed him on my research on how to avoid being discovered. That tipped the balance, and with a flushed face, he suggested we go upstairs and consummate our new relationship. I shot that down. Overtly because we didn’t have our security arrangements in place, but really because I wanted to control things. Plus, I had yet to fully explore my feelings on whether I could do it for real. Now, of course, I realise I just wanted to bask in the sensuous tension that occurs before the act.
We went back to my room and he kissed me passionately for the first time. It was all I could do to insist he left. I spent half the night masturbating. The trip home the next day was all about planning and more talk of what we both liked in bed. Although I realise now that the end result was inevitable, I still led him to believe I’d not made up my mind. That wasn’t hard as I was yet to convince myself.
For the next three weeks, I battled with my conscience. Should I or shouldn’t I? I knew guilt would be a factor. I put my heart and soul into sex with Dave, but it was clear something was missing. I’d built the intimacy with John so large in my imagination that no mere mortal like Dave could compete. By the time of our next road trip, the decision was made. Still, I wanted to get mileage from the tension.
It was supposed to be a three day, two-night trip, returning on Friday. We skipped dessert on the first night as we both bowed to the inevitable. In my mind, our first time would be slow and sensuous, getting to know each other’s bodies, and finding those secret places. Anything to build up that delicious anticipation.
The reality was very different.
He kissed me deeply while ripping my clothes off. Then he just pushed me to my knees and thrust his cock into my mouth. When I sensed his end was near, I tried to pull away. He had other plans. He grabbed the back of my head and stopped me escaping, while he unloaded in my mouth with a mighty roar. When the shuddering stopped, he collapsed back on the bed, taking me with him. Gagging, I grabbed my discarded skirt and spat into it. I saw the look of disappointment flit across his face. I was going to blast him, but as we lay on the bed, he kissed the top of my head and thanked me repeatedly. It seemed his wife never let him do that. It was a pity I hadn’t swallowed, but that would come in time. No, it won’t, I thought to myself. I calmed down, almost feeling proud.
He went down on me, and I have to admit, the guy had talent. After a while, I felt my climax building. At just the right time he stopped and mounted me. I scolded him as he didn’t have a condom on. He ripped one open and rolled it on. Then he mounted me again. That was more like it. I started to really get into it. John was about an inch longer than Dave and a little thicker. Not enough of a difference to mean much physically, but enough that it was distinctly different. Even with his style of just sticking it in and banging away, it was very pleasurable. Then, the realisation that it wasn’t Dave struck me and I suddenly lost all interest as guilt overcame me. I tried to tell him to stop but he kissed me; so I tried to push him away. That was never going to happen. In the end, I just lay there until he finished.