The Desire – part 1.

The June sunshine fell warmly through the French window of the blue bedroom onto the half-naked torso of the naked full breasted young blonde. In her simultaneous yawning and stretching, she made her full, melon-shaped breasts rise and fall as she breathed in the fresh morning air, her long blonde hair cascading sensuously over the satin pillow slip. Ann Dexter stretched her lithe body as she awoke, blinking slightly as the cool morning air, mingling with the soft sunshine, gently stirred her awake. When she and Carl had gone to bed the night before, she had forgotten to draw the drapes. But it did not bother the voluptuous young woman to miss an hour or two of sleep. She was feeling sunshine all over lately — particularly up between her firmly curved thighs, and the fact that Carl had been more than occupied — obsessed, perhaps a more apt description — with his work had helped to keep her natural sexual interests rather keen.

And this spring warmth with its soothing, tantalizing fingers of yellow light was like dried kindling to her desires. But she didn’t mind. In fact, the young woman rather enjoyed it, because then her orgasms — when they did come — were all the more lusty and overpowering. Ann shrugged and all of the sheet fell away from her lushly opulent contoured body, revealing, beside the ripe fullness of her lust inciting breasts, her nicely rounded belly, the tiniest of waists, flawless white skin, and just the hint of straw colored hair at the center of her loins. She had the usual kind of blonde coloring, only hers was a true blonde, with not so much as a hint of peroxide: bright blue eyes and pink cheeks, with high cheek bones accentuating a perfectly shaped nose and nostrils that had a tendency to flare with just the slightest provocation. As she stretched she fluffed out her wealth of thick, wavy blonde hair, which had only been cut twice in her life: once on her fifteenth birthday in sacrifice to her young lover who deserted her for her next door locker neighbor at high school, and the other time in retaliation to her fiancee who had called her a prude in a most untimely situation. But her husband, Carl, was crazy about her hair and, like most men, that was the first thing he noticed about her. But the men also paid rapt attention to her magnificently put together body as well. Curves no man could resist, she had been told more than once. Ann smiled softly to herself as she thought about this in one flash of deja vu. Taking both of her protuberant pink nipples between thumb and forefinger, she toyed with them until they stiffened in self-defense, imparting pleasant sensations into her swollen breasts and a matching tingle deep down in the center of her belly. She was not an over-sexed whore, but only a normal woman who had come to enjoy sexuality of late. Consequently, every morning when she awoke she seemed to be more aroused and anxious for her husband’s fond attentions than ever before. Not that Carl noticed. Indeed, lately he didn’t seem to notice much of anything.

And it showed. He’d lost weight from skipping lunches, or just grabbing a bite for dinner. He and his assistant, Dr. George Everett had just started an extensive research project under the auspices of the Medical Center where he and his colleague were studying the psychological causes of unnatural sexuality and the changing sociological patterns that resulted, always with an eye to the ideal zero population growth theory. To Ann, it sounded complicated as could be, with all those big words and demographical terms and gobbledygook that she didn’t give a damn about hearing, although the sexual case histories were another matter entirely. Ann patted her breasts and then pushed her hands up in back of her lengthy hair, and let it fall again. Her pretty head couldn’t really get much interested in her professorial husband’s affair. All she knew was that Carl just didn’t seem to care much about being in bed with her very much these days. “Ann, have you seen my tie clasp?” came a cross voice from the bathroom, and then her husband was standing in the doorway, fiddling with his tie, his shock of graying hair falling forward over his forehead. He was clad only in his underwear and his shirt, and her eyes locked unavoidably on the spot where his genitals nestled between his legs, but as usual, there was no tell-tale bulge there to encourage her to expect more than a peck on the cheek for a good-bye. “No, I haven’t dear,” sighed Ann and tried to help him find it by looking around in the bedroom a little, but she couldn’t find it amongst her feminine debris littering the dresser tops and the bathroom. “Guess you’re just going to have to settle for a bow tie, Carl.” Finally he changed his tie and Ann slipped a housecoat over her glowing body and went to the kitchen to start breakfast. As she broke eggs into the frying pan alongside the spitting bacon, Ann could not help but wonder if this was the life she chose or if this was simply her fate. For a moment, she listened to her husband in his study just off the living room rattling his paper and throwing books into his already-over-stuffed briefcase. Turning the bacon with a fork, wincing as it shot a flying speck of burning grease onto her hand, Ann felt the same surging, growing resentment well in her chest as it had for the past two years of marriage to the near middle-aged, professorial husband who had unwittingly ensnared her with security and his intellectualism, qualities she’d always treasured — until she found out that in the end, it all balances out, and every tidbit of intellectualism seemed to rob the sensual character of her husband. Love him? Yes, oddly enough, she knew that she still did in some ridiculous sort of way. But what she had in mind, what had begun as a mere student-professor relationship until he’d asked her to marry him. In the beginning, she had hope for their marriage, but the sexual frustrations had quickly extinguished those hopes, leaving some sort of sterile bond between them. Now, in the second year of their marriage, Ann Dexter asked herself more than once a day just why she’d married him in the first place. Their affair had created such a stir in the private junior college that she’d been forced to leave, the Dean of Women having politely asked her to enroll elsewhere. Something about intellectual men had always turned her on. Maybe it was because of her journalist father, she wasn’t sure, but whatever that magic ingredient was, she’d wasted no time finding it in the man who was to serve as her protector — her security blanket to replace the loving father who was now dead. So, having left school, Ann had become Carl’s part-time assistant, helping him in the lab by typing up reports, most of which were case histories, in preparation for the final report that the sponsors would most certainly demand to read after two years of financing. It got her out of the house, if nothing else, and there were people to meet at the lab. But God, all Carl did was work; there was none of the typical chase-the-secretary-around-the-desk games that you see in magazine cartoons. Not Carl! He was all research and study. Ironically, from the case histories she’d typed up in the past months, she’d learned that there was always a sexual problem between a middle- aged husband and a young wife. And it was true! She was about to lose her mind! She was twenty-two and Carl twice that. It wasn’t the paunch he was showing traces of that bothered her, but his performance in bed.

He was destroying the most intimate of her possessions — her sensuality! She turned the bacon now, listening to her husband’s voice calling to her from the hallway. “Ann, do you think you’d have time to come down this afternoon and type a couple more interviews with our experimental subject? Our quarterly report is about due and I’d like to get a head start on it. Good for the image you know,” he said dryly, pulling up his chair in front of his plate of bacon and eggs with a piece of toast, dripping with butter, lining the edges. “I know this is rather sordid literature I’m making you type, dear, but it’s certainly appreciated,” he said, crunching into his toast. “Hey, come on, Carl,” she teased. “Just because I’m younger than you doesn’t mean I don’t know anything about sex. In fact,” she continued, standing over him and filling his coffee cup, “I find it rather interesting learning about these sociological theories of yours. I’m sure that sex research is going to be the thing of the future — maybe even more important than missiles and bombs even. Sure would make the world a better place to live if we all made love instead of war,” she quipped, hoping he would catch the double meaning in her statement and the desperation in her fired loins that ached for fulfillment. And part of that ache was the work she did for her husband! Ann had always considered herself a normal, desirous female with basic tendencies, but her husband’s case histories of married and divorced men turned gay, of woman turning to each other for physical love instead of their husbands and confessions of incest and sodomy. God, it was better than pornography because it was all true and it had generated tingles of forbidden temptation inside her the likes of which she’d never even dreamed of! She’d even been tempted to experiment with some of the wanton tales that subjects — people just like you and me – – had told the interviewer, such as which positions offered the greatest penetration, if they preferred a hard mattress to a water bed — things she’d never considered in her husband’s missionary style lovemaking. For him, lovemaking was a fifteen minute affair. His maddening pattern of inability to satisfy her, in fact, had grown even worse before her increasing, passionate springtime need, until the typing of his reports had, like an aphrodisiac brought her to this very morning! “How about some ketchup for the eggs, Ann. You know I like to have ketchup with my eggs …” he muffled behind his napkin that dabbed at his mustache. A grating twinge immediately gnawed at the young wife’s belly at her husband’s demand. Okay, lover man, she mocked under her breath. He’d been that the night before, all right. As usual, he’d driven her almost to the peak of the mountain, then left her there to get over the top by herself, or slide back down, whichever she preferred. He’d been too tired to know how she’d managed it, but she had and by stealing a few minutes in the bathroom while he’s snored like a disgusting, satiated ox in the bed, she’d brought herself to fulfillment with her fingers. It was then she’d decided something had to be done … and it was that something that had brought a smile to her lips this morning. “Ann?” she heard him, this time turning to her just in time to retrieve the bottle of ketchup offered him. “Here it is, Carl,” she returned, carefully keeping the irritation from her tone, and it wasn’t too difficult. With the morning sunshine, she realized that she had again slept away the frustrated hurt and anger. That, along with the sensuous intentions she’d set her pruriently fevered mind to in luring her husband’s assistant into an affair, left her no room for resentment. Still, Ann couldn’t help but remember with a series of tingling sensations just how close Carl had come to satisfying her last night. She’d made him her special dinner — beef stroganoff with noodles and spinach salad which they ate to candlelight and soft music. The mood was set, but Carl’s wasn’t, his only concern being the stack of tapes on his desk in the study that needed sequential numbering. She’d ignored his mutterings, as she skipped around in her see-through nightie to fill his wine glass before curling up beside him on the sofa and letting him lustfully run his big hands over her nearly naked, erogenous curves — he should have ended up a sex crazed maniac after all that foreplay! He’d been a panting, rutting animal, and even staggered when they’d made it to the bedroom for the final course. Smoldering, she whipped her nightie over her head, bouncing nakedly onto the bed into a lewd, thigh-spread position like a child playing statue, except that she’d been a very hot young wife with no intentions of taking an immobile part in the game! “Oh, my dear Annnnn,” he’d purred, thick tongued in a hoarse voice, pulling at his clothes while she laid there watching him. Sure, he was getting soft with age and noticeably paunchy with an overhang of spare-tire around the middle, but the long, thick hardness of his lust swollen cock standing out from his strong, loins immediately dwarfed all else. Trembling sensations of shameless desire had shivered over her exciting nakedness, her craving eyes riveted on his large, sperm bloated testicles heavily swaying between his legs. God, how desperately she had hoped …! Suddenly, he’d been on top of her, kissing her with wine dizzying passion, nibbling at the hardened pink nipples of her swollen breasts, running his big, searing hands over her wetly throbbing pussy, while his cock throbbed against the sensitive flesh of her thigh. He’d muttered and panted to her sensual writhings beneath him, choking out obscene, stimulating words and phrases of love that had fervidly goaded her to a point of whorish lust. God, she’d suck him if he’d let her! But no … no, not first! He had to … had to make her cum at least once before anything else, and she wanted to do nothing that might destroy that possibility! He drunkenly crawled between her trembling thighs which she’d anxiously spread wide for him. “I’m going to fuck you right out of your mind, my dear, Ann!” he’d lewdly promised, using the right four-letter words to spur her on. Their graphic sounds fired her with wild chills of intensive passion. Was this really her husband saying, “Put it in, baby! Stuff it in your hot little cunt!” She’d been that certain of the ‘at last’ moment when she’d reached down and grasped the heated length of his solid, thick cock to splay open the moistened lips of her hungrily throbbing cunt, placing its fleshy head at the mouth of her cunt. Impatiently, she’d spread her legs even further as she raised her steaming loins up to him, confident that this time his fantastic hardness was going to do it for her, and not caring how hard he fucked that first time! Getting it in was the main thing. He had! His huge, hotly throbbing cock had raced into the liquid channel like a flash, filling the dilated core of her seething young body with an enchantment of fury. Yes … yes, this time it would happen for sure! She’d fervently reasoned, straining beneath this powerful man, her husband, in sluttish abandon! His raging cock had wildly pounded in and out of the tight, pink opening up between her legs, while he grunted and spewed deliciously foul words and phrases down at her, each and every one inciting her all the more. “Oh … oh, Carl … lover! It’s wonderful! Yesssss …! Fuck me out of my mind … just like you promised!” “Yehhhhhh … right out of my beloved’s mind!” he gasped. “Your lover man’s really filling you this time, isn’t he?” “Oooooohh yes, darling … yessss! A-and I’m going … going to suck it for you … make it cum right in my mouth!” she’d obscenely hissed up at him, realizing now that her lewd promise had been her first mistake because he had gone out of his mind in excited anticipation. She’d felt the tremble of muscular tension ripple over his big heavy body above her. “Goddamn!” he blurted. “And … and you mean it, too, don’t you, Ann? S-suck me off …! Oh! Get ready, Ann, Carl’s coming in!” And then a quarter of a second later, “Oh, damn, oh damn, oh damn!” And he had, his cock had raced into her frantically churning pussy and began to spew its life draining, masculine semen into her. With bitter frustration, she’d dug her long red nails into his naked ribs, his arms, his shoulders! “Oh, no … ooohhh, noooo, Carl. Please!” she begged, even knowing it was useless as she thrust her wetly pulsating loins up at him to accept his warmth puddling into her belly …! Until finally, there’d been nothing but the rolling of his passed out frame off of her, the wild burning hunger aflame in her loins and belly nearly driving her to tears! She wasn’t about to try and haul him up onto the pillow; in fact, he could have died right there and she would have celebrated! The bastard! The stupid old selfish bastard! Oooohhhh … and she’d been so ready and so hot! With a loud “hmmmppphhh” she sat up, taken Carl’s hand to place his thick fingers the way she wanted them, and then wormed two of them up into her hotly seething cunt. She locked her naked thighs to hold his fingers in place while she obscenely squirmed and writhed her naked loins onto their semi-limpness, at the same time fingering her tiny, sensitively erect clitoris. In the interim of building climax, she’d lustfully fondled his long flaccid cock and played with his emptied balls, but all of it together as she remembered it now, had hardly been a night of love … anything but the erotic scene she’d so desperately hoped for! “You think you could be at the lab in about an hour or two?” her stodgy husband wanted to know as he pushed his chair away from the breakfast table, his napkin neatly folded at the place setting. He was a most meticulous man. Chapter 2 The Medical Center was nestled in a grove of Eucalyptus trees on the west side of the hill, separating the hospital from the research center and classrooms that were scattered over the hills. Everything on “Pill Hill,” as the doctors, professors, and research students called it affectionately, was painted white and now, in the late morning sun, the hill had a magical feeling to it. Buzzing with activity, students rushed to and from classes, eyes glued to the sidewalk in worry … spring time was a time of completion — graduation, diplomas and careers all pending. And so, too, Ann Baxter shared in this elation of growth, although to a minor degree in her involvement with her husband’s research project. Not that she didn’t have any plans of her own! For if the young blonde’s fantasies had any foundation, today would be the final test! The gears of the Dexter’s second car — a blue Volkswagen they bought two years ago when new cars were purely a thing of the future — ground and meshed as Ann maneuvered the car up the forty-five degree hill to the underground parking lot, slowing only to drop two quarters into the slot and waited for the mechanical machine to spit out a piece of paper as her receipt. With anxious, shaking hands, she smeared on a fresh layer of reddish- brown lipstick and an extra smudge of black mascara to make her eyelashes look like spider legs. Ann couldn’t remember when she’d been more uptight, unless it was at her wedding when one of her old boyfriends who’d warned her that a marriage to a man twice her age would never work, slipped her a piece of paper with his phone number on it, and right in front of Ann’s mother, too! From that moment on, she’d looked on Carl with cooler, less ardently loving eyes. It was an omen she’d ignored. From the underground parking lot, it was only a short walk to the elevator that zoomed her to the mezzanine level of the student union and from there, a half block to the Research Center building overlooking the sun-warmed city. Spring is in the air, chirped the birds hidden in the low hanging branches of the shrubbery following the sidewalk in parallel lines. Ann’s heeled sandals slapped at the pavement as she half ran to the building, glancing down at her watch to see the hour hand glide past the seven. Carl hated for her to be late, especially since they’d given her a more substantial chunk of their grant in return for more responsibility … “Well, hello there,” chimed George Everett the second Ann strolled through the door, looking as calm and unhasseled as possible considering her plan of attack. Her blood pressure quickened when with a handsome smile, the thirtyish, tall and broad shouldered doctor appeared, offering his hand in helping her out of her coat. When was the last time Carl had shown such chivalry? Little twinges of lurid excitement immediately stirred in the depths of her belly at the way he carried himself; but there was something else in her belly — an apprehensive knot forming there too. God … she could never go through with it, even if Carl wasn’t in the same office. Imagining having an affair is one thing, but going through with it is another entirely! When it actually came down to the nitty gritty … what would she do? She turned in time to see him hang her trench coat on a hanger that clattered on the back of the door. Instantly, she wondered where Carl was. Was her courage lessening? “I hear we have a report to get out soon. Is that true?” she asked, falteringly, feeling the need to close the obvious gap in conversation that seemed unavoidable whenever Carl was in the office. “You heard right, Ann. Lots of work to be done. Hope you got a good night’s sleep!” George suavely beamed. “More than I’d expected, yes,” answered Ann, hoping the desperation in her voice wasn’t as obvious to him as it was to her trembling body. Jesus, she thought self-recriminatingly, what am I trying to do? Just because he asked me out for a drink the other night, I’ve been having these fantasies of starting an affair with him. He’s married, I’m married … it’s ridiculous, now just cut it out, Ann Dexter, before you get yourself in trouble! “For starters we have to finish those interviews — they’ll be very influential in getting us a grant next year to complete this damned study. Oh, and when that’s proof-read and copy-tight, we have to take it to the photocopier. Think you can get that all done by this afternoon?” he laughed at the ludicrousness of his own demands. “Whew!” whistled Ann, more relaxed now that the subject of conversation had turned to work, the only common denominator. She wiggled into a comfortable position in her desk chair near the window, and began sorting through a stack of edited copies of interviews. Out of the pile, only a few would be selected — the ones most applicable to the study of course; the rest would be filed for further reference. She turned her head at a scraping sound to see George pull up a chair and with a flirtatious grin, announce, “Carl suggested you and I work together on these interviews. He’s back there drawing up comparison charts. You think you can stand working with me all day?” Ann’s nostrils flared. Was it her imagination or was he really coming on to her? Jesus, she wished she knew; it certainly would make her decision a bit easier. Somehow it’s always more innocent and exciting being chased than chasing. It would also make it simpler to explain to Carl, if it ever came down to that. “I … I think I could tolerate that,” was Ann’s nervous reply as she carefully folded the typewriter cover and drew open the bottom drawer of her gray metal desk that housed everything that could not fit on her crowded desk. “Are you sure?” George softly questioned, gazing up at her with deep, dark eyes, the trace of a smile flickering about his attractive mouth, as with super-sensitive hands, he opened a manila folder. “I’m sure we’ll know before the day is out.” There, she’d said it, now she’d let him take it from there. “Now don’t take me personally,” she quickly added, reluctant to discard her original bailing temptation. “First let’s start with these two interviews, m’dam.” He crossed his knees and pulled his swivel chair closer to her so that she could almost taste the sweet smell of his fresh breath. The alluring young wife tossed her long blonde hair in a characteristic gesture, then swept it back over her shoulders. The act, she was well aware, had made her bra-less, ripely full breasts nipple in provocative freedom. She was hardly conscious of her husband, Carl, entering the room, and she could barely contain the smile she felt tugging at her wetly parted lips at her handsome colleague’s visible uneasiness. It registered that he must have enjoyed many sensual panoramas at her feminine expense before. At the moment, while his perceptive hands were skillfully flipping through the file, Ann couldn’t help but notice how soft and well- manicured his hands were. My God, it looked as if he polished his nails. God to have hands like that running all over her body! She swallowed hard, blinked her eyes to shut out the tempting sight, but opened them only to be drawn to the short, black masculine hair lightly enshadowing their backs, a sensory shiver dancing up her spine. She leaned forward then, supposedly to observe the case history number, coyly playing with the top button of her black knit dress, but not without a certain gracefulness. The nervousness had long since passed. “Mmmmm … I think I can read your handwriting, Dr. Everett,” she said for the benefit of her husband who had slipped into the coat room, which doubled as a supply room, for a cup of coffee. She continued to pretend to study the editing marks in assorted colors, but from the corner of her eyes she saw the lusty gleam leap into his deep, dark ones as they flitted back and forth, overly lingering each time they focused down her generous cleavage. “How’s it going, folks,” asked Carl dryly, as he sipped at the instant coffee steaming in a Styrofoam cup that he always kept in his desk drawer. Carl was the practical sort. “Just … just fine, Carl. We’re going over the interviews now so that Mrs. Dexter can get at them. No problems, I assure you.” Mrs. Dexter? thought Ann. Shades of guilt before the eye-hungry husband? Something’s astir and I don’t think it’s my imagination. “Everything is under control, Carl,” finished Ann, hoping that would send her husband back to the catacombs where he belonged. Over her shoulder, she could almost feel George’s eyeballs snapping back, then he lowered his head as if studying the file folder’s contents, his gentle fingers flipping through the pages, but Ann wasn’t fooled. While his broad brow hid the recesses of his eyes, she knew he was straining them damned near out of their sockets to feast on the alluring, hardened nipples beneath her black knit dress that molded her lithe body. “Should we glance through the second one now?” He fumbled, dropped the folder, retrieved it. Almost pathetically, he looked up then to catch her suggestive little smile of understanding. Angelically, Ann crossed her hands in her lap and, which her blue begging eyes asked, “Now what kind of paper do you want this typed on? All I have in my desk right now is canary. That can’t be used for Xeroxing, can it?” “I’m sorry, Dr. Everett, but I don’t know where to find it …” she turned her blonde head, looking in the direction of the multi-purpose room behind them that served as a store room and coffee room, the only nook of the four room office that offered any privacy. “I’d be more than happy to show you,” George eagerly replied, rising to his feet and glancing out the window, almost as if he couldn’t weather another dose of her voluptuously presented charms. Ann was delighted! She’d reached him, all right! In fact, she’d wager that the slight bulge in the front of his trousers he was uncomfortably trying to conceal wasn’t perpetual. Damn, she sure had reached him, and in good style! “Yes, I think we should use the heavy bond … takes wear better,” he managed. “I’ll help you find it,” announced Ann, looking him straight in his perplexed, burning dark eyes. “Of course, come along … it’s back here!” he finally got out, his nearly tremoring voice cracking twice. “It shouldn’t take a minute.” “Yes, then I’ll get right at it,” Ann heard herself say, while intensive, if timorous, excitement, gripped her as she followed him into the coat room. “You … you’ve got typing paper in your desk. I saw it when you put your typewriter cover in there,” he hissed, his breathing short and raspy as he stared at her. “I-I know …” Ann whispered, moving toward him, so tight inside she thought something was surely going to burst! Everything that her middle-aged husband had ever recorded concerning promiscuous wives made itself available like a sensual reference library in her erotically determined brain! She raised her arms with obvious intent, letting her fingers pressure against his broad shoulders, then mindlessly ease around his neck while he stood as if immobilized into a helpless numbness. “I-I know …!” she huskily repeated. “J-Jesus Christ!” he choked, his strong arm wrapping around her slender waist and drawing her tightly against him, his handsome mouth hungrily finding her warm, tongue moistened lips in an ardent soul kiss! She let her own little tongue wetly greet his, her incited brain reeling as she enveloped him with the resilient fullness of her breasts, soft belly and hot thighs, urging the erogenous swell of her yielding fleshy mound against the lengthy bulge of his thickly aroused hardness. The passionate sensation of its solid, masculine feel whipped her breath away! “Y-You’re beautiful!” he hoarsely panted, smoothing his big hands lustfully over the rounded swell of her buttocks. “Y-You were showing your breasts out there to me on purpose, weren’t you?” “Y-Yes …! D-Did you like what you saw?” “Good God, who wouldn’t?” His words were hot, gasping breaths against her face, the heat of his strong, sensitive hands penetrating through the knit of her dress to the tensed ovals of her rounded buttocks! It’d gone just as she’d hoped … her bit of lewd exhibitionism … but now, what? God, this was no time to get panicky, or suddenly have second thoughts! Yet …? “Well …?” he insisted. “When can we get together, you little ball of fire? You want it real bad, I can tell that. Is this work getting to you, honey?” “Ooooohhhh … I-I don’t know!” she tremulously whispered. “But … I do want to, darling …!” “Damn, you really mean that, don’t you?” he croaked, his breathing filling the cluttered little room with short, sizzling sounds. For an answer, Ann uncontrollably pressured even tighter against him, almost imperceptibly undulating her desire-filled, soft belly, loins and thighs with suggestive fervency against his hardened, rhythmically throbbing cock. A scene from a men’s magazine she’d found in her father’s underwear drawer raced through the archives of her sensually intoxicated mind and like the young wife in the story who was desperately trying to seduce her reluctant neighbor, she passionately kissed him on the lips, then began to tickle the end of his handsome nose with the tip of her hot, wet little tongue. “Ummmmggghhhhh …” he huskily groaned, his heated hands stroking downward to the backs of her nyloned thighs, then up in under her tiny skirt to tease the smooth flesh of them above her stockings, and finally to caress and cup the rounded fullness of her flimsily covered buttocks! His wetly fevered mouth smothered her own as she sensually returned as much as he gave, eagerly lashing tongues with him, while his finger tips descended, tracing the deep crevice separating the tensed mounds of her ovalled, near naked buttocks. Then, one outstretched thick finger was worming its way between her trembling, full thighs from behind, the erotic sensation causing her to gasp out! Suddenly through her panties, she felt its wanted hot pressure against the desire-dampened mouth of her cunt, and an electric current rippled through her as it tried to wriggle inside the moistened, narrow crotch- band. “No … no, darling, not here!” the hotly aroused young wife whispered, locking her strong, full thighs like a fleshy vise over his probing hand to hamper his frantic operation. “Please… what if Carl should walk in? Please … it’s too dangerous with him right out there in the other office!” she insisted, her sultry blue eyes searching his while she reached behind her and gently disengaged his lewdly exploring fingers. Then, pressing the hardened tips of her proud young breasts against his chest, she reached beyond him to the top shelf and began tearing open a ream of paper. “What the hell are you doing, Ann?” “We’re in here getting paper, remember, Doctor?” she flirted. “Oh, my God, I forgot. You’re something else, girl, believe me …” And then the frustration of last night’s disappointing lovemaking came over her. “Please don’t tease me …” “Me? Teasing you? Oh, that’s really funny, Ann! Who the hell is teasing who?” he hotly questioned, trying to draw her back tight to him, while she wedged her hands against his chest as a buffer. Then, in defense of his actions, he quickly added, “Believe me, if Carl wasn’t in the same office right now, I’d … I’d …!” “You’d what?” she excitedly pressed, wanting to hear him say it. “Well, you know. Don’t play coy with me. I’m a doctor, remember? I do research on sex, I know what I would do …” “You’d fuck me right here?” the intensively fired Ann lewdly finished for him in an intimate whisper, the four letter word never sounding more exciting to her, or to him, as it obscenely tumbled from her lush lips at that moment. “I-is that what you were going to say?” “Couldn’t have put it more aptly, you luscious creature!” he cawed, his lust-inflamed dark eyes reflecting the depth of the jolt her use of the graphic word had triggered inside him. He gushed a hot draft of breath against her face, his eyes gleaming with a frenzy. “When, Ann? After work? After lunch? When?” “Wait a minute, not so fast. We have a report to get out, remember?” Ann reflexively countered, something in the nature of apprehension clutching at her within. She took the ascot from his breast pocket to dab away the smear her darkly tinted lipstick had left on his mouth. It was a stall for time, her mind racing in a melee of confusion. “B- Better throw this hanky away,” she said, tucking it back into his pocket. “What … what about after work? My wife won’t be home til later tonight since she has a late class …” “What about work?” she interrupted, in God’s name, never knowing why, unless that was a woman’s natural reaction and subconsciously placing herself in the position of his vivacious young wife whom she’d only met a couple of times. He stared at her open-mouthed, part of the expression on his handsome face and in his tormented eyes enough to make her want to climb right up on the shelf for him! Ohhhhh … she was really hot — it was a wonder that her tiny, thin panties didn’t disintegrate. Maybe they had! Still, she couldn’t deny the forces, whatever their source, that were restraining her, and she’d never realized how devoted to her work she’d been before. Or did it have something to do with allegiance to her dear husband Carl, who, at this very minute was dully plodding over his work. “What the hell! Forget about work for a change, okay, Ann? This affair between you and me has nothing to do with work, and personally, I need a little time off now and then … Besides …” he added in a calculated aside, “you can’t tell me the subject of this research has nothing to do with your condition …” Before he could finish or she could answer, Carl’s voice boomed from the other room. “How about somebody in there making me a cup of coffee?” With bated breath, they listened to him pacing back and forth, maybe shuffling through the files on her desk and lay open and waiting for attention. “How about it? After work?” George pressed in an urgent whisper. “N-No, I have to finish that work and get it to the photocopier. You said so yourself … isn’t that right?” Ann defensively answered, hardly knowing what she meant by those words. “Work? … Christ, girl, what’s wrong with you, anyway? You’re hotter than a pistol one minute, and the next you want to put me off for a Xerox machine. What’s the deal?” “Hey, anybody in there?” It was Carl’s voice, louder and more insistent than before. “We’ve got work to get done out here in case you haven’t forgotten!” “Oooooohhhhh … I-I shouldn’t have let you touch my …!” Ann covered her face with her hands in humiliation. “The hell with that shit! W-What are you, a cock tease?” he spat at her. “You come tripping in here behind me with those big tits of yours hanging out, show me your breasts with your husband standing in back of you, then tell me that you have to work tonight. What’s the matter? Aren’t you getting enough in bed these days? Isn’t that great sex researcher enough for you?” The venom in his biting words burned into the young wife like eating acid, and she backed away from him with tears brimming up into her big, round eyes! God! What had gone wrong! It had all seemed so innocent and fun and then … suddenly … it wasn’t so much fun anymore. Oooohhh … she’d truly blown it … blown it, damn it! And now she’d have to sit next to him all day remembering how lewdly she’d flirted with him. “Hey, I’m sorry, Ann,” George’s mellifluous voice calmed her and she felt her self-confidence soar from a minus one to a plus two. “It’s just that you got me so carried away. I-I was disappointed, that’s all.” “Hey! Are you two coming out of there or is there something you’re looking for and can’t find? If you’re looking for the instant coffee it’s on the shelf behind the tea pot,” Carl’s voice reached out, a tone of uptightness barbing it. Ann moved forward, quickly reaching for the ream of bond paper; she daintily wiped at her eyes as George said: “Look, we have to work next to each other all day, so let’s forget about this till another time, okay?” The voluptuous, long-haired blonde wife didn’t look at him. She knew that if she did she’d probably end up in the back seat of her Volkswagen at lunch time, fucking her husband’s colleague till he blew the sun roof off her car. God, she’d never been any hotter, or closer to spreading her legs in her life! “Yes, Dr. Everett, I think it’s a good thing we get back to work.” “Goddamn it, listen to me … wait … wait!” Ann heard him choke behind her as she brushed past him out into the outer office, every fiber of her alive with sensual excitement. From the other side of the door Dr. Everett could hear Ann’s solicitous words to her husband. “I’m so sorry, dear, we were looking for the bond paper. Oh, we have so much to do, but I promise you can depend on me to get it done.” A brief silence during which he imagined a give-away glance shooting in his direction … or was she kissing Dr. Dexter just as she’d been kissing him? “The water is boiling for your coffee,” he heard her lie, wondering just what kind of a woman his middle-aged colleague married. Chapter 3 Ann sat nervously at her typewriter, her fingers poised and trembling above the keys as the electric machine’s constant whirring noise seemed to reverberate around in her confused and tortured mind. God, there was so much to be done and although she generally worked best under pressure, this particular day was a very difficult one for the voluptuous young blonde. Her mind was a jigsaw puzzle whose pieces were scattered all over the floor waiting to be put back together again. Confused and nagging emotions fought against one another in her tormented mind; feelings and desires she never knew she could experience battled against one another and her thoughts seemed to have a dozen different sources at one. After she’d gotten Carl off her back by shoving a steaming cup of coffee in his hands, she’d had to work with Dr. Everett breathing down her neck, intermittently brushing his hand on her leg up and down her thigh till she thought she’d go bananas for sure. Finally, as if by an act of God, Carl had called him into the back office for a weekly conference to plan the activities for next week. “Damn!” she hissed under her breath as she made the third typo on that first line of the page. All thumbs, she felt her neck muscles tense and freeze in position. That would never do, she thought with gut hurting anguish. I can’t boggle this work just because of some young stud. And as if her physically handicapped condition was not enough to cloud her mind, everything she typed had something to do with sex. God, it was driving her crazy! She winced in anguish, still feeling the touch of Dr. Everett hotly slithering up and down her body. God, how stupid could one get? Pretty rotten, she inwardly seethed, sick at the thought of having him, that gorgeous hunk of man, right in her eagerly yearning little hands, then frittering away her hold through girlish reluctance. Damn, she’d never intended they be any more than lovers, an affair, maybe. For what seemed like minutes, she stood there staring blindly out of the window, watching students spill out of the building across the street. Some stoop shouldered, disappointed and grim, others half skipping with the bounce of springtime in their airy steps. For a brief she imagined where she would be, what she would be doing, and whether she would be happy had she not married Dr. Carl Dexter. A stewardess flying to Australia, maybe? A model on the cover of Vogue? “Uh, Mrs. Dexter, could you come in the office for a minute,” Dr. Everett’s voice interrupted her wildly, dizzily spinning thoughts. “Yes, of course, right away,” Ann answered, reaching down to pick up the file folder. “No, you won’t need that,” Mrs. Dexter,” he said coldly, and then she knew she’d blown it! Without so much as a smile, he turned his back and disappeared into the wood-walled interior of her husband’s office.