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He presses his lips against my neck, his breath hot, his strong arms lifting me up and pinning me against the wall. My thighs wind around his waist without coaxing, his mouth finding mine and savoring my tongue, sucking on it, making me tremble. Although I am no doubt in control-- I am his boss, after all-- it occurs to me that I am offering my body up on a platter for my new, young and obedient pastry chef.
Now he pushes me down on a waist-high stack of flour sacks, his large hands roaming over the emerald silk of my dress, my favorite, the one that matches my eyes. He looks down at me with his warm hazelnut-colored irises and presses his erection between my legs, making me groan in surprise at his largesse.
Daniel's fingers feel heavenly on my bare thighs, as he parts them and hikes up the sleek skirt of my dress around my waist. By now my black lace panties are exposed, and he can feel that I've soaked through them, smiling knowingly up at me.
"I just want to please you," he says, and who am I to argue? He slips down my body, kissing the tops of my bare knees, cupping his hands around my calves, his mouth disappearing up my inner thighs, his touch bringing me back to life again.
I haven't always been an adulteress.
In fact, for two years when Peter was only really starting out with his career as a marketing executive, I still admired him. I'd come into the marriage with some success-- I'd financed and expanded my restaurant, Veronica's, to two other locations, then started doing catering services. The whirlwind of excitement swept me away, and when Peter proposed, I thought everything was coming together. It took three years before my life calmed down enough for me to realize that the man I married was more concerned in keeping up appearances with others than he was in working out our marriage. I spent less time at home, losing myself in my business.
To say the least, I haven't been fucked in a long, long time. The paperwork for the pending divorce is still waiting on my desk, and soon we will pursue separate lives. As per our pre-nuptials, the division of assets won't be that difficult. Until then I am technically cheating on my husband... but in all fairness, he started it.
Daniel's tongue reaches the crease of my thighs, and I can feel his breath through my flimsy Brazilian panties. I inhale deeply as his fingers push the wet fabric to one side, revealing my wet folds, caressing my tender pink flesh. His stubble tickles my thighs as he buries his tongue into my tight opening, sucking on my clit and spreading my lips with his forefingers in a V.
As I grab the back of his head and arch my hips closer to him, I wonder whether he is either very experienced in the erotic arts or simply has a naturally gifted tongue, or both. Just when I feel my pleasure consume me, Eric stops and physically flips me over on the sacks of flour. I smile, but he can't see me.
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