This happened in 1975 or 76, I can’t remember exactly now. I was twenty-one at the time.
I’d got a job as a trainee manger in an electrical warehouse situated in one of the six Potteries towns. On my first day I was immediately drawn to Clare, one of the office girls. She was just nineteen, had long chestnut hair, and was built just right. Even though the look was probably out of fashion by then, she always wore a mini skirt to work. I would try to catch a glimpse of her legs whenever I went into the office where she worked.
I think she must have noticed my interest because she began to go to the small scullery to make hot drinks for the other girls whenever I took a tea-break myself. One of the ware-housemen had told me she was already married so I was slow to understanding what she was about at first. And besides, I was already engaged at that time, to my future wife Carol.
Her signals became blatant and I eventually made my move. It was one of the times we were in the small staff kitchen. I put my arms around her and drew her to me and said, “Is this what you’re after, Clare?” . I was expecting her to wriggle free, but she didn’t.
“I thought you’d never get the hint,” she said.
And god! The way she returned my kiss. Voracious. Even though we might have been interrupted at any moment, I put my hand up the back of her skirt and massaged her buttock cheeks though her tights, feeling the micro-mesh slide around her silky knickers. I was tempted to pull them down there and then -- underwear and all. But I restrained myself. Any number of people could have walked in on us. I didn’t want to get in any trouble with my boss for uncouth behaviour. He was a born again Christian and would have gone ballistic to see his staff up to no good.
And so this went on for a few days, the pair of visiting the kitchen and bumping into each other as if by chance. But it was driving me mad to be snogging her and getting very little else other than a feel of her cunt contours through her tights, or my hand on her breast over her cardigan.
We had to do something -- so the following week I arranged to meet her at lunchtime. She said she would walk to the shops and I could picker her up in my car as if in passing. Neither of us wanted anyone to know we were having a fling.
She told me to take her home so I drove to her there, a terraced house a few miles from where we worked. She told me to park a little way up the street form her place while she went check her husband had not come home. She said he sometimes came home for lunch, but if he wasn’t there by now there was no chance he would come later. But I told myself, never say never. And this added to the feeling of subterfuge.
The coast was clear and I was invited in and led through to the back living room. Straight away we were at each other. I was frantic to get her undressed. I was so sick of feeling-her-up through her clothes. This was passion unhindered; so heated, not a gentle seduction.
I remember standing looking at her in the chill of her that small, back room. The gas fire was on but had not yet warmed the air. Her top and skirt were gone, her tights and knickers around her knees prevented from falling further by her knee length boots. Her legs as wide as her hosiery allowed I rubbed her between her legs with the flat of my palm until she moaned out loud. Then I finger-fucked her soppy cunt with three fingers.
And while I did her she moaned out loud, then said she wanted to be fucked properly. Had I brought condoms?
I had. And while I pulled them out of my jacket pocket she took of her boots and removed the tangle of tights and knickers. She lay on the sofa her legs spread, displaying the raw gash of her cunt, her eyes watching every move I made.
Quickly I donned a condom but did not bother to take of my shirt or socks. I went to her with my cock leading the way. She took it in hand and guided me into her, We rutted together on the sofa, her legs around me pressing in the small of the back, urging my thrusts deep.
That first time I did not last long. She seemed a little put out that I had cum so fast, but she was a beautiful young creature and any man would have found themselves as excited as me. I said I would be ready to go again in ten minutes but she said she had to be back at work -- and so did I.
As we dressed I asked her if she didn’t love her husband any more -- Why else would she doing this I reasoned. She told me she and hubby had a deal. Each year they could each take a lover for a week or so. She had chosen me this year, but said I was the second she had this year. She said it was cheating on her husband in more ways than the usual sense.
I asked her if she told him when she took a lover. She said she wasn’t that stupid but she might do long after it was over.
I agreed to call for her early the next day after hubby had left for work. It was just gone 8:00 when she answered the door to me. She wore a full length satin nightgown cut low in a classic Grecian sort of way. It clung to her legs and body as she walked. I still remember the feel of her buttocks beneath it when I held her to me, the material sliding here and there as my hand caressed her. After kissing her, I gathered the material from about her hips and lifted it up over her body, her arms quickly going up straight and high, allowing me to pull it over her head. When she was naked, I held her to me and savoured her soft young flesh. God, even then I knew this was a unique moment. I loved the way this beautiful young woman, the wife of an equally young man. melted in my arms. I thought of her loser of a husband and wondered what kind of idiot he must be to sanction his wife’s infidelity. What an arse!
I lowered my head and sucked each breast over and over, my mouth going from open to the other. My finger delved the crack of her arse and then rubbed her clit. I fucked her mouth with my curled tongue.
I asked if we could go up to her bed but she refused, said she would never betray her Kevin like that -- by taking another man into their marital bed.
So I had to make do with fucking her on the sofa again. I stripped off all my clothes apart from my socks while she again waited for me, naked on the couch with legs apart.
What can I say. Our fucking rocked! I lasted longer this time.
Again, we were pressed for time. She went upstairs to dress for work while I pulled on my own clothes and went to the downstairs bathroom to dispose of the condom. She appeared ten minutes later in her works clothes; blouse and cardigan; short skirt, tights and boots. I remember sitting and looking at her while she made a few final touches to her makeup in the mirror that hung over the mantelpiece, thinking how beautiful she was. I found myself admiring her no nonsense attitude to shagging. She had seen me and liked what she saw, and so had decided to have me.
I saw her three more times for sex. Before the last time she told me it was time to stop. She thanked me for our brief moments together. By now I think I had begun to fall in love with her a little. If she had asked, I know I would have left Carol for her, there and then. I told her it couldn’t end just like that. She said it would have to. She would see that it did.
Eventual I had to accept that she no longer needed me as her fuck-buddy. I still remember the last time we made love. She had taken a few days holiday that were due to her. On one of the days I visited her at lunch time in her home. She knew I was coming and had dressed up special for me in a little black mini-dress and heels, as if going out for a night on the town. I undressed her slowly, like a precious gift.
Afterwards we lay naked in front of the gas fire on the duvet she had spread on the floor for our lovemaking. For fifteen minutes we just lay there in each other’s arms. When it was time for me to go she smiled a thank you smile and then kissed me. It was then I realised that her husband was the luckiest man alive to have a wife like her, but I was certain I would be able to share if she were mine.
Soon after that I was moved to another branch. The last time I saw her was when I was out with Carol in a bar up town. Clare had on the same small black dress she had worn for me the last time we made love. She was with her husband and another couple, the female of who was probably her sister, for she had the same fetching, dark looks. Clare was laughing at some remark the other girl had made, when she saw me from across the room. She looked my way and briefly held my eyes, then she smiled and turned away. Though I kept looking over at her, she never looked my way again.