Anyway, I digress. Not too much as it turns out. It all began with Ben. Gorgeous, virile, can go at it all night, Ben Brannigan. Or rather he would go at it all night when we finally got the chance. His family were religious, you see, and he believed in saving himself for marriage. Trouble is, he somehow got the impression that I was too. No, I didn’t lie. Not really. I just mumbled something when he asked if I was still a virgin and he took it for demure embarrassment.

I got my chance to try his wares when his family invited us for the weekend. We were to go to his uncle’s house in the country.

‘What does your uncle do?’ I asked Ben, as we drove to Oxfordshire. ‘He’s in the Church.’

My heart sank. No way would we be allowed to share a bedroom in a priest’s house. ‘I hope we get a chance to be alone, darling,’ I said, stroking Ben’s thigh. He nearly crashed when I squeezed his crotch.
‘Charity! Stop that. Do you want us both to go to hell?’
‘No, but a nice little hotel in Woodstock would be lovely.’
‘I see what you’re doing. You’re testing me to see if I can keep my hands off you. Stop it, you little minx.’
God, I wanted him there and then, but something about his expression told me that he wasn’t very pleased with me. I sulked for the rest of the journey.
We arrived just before dinner. The house was wonderful. The sort of Georgian pile I’d always dreamed of living in.
‘Charity, this is my mother, my father, and this is my uncle Jack. Everyone, this is Charity.’ I could tell from his mother’s shocked glance at me in my short skirt that things were not going to go according to plan.
Uncle Jack, who stood in front of the mantelpiece of his magnificent drawing room, wasn’t what I was expecting. For a start he was dressed in black chinos and a black turtle-neck sweater. He was also quite young. Not our age (Ben and I were both twenty-eight) but not much older than forty. He also eyed my mini-skirt but I couldn’t work out what he was thinking. He had one of those inscrutable faces. The type men have when they’re hanging from a big tap thingy in an upturned ship, willing to sacrifice themselves so that c-list actors can go on to star in soap operas. For some reason my panties felt abit moist.
Ben’s friend, Vince, arrived just before dinner. They’d been at university together. He was a beautiful young man and I would have introduced him to one of my friends had he not been so moody. He didn’t seem to like me at all, only giving me a cursory nod.
Dinner was excruciating and I didn’t help. I blurted out ‘So, Uncle Jack, do you think Jesus and Mary Magdalene really got it on?’ He smiled and I almost melted. Ben glared at me and his mother looked like she was going to faint. His dad merely squeezed my knee under the table. Or he might have been trying to pat the dog. He was so drunk on Uncle Jack’s vintage wine, I wasn’t entirely sure.
‘So you’ve read The Da Vinci Code, Charity?’ asked Uncle Jack. His expression suggested he knew I only ever read Heat magazine.
‘Er…no, but everyone knows what it’s about. It’s like one of those cultural thingies… icons… that transcends boundaries. Like everyone knows that The Poseidon Adventure is about an upside down ship.’ I don’t know why I kept coming back to that!
‘Is it really, Charity?’ asked Uncle Jack.
‘Yes. For goodness’ sake, don’t you know? Gene Hackman…the tortured priest…that girl from Dynasty who fancied him…the one before Emma Samms…not that Emma Samms fancied Hackman…well she might have. I don’t really know her. I mean the one who played Fallon before Emma…’ My voice faded to nothing when I realised he was taking the piss and also changing the subject.
‘Oh I did like Dynasty,’ Mrs Brannigan said. ‘All those shoulder pads.’
‘Yes, me too, well the re-runs on digital telly,’ I nodded eagerly. Our eyes met and we smiled. For the rest of dinner, Ben’s mother and I chatted about our favourite Alexis Colby schemes. By dessert we were the best of friends.
‘I need to speak to you about something, Ben,’ said Vince. They went to the library. Uncle Jack and Mr Brannigan disappeared, and Mrs Brannigan went to powder her nose. I was left alone, the pleasure of chatting to Mrs Brannigan fading as I realised I’d been abandoned.
I wandered around the drawing room, imagining myself as some Jane Austen heroine, ‘taking a turn’. When that got boring, I slipped out into the hallway and went in search of the library, sure that Ben and Vince would be finished. As I grew nearer I could hear raised voices. One raised voice actually. Uncle Jack’s.
‘You can’t possibly marry that girl, Ben! It’s time to face up to facts. She won’t make you happy.’
Feeling like I’d been slapped, I ran out into the garden. How dare he decide what was best for Ben? The sanctimonious git! I sat outside for half an hour, not wanting to return to the house.
‘Charity?’ It was Mrs Brannigan. She found me sitting in an arbour at the bottom of the garden, looking back up towards the house. It really was beautiful. ‘Are you alright, dear?’
‘Yes, I’m fine, thanks. I think I’d like to go to bed now if that’s okay with you. It’s been a long day.’
‘Of course, I’ll show you to your room.’ She took my arm, seeming to realise I was upset. ‘I’m sorry we all left you to your own devices. Ben and his uncle had things to discuss.’
‘Yes, I know,’ I said tightly.
‘You were a bit of a surprise to us, actually.’
‘I can imagine.’
‘But you’re a nice girl, I can tell.’ I didn’t know about that, but didn’t want to disillusion her. We carried on into the house and up the stairs.
‘Thank you, you’re very kind.’ And she was. So much so that I felt like crying. ‘Erm, Mrs Brannigan. Which is Ben’s bedroom? Just out of interest.’
She pointed to the door next to mine, smiling, but quite sadly.
‘Don’t worry. I’m not going to do anything,’ I said. ‘I respect your house rules.’
‘Actually, Charity, it was Ben’s idea for you to have separate rooms. We’re not that stuffy, honestly.’
She left me at my door and went off to find her husband, whom we could hear singing sea shanties in the kitchen. I liked them. And what she’d said was true. They weren’t nearly as stuffy as I thought when I first arrived. But Uncle Jack. He was another matter.
Drastic action was called for. I had to convince Ben that he and I were meant for each other, but to be honest, as I took the pair of fluffy handcuffs out of my suitcase, I was beginning to wonder. He’d practically ignored me all night, huddled away with Vince. His uncle had swayed him far too easily for my liking. I decided I’d just show him what he’d be missing, then dump him.
I waited till I heard everyone come to bed, then I went downstairs to the kitchen and found a Muller Fruit Corner in the fridge. Cherry. My favourite. I crept back upstairs -yoghurt and handcuffs all ready – and went into Ben’s room.
He was lying with his back to the door, but he’d kicked off his blankets, wearing just apair of boxers. The body I’d been longing to see and touch was mine for the taking. I slipped out of my clothes and tiptoed to the bed. Taking one of his hands, I clipped a handcuff around his wrist. He didn’t even wake up, so I rolled him gently onto his back and, throwing the yoghurt onto the bedside table, set about attaching the other cuff to the bedpost. My bare breast brushed his mouth as I stretched over him, sending a spasm of pleasure through my body. I heard him mumble ‘Oh, dear God.’
I closed my eyes, then found his mouth, thrusting my tongue between his lips. He kissed me back, bringing his own tongue up to meet mine. I trailed kisses down his chest, gently biting into one of his nipples, then downwards, to where his erection burst out of his boxers. I slid them down and took his penis in my mouth, completely forgetting I’d brought the yoghurt. I preferred natural, lapping up the salt taste. He groaned again, pushing my head against his cock with his free hand. My own centre throbbed and it was all I could do not to thrust straight down onto him. I wanted him – and me – to savour the moment.
I stopped and whispered, ‘You’re in my power. You have to do whatever I say.’
‘Yes,’ he replied, his voice husky. ‘Yes. Whatever you say.’
Moving back up the bed, I sat with my knees either side of his face, the bristles on his cheek tingling my inner thigh.
‘Lick my pussy.’ His tongue darted upwards, finding my clit, swirling, probing. His hand, straining from the handcuff grasped my breast, pinching my nipples between his fingers, while his tongue drove me to madness. It was all I could do not to scream out as my groin pulsated to an early orgasm. He lapped that up hungrily, his tongue pressing against my throbbing clit, prolonging the pleasure beyond all reasonable bounds.
I needed to kiss him, to taste myself on his mouth. ‘Tell me you want me,’ I demanded, my lips pressed against his.
‘I want you.’
I slid my body down his torso, leaving a damp trail on his chest and belly, and eased myself down onto his prick. We rocked together, slowly at first, building the intensity until our bodies crashed together in a beautiful porn action. I cried out as he filled me to completion, bucking against his thrusting hips. I came again, but he didn’t.
‘Come on,’ I said. ‘Give it to me.’ He was holding back, I could tell. I rucked him harder, forcing him to submission, finally feeling him cumming into me.
That was when I opened my eyes, because I wanted to see the pleasure on his face. He was barely visible by the light from the moon, shining through the window, but it most certainly wasn’t Ben.
‘Jack!’ I jumped off him as though I’d been stung. He groaned, more in pain than ecstasy, clearly not expecting sudden movement. I couldn’t bring myself to call him Uncle Jack. Not then. ‘Oh my God! Why didn’t you say anything? You…you rapist!’
‘Excuse me, Charity, but you’re the one who came into my bedroom and handcuffed me to the bed, then gave me a blowjob. At least that’s how the pohce would see it.’ There was amusement in his voice, alongside the happy exhaustion of his orgasm.
‘You can’t go the pohce. Oh God, I’m in such trouble.’ I threw on my nightie. ‘But you’re not Ben and you let me think you were.’ I remembered my earlier anger. ‘Oh I get it. I’m all right for a quick fuck for you, to ease your celibacy for a while, but not good enough for your nephew. The Pope will probably send a hit squad to kill me for defrocking one of their priests. I’d better go quickly. Tonight.’
‘Do you think you could undo the handcuffs first?’
I blushed. I was also off my guard, because I didn’t see what was coming next. As soon as I’d detached the cuffs from the bedpost he snatched the key from my hand and clipped one cuff around my wrist, leaving us bound together.
‘What are you doing? Let me go or I’ll scream.’ It was an empty threat. I’d have been too embarrassed for anyone to find us.
‘Let’s talk,’ he said. I must admit to being disappointed. I thought he was going to pin me to the bed and ravish me. I’d have said no, of course. Except the memory of his probing tongue wouldn’t go away, so maybe I wouldn’t have.
He pulled the blankets up over us. He lay on his side, I sat up until I realised that was too uncomfortable, with the handcuffs. So I reluctantly lay next to him.
‘About what?’
‘About you and Ben.’
‘Yes, I know. You don’t think I’m good enough. I heard you.’
‘No, I said you weren’t right for him.’
‘It’s the same thing. And now, well, you probably think I’mevenmore of aslut.’
‘What I think about you is not up for discussion at the moment. Though I do believe that you’re a good girl who only tries very hard to be bad. You want marriage, kids, the whole kit and caboodle.’ I hated him for understanding me so well. Hated him, but desperately wanted him to kiss me again. ‘But Ben is never going to give that to you.’
‘No, because you won’t let him.’
‘I have my reasons. Actually, now I have different reasons, but we’ll discuss those later. Ben is gay, Charity. He and Vince are in love.’
I was going to argue with him, but what he said made sense in too many ways.
‘So now what are we going to do?’ I asked.
‘Me? I’m going to open that yoghurt, smear it all over your body then lick it off.’
‘Well if you insist,’ I said.
The following morning we watched Ben and Vince ride off into the sunset together. Well, it was raining and they were in Ben’s car, but you get the idea. Ben’s parents had left some time earlier, so it was just Jack and me.
‘What about us?’ I asked. He stood behind me, with his arms around my waist, making me feel very safe and protected. ‘You’ll be unfrocked and the Pope will send out a hit squad forme.’
‘The word is defrocked. The Pope doesn’t care what I do.’ I felt his mouth on my neck. ‘I’m Church of England. Now, let’s go and see if we can find any more yoghurt in the fridge.’

I’d like to blame it on the wine but I’m not much of a liar. I will chalk it up to a really good sweaty romp and then a rather erotic porn thriller. The movie got me going all over again but by the time the good parts were over, it was time for Steven to go to bed.

‘Good night, love.’ He ruffled my short blonde hair and gave me a long lingering kiss. ‘We need to do that again tomorrow but for now I’m off to bed. Early morning.’

And he was gone and I was horny. Again. I finished my wine, flipped through a magazine, and read a sex survey. That didn’t help. Basically, I stewed in my own juices, so to speak.

I was just about to give up. Throw in the towel. When it hit me. Again, maybe the wine, maybe the thriller, maybe the fuck. I really don’t know what did it. I didn’t care. I grabbed the pad of sticky notes from the desk and began writing furiously. When I went to bed, it was stuck to the coffee pot. My little love note for Steven. What do you want? Your wildest fantasy (or fantasies). Anything you want. Spill!

Love,

Loren

I had forgotten the note in the morning. It was Saturday so I lingered in bed. I was sad, I’ll admit, that Steven had to go to work. His side of the bed, cold and unoccupied was enough to make me want to call him and tell him to come home. Come home and fuck your woman. In my mind’s eye I could see myself dialing my cell. I could hear myself making this giggling but authoritative command. He had to work, though, and I was fine with that. I was just lonely. I ran my hands over my soft negligee. Felt my nipples turn to hard pink pearls under my fingers. My pussy went soft and wet and I let out a sigh. Somehow, as horny as I was, the thought of rubbing one off alone in bed was disappointing. I would go downstairs and make some coffee and wait until Steve got home. Then I would attack him like a horny mountain lion.

I was still laughing at the thought of a hormone-induced attack on my studly guy when I wandered into the kitchen. There it was. Hot pink. Innocent to look at. A sticky note for me.

TO SEE YOU WITH ANOTHER WOMAN. NO TOUCHING FOR ME. JUST WATCHING.

LOVE,

STEVE

Somehow the sight of his answer, boldly printed all in caps, did me in. I did it right there. Clutching at the pantry door, fingers working furiously and wetly under my nighty. It only took a few minutes. My fingers diving greedily into my humid wet cunt, my thumb rubbing roughly but expertly over my clit. I stared at the words as I came in one long, delicious spasm. Little animal sounds rushed out of my throat and I collapsed on the cold linoleum in a glowing, warm heap. I needed to leave him notes more often. My fingers still tacky and shaking, my knees still knocking, I claimed the hot pink square and stuck it firmly in my day planner. I made my coffee, enjoyed my afterglow and mentally calculated how many hours I had to wait for him to get home.

‘I’m home!’ Steven’s face lit with a tired but happy grin.

‘Thank God! Oooph’

The last part was my fault. I launched myself at him like a lusty groupie and kissed him long and hard. I pushed my tongue past his soft lips and tangled it with his. I plundered that hot sensuous mouth and pushed my wet pussy against his belt buckle, my legs tightly clamped around his lean middle.

‘Did you miss me?’ he laughed as I slid my tongue down his neck, nuzzling him at the base where his cologne seems to settle. A nice warm, manly scent that hovers in the hollow of his throat.

His big hands palmed my sexy ass and he groaned. Shifting me a little lower so my crotch was level with his, I could feel the growing bulge of his awakening big cock.

‘I liked your note,’ I sighed and pushed myself against his hard-on. Shameless hussy. That’s me.

‘I can tell.’

‘Come on, come on, come on,’ I was practically barking as I set my feet on the cold floor and pulled him toward the sofa. ‘Off with the jeans! Off with the shirt!’ I directed, stripping my leggings and sweatshirt off. ‘As long as you don’t say, ‘Off with his head!’,’ he chuckled. But he obeyed. He soon stood before me completely naked, his beautiful cock a blushing purple and standing straight up toward his flat belly.

‘On the sofa!’ I could hear my demanding tone but couldn’t seem to control it. I was in a fog. A thick fog of lust and need. I always wanted Steven, but right now I needed him. My body thumped with a pulse of arousal and craving. I need him. Hard dick. Hot cunt. His. In mine. Now. I straddled him, the soft green sofa cushions engulfing my knees. Without preamble I sank down onto his dick, sighing with what sounded like relief to my own ears. Within three desperate strokes, my thighs were soaked from my own juices from my pussy.

‘Correspondence is inspiring,’ Steven muttered as his eyes rolled back in his head. He looked like he was in pain. ‘Am I hurting you?’ I grunted. It was all I could manage.

I admit, though, I didn’t slow my frenzied pace for even a moment.

‘Fuck no!’ He grabbed my hips as if for emphasis. Big fingers digging into my soft, flushed skin and propelling me faster with his strong hands. His hips pumped up as he drove into me.

‘Best note ever…’ I mumbled as my cunt seized up, gripped him greedily and then fluttered around him as my orgasm roared through all of me. Even the roots of my hair tingled and I swore I heard myself cry out, ‘Evvvvvver…!’ Steven yanked me against him and I felt him pump into me. Hot wet come. Filling me. For the first time ever I really felt it, the incredibly warm emptying of his body into mine.

I collapsed, exhausted and panting onto his chest; our breathing creating a nice little cha-cha number. ‘Sorry about the ninja attack,’ I giggled but my wet insides still fluttered and pulsed around his deflating cock. It would work for every last flicker of pleasure, it seemed. ‘Loren, you can go ninja on my ass any day of the week.’ And then he kissed me.

Steven went to bed early that night. I think I wore him out. I weighed the pros and cons and then my mind flashed to that first seductive moment of my body engulfing his and

my mind was made up. Before I locked up for the night, I grabbed my faithful sticky notes and wrote another. I was humming merrily as I shut off the kitchen light. I could see its little square shadow as I left. I smiled, knowing what it said.

What else! I’m begging. Hands and knees. Tell me.

Love,

Loren

I climbed into bed, snuggled up against a loudly snoring hunk of man and drifted off to sleep. Somehow I couldn’t wipe the goofy grin off my face even as I slipped into dreamland. Sunday morning didn’t so much break in as creep in. Gray, murky light filled the bedroom. Another overcast February morning. I stretched and yawned loudly. My hands found the cool empty spot on the sheets where Steven should be. A momentary blip of sadness skittered across my internal radar screen and I sighed. Then I remembered the sticky note I had left and I tore down to the kitchen. I didn’t even bother to put on slippers or a robe. I didn’t care if I froze. I wanted to see my note. My bare feet slapped the cold linoleum as I ran to the coffee pot. There it was! I was so excited. My belly did a flip and my nipples grew hard. I claimed my hot pink prize and read.

I WANT TO FUCK YOU IN PUBLIC. MAYBE THE DARK SMOKY CORNER OF THE CLUB. UP AGAINST THE WALL. HANDS UNDER YOUR DRESS. YOUR LEG WRAPPED AROUND MY WAIST…

LOVE,

STEVE

Oooooh. I caught my breath, sank into a kitchen chair and once again settled in for some self-abuse. My fingers made quick work of my swollen clit. Two fingers plunged into my flooded pussy as an accompanying finger played a rousing number of God-I-am-turned-on on my clit. I stared at the words, read the sentence over and over until my insides were so tight it was nearly painful. Then I focused on my favorite sentence: MY HANDS UNDER YOUR DRESS.

These were his hands under my nightgown. Steven’s hands. Under there. For all to see…

The orgasm left me bedraggled and flushed. A stupid smile on my face. I drank my coffee, puttered and counted the minutes. When he came through the door I was waiting for him. Only this time he was prepared. I wasn’t very creative, I’ll admit. I once again did my animalistic pounce the moment he shut the front door. Only this time, he promptly dropped his briefcase and held his hands out. At least I wasn’t afraid I’d hurt him this time. ‘You’re wearing a dress!’ he exclaimed around my wandering, plundering tongue. He kissed me back and laughed against my lips. ‘Yes, yes!’ I hissed, ‘Now put your hands under it.’ ‘Ah, our missives have done a number on you again.’ His tone was teasing but his hands were big and warm as they slid under my short dress. Goosebumps and baby hairs along my spine sprang to attention and my pussy did that persistent little thump, thump, thump! that signals impending orgasm. Dear Lord! He hadn’t even touched me yet.

I didn’t stop to ask what a missive was. I simply wrapped my legs around his waist and shoved my pelvis against his. I ground against the erection I found there, refraining from whooping in joy. Barely. ‘Sofa, sofa, sofa!’ I took up the chant as my brain seemed to short- circuit. There it was again. An overwhelming need. Urge. Compulsion. I had to have him in me and it had to be now. Steven complied. Smart man. This time there was no upper hand for me. The moment we hit the sofa, Steven flipped me on my back and pinned my arms above my head. His other hand slid and groped and pushed its way greedily under my dress. His breath beat warmly against my throat as he practically panted.

‘Good Lord, what has gotten into us?’ he growled. Steven didn’t stop for an answer. My two thin wrists held tightly in his strong hand, he slid down my body and buried his face in my pussy. Like a crazy man he snuffled and licked and ate at me until I was making little whoop, whoop sounds. What the hell was that? Didn’t know, didn’t care. I let my thighs fall open and he burrowed deeper, shoving the rigid tip of his tongue into my tight, wet entrance. I clamped my knees around his head as his perfect lips worked their way back up to my clitoris. I came so hard, I feared I’d given him a head injury. But he was fine, forcing his way between my legs roughly. His cock was hard and already leaking a steady stream of pre-come. I licked my lips and he allowed me one good swallow and one good stroke of my tongue over his slit before he whipped it away. He got between my thighs.

‘Fuck.’ That was it. That’s all he said as he slid into me. My cunt, still echoing from my orgasm, latched on and clenched him tightly. Little aftershocks of pleasure lit up my insides.

It felt so good. Unbearably good. I clamped down. I made my pussy as tight as I could until the friction of his thrusts nearly drove me insane. ‘Fuck,’ he said again. A few more frantic pounds and his body went rigid in my arms. I felt his cock swell even larger for just a moment before he jerked against me and came with a long low moan. I joined him. Just watching his face and the power in his body as he came was enough to shove me right over the edge into another orgasm.

After a sweaty moment of tangled laughing, he stared up into my eyes. ‘You’re not drugging me, are you?’ I giggled until I thought I would cry. ‘Nope. No drugs.’ Steven kissed me on the lips, the nose, the forehead. He climbed from me, steadied himself and ran a hand through his thick black hair. ‘Beer? You want a beer? I need a beer. I’ll get us some beers.’ I could only grin as he wandered into the kitchen buck naked and chuckling.

Now I was preoccupied. All I could think about was what might be going on in that handsome head of his. As usual, he went to bed long before me. I sipped a glass of Cabernet and watched a little TV and tried not to think of crisp square pieces of paper that could be stuck to virtually any smooth surface. I cracked. I knew I would. Before bed, I wrote my now normal love note and affixed it in its usual place. My notes had become as intense as my sexual urges.

And!? What else? I need more!

Your slut,

Loren

Monday morning dawned just as bleak. It was even more depressing because my alarm went off at 6:30. A work day. Yippee! I turned it off and stretched, taking a moment to sniff at Steven’s pillow. The warm, familiar scent of him clung to the pillowcase and I felt a stirring of my now everpresent arousal. Then I remembered my note. I barely noticed that it was snowing outside my kitchen window as I yanked my pink prize from the coffee pot.

I WANT TO SHOVE YOU UNDER A VERY ELEGANT TABLE IN A VERY ELEGANT RESTAURANT. PUT MY COCK BETWEEN THOSE PERFECT PINK LIPS AND HAVE YOU BLOW ME UNTIL I BREAK MY WATER GLASS.

YOUR SEX MONKEY,

STEVE

Ah! Just the thought. The wonderful porn taboo thought of doing that in one of the very nice, very posh restaurants we frequented was enough to bring a warm sluice of fluids between my thighs. This was too much. This was not a masturbate in the kitchen note. This called for the big guns. I eyed the clock, calculated my allotted time to get to work. I nearly broke my neck getting up the steps to the bedroom. I opened my middle dresser drawer and rummaged until I found it. Ahhhh. My vibrator. All pretty and pink and smooth and jelly filled and vibrating; at my mercy and very talented. I clutched the note, flipped the ON button and dove onto the bed. No lube needed, I was soaked, I worked it inside myself and let out a blissful sigh as it danced inside of me. I closed my eyes and saw myself in my most elegant black dress, strappy black heels, under the table. Dark and warm. Steven’s naked cock. His hand on the back of my head. Pushing me. Urging me.

Not always gentle. Fucking my mouth. Me under there. In the dark. Warm and cosy and cave-like. Licking up his shaft. His spasm in my mouth. Drinking in his warm milky sperm.

I gave the vibrator a run for its money as I came with a bellow and a long lusty laugh. My heart was beating so hard my eardrums vibrated. I climbed from bed, my body like taffy. Warm and happy. Completely loose. I’ve never been so happy to get ready for work.

The day at work was a treat. I was so content I just didn’t care. I didn’t care that they screwed up my pay-check. I didn’t care that the voice recognition system had made a grievous error in a legal report. It should have read: ‘The client was injured at work while dragging a trash can’. What the system entered was: ‘The client was injured at work by a dragon with a tin can’. This should have been enough to send me into a tailspin. Oddly enough, I found it extremely humorous. The sigh of relief from my assistant was audible.

Even rush hour traffic didn’t bother me. Sitting and inching my way home didn’t set me off like it normally would. Every time I had to sit and wait, I pulled Steven’s sticky note out of my day planner and read it. And got hotter. Hornier. Crazed.

This time he was waiting for me. He grabbed me the moment I shut the door, took my bag and pushed me to my knees. Then, never taking his eyes from mine, he unzipped his khakis, freed his big hard penis and pushed the already engorged head against my lips. I opened for him compliantly and played my tongue over the weeping slit. Then I fell on him as if I were starved. And I was. The taste of his salty warm skin on my tongue was heaven. The hot hard length of his erection, like suede covered marble. So hard and yet so pliant. He tasted like sex and love and man.

I licked my palm several times, plunged his cock back in my mouth and moved my slick fist in tandem. Steven buried his hands in my hair and rocked against me. Moving back on his heels, head tilted back, eyes closed. All harsh breath and rumbling growls deep in his throat. The urgency in his sounds sent a thrilling shiver down my spine and I sucked his dick harder and deeper than ever before. I couldn’t settle for anything less than making him lose control. I loosened my throat and burrowed my nose against his pubic bone. Let him slide all the way home in my throat and I palmed his balls and let my middle finger skim his perineum. That did it.

Steven roared, ‘Loren!’ as he came and just the sound of my name tearing out of him like that soaked my panties. Steven scooped me up and collapsed in the overstuffed arm chair with me on his lap. He kissed me, opening my mouth with his tongue. He kissed me deeply until we both tasted like him and warm wet kisses.

‘Think we’ll ever do any of them?’ I asked, squirming just a little in my wet panties. Steven shifted under me. My squirming had done wonders. I could feel him getting hard already. He acknowledged my observation by pushing his cock against my ass. ‘Well, I’d say just talking about them is keeping us busy at the moment,’ he said with a grin. He pumped his hips up again and I noticed that hardening had turned to hard.

‘I’d like to try them all some day,’ I laughed, squirming just to be evil. ‘But you’re right. Just talking about it is making me a sex addict.’

‘Well, if you’re curious,’ he said, sliding his hand up under my skirt and hooking a finger in my panties, ‘ I have a few more.’ Then he plunged two blunt fingers into my cunt and I shuddered around him. ‘For instance’

I shoved my palm against his lips and pushed my pussy against his hand. Forcing him to probe and push deep inside of me. ‘Don’t tell me! Don’t tell me!’ I sighed, squirming some more. ‘Leave me a note.’