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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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WARNING!
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The Bartender
by Spenser (pilot2nav@yahoo.com)
***
A young wife tells the story of her attempt to help
with the family finances by working as a bartender. She
becomes excited by the attention and she receives while
behind the bar and that excitement leads her down a
sexually destructive path. (MF, exh, reluc, drugs)
***
I am writing this for Paul. I don't know if he will
ever see and read this but if he does I hope it helps
him understand me and what happened to us. Perhaps
he'll find it in his heart to forgive.
My name is Julie. I met Paul when I was twenty years
old. I was working as a waitress at a family
restaurant. Paul would sometimes stop by for lunch. He
was four years older than me, tall with an athletic
build, a deep tan, brown hair with light blue eyes. He
had the most gentle and sincere smile, the kind that
girls just fall for, and I did. He worked for his
father's landscape business and was in the process of
taking it over when we met.
I was kind of surprised he was interested in me. I
always thought of myself as rather plain, and the
waitressing uniform I wore only emphasized my
plainness. I had shoulder-length dishwater blond hair.
I've been told I have a pretty face and beautiful hazel
eyes. But I've always been tall and rather gangly, legs
that always seemed too long and a butt that was too
small. It took forever for my boobs to arrive and when
they did they exploded into a D cup that seemed overly
large for my thin frame. But the thing that bothered
me most about my body were my nipples.
I've always had prominent nipples, even when I had no
boobs at all. They grow to almost an inch long when
excited (I've measured them) and that happens far too
often! I used to wear snug fitting bras because anytime
my nipples would rub against something they would grow
long and hard. I can clearly remember one of the first
times this happened. It involved a baby doll nightie I
received as a teen from my parents. It was powder blue
and made of a sheer, light fabric and I loved it.
I would sleep in it every night, until I started
noticing a strange feeling when I wore it. My nipples
would tingle and grow when they brushed against the
fabric. Eventually my heart would start to race and my
breath got short. And I would get the oddest sensation
between my legs. I now know those feelings were the
beginnings of an orgasm for me. But at the time the
feelings – while exciting, were a bit scary and they
bothered me.
Another problem with the nightie involved the looks I
was getting when I wore it. I have two older brothers
and they treated me like normal brothers would. But I
can distinctly remember one evening standing in front
of the refrigerator while getting something to drink
before going to bed. One of my brothers came into the
kitchen talking to me, but stopped cold when he saw me.
I couldn't figure out what his problem was. I looked at
his face and noticed his eyes glued to my chest. I
think he was embarrassed, he was trying to talk but
wasn't saying anything.
Finally he turned and left the room. I couldn't
understand what had happened until I looked down at my
chest. You could clearly see both my nipples poking
hard against the fabric of my nightie, like little
fingers reaching out. Also, with the strong light from
the refrigerator you could see completely through my
nightie to the swell of my developing breasts.
Realizing this, I instinctively cupped my hand over my
left tit, and the strangest thing happened. Between the
feeling of my fingers touching my nipple and the
thought of my brother accidentally seeing my exposed
breast, a shockwave rolled through my body all the way
down to my crotch.
I stood there, unconsciously pulling on my elongated
nipple until I felt my knees start to buckle. I had my
first mini-orgasm right there. The feeling was so
unexpected and quick I accidentally dropped the drink I
was holding in my other hand and ran to my room.
I'd like to tell you that I ran to my room and madly
masturbated, but I didn't. I was so surprised and
shocked by the feeling I didn't know what to do. I do
remember putting my hands inside my panties and feeling
the moisture that had developed there. And I did spend
some time pulling on my nipples, enjoying the wonderful
sensation. And I can remember how warm, naughty and
excited I felt by the whole experience. But I did
nothing more.
Unfortunately that experience and the stares I was
starting to get from men made me nervous about what was
happening to my body. Growing up in a conservative
household, I thought it wasn't right to be enjoying the
attention and the stimulation I was receiving. So, I
began to dress in clothes that concealed my body,
especially my growing breasts and legs. I wasn't a
prude, but I started to feel "wrong" about the
sensations I would get when I was stimulated and I
tried to suppress them.
So I grew up one of those girls that was "there, but
never noticed"; dressing frumpy and conservative. And,
other than my mother worrying that I would never get
married and die and old maid, I was alright with that.
I knew I would find 'Mr. Right', and I did, Paul. He
was so nice and kind and loving to me. We dated for
just over a year and then married. And, yes Paul, you
married a virgin.
We started off on what was certain to be a 'fairy tale'
life. Paul had just taken over the landscaping business
and things seemed to be going well. We bought a small
house, I quit my waitressing job and I spent my time
making our house a home. We talked about starting a
family and planning a nursery. But just as things were
getting off to a good start, they started going bad.
During tax time Paul discovered his father was not so
good at keeping the books. It turned out the company
owed a lot in back taxes and the overall expenses were
so high the company was actually running in the red.
Obviously changes had to be made or the company was
going to go out of business. Paul cut his salary to
almost nothing and we decided I had to go back to work.
When you are in the food service business you always
hear about job opportunities through word of mouth and
one of my old waitress friends told me about a
bartending job near my home. She knew the owner and put
in a good word for me. Next thing I knew I had a job as
a bartender.
This bar had been there a while. It used to be a
building by itself but it was later attached to a nice
hotel that was built next to it. So, on one end of the
building was the main bar. Behind the bar was a long
hallway that attached to another, smaller bar located
in the hotel. In the hallway were a flight of stairs
that lead up to Phil's office. Phil was the manager.
Phil was in his late thirties and had owned the bar
before it was absorbed by the hotel. He was a very nice
guy, a little overweight, salt-and pepper hair and a
nice smile. He was married to Marsha who I rarely saw.
He knew I had little experience mixing drinks, but
hired me anyway. The money promised to be good and I
was glad for the work.
Things started off well at the job. The main bar served
mostly college students from the local university and
they mostly drank beer, which was easy. The clients on
the hotel side were older and it was hard to learn to
make the cocktails they ordered, but I did my best. And
while the money was alright, it wasn't quite what I had
hoped for or what Paul and I really needed to survive.
Of course, the real money is in the tips and either by
accident or necessity I started learning ways to make
more.
The main bar was bar was "U" shaped with a
substantially raised floor. Phil had installed a lot of
lights behind and under the counter in keeping with the
bars atmosphere. People working behind the bar were
very visible to the customers. Unlike my waitressing
job there were no uniforms. I could wear whatever I
wanted and I chose to wear jeans and sweat shirts.
However, one evening, when I had run out of clean
clothes to wear, I went to the back of my closet and
pulled out an old skirt.
I hadn't worn this skirt in a while and never to work.
It wasn't sexy, a synthetic fabric with a hem coming to
about three inches above my knee, but when I wore it to
work it was impossible for me to ignore that I was
being noticed more than usual. And that fact was made
clear when I went up to Phil's office to collect my tip
money. It was more than I had received before. This
realization marked the beginning of my first change in
attitude.
I couldn't believe that simply wearing a skirt would
make such a difference in tip money so I started to
experiment. Some days I would wear jeans to work and
other days I would wear a skirt. The difference was
undeniable. But I couldn't understand what it was the
guys were looking at, what could they see? Then one
time, as I was leaning into one of the floor coolers
for a beer I snuck a peek over my shoulder and spied
three guys watching my skirt rise up the back of my
legs.
I couldn't believe it, surely they couldn't see too
much. But there they were, clearly enjoying the view
and the thought of them taking covert looks at my legs
brought that old thrill back to my loins.
From that moment I almost never wore pants to work
again. I pulled out all my skirts and dresses and made
them my work wardrobe. I spent time modifying several
of them, raising the hem here, cutting a slit there. I
was worried Paul would object to my change in work
attire. He did make a few comments but he never
objected. And at work my wardrobe change was definitely
noticed!
There seemed to be more and more guys hanging out in
groups at the bar. They would openly flirt with me and
tell me how great my legs looked. That attention was
definitely a blessing and a curse. I was starting to
truly enjoy the attention and found myself leading men
on. I would deliberately bend deep at the waist when
reaching into the coolers, extending my leg back so my
skirt would ride high on my thigh, sometimes exposing
some of my cheeks.
Many times I would sit on the refrigerator with my leg
up on the lower shelf and my legs slightly parted while
I chatted with the guys; their eyes straining to see up
the opening in my skirt. And when I wiped down the bar
I would make sure I scrubbed with such vigor that my
ass would sway back and forth. The tips I now got at
work were more than I could have imagined. I was making
twice as much as I did waitressing and I was having so
much – naughty fun.
Of course, the customers were not the only ones
noticing the new me, Phil had noticed too. I would
catch him glancing at me, always with a twinkle in his
eye and a smile on his face. I don't know how many
times I did this before realizing what was happening,
but Phil had started following me whenever I would
climb the stairs to the offices. He was just far enough
behind me so he could gaze at my legs and up my skirt.
I can't believe what a thrill I got when I finally
realized what he was doing. The thought of him looking
up my skirt as I climbed the stairs excited me so much!
I would find myself sticking my ass further out hoping
he would see more, teasing him. After leaving his
office I would find myself so wet between my legs I
couldn't help but put my hand inside my panties and
touch myself. This is when I started to masturbate at
work.
I would get so excited from all the attention that I
would either sneak into the stock room or into my car
and thrust my hands down my panties. I would put my two
fingers around my clit and gently rub myself until I
came, which was usually pretty quick. Prior to this I
had hardly masturbated, but now I was addicted to it. I
loved the attention I was getting behind the bar and I
loved the pleasure I was able to give myself. And I
loved the money. It was all so good.
Then, on one particularly busy night at the bar, Phil
came up to me. He stood very close as I prepared a
drink. His shoulder was touching mine, his arm was
around my back and his hand was on the flank of my ass.
"You seem to be quite a hit with the customers these
days," he told me. "Business is good."
"I know," I said, "and it's fun."
"You know you could be making even more in tips if you
wanted."
"How is that?" I asked.
Phil then raised his hand and tugged at the bottom of
my sweater. "You're only giving them half the show." He
gave me a quick smile and walked away.
That comment actually took me off guard. I was
surprised! I was indignant. How dare Phil make such a
suggestion! What was he trying to say? Who did he think
I was? I was a professional bartender, not some kind of
show girl! I'm not an exhibitionist... or perhaps,
maybe - maybe I was.
I wasn't sure what to make of Phil's comment but the
implication gave me pause. I started thinking about my
actions. Maybe I should stop, tone it down. Go back to
plain old me. What I was doing could lead to trouble,
especially with Paul and my marriage.
But deep inside I knew loved the attention too much to
give it up. And the money was too good to ignore.
Believe it or not, after thinking about what Phil had
said for several days I decided to try toning down my
flirtation, for the good of my marriage. But each
evening when I would return to work I found myself
craving the thrill of being watched. Of knowing the
guys were straining to see just a little bit more of my
body. And, deep inside, I found myself wanting to meet
their desires. One evening my yearning became so strong
that during one of my breaks my fingers found their way
to the zipper of my sweater and started to pull.
I thought I would just pull the zipper down a little
and show just a bit of the top of my breasts. I pulled
the zipper down a couple of inches, and with a bit of
cleavage peeking out the top of my sweater I went back
to work. There were a number of people at the bar and I
kept an eye out for a reaction. I even found myself
shimmying my shoulders back and forth to see if that
would garner a look but I no one seemed to care. So I
absent mindedly found myself pulling the zipper down a
bit more.
I stole a quick glance down and saw that the rise of my
breast was now visible as was the top of my bra. I
again went back to work. I thought for sure I noticed
some wandering eyes, but not the reaction I was hoping
to get. So I left my zipper where it was for most of
the evening, until just before closing. By that time
only the last diehard patrons were there and they were
pretty toasted; involved in their drinks and loud talk.
Out of what must have been pent up desire for attention
I quickly grabbed my zipper and quickly pulled it down,
not caring how far it went. I went straight up to the
guys and told them it was "last call". The reaction was
immediate. One by one they looked at me and their
conversation ceased. Their eyes locked onto my chest. I
pretended not to care or notice, even though I was
dying to look down, not at all sure how far my zipper
had traveled and how much I was exposing.
I heard 'gasps' and 'wows' being murmured from the guys
as I leaned over the bar and restated it was last call.
The guy closest to me stated they'd have another round
and pushed a fifty dollar bill across the counter
towards me. As I looked down to take the bill all I
could see were the white mounds of my breasts
overflowing my too tight bra. I must have pulled the
zipper down to my belly button and exposed all of my
cleavage to the devouring eyes of these boys. My first
instinct was to quickly zip up, but somehow I just
couldn't do it. I grabbed the bill off the counter and
turned to go fill their orders.
My heart started to pound with the excitement I was
feeling. The conversation the guys were having had
completely stopped and, though my back was towards
them, I KNEW their eyes were locked on me. I was so
torn with my desire to zip up and the thrill I was
feeling from being exposed that I don't even remember
whether I properly filled their drink order, but I
don't think they really cared.
I returned to the bar with their drinks in hand
noticing there wasn't a single eye that was not on my
chest. I then went to the register and made their
change, but they definitely didn't care about that.
They continued their muted conversation as I dropped
their change on the counter and strolled back to the
other end of the bar. I stayed at the far end until
they finished and left, leaving the change – a sizable
tip – on the counter. After they left I quickly zipped
up and rushed to the bathroom.
I was so excited by the experience my hand immediately
dove under my skirt and into my panties. I am certain I
could be heard outside the bathroom as the orgasm took
hold of me and I moaned in ecstasy. I got so wet I
flowed down my bare leg. I braced myself against the
wall, panting as my orgasm subsided. I could have
stayed in the bathroom all night if I didn't have to
close up and head home.
That night marked further change in me. Paul and I
needed money to keep our home and help keep his
business afloat and the thought of how much money I
could make at the bar thrilled me. But I also came to
realize that exciting men with my body thrilled me
more. And Paul, please forgive me, I was becoming
addicted to that thrill. I even started stealing drinks
at work, thinking the alcohol would help lessen my
desires. Now of course, I'm sure my drinking only made
things worse.
As my addiction took hold I found I didn't have clothes
at home that offered the look I now wanted and I didn't
have the money to buy new, so I went to Goodwill for
some blouses and dresses. I ended up getting some nice
clothes and started wearing them to work a few times a
week. However, the problem I now had were my bras. All
of the blouses I bought were either semi-transparent or
low-cut.
I had always worn large support bras which couldn't be
worn with clothes I now wanted to wear. I even tried
cutting some of my bras in order to make them more
revealing, but that didn't work. So Paul, I know this
isn't what I told you, but I actually ended up going to
various lingerie stores and stealing bras; that's when
I got injured.
On one shopping (stealing) trip I took a demi cup bra
off the rack at a department store and headed out the
door with it under my sweater. The security guard saw
me and told me to stop. Of course I didn't, I ran. I
managed to elude the guard as I ran between stores, but
as I looked over my shoulder to make sure I'd given him
the slip I ran full-speed into a light pole. The impact
knocked me flat on my back. That's why I came home so
bruised that day, Paul. I'm sorry I lied.
I hurt so much the next day I didn't want to go to work
and I guess it showed. I found myself running up to the
office several times during the night and taking shots
from Phil's personal supply of bourbon; anything to
numb the pain. After moaning and complaining through
most of my shift Phil tried to convince me to go to the
hospital but I knew I couldn't afford the visit. That's
when Phil introduced me to the next change in my life.
As I tended bar complaining about my aches and pains
Phil went to his office. He came back out, took my hand
and pressed something into it. It was a small bottle
with some pills in it.
"What is this?" I asked.
"Vicodin," he replied "It's a pain reliever. I get them
for my back."
I stood there staring at him.
"Don't worry, it's a prescription medication. It'll
help".
"Well I can't afford these" I told him.
"Don't worry, I have a prescription. I have a bunch of
them in my office drawer. Take what you need."
With that he left me with the bottle in my hand. Now, I
was not one to take any kind of drugs, and I was not
really keen on taking these, but there was no denying
the pain. I thought about the pills for a while,
weighing the bottle in my hand, then went up to the
office, poured a large glass of bourbon and took my
first one.
I sat on Phil's couch for a while waiting for the pill
to kick in. Being impatient, I poured another glass and
took another pill. I sat there a while longer. I could
certainly feel the effects of the bourbon but I was
convinced the Vicodin wasn't doing shit. I had to get
back to work and stood up. Anyone who has taken pain
medication knows what happened then. Yes, the Vicodin
kicked in and I felt a tremendous change come over me.
I felt no pain whatsoever. Everything seemed - juuust
fine.
I slowly made my way down the stairs and headed through
the hallway to the main bar. As I reached the bar Phil
saw me. He took one look and turned me back into the
hallway.
"You took the pill?" he asked.
"Two." I slurred.
"Look, you need to take it easy. Why don't you work the
hotel side tonight? I'll work out here."
Of course, I didn't care. I didn't care about anything.
So, I turned and headed for the hotel bar. As I turned,
I swear I felt Phil's hand brush underneath my skirt
and up the crack of my ass... but I wasn't sure, and I
didn't care.
The hotel bar is normally pretty quiet, not many
clients (and not many tips). That night was no
exception. There were a few people sitting at a table
near the restaurant and a few men in business attire
milling around. I came through the hallway, took in the
scene and slouched over the bar. I sat there for almost
half an hour, until a gentleman came up and took the
stool across from me. In my mind I knew I should ask
him what he wanted to drink, but somehow I had lost my
ability to form a sentence.
He sat there looking at me for a while then asked for a
Scotch. I looked up at him. He had to be in his mid-
forties, mostly grey hair, nicely dressed in an
expensive looking suit and tie. He looked me in the eye
with a confident smile, and then I watched as his eyes
drifted deliberately down to my chest.
I had been wearing my revealing blouses for several
weeks and this evening I had selected a thin long-
sleeve cotton blouse. It was tucked into a pleated
tartan skirt, giving me a bit of an Irish look. I had
tried several of the bras I had stolen, but none of
them fit well. The only one that came close was the
demi cup and it was cut so low the tops of my areolas
were at risk of exposure. But the blouse was button up
and I had only released the top two so I knew my
'virtue' was safe.
What I didn't realize was the way I was slouched over
the bar, with my arms folded beneath my chest, my
blouse had opened up and the gentleman across from me
was being treated to an unobstructed view of my greatly
exposed breasts. I saw him lick his lips as he looked
at me before I realized through my mental fog, what was
happening. And as that realization sunk in, I got that
strange tingle in my body again. I got that delicious,
naughty excitement of knowing that a man was looking at
my exposed body.
I gave the man an intoxicated smile and turned to find
him his drink. As I was pouring, I stole a glance in
the bar mirror. I could see him checking me out from
head to toe and I swear he was 'adjusting himself'
below the bar. I looked back at myself in the mirror
and noticed something I didn't expect to see; my
nipples. The excitement of being watched had caused my
nipples to grow and this thin shirt and bra did
absolutely nothing to conceal them.
At first I was shocked at the sight. I had grown to
hate my prominent nipples. But then I surrendered to
the fact there was nothing I could do about it that
night. I finished the pour and turned back to face my
client. I slid the drink to him, and for reasons I can
only attribute to the Vicodin, I resumed my slouched
position.
He thanked me for the drink without taking his eyes off
my chest. I watched him down his drink then reach in
his breast pocket for his fold of cash. He pulled out a
twenty dollar bill and pushed it towards me. As I
reached out to take the bill he placed his hand on
mine. I looked up at him. He reached back into his fold
and pulled out a fifty.
"This is for you... if you unbutton your blouse."
I looked at him as he smiled at me, then I looked at
the cash.
"No," I said "I... I can't" as I reached for the
twenty.
Again he placed his hand on mine.
"Then just undo that one button." He said, pointing at
the button between my breasts.
I looked at him for a long moment, then stole a look
around the room. The only people there were the group
at the far table. I looked back at the man. I stood
there for a second, staring at the money and through my
haze I found myself reaching for my third button. When
it released I actually pulled my blouse further open
for him. I watched him nervously lick his lips again
and broaden his smile.
As he stared I could feel my heart start to hammer in
my chest and my nipples grow longer and harder. I
didn't dare look down because I wasn't sure I would
like what I saw. But I could feel that familiar tingle
start to surge in my body and I could feel my sex start
to moisten. Oh that feeling of forbidden excitement, it
is so overwhelming, I can't resist.
My senses were so overcome by the feeling I got from
this man enjoying my body that it did not immediately
register when he took his hand with the fifty dollar
bill and placed it inside my blouse. I felt the bill
touch my right breast as he tucked it under the strap
of my bra. I then felt his fingers slide down the slope
of my breast until he touched my nipple. My breath
immediately caught short as his fingers surrounded my
nipple and started to pull. The feeling of his touch
caused my knees to weaken and I let out a low moan of
pleasure. His fingers deftly pushed down my bra and he
started to stroke my breast in earnest.
He then quickly and covertly reached out his other hand
and soon those fingers found my other nipple. Between
the drink, the drugs and the feeling I was getting I
found myself unable to react, paralyzed with pleasure.
As he pushed down the left cup of my bra and increased
his pull on my nipples I felt myself starting to fall.
My legs were giving way. I fell back and away from the
bar and against the rear counter, the man watching with
a passionate smile.
"You are very beautiful, you know that" he said to me.
I was so overwhelmed by the orgasmic feelings coursing
through my body I didn't know how to respond. He
continued to look at me, replacing his money clip
inside his coat. He patted his coat outside where the
money was placed.
"I am in room 776. Please do me the honor of stopping
by later."
With that he smiled, turned and left the bar. I sat
there on the cooler, engorged by the feelings and
watched him leave. My blouse still unbuttoned, my
nipples still exposed over the top of my bra.
As he left I quickly slipped my hand under my skirt and
felt my panties. My god they were wet. And my now
engorged clitoris was begging for more, begging for
touch, begging for release. But I couldn't, not there,
not at work. I knew I wouldn't be able to resist
touching myself to orgasm if I stayed in the quiet back
bar so I left for the corridor. Somehow I needed to get
my body settled down! As I stumbled my way to the main
bar I managed to remember my blouse, it was wide open,
still unbuttoned. I fumbled for the third button
managing to fasten it just as I emerged into the main
bar.
It was close to closing time now and only one group of
customers remained. It was one of the regular groups
from the college, not one of my favorite groups. They
were notoriously boisterous and loud. Phil was already
on the main floor starting to clean up. Through a
positively drug induced, drunken haze I plodded my way
to the far side of the bar where the guys were huddled
up drinking and talking. I essentially fell onto the
bar and attempted to ask them if they needed anything
before we closed.
I immediately got their attention and their eyes all
turned to me. I was too far gone to realize my
condition. My head was lolling gently back and forth
and I couldn't keep my eyes focused. The third button
on my blouse was in place but I had forgotten to pull
my bra back up over my breasts. My large nipples were
plainly visible through the thin material of my blouse
and completely exposed to the guys leering from the
side.
In all honesty my mind was unable to register the
comments that started coming out of their mouths as
soon as they saw me. I do remember hearing a lot of
'fuck' and 'tits' and 'nipples'. And I do remember
hearing one of them saying "I want some of that" as his
hand crossed over the bar and grabbed my left breast.
And somehow, all of this struck me the wrong way. I
didn't need this kind of attention just now, I really
just needed them to go away; leave me alone.
Obviously I wasn't thinking clearly because I then
raised myself up and stumbled around to the other side
of the bar. They watched me round the bar and cleared a
path as I walked into the middle of the group. They
thought it was funny and laughed at my feeble efforts
to remove them from their drinks. I heard their laughs
and taunts as the circle closed in around me. Because
of my numbed state I didn't feel the first set of hands
that touched me, sliding around my waist, on my thighs,
on my arms. Then sliding under and cupping my breasts,
grasping and pulling my nipples. I do remember feeling
the cold hand that found its way under my skirt and
lodged itself between the cleft of my ass.
In my mind I remember trying to tell my body to turn
and walk away, but my body was unable to respond. I
remember the noise and laughter in my ears, the crush
of bodies against mine, the hands on my breasts, inside
my blouse, the feel of another hand reaching for my
panties. Finally I felt a strong hand on my left elbow
as it pulled and tugged at me from outside the pack.
It was Phil. I fell back against him completely lost to
the world. I can remember him yelling some harsh words
to the guys and watching them grudgingly depart. I can
remember feeling Phil's hands reach around to the front
of my blouse searching for my third button to close my
blouse. It had come open during the scuffle and now the
button was nowhere to be found. Phil closed my blouse
with his fist as he continued to bark orders to the
boys.
With my back to Phil and his arm around me keeping my
blouse closed, he led me back behind the bar. He seated
me on the stool, put his arms on my shoulders and tried
to look me in the eye.
"What are you doing, are you feeling alright?" he
asked.
I had no answer.
"Look, you're done for the evening. Go upstairs and lie
down. I'll finish-up here."
Phil continued to look me in the eye, trying to make
sure his words were sinking in. His face then changed
expression and a look of conflict began to show on his
brow. He slowly dropped his gaze and his eyes found
their way down to my chest. With his hands on my
shoulders my blouse was now wide open. My breasts were
completely exposed to his gaze, my nipples fully erect
and pointing directly at him.
Phil stared at me for a long minute, then suddenly he
regained his composure. He stood me up and, with one
arm still on my shoulder, led me to the stairs. I
stumbled slightly as I rounded the corner and Phil
moved his arm to around my waist. As we started
ascending the stairs I felt his hand slowly move up my
stomach. His hand gently cupped my breast and a second
later his fingers were caressing my nipple. I looked up
at him, his face focused straight ahead. I wasn't
really sure this was happening.
Phil had never made a move on me. But the feeling of
fingers caressing my sensitive nipple was unmistakable
and my body reacted as it always does. I felt that
familiar wave of pleasure begin to build in my body. I
heard a muted moan escape my lips, I felt the swallow
of pleasure absorb my pussy and I felt weakness return
to my knees.
When we reached the office Phil released me and told me
to go lie down. He would close up and take me home. I
managed a thank you, entered his office and threw
myself back on the couch. I lay there for several
minutes trying to relax but my mind was traveling at a
million miles per hour and my body was awash with
desire. I looked down at my body. My left leg was slung
over the arm of the couch, my skirt bunched up around
my waist. My blouse was still wide open with my nipples
reaching out for the ceiling. In a moment of clarity I
determined that the least I could do was pull my bra up
and cover myself.
My mind asked my right hand to find my bra but as it
moved, it brushed my nipple. A small shiver of pleasure
coursed my body. Again I asked my hand to find my bra,
but instead my fingers circled my nipple and started a
caress. A moan escaped my lips and my pelvis made an
involuntary thrust as my fingers pulled at my engorged
nipple.
Next my entire hand cupped my breast and squeezed
gently causing another wave of pleasure to roll through
my body. My pelvis raised high in the air and my left
hand reached out to my mound to push it back down. The
pressure of my hand on my mound immediately reached my
clitoris which responded with another wave of pleasure
that crashed through my body. I tried to suppress these
urges but I found I simply could not.
With my right hand groping at my breast, my left hand
flipped up my skirt and dove down underneath my
panties. There my fingers found my engorged clit
swimming in a pool of vaginal juice. My fingers dove
right in and started furiously rubbing. The climax that
hit me was like few others I had experienced. It
wracked my body causing me to contort and squirm
uncontrollably on the couch. My whole body convulsed
with pleasure and I let out a throaty moan. I tried to
suppress the moan as much as I could, hoping to not be
heard!
As the orgasm started to subside and I could catch my
breath I stole a look around the room to make sure I
was still alone. I rolled my head to the left and
right. I looked down, past my heaving breasts, past my
hand deep inside my soaked panties and past the end of
the couch; where I saw Phil, quietly sitting at his
desk with a view directly up my skirt.
"Oh god" I murmured between breaths, my hands freezing
in place.
Phil just sat there looking at me impassively.
With my fingers still plunged inside my pussy and my
other hand still clutching my breast I looked down
between my legs and stared back at him.
Phil then got up and walked around his desk towards me.
I watched him, frozen, as he got down on his knees next
to the couch. He looked me in the eye as he raised his
hand and put it on the hand that was deep in my pussy.
He eased my hand out from between the engorged lips of
my sex, the extraction causing an audible slopping
sound, and placed it by my side.
He paused for a second, looking at me. He then took my
right leg just below the knee and moved it aside. He
stopped looking at me, turned his head and buried his
face between my legs. His tongue instantly shot between
the folds of my vagina in search of my clit. When he
found it I was instantly hit with another orgasm that
sent me convulsing and screaming with pleasure.
He furiously licked and probed my pussy sending
cascading waves of pleasure through my body. I raised
my pelvis up in an attempt to meets Phil's attention;
his hands reaching up, clawing at my breasts his tongue
deep inside my pussy and tickling my ass.
Phil rose up on his haunches and undid his belt.
Kicking off his pants, his cock sprung free and hung
down semi-erect below his belly. As I took in the fact
I was looking at his cock he swung his torso around and
straddled my face. I could smell the musk of his loins
as he pressed his cock between my lips and into my
mouth. I was never good at oral sex and thought I would
gag as Phil thrust his cock deeper into my mouth. But
in my relaxed, lustful state I was able to let it slide
into my throat. He raised and lowered his pelvis,
thrusting in and out of my mouth, his cock growing in
rigidity with each pass.
Finally he pulled his cock out of my throat, wheeled
around and spread my legs. He looked down at my open,
sopping pussy, took in the sight of my breasts and
erect nipples and looked me in the eye. His eyes were
asking if I was ready for this, if I wanted this. I
looked back at him, my body awash with lust, my mind in
a daze. I looked at him knowing what I was about to do
was wrong. I had never been with anyone but Paul, my
husband. But there I was, my legs spread wide, my body
overwhelmed with desire, my pussy eager for orgasm and
the feel of a cock deep inside.
And a second later, there was. Phil grabbed my upper
thighs and thrust into me; plunging his turgid cock
deep inside my body. He pumped furiously inside me like
a crazed animal. His hands groped at my tits, clawed at
my back. He humped furiously, moaning lustily in my
ear. He mashed his body hard against mine in an attempt
to find the deepest reaches of my sex.
Minutes later he let out a long guttural scream as he
pushed his cock to its' furthest reaches, pressing me
up hard against the back of the couch in a lustful,
animalistic orgasm. He held us there, pinned against
the back of the couch until I felt his flaccid, spent
penis slip out from between my wet and overwhelmed
vaginal lips.
Phil lay back on his haunches, holding his spent cock
in one hand. I looked at his limp, spent organ as it
receded back into his groin then stole a look between
my legs at where it had just been; a trail of milky
white fluid leaking out onto the leather. I placed my
hand on my pussy feeling the last remnants of pleasure
steal away. Thumbing the warm texture of my folds
between my fingers and taking in the glow.
And as I breathed in that satisfying breath of post-
coital pleasure I looked out across the room with
wistful eyes. It was then it caught my eye; something
moved. Through the corner of my eye I thought I
detected movement; a shadow. Through my haze I wasn't
sure I saw anything at all, but I took a moment and
looked again. Yes, there was a shadow, there in the
doorway.
That is when you walked in, Paul. That is when you
walked in.
I don't have to go into what happened next, you know
what happened as well as me. It was the beginning of
the end. You lived it, I lived it.
You know I got addicted to the Vicodin after you moved
out of our house. I found it too easy to enter Phil's
drawer whenever I wanted, and I seemed to want all the
time. I never got over the thrill of showing my body
and teasing men. I guess that is just a part of me that
will never change. And, I guess I sealed my own fate
when I started visiting men in the hotel in search of
fulfillment, until I got caught and was fired.
But I want you to know that the breakup and divorce
were unquestionably the worst years of my life. I went
down a path that cost me so much and the struggle to
normalize my life has been so difficult.
I wrote this for you Paul, so you'd know what happened
to me, so maybe you'd understand. Perhaps you'd forgive
me. Perhaps I wrote this for a sense of closure. And
perhaps I will finally find some peace.
END
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. 4-million people around the world
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 62