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.

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

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.