Yesterday’s Affair Ch. 03

That tiny scrap of paper with his telephone number on it tormented me all week, just sitting there in the console…but I refused to call it, refused to look at it, refused to acknowledge my temptation to call, my desire to call. It had me distracted at work, knowing that this small piece of paper sat out in the parking area, waiting. I caught myself twice, leaning against the window, staring at my car…daydreaming! “Lord, Janie, you are losing it,” I thought to myself… “Snap out of it!” I mentally admonished. Pacing the expanse of my office between my desk and the shelves of leather-bound books that lined the walls, I allowed my thoughts to focus in on the memories…

Steve had always known when I was arriving at any meeting destination from the music blaring…in the deserted spots we met, it had given him at least a minutes’ notice before my car appeared every time. He used to laugh at my musical taste, ranging from the BeeGees to the Black Eyed Peas, and everything in between…and no matter what I played, it had to be loud. Often, I would squeal into my parking space, singing along to whatever song was playing at the top of my lungs. “You are gonna go deaf soon, kiddo,” he’d warn me.

I’d laugh it off, teasing that, at twenty-six, I was more concerned about him going deaf than me… “after all, you are an old man”, I’d add as I’d lock my car and skip away down the trails, sticking my tongue out and winking as I looked back over my shoulder.

One trail we’d often meet at was a hiking/cross-country ski trail that meandered its way through a pine forest, and that was a great trail on a hot summer day. It was always cool, and the breeze would sway gently through the tall pines. Another was along the river, but there were always more people there. I remembered my frustration with a grin. My favourite meeting place was on the edge of a “wildlife reserve”, where we would always run into the gramps and grannies with their binoculars and cameras, hoping they would finally see whatever it was they came there searching for. We’d occasionally chuckle together, imagining these “old folks” capturing us in their binoculars, but were very careful to remain absolutely discreet…no way did we want pictures, or someone recognising one of us! It had happened once, where a man walking towards us recognised Steve…and as the man stopped him to talk, I continued past, allowing the man to think that we had just happened to be at the same place in the trail, as he stopped Steve to talk about his career and his fame. Eventually Steve caught up to me, but it was a lesson we never forgot.

That was always the tough part. With both of us married, and both in successful-very public-yet unsatisfying careers that could be ruined by the scandal of an affair, it was horrifying to think of getting caught or “found out”. People in our city knew our names and our faces…and there would be a lot of lives affected if it ever was discovered. My family, his, our spouses, our colleagues…both of us knew it would be the end of either career as well as the end of both marriages and families. That was why we met in such abandoned places, and always during the week in the daytime, when most people were stuck in their offices or cubicles.

I smiled as I remembered climbing the apple tree in high heels and a skirt, with Steve below, watching and laughing at me, thinking I would fall…wondering aloud how in hell I could climb a tree with three inch heels, nevermind the skirt! Apple in hand, I had jumped back to the ground, continuing to walk, as I smugly bit the apple. “Youth helps,” I had teased, “As does growing up a tomboy. You can dress me up, but you can’t take the tomboy out of me!” I think that is what he had liked, my playful nature and teasing ways. I always bantered, was quick-witted and sarcastic, with a playful response to anything. I knew the stresses of our lives, and was glad that I was able to do that, to allow him those moments of playful relaxation. And, of course, if stresses were too much, there was always sex.

One terrible week, I had packed up a mini-picnic, complete with a blanket. I carried it all in an oversized purse (nothing unusual there) as we walked down the road through the summer sun. I wore a sundress and flat sandals…and smiled at the memory of laying the blanket out, reclining with him, watching the clouds float past as we talked about life and what the hell each of us was doing. I rubbed his chest over the dress shirt as he talked, letting out all the frustrations he could not talk about with his wife. He did not want to stress her, so had not discussed his unhappiness in his career, or the likelihood of the upcoming changes. I was his sounding board at times, and at times, he was mine. But on this day, we took a risk.

We were lying about thirty feet off the trail, amidst the tall grasses, when I began to stroke him through his pants as he talked. I felt him harden beneath my fingers, and reached my hand to grasp him through the material. He continued to talk as I pumped his cock slowly in my cupped hand. “Janie, we can’t…we’re in the middle of the park…it is too dangerous,” Steve cautioned. “We could get caught.” He groaned as he removed my hand…but then surprised me as he rolled so that he was on top of me.

Breaking from his hard kiss, I teased, “I thought this was too dangerous? The birdwatchers could catch us!” He laughed then, realising the absurdity…and began to explore my body beneath him with his hands.

In my recollection, it was a hot day, with the sun beating down…I remember feeling very sexual and sensual as his hands explored me in the open air, with the sun heating the flesh he was uncovering, and the breeze stirring the long grasses around us. He lifted my hips to remove the sundress, lifting it over my head, leaving me in only a sheer red bra and panty set, and my bright red, glittered flip-flop sandals. Those sandals. I laughed to myself in my office, and quickly returned to the memory.

He had lingered over the exploration of my body, feeling the heat of the sun on the exposed flesh with his lips, then his fingers. With only a look to ensure it was okay, he slid the panties off and replaced them with his face, tasting me in the summer sunshine. My hands had reached for his head, raking my fingernails through his hair, across his scalp, as his tongue delved deeper. I relaxed back, intertwining my hands beneath my head to watch as his head began bobbing against my mound as he began to eat me in earnest. Getting wetter as I watched him, I sat up, reached beneath his arms, and playfully wrestled him beneath me, leaning in to kiss him deeply as I began to undress him slowly, button by button, groaning as I revealed only another layer beneath the burgundy dress shirt. I laughed then, teasing him for purposely frustrating my clumsy attempts to seduce at every step. It must have taken me at least ten minutes that day to get his chest bare, through the laughter and verbal jousting, finally exposing the dark hair on his chest to the sun above.

My hands felt the softness of the hair, and as I leaned in to taste his skin, I inhaled the scent of him, feeling myself moistening further from it. I felt him harden beneath my pussy as the pleasure and contentment I was experiencing escaped in a soft moan onto his chest before my mouth found his skin.

I had licked, kissed, nibbled and sucked my way down his body, moving against him and finally off of him as I enjoyed exploring the sensations of touch and smell…his scent, mingled with the smell of the grasses in the hot summer sun, the breeze bringing the smell of a mixture of wildflowers. It was all so fresh and clean, for being so dirty. When my chin was level with the waistline of his pants, I raised a leg over his chest, straddling him, feeling the softness of the hair on his expansive chest against my soaked pussy, knowing he would need to shower my scent from his body before going home. Smiling at the thought of him in the office catching random drifts of my scent all afternoon, I reached my hands to free his hard-on. I still had not removed my mouth from its exploration of his torso, so as I flexed to push his pants off, I followed the path with my tongue and body.

Slowly, as I pushed them to his thighs, Steve sat up, bending his torso into my ass as he unclasped the bra across my back, removing it. As he slid my arms from the straps, he quietly said, “Janie, if you are going to undress me like that, I want to feel your breasts on me too.” He quickly massaged my large breasts as he removed the bra, freeing them. I laughed as his eagerness, slapped at his hands, and told him to lie back down, to lie still and enjoy.

As he complied, I moved my mouth back to him, following the pants to his knees with light kisses and licks. Since I knew he was watching-he always did-I ensured that he had a view of my pussy and ass, but also of my boobs, as they passed gently over his cock. He let out a soft moan, and I stopped, straddling his stomach as I looked over my shoulder to ask him if he was okay…but I could not hide the impish grin. He slapped my ass, telling me he was fine, ordering me to go back to it.

Smiling, I obliged, returning my tits to his cock, my ass to the air, and my lips to his thigh. Slowly I undressed him, following the slacks with my mouth until I had reached his ankles. In this position, my pussy was suspended directly over his cock as it twitched up to me with impatience. Steve moved to slide into me, and I quickly told him not to, that he could only watch.

I moved to his feet to remove his shoes, his socks, and his slacks and briefs…then I caressed my way back up his thighs, finally settling his cock between my wet cunt lips as I began to gyrate my hips, with my knees bent at ninety degrees, and my legs spread wide so he could see it all. As I gyrated, I could feel the wetness leaking onto him, coating the length of his cock. “Do you feel how wet, how ready I am?” I asked him.



“Yes, fuck Janie, you are killing me here. I want to reach up, grab those very talented hips, and plunge into you. God, you are a fucking cocksucking tease!”
I pushed my weight down onto his cock as I leaned forward to kiss him, whispering against his lips, “Yep, and you love every moment of it!” With a soft nibble on his bottom lip, I straightened back up, locking my gaze on his as I did so to ensure I saw his reaction as I smoothly slid his cock into me and began to slowly gyrate once more. I enjoyed watching his face as I rode him…watching his eyes move from my pussy, to my boobs, bouncing with the rhythm, to my lips and eyes, and back to his cock, stroking in and out of me, glistening in the sunshine.

As I increased the pace and the intensity of my hips thrusting down onto his hard length, we suddenly heard voices! Panicked, I quickly moved off and beside Steve, lying flat on the blanket, hoping the voices we heard had not
ained the scenario of them searching through the grass to find what treasure had shone so brightly in the sun, only to find us, naked and terrified. We both laughed at the thought, and let it drop…but those damn flip flops had him calling me Dorothy for months! And each time he did, it was followed by a teasing tongue stuck out in my direction.heard ours! In silence, we waited, unmoving, all lust and libido gone as the voices became louder, the people approaching…if it had been possible to crawl into the ground, we would have done so, so fearful were we. My heart raced, hoping we were far enough from the trail, far enough into the grasses, to obscure my nudity and his. As the two voices reached their closest and their loudest, Steve whispered harshly into my ear for me to remove my sandals. I did so quickly and quietly, but confused.

When the voices had faded we dressed quickly gathered the blanket in silence. Out on the trail, more relaxed, I asked what the hell had been the fuss with my shoes. He laughed as he explained he could see the sunlight reflecting off of the sequins as we lie there silently in hiding, and was worried that one of the passersby would also see the sun sparkling off of them. He expl
That damn tongue, I thought sarcastically as I looked back out the window, pausing in my pacing to consider the piece of paper tormenting me. Calling him would be a bad idea. I would hear his voice. I would listen to the low tone of his voice as he recalled his memory of the show the week before. He might even ask me why. And I was not sure I knew why. Was it to torment him? To show him what he had lost? Or was it because I wanted him fucking me again, and this was my way of letting him know that it was okay out in the open now? On the other hand, I might get an explanation of why I never heard from him…why he never lo

oked me up…why he never called, and disappeared offline…and maybe that was all I wanted.

I was happy in my life now. I had changed careers, loved my current position. My kids were older and independent, and my husband and I had been exploring our sexuality as a couple, openly, for almost the entire period since moving. I had fucked other men, I had arranged a threesome with two other women for my husband that I did not participate in, but listened to…I had done the threesomes with two men…I had tied and been tied, whipped and been whipped. And I had never found anyone as good as my husband, in all my sexual exploration…

So why the hell was I thinking of Steve and the unknown possibilities there? ‘What now?’ I asked myself silently.

Frustrated with myself, I closed the blinds on my car, and returned to my desk, hastily putting the matter out of my head and absorbing my brain with the work that awaited my attention. I worked productively for the rest of the day, and left the office feeling much better. As I completed the hour commute, I again laughed at myself for the level of volume on the radio as I caught myself singing along to Culture Club’s Karma Chameleon on the radio. I reached to turn down the volume, chuckling slightly as I did over my aging ears, and my thumbs and fingers strumming on the steering wheel as I bopped slightly to the music. I needed to go dancing! I needed a night of nightclubs and dancing and relaxing and letting loose…and I could do that in my new career, whereas I never could before.

I switched the radio, searching for the satellite station that played dance…Justin Beiber was playing, offending my ears, so I turned it back to the 80s station…silently bitching at the Canadian Content regulations…really, I could only take so much in a day! And Beiber was over my limit! I settled into A-Ha’s Take on Me, Alice Cooper’s Poison, and Bon Jovi’s Livin’ on a Prayer as I made my way home, rocking it out completely to the 80s tunes. I wondered, as I do on occasion, what I must look like to other drivers as I sing and dance my way home…

Finally arriving home, I grabbed my briefcase from the backseat as I stepped from the car and into the house. I ignored the quick glance to the console as I exited my car, probably slamming the door a bit too harshly, thinking briefly that I really ought to just take the damn telephone number out and throw it in the recycling, solve the problem…I entered the house, stomping up the stairs to our bedroom, without realising my tread was so heavy until my husband appeared in the bedroom door with a glass of white wine, asking if I had a bad day. “No,” I lied, “Just a long one.”

“Need to talk it out?” he asked. Momentarily, I thought of telling him my thoughts of calling “that man”, but as I took off my suit and blouse, I kept the thought to myself.

“No, I just need to relax a bit, I think. Thanks for the wine, Hun, I think I need it after this week!”

“Anything in particular? Anything I can help with? Or do you want to leave it at the office?”

I paused…did I want to leave it at the office? Ha! That was the last place I wanted to leave it…I wanted to leave it in the trash…but it was almost too enticing to just throw away. What I thought would be best would be to call him from my office, invite him for a coffee, and talk it out. If it ended poorly, no harm no foul…and I was thinking that if it went well, it may well be the best MFM I had ever participated in…

“I think I just want to relax and take time to unwind, and maybe grab a game or show or something…wanna be my date, or do you have plans or work?”

Settling into the routine of home, I shoved the memories and temptations aside for the night.

Story Teller

Story Teller

Mainly the story writing alter ego of 'confessionsofPOFer' not always. Writing about whatever takes his fancy at the time. Any similarity to actual people living or dead and all that jazz is purely coincidental. Probably. Think you can do better? email [email protected] to discuss having your work posted or even having your own blog. Think you could sell your work? check out our sister site

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Yesterday’s Affair Ch. 03

by Story Teller time to read: 21 min
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