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Jekyll and Hyde Ch. 01

By: Catmoore



After publishing a piece on Literotica I receive feedback, most of which is usually generous and interesting. Sometimes, that leads to an exchange of emails; I thoroughly enjoy such correspondence. That in turn often leads to the request 'Why not tell me about yourself Cat?' 

So this piece is anticipating that request. This is Cat, my life, my aspirations, my concerns and my despairs. It's me, all of me and a bit more. 

Cat, My Jekyll and Hyde Bio 

Part 1 - Early stuff. 

Boring but necessary

I'll start with some boring stuff to set the scene, but don't worry there's a lot of mucky stuff to come.

Born in Surrey in 1966, just before England won the World Cup, I understand. I was brought up in a rather privileged way. My family owned a small, but highly profitable publishing business and consequently I attended private schools and lived a rich life, with holidays in exotic places and first class, even Concord, travel when I was a young girl and teenager. 

I did ok at school, not as good as I could and should have done, but I gained reasonable enough grades to get to an 'acceptable' by which I mean posh and red brick, for my family are also snobs, university where I read English, History and Psychology, gaining a lucky 2:1. 

I met the man who became my husband not long after leaving uni and we married a couple of years later when I was just over 21. Two children, a boy and girl followed fairly quickly, and I settled into a typical married life. Husband earns the money, wife looks after the house and children. I had entered into the family business after college so was able to continue to work even after I had my children. 

Richard, my husband, is a few years older than me and is a corporate lawyer with a leading London and US based practice where he is a partner. Hence he has always travelled a lot and worked long hours, but both of these have increased in the past few years. This has coincided with our children leaving home; is that a coincidence I often wonder? 

Although the family business was sold some years ago I still work freelance, editing from home and attending the odd meeting from time to time. 

I am a keen tennis player and have just taken up golf, I go to the gym as often as I can, I enjoy reading, the theatre and films and I try to do a crossword every day. 

Cut to the chase, losing my cherry.

I was rather a late starter and didn't lose my virginity until after the sixth form when I had just turned eighteen and was waiting to go to university. I had been dating a guy a few years older than me and as they do with teenagers our sexual escapades had become increasingly adventurous during that summer. As usual they had started with him 'titting me up', as the boys called it, first outside my clothing and then a few days later inside my blouse then my inside my bra. I can honestly say that the first time, and this wasn't for another guy had already been there before, a man's hands finds, squeezes and strokes a girl's bare breasts is an amazingly erotic and totally memorable experience. I can recall that moment with every man who has done that to me, but then it's not that many to remember.

Anyway, back to the main event. So Guy got in my bra one day, then undid it a few days later and took it off a couple of weeks later. Being topless, I still had my jeans on in front of him was fantastic and gave me some amazing and totally new feelings; it probably started the slight exhibitionistic tendencies I still have; I'll come back to those later. 

Both his parents worked, they actually had several fish and chip shops and made masses of money, which the snooty people around where we lived resented. They'd claimed it was due to them fiddling their taxes; the fact that they worked from nine in the morning to midnight six days week was not considered to have anything to do with their financial success. It gave me and my burgeoning left wing views a perverse pleasure to tell people that Guy Curvoni, yes they were Italian as well as fish and chip shop owners, was my boy friend.

So that summer we had the run of the house, large garden, tennis court, gym and pool most days, many evenings and a few nights! We followed the normal conventions of the time, up top first, then down below, so after baring my tits for him it was obviously only a matter of time before he approached my body from another angle. The first time I let him go 'all the way' up my legs I was wearing jeans, but even through the thick denim the sensations were tremendous and so much more than what I had been able to create from my masturbations, which that summer had been so frequent. Although I didn't admit it to myself at the time, the next day I purposefully wore a skirt. That naturally did the trick and I felt that my body was about to explode when his fingers touched the damp gusset of my cotton panties. It actually did explode a few minutes later when he wiggled them inside the elastic and right onto my lips of my cunt and my clit. The fish and chip boy gave me my first real orgasm, well with someone else present that is.

The adventures continued over the next couple of weeks as he became bolder and I became braver. 

My knickers came off one day, although perversely in an attempt not to give too much too soon I expect, strange creatures, teenage girls, I kept my jeans on with them and the panties round my knees. 

He got his fingers in me, again others had been there before, but he was a better 'finger fucker.' He gave me what was my first full penetrative orgasm from something other than my fingers or the handle of my hair brush. 

Then there was the topless day when he removed both my blouse and bra and then the big day, when for the first time I was naked with a boy. 

As this was all going on I had very tentatively and demurely of course, rubbed his erection outside his trousers a few times. It was not until the day when he got my jeans and panties round my knees that I actually felt his cock. I was lying there with my tee shirt rolled up, my bra undone and boobs bare, with my panties and jeans round my knees or ankles when he took my hand and pulled it towards him. I didn't know what he was doing at first but then I felt his erection; it was the first time I had touched a guy's cock. I pulled away at first, but he put it back and my instincts just took over. Then, as he fingered me so I rubbed it not thinking I'd make him cum, but there was no mistaking the grunts and groans and the, what I now quite like, sticky warm feeling of his sperm in my hand. 

We obviously talked about 'going all the way.' He'd been there, but didn't boast or push me and in the end it really was my decision. A few times before the big day we'd been naked together and that was lovely. We would kiss a lot, rub our bodies together, cuddle and stroke the other's body before masturbating each other. I can honestly say those few times were the most exciting sexual moments I have ever had. I still think that mutual masturbation can be as stimulating and satisfying as full sex, if done well. 

In the end it was just a natural extension of what we'd been leading up to and my first fuck, the taking of my cherry, the loss of my virginity just happened: in fact it seemed hardly any different to being finger shagged. Shame in some ways. 

However, I was pleased that I 'gave it away' nicely in clean surroundings and in a bed with a boy I truly liked a lot, fancied a hell of lot more and for six weeks of the summer of 1984 I believed I loved, but then you should love the guy who takes your virginity even if it's temporary, shouldn't you? By the way, there was no blood and it didn't hurt!

Ok enough smut for a while.

Unlike a number of my friends and acquaintances, I didn't get to like sex so much that I put it about almost at will to all and sundry. That was a worrying tendency of some girls particularly when leaving home and going off the university as I was. That said, sex was ample and very available and I, of course, availed myself of my share. Well that's not totally true for during the three years I was away I only slept with three fellow students all of whom were, rather unfashionably, men. I didn't indulge in anything with my own sex although a lot of that did go on amongst the students and some of the lecturers who tried to show just how trendy and forward thinking they were. I have to admit that when I was home Guy was still on the scene and we broadened and deepened our relationship as well, so I had my fill of sex during my uni days. 

Leaving college and going into the small, thirty person family publishing business wasn't a particularly fruitful arena for meeting men, which as a twenty two year old woman, was one of my main aims in life. Guy was still around and we got together occasionally, basically having sex more 'for old time's sake' than anything else, although we stayed close then as we did for many years. 

My father died just after I came home from university. As the company had been run by him, helped by an older brother and as my brother had no interest in business being a scientist based in Silicon Valley, I got a rapid promotion from junior editor to MD almost overnight. Guy who had now gained a degree in economics and an MBA helped me review the business and reach the conclusion it had to be sold. We retained a firm of lawyers who assigned a senior guy and a junior one who did most of the work; that was Richard. 

As we worked together over the next few months preparing the business for sale, having endless meetings with potential buyers and then selling it, I got to know him well, maybe from a client, lawyer relationship perhaps too well. 

He was thirty and had been educated in America, coming to the UK to Millfield to take some A levels, he got five! He had then gained a first from Cambridge and had spent a year at Harvard Business School doing some form of conversion course that enables him to practice law in the US and the UK. Although a real intellectual clever clogs he had a charm and a self deprecating sense of humour; a combination of traits for which I am a real sucker; a brilliant mind is the quickest and simplest way to get into my panties! 

More dirty bits. 

"Well Cat, it looks as though you and your mother and brother are going to be quite rich come Friday doesn't it?" He said to one evening around nine in my cramped office. 

"Yes, thanks to you," I replied almost metaphorically slipping out of my panties. 

"Perhaps we should celebrate," he suggested. 

'What like me sucking your cock,' I thought as I said "What did you have in mind?" 

"Well after Friday, you will no longer be my client, so we will be in a different position, won't we?" 

'Yes, maybe me bent forward over this desk my skirt round my waist and my panties round my knees,' I thought smiling as I replied "Do I get the message that you want to take me on a date?" 

"Yes very much," he replied closing the small space between us and taking me in his arms. He was an extraordinarily good kisser. 

I found out during the week or so after the 'closing' of the sale that he was also very good at caressing my breasts, undressing me, making me cum with his fingers, using his mouth on me, everywhere, and, of course, making full love to me. 

The sequence was quite similar to that with Guy when I lost my virginity. 

Our first date was to see Les Miserable followed by dinner at La Caprice and a grope in the back of a taxi on the way home. Our second date was dinner at a local restaurant with some heavy petting in his car parked just round the corner from my house with another even heavier session in his car; he lived in Hertfordshire, some forty miles from my mum's house where I was still living, the next night. I have to admit to directing him to a dark car park a mile or so away from my house, where I had been with Guy several times. 

Up to then, Richard had tentatively touched my tits in the cab after Les Mis and, finding no resistance, had slid his hand up my skirt, diplomatically along the outside of my leg. Whilst that helped him establish I was wearing holdup stockings, it didn't get him much further for I wasn't up for being fingered in a cab, even by an intellectually brilliant lawyer. 

Whilst being averse to having his fingers and hands in my panties in a cab, I didn't have quite such reservations in his car outside my house or, particularly in the dark car park. So the next two nights between them saw: my blouse being undone, him caressing my boobs outside my bra, my tits being eased out of the cups, my bra being undone and him, the first night getting his hand between my jeans covered legs at the top and the second again establishing that I was wearing stockings under the thin, short, slightly flared skirt, this time, though on the inside of my legs, which I had quite willingly and invitingly I guess parted for him. The second night also saw his hands inside my panties and his fingers inside me. I played my part though, for my hands went inside his trousers and I stroked his beautifully hard cock. 

"I've got to make love to you Cat," Richard groaned his face pressed against my naked breast as he pushed his fingers deep inside me and I pumped his cock. 

I had never stayed in a posh London West End hotel before, although I had stayed in very upscale hotels in other cities. Walking across the lobby of the Inn on the Park at the end of Park Lane in Mayfair I was nervous. That wasn't because I felt out of place in such a top hotel, but because I was going to meet Richard in the room he had booked to, as we'd agreed, after we had masturbated each other in his car, 'fuck my brains out'. Never having had either my brains fucked out or a guy say he was going to do that to me, I had been slightly apprehensive as I had got ready to catch the train to Waterloo from Esher station. Slightly apprehensive maybe, but enormously excited too. 

I again wore holdup stockings, but this time with a black lacy thong and bra. 

Since coming down from university and becoming a working woman I had noticed quite a change in the size of my breasts. At first I had put it down to 'time of month problems,' but when they started staying up round the between C and D size I had to accept I had now got big tits; I quite liked that. I'd always had nicely shaped mounds, but all through my late teens and early twenties they had been more of the half a lemon variety than the nearing half a melon, cantaloupe that is, not water, that they had become. 

I bundled them into the thin net of the bloody expensive Janet Regar bra I had bought especially for this assignation; that was how I thought of this meeting to get my brains fucked out, great word isn't it, assignation? The delicate looking bra provided the slight support my newly formed fuller tits needed, but hid little, for my nipples could be seen quite clearly through the thin material, and by God did it produce a fantastic cleavage! That gave me the resolve to always wear good bras in the future. The thong covered my thin slither of tawny, coloured pubic hair and, just about, my swollen lips, which I noticed as I went to put it on, were already damp. Looking over my shoulder I saw the whisp of silk slithering between my quite nicely rounded, even if I do say it myself, cheeks and vanishing between them. I left the panties off as I went to the bathroom to attend to my womanly excitement. 

A black, sleeveless, quite grown up, knee length dress and a cashmere cardigan together with high heels completed my brains fucking outfit. 

Being the mid eighties, this was before mobile phones really got going, so I phoned him from Waterloo Station. 

"I'm in room 423, it's on the fourth floor. You ok coming straight up or would you like me to meet you in the lobby?" 

Not wishing to illustrate how nervous and really inexperienced I was at such adult things as having my brains fucked out in one of the top hotels in London, I casually agreed to come up to the room. Walking past the glamorous people in the lobby I felt deliciously sordid as I stood waiting for the lift doors to open. People looking at me, seemed to know why I was there; it was as if they all knew I was having an assignation with my lover. I felt weirdly wanton, a bit like I imagined a hooker would, a high class one of course! 

It wasn't a room; it was a bloody great suite. A lounge with three sofas round the largest TV I had ever seen and a small dining room with a glass topped round table that could seat eight, I know that, I counted the chairs wondering if he'd invited some friends as I thought perhaps men like an audience when they fuck girls' brains out. And of course the bedroom. It was vast with a great big, American style, king sized bed and a white carpet with what seemed like ankle height pile, making me wonder where I would rather be fucked, on the bed or the carpet, both looked to be fantastic. 

He took me into his arms and kissed me. 

"I thought we could have lunch here first," he whispered, his face in my champagne blonde coloured, shoulder length hair, which oddly has hardly changed in the subsequent twenty years, something that has only come into my mind as I compose this bio. 

"First?" I asked in what I hoped was a coquettish tone. 

He laughed as he kissed my head and lightly stroked my bum. "You know what I mean." 

I smiled and replied without really thinking "Yes you mean before fucking my brains out? 

"Exactly," he replied his hand finding my breasts. It felt wonderful and I pushed my chest against his hand and my stomach against the rapidly increasing bulge in his trousers. I felt him sliding the zip down at the back of my dress. Just as it got level with my bra strap he whispered. "Perhaps we have lunch afterwards." 

"Mmmmm," was all I could manage for a reply as my dress slithered down my body and fell round my ankles. 

"Oh my god yes, Cat," he groaned looking at my underwear. "Now that really is underwear to be undressed in. Just right for having your brains fucked out." 

I had never been with a guy who talked dirty before. Dirty, but subtle and I liked it. I liked hearing it and I liked saying dirty phrases to him. I found that actually saying 'fucking my brains out' to be a turn on. You can learn something new every day can't you I was thinking as he manipulated me through the lounge and into the bedroom still kissing me, I smiled and murmured. 

"Does that mean you're going to fuck me in my ear or something?" I wasn't sure the subtlety or vagueness of my message actually got through to him or not, but he replied

"I'll fuck you everywhere and anywhere you want," he replied as we reached the bed. 

He laid me on it his eyes seemingly devouring me as they flittered over my body. He started to undress standing alongside the bed. He wasn't at all embarrassed as unhurriedly he slowly stripped off, something no other guy had done with me before. He joined me on the bed, his nakedness feeling like a magnet to my hands. As if outside my control they ran over his chest and back before zeroing in on where I really wanted them to be, on his nice, hard cock. The grunt and the pressure of his thrust in my hand told me that they were where he wanted them to be as well.

He got my tits out, worrying me a bit that he might stretch or tear the most expensive bra I had ever bought. He squeezed and stroked them, then licked and sucked them as his hands slid into my knickers. I was stroking him and slowly pumping his cock. We had been here before, we had done this, he had finger fucked me and I had let him use my hands as a surrogate cunt as we had mutually masturbated. That wasn't why we were here though and we both knew that. 

"I want you so much," Richard moaned tugging on the elastic of my almost as expensive as my bra, thong. That also made me panic a little so I raised my bum up and helped him slide them off. "I think we'll leave these exactly where they are," he said referring to my stockings as he slid a hand up the nylon and right onto my embarrassingly soaked lips. 


Jekyll and Hyde Ch. 01



He rolled on top of me, then rolled off again and slid off the bed. He fumbled in his trouser pockets obviously looking for a condom. 

"Don't worry, I have the coil," I said referring to a birth control method that was popular at the time; HIV and even herpes scares had really not got going. I pulled him back on top of me. 

"Now young lady," he smiled as we looked into each other's eyes while he positioned himself correctly with the tip of his cock nuzzling against my lips. "Let's find out what brain fucking is like." 

"Hold on a mo," I said sitting up. I removed my bra, I didn't want that damaged.

Back to tedium, well some is, but some is also nicely rude. 

We had a two year relationship including a six months engagement before having a huge white wedding with all the trappings. We bought a flat in Barnes to the west of London and the first few years of our marriage things were great. We got on well, did things together, had two gorgeous children and enjoyed all the things that young married couples should enjoy together, particularly sex. We went well together. We were both into sex and were quite adventurous, but had no inkling at all to go outside the relationship. Unlike many couples we knew or heard of, we were able to talk about sex. We could tell each other what intrigued us, what particularly excited us and what we would like to do sexually. Because of that we were able to have great oral sex, something quite a lot of women never quite accept. I did. I accepted both his mouth on my pussy and his cock in my mouth, I loved both and still do. I have to admit, though, as I was able to do to Richard at the time, that I didn't really like him cumming in my mouth; the sensation of his sperm in my throat made me feel as if I would gag or drown; the taste isn't very nice either. That didn't mean I wouldn't or didn't do it, for I did, but mostly we would take his cock out of my mouth before his ejaculation, which could then spurt over my face, tits or tummy, sometimes all three. 

We tried anal, both orally and full penetration on each of us with our fingers and on me with his cock. We tied each other up and we used feathers and silk scarves on the other's body. Richard bought a vibrator and we used that on each other and we nearly, but never quite did then and haven't since, tried him spanking me. 

So life went on. He changed firms and we moved to a larger house in Richmond. We bought a villa with another couple, who we came close to swinging with, in Tuscany and then a house in Florida, which we still own and visit; we have sold the Tuscany villa. 

Richard is a hugely driven person and became determined to reach partner before the age of forty. Being able to operate in both the US and UK he became more and more involved in mergers and acquisitions, particularly in the advertising business where WPP was his client. This British company bought some of America's largest ad agencies, Ogilvy and JWT, as it soared to become the largest ad group in the world under the direction of Martin Sorrel who we got to know very well. 

This meant that Richard had to spend more and more time in the US and we even thought of moving there, but I felt I would rather have him away from me in England than over there. Gradually, though, it became a larger intrusion on our lives. He was away at least four or five and often ten or fifteen days a month and when in England he worked murderous hours with lots of client entertaining added on. As the children became teenagers and needed me less and less so my boredom and loneliness became near to being unbearable. On top of that our, up to then, and I am talking many years ago, satisfying sex life began to wane. I was, or so it seemed, perpetually lonely, bored, unfulfilled in life and sexually frustrated. I began to resent Richard's work and, if I am honest him as well. I needed more in my life and more from life. 

And what became that 'more?' In all my wildest dreams and imaginings I would never have guessed it. I had never thought that way and had never even fantasised about being fucked by an eighteen year old boy! But that's what happened.

*

Addendum

I have written all the parts of this bawdy tale and I will submit them in quick succession. So keep checking the site, providing feedback and emails and getting in touch with me as you learn all about the Jekyll and Hyde character of Cat Moore.

Thanks for reading this.



Jekyll and Hyde Ch. 02



This is a series of episodes describing some aspects of my life, mainly my sexual straying and my mind beating up and post naughtiness analysis. 

For continuity, it would be preferable to read Part 1 first, but each part does stand alone as what I hope you will find to be a highly erotic story.

Part 2 - My first mid-life crisis.

Some background.

Craig was an outstanding tennis player, almost but not quite good enough to play at Wimbledon and be a pro. He was the club champion at my club and we were paired together for a home counties tournament. This meant travelling to away matches up to fifty miles away and spending considerable time together, both practising and playing and of course in the car. We got to know each other well and I liked him. Even after a few weeks of becoming increasingly closer, I still didn't have any sexual thoughts about him, but looking back, I could see how they gradually came about.

Due to his tennis ability, he had been a 'star' from an early age. He acted like one. Not cocky or arrogant, but confident and assured. He was about six three and muscular, yet lithe, as male tennis players need to be nowadays. He was nicely tanned and had longish, dark brown hair. He was handsome and all the younger girls at the club as good as 'swooned' over him, but then so did some of the older ones. His tennis ability had had another enormous influence on his life. He had neglected his studies, but his high degree of raw intelligence was very evident to me; he had the same level of panty dropping intellect as I had seen in Richard years ago.

Richard and I were about to move from Richmond to Hertfordshire into a large rambling house he had inherited from his grandparents. Prior to that he was working on a massive deal in the US and was spending most of his time commuting between London and New York. I was pretty pissed off, both at him, the travelling, my loneliness and having to move to that house. I wanted a modern one, this was Victorian and in my mind ugly and old fashioned. 

I was, generally, questioning my marriage and was becoming more and more worried about where that and my life were going. So maybe it was a vulnerable time for me.

I hadn't really known Craig well, other than seeing him at the club, nodding to him and smiling occasionally. We'd played in mixed comps at the club a couple of times and had danced once or twice at club dos, but that was it, before I was asked to partner him in this competition.

I was quite a reasonable tennis player in my teens, county standard, but hadn't played for ages when I joined the club, largely out of boredom. I needed something to do.

Ok Craig, the shortened version with the smutty stuff.

We practised a few times and I enjoyed it. We played a couple of matches, one away and one at home, we won them both. As is traditional we kissed after a match. We talked on the way back in the car. Even looking back now and trying to recall any hints, there was nothing in those early days to suggest what would happen over the next six weeks or so.

It started at an evening practise session. When we finished, he put his arm round me and pecked me on my cheek. Then as we walked off the court he kept his arm round my shoulder. That happened a couple more times as we walked off with other pairs there. It looked innocent, I think. But looking back as I do so much, that was the start, the first incidents and I have to own up to it feeling nice.

A few evenings later we had a practise session prior to a match the following day in Croydon some hour or so away by car. The same thing happened. I ask myself now if I could have done anything different, but have no answer. That session I had felt his eyes on me looking down my low front, watching my tits jiggle as I ran. I swear the fact that I was not wearing a big, ugly sports bra, but instead a lacy, pretty ordinary wear one was unconscious, just as was the lowness of the front of my top and the shortness of the pale blue skirt I had chosen to wear.

"Looks as though we're the last here," he said as we walked into the club house.

It was often the case that a few of the members stayed late and the club had a system whereby the last away had to telephone the secretary who explained how to set the alarm.

"Yes so it does," I replied feeling a little uncomfortable, but also I have to admit slightly tingly because his arm was still around my shoulders.

"Are you going to have a shower?" He asked as we approached the small clubhouse.

"No I'll have one when I get home."

"Your husband still in New York?"

"Yes he is, another couple of weeks yet," I told him as we walked up the steps his arm still draped round my shoulders.

"Do you miss him?"

"In some ways yes, but I am used to it."

As we walked through the narrow doorway he had to remove his arm. I felt relieved, but then he placed it in the small of my back. It's usually so difficult to know with men, when they are making a pass and when they are just being friendly and polite. I just had no idea about this eighteen year old Adonis' intentions. 

"Which ways are they?" He asked, starting to provide me with clues.

"Never you mind young man," I replied smiling, turning and looking at him.

"But Cat I do mind, after all I don't want my partner upset and off her game do I?"

"How do you mean?"

"You know."

"No I don't."

"Well you know what I mean."

"Let's leave it shall we?" I said feeling a little flushed and awkward as we walked through the clubhouse.

"Would you like a drink Cat?"

"How can we?"

"I've got a key to the bar."

"Where did you get that from?"

"They lent us the key once and we got some extra ones cut."

"That's very naughty," I said, realising I was sounding very mumsy.

"So? What's wrong with a little naughtiness if no one gets hurt?" He asked.

I ignored the second part of his phrase; I could see where that might lead.

"No I'm fine."

"Cat I know full well you are fine," he said as we walked down the corridor towards the back door where we had to phone the secretary. He put his arm back round my shoulders. "Very fine."

"Craig, careful," I stammered seeing clearly where this was headed.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm a married woman," I replied rather ridiculously .

"I know that and so what?" He said as we reached the door, his arm still round my shoulders.

"I think you should remove your arm."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

We stopped by the door. We faced each other, his hand now on my shoulder, not round them.

"We have to phone Clive, you or me?" He asked.

"It doesn't matter," I stuttered as he reached across me for the phone on the wall. He didn't pick it up.

I turned, pressing my back against the wall. He stood in front of me, his arm was across me, his face very close. He moved closer. We were just inches apart. He reached down and gripped both of my wrists. I felt powerless to stop him. He pulled both of my arms upward and outwards. My back was pressed against the wall. He pulled my wrists until my arms were stretched from my body in a crucifixion position, which pushed my boobs out.

"No," I groaned as he leaned forward.

"You sure you mean no?" he asked, his lips almost touching mine.

I didn't know what to do. I couldn't move or say anything. I was transfixed, scared, excited, worried, concerned and, yes I had to admit it, well I do now, I didn't then, interested and aroused. I didn't answer his question.

His mouth found mine. I pulled away.

"Stop it, please," I said, knowing full well I sounded totally unconvincing. 

I didn't pull my body away, I didn't really struggle and I certainly didn't move away as his lips found mine again. This time he kissed me. I began to gain an understanding of the conflicts with rape; my body was saying yes, but my mind was screaming no! I didn't kiss him back, but then I didn't tear my mouth away. He was still holding my wrists with my arms pulled away out from my body and my back pressed against the wall. He pressed himself against me squashing my breasts and thrusting his erection against my stomach. His tongue was pressing against my closed lips, probing and enquiring. I had never been in such a situation. I felt my lips moving, they were parting, my mouth was opening. It was unconscious, involuntary and completely unplanned, but I was accepting his enquiry. His tongue surged into me finding my tongue and gums, pressing against them and licking all round my mouth. He let go of my wrists, one arm went round me downwards and the other landed on my breast. He squeezed and I moaned. 

At last, somehow and I have no idea where the resolve came from, I regained my senses.

"No Craig, stop it this is ridiculous," I said sternly, pulling myself away from him.

"Ok, Cat, I'm sorry," he said very contritely. "I didn't mean to push you like that, I wouldn't want you to do anything you don't want to do."

We didn't say much more to each other that evening. I went home and showered and then found myself masturbating. You can guess what was in my mind as I stroked and rubbed and caressed my breast and nipples and my lips and clit. And he was an exceedingly good mental fuck.

We lost the next day. In fact we were well beaten by a pair against who we should have won easily. I would happily own up if it had been mainly my fault, but it wasn't. I played ok, Craig was well off form, doing many double faults, not getting his angles correct and missing several easy vollies.

In many ways I was pleased that we were travelling home separately for it meant we didn't have to confront the situation of last night. But we had to confront it again a few days later for once more we were the last two at the club.

As we left the court, I was hellishly nervous, even though Craig didn't put his arm round my shoulders. It was quite a lot cooler that evening than it had been the last time we practised so we were both wearing track suits over our tennis clothes. I had, though removed the tracky bottoms, but had kept the zip up top on. This time I was wearing a big, sports bra.

"I guess you don't fancy a drink do you?" He asked as we got near to the small bar.

"Probably best not to," I replied as we passed the closed and locked door and got to the back door of the club, right where we had kissed a few days ago. I stopped in roughly the same position and for some unexplainable reason I turned so my back was almost against the wall. He faced me.

"I really am sorry for the other night Cat."

I smiled. "It's ok?"

"Really?" He quipped back quickly.

"Yes really."

"So you didn't really mind?"

"No, yes, look I didn't say that, I mean oh sod it."

"What, why sod it?"

"You're making me tongue tied," I stammered, realising this wasn't going at all in the way I wanted.

"Oh dear, sorry," Craig said, seeming to me to move a little closer.

Part of me wanted to move away, pick up the phone, lock the bloody club and rush away. Another part I began to realise with quite some alarm didn't. That was curious, intrigued, sort of interested in how this might pan out. 'Surely' I thought 'I don't want that to happen again?' My mind was racing and I was confused as he leaned further forward. 'Surely I don't want him to go further, oh fuck.' I was thinking as he put his hand on my hip, moved his face very close to mine, smiled and said quietly.

"How can I stop that?"

I didn't know what he meant.

"Stop what?"

"You being tongue tied of course," he said one of his fingers slipping across the collar of my shiny track suit and softly rubbing my neck. I can't explain why, but for some reason that was one of the most erotic gestures I had ever experienced.

"Oh Craig."

"Oh Cat," he smiled. "What?"

"I don't know."

"Don't know what?" He whispered, his hand sliding round my waist. I didn't and couldn't reply. "I know how to stop the tongue tied thing."

"How?" I asked realising our faces were just inches apart.

"Like this," he whispered, his hand moving up and pressing on the side of my face as he closed the gap between our faces.

We kissed again. Once more my lips were closed. I wanted to stop, I wanted to go, I wanted to finish this ridiculous activity, I wanted him to leave me alone, I wanted to be faithful to my husband and family, I wanted to avoid getting involved with a man and I wanted to stop this teenager making advances towards me. Wanting all those things, what did I do? I opened my lips. And I guess by that relatively simple gesture I accepted his request. Parting my lips was me effectively agreeing with him and accepting his need. Yes, by opening my mouth to him I was effectively saying to him that he could have me. He knew it and I knew it. We both knew now that he was going to fuck me.

What neither of us knew, though, was where and when. Those questions were answered in the most graphic, obvious and exhilarating ways possible very quickly.

He was tongue fucking my mouth and I was going with his every surge and plunge, even though much of me wanted to stop.

I was writhing my lips against his as equally strongly now as his were against mine, despite me knowing I shouldn't. But then I shouldn't have let him squash my breasts against his chest, thrust his erection against my stomach or put his hand on my bum. I should have stopped there and then. I should not have let him cup my breasts outside my tennis top, but inside the unzipped track top. And most certainly I should have stopped him slipping his hand inside my top at the front and up my skirt at the back. 

But I didn't, something was stopping me. I simply couldn't. I was kissing him furiously and, or so it must have felt to him, hungrily, but that was how he was making me feel. My body was hungry for him, he had teased and titillated it, primed and manipulated me and was now taking what I guess he thought was rightly his.

My tracky top came off and he pushed my top up. He was caressing my breasts in my big, tight sports bra and fiddling his fingers inside it right onto the tingling, sensitive flesh. At the same time his hands were on my panties, they were on my bum, inside the thin knickers and on the flesh of the two cheeks. He was rubbing and squeezing them. As he did those things he was also, somehow, thrusting his erection harder and more firmly against me, sort of dry fucking me. 

Any last vestige of resistance I may have had was now vanishing rapidly. The tiny bit that was left, for it still hadn't occurred to me that we might fuck right there and then, rushed out of the window when he took my hand, pulled on it and placed it right on his bare cock, which somehow he'd exposed. That was the last barrier removed. I was his now putty in his hands.

His cock was awesomely big and welcomingly hard.

My panties were pushed down, maybe off, I didn't know. He lifted the hem of my short skirt and made me whimper as he pressed the end of his cock right against my clit. He was holding and squeezing both cheeks of my bum as his mouth ravaged my breasts and nipples. He lifted me up. I couldn't believe what was happening, my legs were wrapped round his waist, my back was pressed against the wall as his cock slid effortlessly into me. As we started to fuck our mouths clamped together so that scene from Basic Instinct where Michael Douglas shags the psychiatrist against a wall came into my mind.

Back to reality.

I was mortified at what I had done. I felt terrible over the weekend and couldn't bring myself to go to the club. 

It was the first time I had been in any way intimate with man another since I had met Richard some fifteen years ago. I had committed adultery after thirteen years of mainly happily married life. That was something I had told myself I would never do. And on top of that I had gone with a kid, a fucking tennis jock at that.

For once I felt lucky that Richard was away and the children, who were about eleven and thirteen at the time, were at their grandparents for the weekend; I could not have looked them in the eyes. I spent a morose weekend holed up in Richmond making arrangements for the move to Hertfordshire, which was now less than six weeks away. Although Richard's firm would handle everything to do with the move, all we'd need to do would be to vacate the house, move into a company flat in the Barbican for a few days and then move into the 'Hertfordshire heap' as I thought and termed it, I still found loads to do and think about. But my planning and thinking were continually interrupted by thoughts of that scene in the clubhouse. I could hardly believe it. I kept saying in my mind 'I was fucked by an eighteen year old in the tennis clubhouse.' How fucking sordid, risky and ridiculous was that?

I decided never to go back to the club, I was leaving in any case in a few weeks and I need never see Craig again. How ironic that thought later became.

Craig had called me on my mobile. We'd chatted. He had asked about the next match and I had told him I wouldn't be playing.

"Why not?"

"I can't"

"You mean you won't?"

"Yes, but won't can't what's the difference?"

"Nothing they both add up to the fact that you don't want to see me?"

"Not don't want, but know I shouldn't. I can't."

"But you would like to?"

" That's irrelevant, I shouldn't have let happen what happened."

"Why not?"

" It's wrong, I'm married with children and old enough to be your mother." I said very primly.

"Did you enjoy it?"

I didn't reply, I couldn't"

"Well did you?"

"That has nothing to do with it."

"It has everything to do with it Cat."

"No it doesn't."

"It does, because I think you enjoyed it, I know you did."

I didn't reply.

"Cat?"

"Yes."

"Well did you?"

"What?"

"Enjoy it?"

"That's not fair."

"Well did you?"

I stayed silent.

"Well?"

"Craig stop it."

"Did you? Tell me? You did didn't you?"

I stayed silent again.

"Didn't you Cat?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," I whispered, hating myself as the words came out.

"And really you want more don't do?"

I stayed quiet again.

"Cat you do don't you, you do want more?"

"Oh Craig I just don't know, it seems so wrong."

"What does two people who fancy each other having sex?"

"No, I mean yes, well a woman of my age and you an eighteen year old."

"So it wasn't the sex it was my age?"

"Yes. No, it's both."

"Look Cat," he said sounding very grown up and plausible. "I know we aren't in love, I'm not going to ask you to leave Richard, I don't want to go on dates. I can tell you are lonely and I filled a gap. That's fine."

"It's not like that?"

"What is it like then?"

"Oh I don't know."

"Look we are two sexual people with particular needs, that's all, nothing more, nothing less. We have found each other at particular times in our lives, we've clicked, we can enjoy each other then move on."

"Like strangers in the night?" I asked.

"Something like that, passing ships yes. Enjoy something for a short time, get the best from it and move on. That's all, nothing more, no real big deal on our overall lives, but while its going it's the most important and wonderful thing."

"Is that how you see it?"

"Sort of yes." Then he added the phrase that was the clincher, the panty dropper if you want. "Imean Cat in a few weeks you are moving to Hertfordshire and we'll probably never see each other again."

More naughty stuff.

We fucked in that hallway by the phone the next night. The next evening I went to his mum and dad's house and we had sex in his single bed.

We played another match and I gave him a lift in my car, a Porsche rather than Richard's Rangerover,. On the way home he had his hand between my legs and we pulled into a car park. We kissed with me leaning across the centre console the chrome handled gear stick pressing into me right between my tits. He undid my top got my boobs out, but we could do little else, with both of us lying almost flat.




Jekyll and Hyde Ch. 02



"Stay right there," I said getting out and walking round the back of the car. 

It was a warm evening and we were still in our tennis clothes, him in shorts, me a skirt. Behind the car I slipped my panties off. He opened the door and I whispered.

"Stay just like that," as I unzipped him and he pushed his shorts down revealing his gorgeously swollen prick. 

I climbed in and straddled him, well tried to, but the seat was narrow and I couldn't get my knees far enough down alongside either the door or the centre console. The more I tried to push down as he lifted my boobs out of my bra and rolled my top up to expose them and my nipples to his hands and mouth, so the more my head pressed against the roof. I came to the conclusion that it was impossible to fuck in a Porsche; a major design fault, but then it is a German car.

I climbed out. I knelt beside the car. He played with my tits as I took his cock in my hand and licked its length. I swallowed him deep into my mouth; he tasted good. As I sucked and licked him, so he started to fuck my mouth. We found a perfect rhythm. It got faster, more urgent and demanding and his thrusts got deeper and fuller.

"Oh Cat," he groaned.

"What?"

"I am so near."

I knew what he was staying. Men with good manners and consideration are like that. They are inviting the woman to take him out of their mouth. I held him firmer and redoubled my sucking efforts. Suddenly he groaned, his body shuddered, he gripped me tightly, one hand in my hair, the other on my left boob and then my mouth was filled with the gushing, youthful torrent of his cum.

More soul searching.

It was getting worse. Or better. Who knows? My sex with Craig was becoming wilder, more daring and adventurous. I tried to understand myself; both the fact that I was fucking a kid and what I wanted from him. I knew what I didn't want, that was easy. I didn't want love and real affection, I didn't want companionship and dates, I didn't need him to be considerate and caring. They were things one gets from a lover, a partner or a husband and, in most ways Richard provided them, albeit in an absentee landlord way. 

Craig supplied something else. He fulfilled another need. A need that I was having difficulty defining, which wasn't really surprising for until we had sex that first time I wasn't even aware that I had the need. Even now, three fucks and a mouth shag into my 'fling' with him, I couldn't define it.

A need for adventure? Maybe. A desire to be wanted? Unlikely. Being found attracted by a young Adonis? No not really. Boredom a relief from the tedium? Partly. A wish to experience someone other than my husband? Yes, but why with a boy?

None of my anguished analysis really got me anywhere. The only conclusions I reached were that I wanted Craig purely for sex, nothing more. But why I wanted him at all, I couldn't fathom. However, I was beginning to reach a not fully thought out conclusion that scared me a little. I was discovering a different side to myself, an alternative me. On the face of things I was a highly respectable, middle class woman, a bulwark of middle England, a stalwart of what a professional man's wife and the mother of his children should be. I had been like that all my life, particularly my married period. I hadn't strayed or even really been tempted although I'd had many opportunities. Richard and I enjoyed a spirited, but by no means 'kinky' or alternative sex life, we didn't swing, share partners or cheat. We weren't into S & M, bondage, pain, dressing up, spanking or anything away from the mainstream. We were just straightforward and, I guess 'normal.' 

Well I had been. What I was starting to realise was that it was just that 'normality' that may well have created my need for Craig. I still wasn't able to rationalise 'the why' fully, but what was forming in my mind was 'the how.' If I was going to stray from my marriage vows then it had to be big time. I didn't just want a one night stand with someone like me. No I wanted a fling with a complete opposite to me and my husband and friends. I didn't want a gentle seduction, dinner then a nice bed with low lights, soft music and tender lovemaking. No I wanted something extreme; I wanted to be screwed up against a wall, still half dressed. I wanted to be fucked in another man's bed. I wanted sex in a public place, a place I would return to and stand there with other people around knowing I had been fucked right there. Yes they were my needs someone different and something different.

I know it didn't make sense, fully, but then what to do with sex does? It's a drive we all have to differing degrees and none of us really understands it fully, but I was trying and thought I was getting there. However, I had to acknowledge that I was probably developing, or suffering from a sort of split personality, the Jekyl and Hyde syndrome.

More Craig smut.

I borrowed Richard's Rangerover for the next match a week or so after the incident in the Porsche. That, incidentally, had ended on a humourous note. When I got home around eight thirty, both the children who were in their early teens were there. As I poured myself a drink, my daughter suddenly said.

"Mum why are your knees dirty?"

They didn't get dirty in the Rangerover, when Craig next fucked me though. In fact he fucked me twice within an hour; it was the first time he had proved his stamina and recovery powers to me, I was impressed and I wanted more.

Our club is in a forest, it is surrounded on all sides by trees and a quite heavily wooded area. It was mid afternoon in mid week, a Thursday I think. It wasn't busy at the club, just half a dozen members and none of Craig's mates all of whom must have been at uni or working. It wasn't a sunny day, but it was dry and reasonably warm, about seventy I guess, with no wind, great tennis weather.

"Come on," he said after we had been practising and were sitting drinking orange juice on the balcony outside the bar overlooking the six courts.

"Where?"

"Let's go for a walk," he replied, smiling.

"Where?"

He nodded towards the woods. That actually made my heart leap a bit for I knew it wasn't just a walk that he was inviting me on.

"You go first, then I'll go out to my car," I said, aware at how nosy people can be.

"God you look fucking raunchy today," Craig said pulling me into his arms and kissing me hard, when we reached a nice thick part of the woods a couple of hundred yards from the club. I was wearing a fairly tight, sleeveless, white top and a pink, also quite tight, very short, silky tennis skirt. I had a nice tan on my legs, arms, shoulders and chest.

"No different to usual," I managed to gasp as my body responded to the way his body had already reacted. His erection felt lovely pushed into my stomach.

"Over here," he said grabbing my hand and pulling me under a large tree, an oak, I think with wide branches that created a canopy. It felt more secluded.

He pressed me back against the huge trunk of the tree and we kissed. He moved his arms, which had been round me, grabbed my wrists, raised them and rested them on the tree trunk above my head. He continued kissing me and squashing my boobs with his chest for a while, but then he broke the kiss. Arching his back and leaning his upper body away from me he looked right into my eyes and started to grind his cock against my pubic mound. I writhed back at it. It was something I had never done before and it felt fantastic, particular when our squirming and writhing brought the bottom of his cock in contact with my clit, which must have found its way out from the folds that usually protected it from such stimulation. He brought our hands down with his still holding my wrists. He pressed my hands onto my boobs and squeezed my fingers so they were squeezing my own flesh through the thin top and bra.

"Let me see you play with your tits Cat," he said quietly.

"No," I sighed, loving the feelings I was giving myself, but feeling shy and embarrassed at the idea of going further.

"Come on baby, let me see those big tittes. Get them out for me. Let me see them in your hands. Play with them as I do."

"Oh Craig."

I squeezed and rubbed my boobs through my top. I was extremely aroused. I was once more, I half realised, fulfilling my need, my newly discovered, but still not fully analysed or understood need. I was having a form of extreme sex, certainly sex of a nature that would have been unthinkable for me just a few short weeks ago.

He put his hands behind and with his back still arched he continued to dry fuck me as I squeezed and rubbed my boobs.

"Get them out," Craig growled.

"No, I can't not here."

"Yes you can," he said slipping his hands inside the waist band of his trackies.

"Someone might come."

That made him smile. "I fucking well hope so, both of us," he smiled.

"I meant come along," I groaned back somewhat pedantically.

"They won't and if they did we would hear them for miles," he went on, his eyes locked on my boobs, which I had continued to rub and squeeze as we spoke.

"It's too risky Craig," I gulped with little conviction as those beautiful feelings started to well up in me.

"No it's not, look," he said sliding his trousers down a bit so that his bum and hips were on show with his cock caught on the inside of the trousers. He moved away and quickly pulled them away then pressed his naked cock back against me. "See."

"Oh God, Craig," I groaned. 

I was excited by the sight of his cock, as I always was. The fact that he had bared it where we were, the feelings it was giving me as he thrust it against my pink skirt, the feelings I was giving myself with my hands on my tits and simply being in the open doing what we were doing all combined tom arouse me enormously.

"Come on," he said taking hold of the hem of my top, which had slipped out from the waist band of my skirt, which I realised was a little too tight for me; a bit of dieting and more gym work were clearly needed.

"No, we might get caught."

"I told you we won't, I've fucked girls here several times" he rather ungallantly advised me adding. "Even should anyone come along they can't see in here and in any case we could always move round the other side as we cover up."

I didn't reply, but the feelings were building up more and more and I hadn't stopped 'playing with myself.' I realised, or I convinced myself quickly, that he was probably quite correct.

He lifted my skirt up and put his cock inside. I was wearing quite full, but nevertheless thin panties. He slid his hand inside my skirt and took hold of the elastic round the leg hole and pulled it away from me. The feel of his cock on my bare stomach and pubes made me gasp and my body jerk. He kissed me, shoved his tongue in my mouth and pushed his cock further inside my panties and up my stomach.

"Come on Cat, get those lovely tits out for me."

I was gone, I'd had it, there was no resistance left. I slid each of the straps off my shoulders and down my arms to past my shoulders.

"Mmmmm, nice," he said looking at my tits in the white, net, almost totally see through bra. When playing with Craig I had pretty much given up wearing sports bras as, incidentally, most of the older women at the club had.

The look in his eyes, the combination of lust, want, desire and admiration made me feel so wanted and adventurous. I pushed the two mounds together.

"Like this," I croaked.

"Yes, for a start," he grunted leaning forward, pushing his tongue into my cleavage and licking all the way up.

I rolled my boobs around for a while, my thumb and forefingers on both hands finding my hardened nipples and relieving their aches by pulling and pinching them, quite hard. His eyes didn't leave my hands as his cock continued giving me delicious feelings probing around on my bare stomach inside my panties. I almost smiled when for some reason the phrase 'talking your way into a girl's knickers' came into my mind for this was literally, the first time a man had been in them, well at least while I was wearing them!

"Get them right out." 

"Really?" I replied coquettishly, knowing now that I would.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I want to see yer tits."

"Just see," I smiled pushing the left strap off my shoulder.

"No."

"What then? I asked pushing the other strap off.

"I want to watch you play with your tits."

"Is that all?" I said scooping one then the other out of the cups."

"No, then I am going to fuck you."

As I delighted and excited myself by caressing, rubbing, stroking and pinching my tits, Craig slid my panties down. He pulled them to mid thigh.

"No take them right off," I said worried that they might gat torn or dirty and I had to wear them back to the club. We fumbled them down my legs and off my feet. He put them in his pocket.

"Don't forget to take them out before your mum washes them," I joked as I continued caressing myself. He bent at the knee so that he could position his cock right against my lips. 

I didn't insist on a condom, though probably I should. When we had done it the first time in the clubhouse, it simply didn't occur to me. I hadn't had a man other than my husband make love to me for so many years and as I was on the pill, it just hadn't entered my mind. After the number of times Craig had now had me, it hardly seemed worth bothering now.

"Come on," I gasped, now wanting him badly.

"It's fucking difficult getting it right like this," he explained.

I understood what he meant for he was a good eight inches taller than me and getting the angle of penetration just right was difficult.

"Let me," I said reaching down, standing on tip toe and trying to get it in me. But I couldn't.

"Oh fuck this," he said making me panic for I thought he was going to stop, but he added. "Turn round."

I did and leaned forward supporting myself by putting my hands against the tree. He lifted my skirt pressed his cock against my pussy, grabbed my hips and thrust himself right up me in one glorious whoosh of sensations. Moulding himself round my body he grabbed my tits and then fucked me fast and furious.

He was right in the two things he'd said about the location. No one did come along, but we both did cum.

Real life.

The move was under two weeks away. The kids were getting more and more excited as I became more and more depressed. I was happy where we were, I had friends and contacts whereas I had nothing in Hertfordshire. I didn't like the country and didn't want to live there, where we were in West London was vibrant, trendy and cool, where we were going was slow and boring. I hated the rambling six, seven or eight, it was hard to count, bedroomed house and I didn't want the large grounds. 

I knew that the move would end the fling with Craig, but that didn't worry me. It had run its course; I knew that an affair based purely on one thing has a limited life cycle. And in any case we had gone as far as I wanted, both sexually and in other ways. If we went on much more I was sure we'd be caught or I would be found out. I was also scaring myself with the eagerness that I was embracing some of the more extreme stuff, such as being fucked under that oak tree or kneeling beside my Porsche, sucking his cock.

Richard came home for a long weekend to sign the final documents on the sale of our house and the transfer to us of the new one. I had been looking forward to it, but as it sometimes did nowadays the mood between us was tense. Sure, we had sex, I guess we had to, but is was symbolic rather than natural; it wasn't bad though.

The final fuck with Craig.

We did it again standing up a la Basic Instinct a week or so after the time in the woods.

As I was being shagged with my legs wrapped round his waist, his hands holding me up by my bum he grunted.

"You liked that in the woods didn't you?"

"Yes," I murmured as we stared into each other's eyes.

"You liked getting your tits out?"

"Yes."

"And playing with them didn't you?"

"Yes, Craig, yes I did," I managed as my climax built up.

"You liked me watching you do it didn't you?" He grunted slowly pumping in and out of me.

"Mmmm, yes," I replied quite dreamily as the sexual feelings boiled over me and I started to cum.

"You know that I move on Thursday," I told him when we spoke on the phone on the Friday before that.

"Yes and that's when I get dumped, right."

"Well luv, not dumped, but I know what you mean."

"Won't you be at the club this weekend?"

"No I can't, Richard's home and we have loads to do."

"Ok, so is that it then?"

"No, I thought you might like to come to the house on Monday."

"You'll be alone?"

"Yes, all night if you want."

It was going to be the end. I knew it as well as Craig did. It was over, finished, dead and buried. But why not go out with a bang, I had thought when I decided to ask him to the house.

"Why not come around seven, I'll do dinner and you can stay the night." I'd told him.

"Oh fuck Cat, you look amazing," Craig said after I had opened the front door and let him into the house.

I had pondered for quite some time thinking how to make this 'last supper' very special; for him and for me. He deserved it. He had helped me find something in myself, not necessarily liking or welcoming what I found, but that wasn't down to him. He had also given me an enormous amount of pleasure and excitement, in fact nobody else had given me so much in such short period as far as I could recall other than my children and that was not a fair comparison..

Naked, after bathing, washing and drying my hair, doing my finger and toe nails, fixing my light make and trimming my pubes, I went into my bedroom. 

Parts of the house were now bare, the removers having taken the non-essential stuff, but the bedroom and main living areas were still fully furnished; I knew we wouldn't use much more than those.

I hadn't worn a suspender belt for years. It felt strange having the tightness of the lace and silk round my tummy and hips, but quite nice. I occasionally wore stockings for Richard, but for many years now they had been hold ups and didn't require the rather old fashioned looking garment I was now wrapping round my body and clipping at the front. That done, I held my breath and pulled my stomach in as I wiggled the 'belt' round me so the clasp was at the back and the four suspenders were in the right places. 

I tore open the cellophane on the packet containing the stockings I had bought just that morning in a Tesco of all places, and lifted out the smooth, dark nylons. They felt good on the skin of my hands and even better as I slid them up my legs. I like wearing stockings. Fiddling them into place I snapped the darker denier stocking tops into the suspenders and stood with my back to the full length mirror. The seams were not quite straight so I messed around with them, even having to undo and snap in again the suspenders on my right leg. My legs tightly together I again looked over my shoulder and felt pleased with both the sight of my pretty trim bum, the stockings and my legs. I put the high heels on, my legs seemed to slim immediately.

Not being that used to wearing sexy undies I had looked at a few glamour sites to get some ideas on what type of panties to wear. It had been looking at the sites that had changed my mind from lacy topped hold-ups to a sussie belt. I had assumed I would wear a thong, but my 'research' and my plan had changed that idea. It had also done something else and that was reveal a curiosity in other women. The girls I saw on the erotic underwear sites were totally gorgeous, they turned me on a bit; could I have bi tendencies I asked myself. Fuck this was becoming such a time of sexual enlightenment for me!

The pure silk of the black, French knickers felt so good in my hands that unconsciously I rubbed them across my breasts. God was that good! I could feel my nipples hardening, I pinched them through the lustrous material. This was getting crazy, if I wasn't careful I would start to cum and then I would masturbate; it was far too early for that so I put the knickers on. I had never worn French knickers before and their loose bagginess felt strange, but the sight of them in the mirror was very sexy. They were cut quite high at the groins and they were full, the elastic at the top going round me just below the lacy top of the suspender belt. The scalloped bottoms flapped a little and moved as I did flashing some of my tummy and a bit of my pubes.




Jekyll and Hyde Ch. 02



The bra was a fairly straightforward job. It was, though cut acutely across each breast only just covering my areola. It was see through being made from gossamer thin lace and net so my swollen nipples made very clear and surprisingly large, I thought, bumps in the material. Oh yes it was also a front loader having a small clasp between my boobs.

A long, ankle length, black lace robe with a tie round my neck completed my 'farewell uniform.' Standing still, as I was looking in the mirror, it covered me, but as I moved it billowed open showing the rest of my gear and large expanses of my body. I was pleased with the effect, but had wondered if it and I were a bit OTT; Craig's comment when I had opened the door told me I wasn't, men are so basic aren't they?.

He came in and immediately took me in his arms and kissed me. It was nice, but not what I wanted. His hands were all over me, pawing and squeezing.

"Not yet, luv," I sighed "This is my show, I'm in charge tonight."

We had a couple of drinks and then we had dinner. It was a simple pasta, carbonarra I think, which I served with crispy French bread, a salad and a nice Chianti. Several times as I served the meal or poured the wine he tried to grab me, but I stopped him. We kissed and he touched me, but I didn't let him caress me. I was finding it interesting to be in charge, something that was quite new to me in sexual situations where Richard always led the way. I was also finding it a huge turn on to be dressed in the overtly sexual and erotic way I was; I realised that sexy undies are not just for the viewer, but for the wearer as well, something that had not registered with me before.

The vodkas before and the bottle of strong, rich Chianti with dinner had made both of us feel mellow and warm. The alcohol had also reduced any minor inhibitions I may have had and had relaxed me. When Craig had first arrived and I had flaunted myself at him in my vamp's gear, I had thought maybe it was a mistake bringing him to my home. I had felt tense and tongue tied and wasn't at all certain that this would turn out to be the memorable farewell I had hoped for. I now felt full confident and assured.

"Come on let's go upstairs," I said around nine.

"Best invitation I've had all night," Craig replied getting up and putting his arm round me.

I led him upstairs and showed him into a spare bedroom. I had toyed for some time as to whether we should have sex in Richard's and my room, after all being fucked by a lover in the marital bed is considered by many to be pretty bad form, but I was feeling particularly naughty. As we were getting all new furniture as part of the move I felt it was ok.

"Give me a couple of minutes," I told him "Then come into my room, I'll be waiting for you."

It was fairly dark for I had turned the lights right down. I would have liked to have used candles, but the smell lingers and that would have been hard to explain, so I had to rely on dimmed lights instead.

I removed my bra and lay on the bed, near to one edge. I wrapped the lacy nightdress round me so the top of my body was pretty much covered, but my nylon clad legs, still with the black patent leather high heels on, poked out. I raised one knee so my foot was on the bed and put my hands behind my head and waited.

The door was slowly pushed back and then Craig came through.

"Jesus Cat, this is fantastic."

"Thanks, come here."

He came over and went to lie beside me.

"No, stand there beside the bed."

"OK, now what?"

"Undress for me, let me see you."

He did that well. Not like a stripper, but confidently and assuredly in the knowledge that he had a good body and a great cock both of which he slowly revealed them to me.

"Mmmm, very nice," I said looking up at his fully erect penis and unusually large balls, which were just above and slightly to one side of my face.

"So?"

"Just watch for a moment," I told him, sliding my arms from above my head to down by my sides. I kept my eyes on his loving that look of lust and other emotions, which I'd seen many times; he had very expressive eyes. 

I slipped my hands inside the robe and found my bare breasts. I cupped them and took the nipples, which were of course already hard as they had been almost continuously since I had donned the sexy outfit, between my thumbs and forefingers. I knew that he couldn't see what I was doing, but he must have guessed.

"Pull it open Craig," I croaked feeling immensely worked up. I was in my element, but had no real idea why.

"Oh my lord, oh Christ," he groaned as he saw my bare tits and my hands caressing them.

I smiled. "Like that?" I asked rolling them together as I squeezed and pinched the soft, yielding flesh.

"Like it, I fucking love it," he grunted starting to get onto the bed.

"No, stay there," I said sharply, running one of my hands downwards and stroking my tummy.

"Why?"

"Just do as I say, ok?"

"Ok," he said slowly standing up alongside the bed again watching my vampishly, scarlet painted fingernails of my right hand slide inside the elastic waistband of my black, silk French knickers.

His hand, involuntarily it seemed, but exactly as I'd hoped, went to his cock. He stroked its length a couple of times with his fingertips before gripping it.

"Ok?"

"Oh yes Craig, very much so," I breathed back. I adore seeing a man wank himself.

My fingers inside my panties stroked across my mound and down to the start of that slit, which holds the most sexually sensitive part of a woman's body. I parted the folds and exposed my clit to my other hand which I had slithered down my tingling skin to go also inside the French knickers. Our eyes were flittering from looking at what the other's hands were doing to holding the other's gaze. It was a hugely erotic atmosphere.

He pumped a little harder, he cupped his balls with his other hand and the look in his eyes became more intense, yet at the same time a little dreamy. I opened my legs to give me room so that I could slide one set of fingertips along my slit. I was deliciously wet. Holding the middle finger of one hand right on my clit and rubbing it, whilst I stroked my lips with the fingertips on the other hand I looked right into his eyes.

"Do you want to see?"

"Of course I do, let me see you Cat."

"Then pull my panties down," I whispered very huskily.

Leaning forward so he could reach the waistband of my knickers brought his beautiful cock very close to my face. I almost grabbed it, I nearly licked it, I came so close to taking it into my mouth, but I didn't, all that could wait, after all we had all night.

I lifted my bum off the bed as he peeled the knickers down my legs and saw where my fingers were. Holding his gaze, I opened my legs further and raised my knees so he could see even more clearly the location of my fingers. 

Staring intently at me he whispered "Oh Cat, you have a gorgeous cunt." 

Other than Richard a couple of times early into our relationship no one had ever stared at let alone commented on me there and certainly nobody, not even Richard had told me that I have a gorgeous cunt. Although I hadn't then, and still don't now, have any idea what constitutes gorgeous when referred to a cunt, I liked hearing him say it.

I stroked myself as he pumped himself harder.

"You're gonna have to let me on that bed soon Cat."

"Why?"

"Because I am getting so near."

I smiled but said nothing as I watched his long deliberate strokes and saw his eyes on my fingers. I had taken them away a little so he could look at my 'gorgeous cunt.' I stared deep onto his eyes as I pressed the back of my little finger on one hand with the thumb on that hand and closed those into my palm. I straightened the three middle fingers. With the fingers on my other hand I firstly stroked then eased apart my lips.

"Ok?" I whispered.

"Oh yes, but I'm very near."

"Good that's what I want Craig," I croaked.

"What are you going to do?"

"Watch," I groaned moving the three straightened fingers so they were between my legs. I held his gaze as I then whispered very croakily. "I am going to fuck myself Craig," before shoving those three straight fingers right up my cunt.

"Oh fuck," he grunted "That's fantastic."

"So is that," I managed to say nodding at him pumping his cock as I rammed my fingers up and down inside my pussy. I was getting very near myself.

"Let me fuck you." 

"No, I don't want that."

"You want me to cum?"

"Yes I do, that's what I want."

"Ok," he grunted rubbing faster and harder.

"Do you want to cum?" I asked.

"Yes, yes I do, badly."

"Craig?"

"Yes Cat."

"Where do you want to cum?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know."

"What?"

I was cumming. I held those fingers rigid inside me, the knuckle of my thumb pressed firmly on my clit. It was amazing.

"Do you want to cum on me?"

"Oh Cat yes."

"Where? On my stomach, on my tits?"

"On your face, let me cum on your face and tits."

Nobody, not even Richard had shot their load on my face. But I let my toyboy Craig do that and I got soaked. As my body convulsed and I raised my bum from the bed writhing with the self induced orgasmic sensations, so a torrent of white sperm gushed from his cock, which he pointed at my face from just a foot or so. It hit me first on my right cheek, then across my right eyelid. As he or I moved I then got splashes on my forehead, nose and finally my lips; only a few globules landed on my tits. 

*

Addendum

As you will have seen the other side of me really came out with Craig. The next part of this bio should be published within a few days, but if you can't wait, mail me and I may send you a preview edition.

Thanks for reading and don't forget the feedback, but please, not anonymous. 



Jekyll and Hyde Ch. 03



This is the third in a series of accounts of the juicier aspects of my life. Although I hope it stands alone as an erotic narrative, it would probably be preferable for continuity if the first two parts were read first. Your choice though and let me know what you think.

Thanks 

Cat

*

The Craig aftermath.

The move went well, but then Richard and his assistant, they are no longer secretaries or even PAs, had planned it and everything they did always went well. I wasn't that involved, but then I wasn't needed, after all it was only my fucking house. Actually, that's not a good definition for no one other than Richard has fucked me there, unlike the house in Richmond where Craig had spectacularly fucked me three times after cumming on my face that night of our last supper.

I did see Craig again for we had to complete that competition, but we both knew it was over. Having him cum on my face, fuck me three times in my house and sleep all night with me had brought closure to our fling, we both knew that. I was tempted a couple of times when I would see his number in my addresses on my phone and he called once and suggested a 'for old time get together,' but I didn't. 

Although I hated the house and its location I made the best of it. Over the next couple of years, I had it decorated from top to bottom, completely refurnished it and had a big conservatory built on the back overlooking the large lawn and a wooded area. There was a large, overhanging oak tree in there that as I typed at my desk reminded me of being shagged from behind by Craig; nice memories to have as I edited mainly boring magazine articles and the occasional book.

I got bored. Although he'd promised to travel less, he didn't, nothing changed. The kids were doing great at school, he was doing great with his job and I was stultifying. I still disliked the house even though I had spent a fortune on it and I hated the boring countryside of Hertfordshire. On top of all that 2006 was here and what was worse it was going very quickly, June was approaching at an alarming rate. And the big event in June 2006? It wasn't the world cup either it was my fortieth fucking birthday.

Richard well and his crow of an assistant, organised a party at the Dorchester, he took me to the Villa d'Este on Lake Guarda for a week and bought me a big diamond. It was all nice and we had some good sex, but I was depressed. I knew that when all the celebrations were over not much would change, but I would still be over forty, bollocks.

I started golf lessons and quite enjoyed it. Richard arranged for me to be coached by a young pro at his club and, by god, was I tempted? He was good looking, had a lovely personality and was quite bright but did not have the level of intellect necessary for my panties to come off. 

On the second day it rained all day, it often does in that region of Northern Italy. The clouds sometimes seem to get caught on the mountains and they just stay there dumping their rain. It's surprising that when it does rain at a holiday resort, just how little there is to do.

"Why don't I take some fortieth photos of you, sort of commemorate your birthday?" Richard suggested.

Although it was raining it was still quite warm and we sitting on the balcony of our suite looking out over the lake.

"Richard, being forty isn't something most women and me particularly do not wish to celebrate."

"I know that but just a few portraits."

Richard had always been keen on photography, but didn't really have the time to spend on it. He had the money, though and was always buying new cameras and other stuff and for Christmas I had bought him a Canon digital SLR, which he had wanted.

I was wearing jeans and a white blouse, nothing special and certainly not clothes to commemorate a really special occasion, but I agreed.

Not smut, but a tad sexy.

He took a number of photos of me from different angles and with me in a variety of poses. I was quite used to posing for him for he was always taking snaps, especially when we were on holiday.

"Open another button," he said squinting at me through the lens.

"What?"

"Your blouse looks a bit too tight."

"If I open another button I'll show a lot of cleavage."

"So, I can handle that."

"Yes I know darling you handled it and more last night didn't you?"

"Well yes, but why so much cleavage?"

"I'm wearing a new bra, one of those I bought in Milan; it's Italian and on the small side for me."

"Well why not take it off then?"

"And have you photograph me?"

"Why not, it might be er fun."

He was right, it was fun. I did undo the extra button, I did show him a deep cleavage, he did photograph it and I did remove my bra.

"Put the blouse back on."

"Richard what are you up to?"

"Cat this is good, I'm enjoying it. Please."

I did as he asked. He photographed me with the blouse done up, the thin cotton stretched across my boobs, my nipples, which I realised had hardened, clearly on view.

"You won't show these to anyone will you?" I croaked realising I was getting worked up.

"Of course not, now undo the buttons one by one."

As I did that looking down and occasionally looking at the camera, Richard took loads of shots of me.

"Undo it and let it hang."

The edges of the blouse caught on my immensely erect nipples as if that is what they were designed for, they were in the right places and were the right size.

I had never done anything like this and I did feel shy when we had started, but now that had gone and I was enjoying myself.

"Now undo the jeans."

"No Richard we can't," I said, but, and I could hardly believe this, I wanted to.

When I had undone my belt and the zip on my jeans it all kicked off. He shot me topless in my jeans, undoing the jeans and taking them off. He took loads of me in my panties including me lying on my back, him kneeling across me. His erection was very evident as he croaked.

"Now the panties Cat."

I demurred at first, but eventually they came off and Richard photographed me like that, I was half expecting him to tell me as Craig had, that I had a gorgeous cunt, but Richard is always slow on the compliments. We did though have sex and it was brilliant. Posing for your lover as he photographs you was, I recognised, the perfect foreplay.

A couple of evenings later we were getting ready for dinner at a posh restaurant just round the lake.

"Stay right like that," he said as he came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel.

I was in my underwear, a black bra and thong and one stocking, and was just pulling the other holdup up my leg.

"I must shoot you like that."

"We can't we'll be late for dinner."

I watched incredulously as he picked up the phone, called the concierge and told him to cancel the restaurant.

"And send the waiter up in forty five minutes so we can order room service," He went on getting his camera from the bag. "On the bed Cat I so want to get you in that outfit."

He snapped away as I, now far less self consciously, rolled around on the bad striking up my own poses and removing my bra with little hesitation when he asked. 

He was beside the bed snapping away as I rolled my breasts together and pinched my nipples into even larger lumps than they had become involuntarily. I could see the outline of his erection under the towel, it was so tempting. I gave into it, rolled onto my side, pulled the towel so it fell away from him, grabbed his erectioon and started licking and sucking him. Just what happened to the camera I have no idea.

Back home.

So I was forty, fuck it. I didn't like it. I didn't like being 'early middle aged' and I didn't like the prospect of my next big number birthday being my fiftieth. I didn't like the way my life seemed to be rushing away, the way my husband was never around and the way that my children were drifting from us. Fourteen and sixteen year olds like to show their independence, that's natural and we had brought ours up to be that way. But with all the other things going on the thought that within five years both would probably be gone and be at university was a chilling prospect.

So I got a job. A proper job, well a part time proper job, one where I had to go to an office to work I mean as opposed to working from home as I had for years. It was in a marketing and promotions agency. They did lots of research both for clients, their own use and for publication. They needed someone to edit the reports, present them in a readable form and create and maintain a database of materials for use in their research.

I'm not sure why I got it, but it seemed a good idea at the time. We didn't need the money and it was a bit tiresome commuting to Covent Garden from St Albans each day, but it sounded like fun and the work appeared to be interesting. Bear in mind I had never really worked in an office other than as the boss so it was all new to me. And strangely I loved it. I liked the buzz in the place, the camaraderie of being part of a team, meeting new people from walks of life I rarely experienced who I had nothing common with but the job, the office politics, the going out for a drink after work and, of course, the flirtation. PC hadn't reached such agencies then and so many of the comments were quite ribald; I just loved it. I also loved kitting myself out. I had to buy a range of casual office clothes, jeans, trousers, tops, cardis that sort of stuff and several uniforms for client meetings, power suits in black, blue, red and white; I bought each suit with both trousers and a skirt.

I suppose it was inevitable. Maybe it was what I was looking for? Perhaps I saw work as a means to an end? Possibly deep down I imagined I would meet men in no strings situations? I really don't know, but it was and I did. But I swear I never looked for it or promoted it, things like Patrick and me just happen, I don't think they can be planned.

In some ways I guess it was a classic office romance, a predictable work colleagues' affair. But to me it was not that. I think Patrick could well have been the true love of my life and I feel I was that to him.

Patrick was one of the directors and he was my boss. He was just a little older than me, forty five and lived in Hadleigh Woods a very upscale North London suburb which was just a few miles from where I lived. He too was married with two children. His wife was known in the office and didn't seem to be liked. She was heavily into politics and was a local Tory party councillor, but was trying to get adopted for a parliamentary seat in Kent so she was away from home quite a lot. As we got to know each, many other similarities emerged.

I suppose it developed and followed a fairly predictable path.

We worked closely together, probably closer than was really necessary.

We had to attend meetings together, both in the office and at clients' premises, most of which were in London, but some were round the country; we usually travelled together.

We got to know each, we talked of many things including our personal lives, dangerous.

We started to work late together, we had lunches, sometimes with clients, but more often just the two of us, ostensibly to discuss work.

We had drinks after work, just the two of us, he gave me lifts to the station and then.

"Maybe we could have dinner one night Cat, perhaps when we are both at a loose end having been partner dumped?"

Ok. The intimacy trail or, the road to a fuck.

Staying late at the office, mild flirting, lifts to the station, the odd drinks after work even lunch are all part of work. Yes they may be extensions of it and they may bring the participants closer together, but they can always be viewed as work; they are usually in work time so they can be justified as that. Dinner is different. It's out of work hours, it isn't part of the working day, it intrudes on one's personal time and cannot really be justified. I could no more say to Richard that I was going to dinner with Patrick my boss than Patrick could say to his shrew of a wife that he was taking me out. You can wrap it how you will but dinner, even between work colleagues is a date, it's as simple as that. But rather than say 'come on a date' we use the euphemism 'let's have dinner.' Both know, though, exactly what it is and what's going on; we certainly did. Patrick was trying to extend our relationship, take it beyond work mould it into friendship or more, he was extending a guarded invitation to me to go out with him. Yes Patrick was inviting me to take another step along the intimacy trail. I strode out with little hesitation on that road to be fucked.

"Yes that would be nice," was my hesitant reply.

It didn't go anywhere. We got on well, we chatted easily, we found out lots about each other, but it ended when he dropped me at Kings Cross. I think we were both too nervous and concerned that we would do something to upset the other.

That said, I was feeling differently about him. I looked for him from my cubby hole as he walked round the large open plan office or I glanced into his glass walled office through the vertical blinds as I passed by, which I seemed to do more frequently. I looked forward to our daily meetings and to presenting stuff to him as just the two of us sat in his office with the door closed, sometimes our arms or legs touching. When he touched me, perhaps guiding me through a doorway before him, they were now more than mere touches, they felt like caresses. When he looked at me his stare became more than a glance in my direction it became a look of lust, I felt as if he was undressing me as, increasingly I was mentally doing to him. 

We had dinner again. This time when he dropped me at Kings Cross Station he got out of the car, came round opened the door and stood there as I got out. He stared at me, put his hand on my shoulder and said.

"I have really enjoyed tonight Cat, thanks so much."

He kissed me on my cheek. It was like an electric shock. We both just stood there a moment or two. Involuntarily I touched where he had kissed me with my fingertips, his hand was still resting on my shoulder. I whispered.

"So have I Patrick, thank you."

And still neither moved. Then I felt his hand on my shoulder as he applied some pressure. Slowly we closed the gap between us. He pressed his body against mine and buried his face in my champagne, blonde coloured hair.

"Maybe Catherine, I have enjoyed it a little too much, if you know what I mean?" he said quietly, his hand running down my arm and resting on my hip.

I felt surprisingly calm. Although my heart was pounding and a heat was oozing through my body from the pit of my tummy to my breasts and nipples, I managed to hold on.

"Yes Patrick I do," I sighed as his hand found mine and held it.

"So what would Missus Cat say if I gave her a proper kiss goodnight?" He surprisingly, but very welcomingly asked.

I didn't reply, but instead I inclined my head slightly so we were looking at each other and let the expression in my eyes say what I was thinking as a reply. Well not exactly for right then my reply would have been, 'Yes kiss me, shove your tongue in my mouth and rip my clothes off.'

Instead I moulded into his arms and we kissed. It was long, loving and wonderful.

That night for the first time it was Patrick who fucked me, well in my mind as I masturbated.

A week later, no less than that, neither of us could have waited a week.

We were in the office and found ourselves alone in the coffee room.

He blurted out. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about the other evening Cat."

"I know," I quickly replied.

"Was it ok?"

"Yes."

"I wasn't out of order then?"

"No."

Then someone else came in.

'We need to talk' the email from Patrick said.

'Yes,' I typed back.

'Soon.'

'Yes, I agree.'

'I'm at meetings all afternoon, sod it.'

'Hmmmmm"' I sent.

'I'm in the car today, how about I give you a lift home?'

'It's so out of your way,' I replied my heart pumping at the thought of ther best part of an hour or so alone with him.

We talked a lot as we crawled through the North London traffic. St Albans is ten miles or so further out from London past Hadleigh Woods, so I had insisted he drop me a station near his home. In any case he and Marcia, the shrew, were entertaining that evening and Richard was home, so we didn't have too much time. 

Richard had checked the time of the trains and we had twenty minutes to wait at Potters Bar station. He pulled away from the station entrance into the semi darkness of the car park.

"I have never felt like this Cat," he said half turning towards me and holding my hand. "Do you know what I mean?"

Do I know what he means? He'd only shagged me about six times so far and I had sucked his cock twice.

"Yes," I replied quietly and demurely.

As Richard rolled on top of me later that evening and I opened my legs, in my mind it was Patrick. As my husband entered me and kissed me it was the memory of Patrick's lips on mine in the car park that so aroused me. And as my husband fucked me, quite nicely as he always does, it was the recall of Patrick touching my breast that sent me over the top. I have often wondered what might have happened in Potters Bar station car park if my train hadn't been due just after Patrick stroked and squeezed my breast

We had been to a client meeting and had to return to the office to collect stuff, Patrick for a trip he was making to Dublin the next day, me to collect my laptop. 

I was wearing a black, lightweight wool, Donna Karan suit with a skirt. The jacket had four buttons up the front so there was no need to wear anything, other than a bra under it.

We were standing in his office, he pulled me to him. We kissed, very strongly. My mouth was wide open, our lips were squirming together and his tongue was plunging and delving. I was gasping and sighing with pleasure and delight. He found my breast and squeezed it with just the right amount of pressure. Our kissing became more furious. I was ruffling his hair and running my hand up and down his back as he thrust himself at me. He was stunningly hard. One hand was inside my jacket, on my breast, outside my bra, the other was squeezing and cupping my bum. That hand ran up my legs taking the skirt with it. He bunched it round my hips at the back and stroked and rubbed my bum through my black tights. My jacket had come undone and he had eased one of my boobs from my bra. He was slipping his fingers inside my tights at the back, touching the top of my bare bum. I was playing my part. It was very much mutual. His shirt was undone, he'd removed his jacket earlier. As the sensations he was giving me from stroking the bare flesh of my boobs, pinching my nipples and now cupping the naked cheeks of my bum inside my tights, I was pressing, rubbing and holding his erection outside his trousers.

It was the act of him starting to push my tights down that got to me. I broke away.

"No, Patrick."

"I'm sorry, I went too far."

"It's not that?"

"What is it?"

"Not here, not where we work, it's too, I don't know, sordid."

"Yes, yes I understand," he said cradling me in his arms again.

"It was ok then, I wasn't out of line."

"No," I whispered, adding without really thinking "But somewhere else," as I pulled my skirt down, and straightened that and the jacket.

"Yes of course, I understand."

A week or so later, during which time we hadn't been together hardly at all for Patrick was involved in board meetings and the annual budgets, Richard was home and I was busy with open evenings at the children's schools, Richard called me into his office. 

"RBS need us to go through that image research you recently wrote for them."

One of my key jobs was to take the information produced by the boffin-like researchers and produce readable reports in relatively understandable English. Sometimes, I would then develop PowerPoint presentations that one of the Account people and occasionally if the client was big enough, Patrick himself, would present to the client. The Royal Bank of Scotland was certainly big enough. 




Jekyll and Hyde Ch. 03



"But you will have to come with me," he said smiling as I stood in his office a few evenings later.

"To Edinburgh?"

"Yes."

"OK no problem."

He went serious and looked me in the eyes as he fiddled with the report I'd produced.

"Er, um, it could mean an overnight stay."

I realised what he probably meant and I too became serious as the decision he was asking to make hit me.

"I see, really."

"Well maybe we could get there and back in a day, but it might be a rush and that can be tiring, I've done it several times."

"Will it just be you and me?"

"Maybe, but we'll possibly need one of the geeks there just in case they have any of theirs and they want to start asking questions on the statistical validity of sample sizes and other such research bullshit."

"Hmmm."

"What?"

"Won't that er, make things a little awkward?"

"Yes it could, but would you come?"

That made me smile. "Well that would have little to do with the geek would it?"

Patrick laughed, "I hope not, look I'll fix something to get him or her out of our way, will you er, accompany me to Edinburgh."

We both laughed.

The presentation went well and Ken, the research guy went straight to the airport after it. Patrick had arranged and had mentioned it in the presentation that he and I would be having further meetings the next day. So after saying goodbye to Ken we got a cab from the marketing department's meeting rooms in the Old Town to Princes Street. We had a cup of tea at one of the cafes looking out onto the wide, busy main road and chatted.

"Was it ok with Richard you coming up here?"

"Yes, he's so wrapped up in his business he doesn't pay much attention to such trivia as my work."

"So it wasn't a problem you staying overnight."

"No, but I did imply there would be more than just you and me."

Smiling he held my hand. That seemed odd. It also seemed very erotic. So far, Patrick had touched me very intimately, but only my breasts, but that was when we were alone, naturally. Such a demonstration of affection in public was not only very welcome, but was also just right for the occasion. We were going to sleep together, we were going to make love and have sex, we both knew that and this show of tenderness and affection positioned this assignation perfectly; it said most clearly to both of us 'It's a lot more than merely sex.'

As we sat there in silence watching the world go by holding hands, memories of that fling with Craig some three years ago came into my mind. Being with him in public was unlikely, holding hands would have been unthinkable. With him I simply wanted the excitement, thrills and pleasures of no strings attached sex. I wanted adventure and anything new. I didn't want affection, endearment or love, just simple, straightforward sex. I wanted Craig to fuck me as often as I wanted him to, where and when I wanted him. Nothing more and nothing less. It wasn't like that with Patrick. I didn't want to be fucked by Patrick, I wnated us to make love. Whereas I had let, maybe even encouraged, Craig to screw me up against the wall in the pavilion, I couldn't bring myself to have sex with Patrick in the office. This was different again, this was affection, this was new to me as a mature woman for I was beginning to think that I was falling in love with Patrick.

We walked to the hotel pulling our overnight trolleys just like business colleagues, which we were of course, in fact so far that's all we were. Soon though, that was going to change, we were going to become lovers.

We were staying at the Rocco Forte, Balmoral, which is at number one Princes Street. It was exquisite. I had stayed there before with Richard, when it was simply The Balmoral. Then it was elegantly old fashioned, now it was super elegantly modern. It was wonderful.

"I booked two rooms," Patrick said as we strolled through the stylish, mainly black and white reception. "What do you want to do?" He asked after we had both checked in.

"What do you mean?"

"Never mind, what now?"

"Well I have a few calls to make and a need a shower so how about a drink in the bar in what, an hour?"

"Fantastic, where would you like to eat?"

"Quite frankly Patrick I am happy to eat in the hotel."

"Good idea, why have the hassle of finding somewhere."

I called home and spoke to both children who had found the whole idea of mum going away on business a real hoot. They were actually quite interested, or said they were, in what I was doing so I chatted to them for the best part of half an hour undressing as I did. I then chatted to Mary who was one half of the amazing couple who did so much for us, from her babysitting and looking after the children to the point they looked on her as a surrogate granny, her housekeeping and sheer friendship. On top of that her partner Roy was an electrician plus; he just knew everything there was to know about anything to do with building, decorating, plumbing and simply houses in general. He had been my, as I termed him, project manager on renovating the old pile I had to live in. I could work out how things looked and I had no difficulty whatsoever in spending the best part of two hundred thousand pounds turning the St Albans hovel into something reasonable, but am hopeless mechanically or with buildings. Roy kept everyone on the straight and narrow through the refurbishment 

Everything was cool at home, and yes they would call me on my mobile, I'd avoided saying where I was staying when they asked by saying that it was a wonderful hotel looking up to Edinburgh Castle; they didn't ask the name. I called Richard, quite aware that it was only early afternoon in New York and left a voice mail explaining that I was at a 'thing' with RBS, I had previously told him I was going to Scotland, and probably wouldn't be able to answer if he called. Us not talking for a few days was nothing unusual as generally we lived in two different time as well as, increasingly, lifetime zones.

After clicking off, I was down to my panties and I realised just what a scheming, conniving bitch I could be. It then struck me, that I was about to get ready to commit adultery and that hit me hard. It didn't, though, stop me putting on underwear to be undressed in and a low cut at the front, zip right up the back, tight, just above the knee black dress.

"Oh my lord," Patrick said as the dress slipped down my body and crumpled into a pool round my black patent, high heeled covered feet. "You look absolutely amazing Cat, thank you."

Dinner had gone well. We both got slightly tipsy and we exchanged confessions that we'd never done this before; I sort of let Craig slip from my memory, as I imagined my forty five or so year old, awfully attractively, potential lover may have done with some of his likely peccadilloes. 

There was no doubt or worry in either of our minds that we were going to do it. It was becoming as inevitable as night following day, but then looking out the window in this northern outpost it was so much lighter than it would be in London, I did wonder a little.

"Your room or mine?" He asked as he ground his erection against me.

We were kissing in the lift on the way up to the sixth and top floor where the rooms with the best views of the castle are located. What a deliciously, sordid thing that is, kissing in a lift. Ok I realise that's the thinking of a mature, married woman and not all age groups would agree, but I bet there's loads of you out there that do agree with me.

I had no preference really, my focus was becoming fully directed to sleeping with Patrick, not worrying about where.

"Which comes first," I mumbled though his lips covering mine.

"Woops, I see it's yours," I giggled as he pushed me through the door and kissed me. I was hellishly nervous.

Even though I had no experience of such things, other than Craig and before that my husband when he 'seduced' me, I think what happened over the next few hours was probably a classic start to a love affair; at least that's what the books indicate.

We went onto Patrick's room. We kissed and slowly he undressed me. He unzipped my dress, let it fall to the ground and he ogled my sexy underwear; black bra, thong and lacy topped hold ups, no suspender belt this time! 

We sat on the edge of the bed kissing, his arm was round my shoulders pulling me to him. That was nice, I felt warm and wanted. I undid his shirt and ran my fingers over his nicely hairy chest. He caressed my boobs outside my bra and then fumbled his fingers inside one cup and stroked that boob and nipple. 

I was getting very aroused indeed and that combined with my surprisingly high level of nervousness was giving very strong and new to me sensations. My body and mind were in perfect, yet uncoordinated, sync as I am sure my temperature soared and my heart and pulse rates started to race.

With the usual lack of dexterity shown by men he fiddled the clasp of the bra strap undone, why on earth aren't they given lessons at school in removing bras! The wait, though, was worth it when he took the cups of the bra away from each of my boobs and grasping them he leaned forward and tenderly kissed each of my nipples, which had of course reared up to their fullest and hardest. I held his head and cradled his face to my breasts. He slowly pushed me backwards so I was laying flat on the bed, my legs dangling over the side, his chest crushing my right breast as we kissed, our tongues sweeping all over the insides of the other's mouth. His mouth alternated from my lips to my breasts and nipples as his hand left my chest and slithered downwards. It went onto the bottom of each boob, across my lower chest, onto my waist, his finger probing my tummy button, past the elastic waist band of the flimsy thong and right onto my pubic mound. He pressed me there, I grunted and my body jerked.

"Oh God," I heard myself say as his finger found my clit from outside the silk of the tiny panties.

"Nice?"

"Oh Patrick," I groaned my mouth trying to devour his lips as my hand frantically searched for the hardness it wanted to feel. I found it just as he started to rub my clit. That did me, that sent me over the top. He had been priming me for this all day and now as soon as he touched me I exploded, what a girly thing to do.

I clamped my thighs together trapping his hand in there as I climaxed, quick, hard, fully and so wonderfully yet disappointingly.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled as the beautiful feelings roared all over me.

"Don't be darling, it was wonderful, it was lovely to see you like that."

"I feel a bit silly," I told him as he cuddled me and held me close to him as slowly my orgasm subsided.

"Don't worry."

"That hasn't happened to me since, oh never mind."

"No tell me."

"Well since I first went with Richard," I mumbled, realising I was on dodgy ground. Fortunately he didn't ask the question, 'And who might that have been with?'

Lying on a bed in a hotel clad just in panties and stockings, being cuddled by a man who has not only just made me cum, but is also the person I feel I may be falling in love with, is clearly an exciting situation. But for quite some time, we just lie there, cuddling, occasionally kissing and touching each other. I, certainly and I think Patrick as well, was simply in awe of the situation and we didn't want to do anything that might break the spell.

"You really do have a lovely body Cat," he whispered kissing the top of my head and cupping my breast. Of course, he had never seen me as good as naked before, I realised. 

I smiled. "Thank you kind sir, but talking about bodies.................?" I said leaving the sentence unfinished, but pulling on his shirt. He rolled away from me, slipped his shirt off and started undoing his trousers. As he slid his boxers off and his erection jumped out he looked at me so I slid my panties off as well.

"I have visualised us being like this so many times," he whispered pulling me against his nakedness. "Have you Cat?"

"Yes endlessly," I answered truthfully reaching for his erection and stroking it, sort of gratefully I suppose, almost as if he was giving me a present.

He really did feel good against me and I revelled in our bodies touching from our lips to our toes. He stroked my buttocks and kissed my nipples; he cupped and squeezed my breasts and ran his hands over my tummy. I kissed him hard and ran my fingers through his hair. I let his hairy chest graze my nipples and I ran my nails down his back and onto the taught cheeks of his beautifully, manly bum. He pressed his fingers against my mound and clit and I continued fondling his erection. It was magically erotic stuff as we built up to the inevitable. I was on my back, he was on top, I opened my legs, he was between them, I felt his cock against me and he pushed gently and enquiringly. And then wonderfully, magically, amazingly and so fucking incredibly hornilly he shoved his cock right up my cunt. I gasped at the sheer power of the sensations as he surged deeply into me and I gripped him even more tightly if that was possible.

"Oh God Patrick."

"Ok Cat?"

"Oh yes, yes Patrick I am so very ok."

And then we made love. Beautiful love, wonderful love, complete love, twice. He was clearly not the stud that Craig was, but now he was my lover and I didn't want or need a stud!

Clean talk.

My affair went on. It became increasingly intense. Our need for each other, both emotionally and sexually, seemed to increase the more we were together. We naturally became closer and closer and inevitably, we fell in love. We both struggled to resist that, or at least, not admit to it, either to ourselves or, more particularly, to each other, but in the end we did, of course.

I hadn't felt anything so emotionally powerful since the early days with Richard, but even those I couldn't recall being quite as strong as what I felt for Patrick; maybe the forbidden, even impossible, nature of what we were doing was fuelling our emotions. When we were apart I felt morose and could think of little else than being with him. And then when I saw him my heart really did pound and my pulses raced. Sitting in my little 'work cubicle' I would see him come into the open plan office and go to his office as my eyes as surreptitiously as possible would follow his every movement. I would know when he was about to arrive for usually we had spoken on the phone just moments before; I had bought a pay as you go phone specifically for talking to him. As he entered his glassed in office with the vertical blinds, so I would feel the heat welling up in my loins and breasts and my yearning for him would reach almost fever pitch.

After the first couple of weeks of the affair as it became obvious to both of us that it was more than just a little fling, not that either of us had really had any of those; Craig apart for me of course, we settled into a routine. 

Although Patrick's wife and my husband were either out or away from home a lot, other commitments made meeting as often as we would like very difficult. We were able to sneak the odd whole evening together when both of our spouses were absent and we were able to fix something for our children. That would usually be an early dinner and then leisurely sex in a hotel bedroom. We had similar 'get togethers' several times in the afternoons. They had to be days I wasn't working for I couldn't just sneak off from the office as he could, although as I got more involved with clients so my diary management became more down to me than anyone else and I could sneak time for my lover.

However, if we had had to rely on the odd evening and the infrequent afternoon in the romantic setting of hotel rooms for our affair then it would have been even more frustrating than it was. Fortunately we didn't.

I don't want to make what we did sound too sordid or overly calculating and disloyal to my family on my part. Also I don't want to go into exhaustive explanations to explain the background to how we came to start fucking in the office, in his car and at our homes. The first two locations were exciting, but a little tacky. The latter, having one's lover come to one's home, was extremely morally dubious, but when you are in love and are having an affair the normal rules and moral standards go out the window somewhat. I'm not trying to justify the fact that we had sex in our marital homes, simply explain the lengths that married lovers will go to in search of fulfilment.

A bit tacky.

"You coming to the station Cat?"

"No I have some stuff I have to finish this evening, Patrick needs it for tomorrow, I explained to Charlotte a brand manager who lived my way.

"Well don't stay too late," she said walking out and leaving me with just two other colleagues who were having a meeting. 

They seemed to take an endless time to wind up their business, but eventually they left.

I knocked on Patrick's door as we'd arranged.

"They've gone."

We were in each other's arms almost immediately.

We both badly wanted to be together that day. It was a Tuesday and we hadn't even seen each other, let alone had sex since the previous Tuesday even though I had increased my work days to three a week. 

Something had cropped up for Patrick that prevented us meeting for lunch, I couldn't get away from the office in the afternoon and neither of us could spend a great deal of the evening in a hotel bed. We'd discussed this in a series of phone calls on the Monday and Tuesday morning.

He shut the blinds and we looked out across the larger open plan outer office as we kissed and caressed each other. His hands were all over my breasts. I was wearing a crisp, white blouse, quite tight jeans, knee length 'stockings' and heels. His hand slid ropund me right onto the cheeks of my bum. He gripped them and pulled me hard against his erectio, it felt wonderful.

"Jesus, Cat, I want you so much, I've been hard all day thinking of this."

"Well you've held onto it well," I smiled, grinding my mound against it.

"And now I'm gonna use it and get rid of it," he sighed squeezing my bum even harder.

"Christ Patrick, we can't here," I groaned my hand gripping his erection through the thin wool of his trousers.

"Can't we Cat? Why not?" He said getting up and locking the door. He put the lights out, walked back to his desk and perched his bum on the edge with, his legs crossed at the ankles and pushed out straight in front of him. "Nobody comes in the office this time of night and even if they did they can't see in here."

"We shouldn't."

"Still too sordid is it?" He laughed.

Smiling, I replied. "It was too sordid for our first time."

"And now Cat, now we've fucked a few times, is still too sordid?"

My resistance, if there had been any in the first place, almost immediately evaporated, I loved the dirty talk, I saw the logic in what he was saying and that other side of me, the Hyde I think, took over. That wanted thrills and excitement, it wanted different sex, extreme stuff and risky places, just as it had with Craig. I felt bold, adventurous and confident.

I walked towards him my eyes locked on his, my fingers fumbling at the buttons on my blouse. The first came open just after I started moving, the second when I had covered about half the distance between us and the third when I was standing just a couple of feet away from him. Staring straight into his eyes I slowly undid the remainder as his eyes seemed to plunge into my cleavage and my boobs inside the thin, dainty white bra.

"But it's not too sordid for later times," I smiled as he cupped my breasts, which I had sort of proffered to him. 

I undid his zip. I wanted to feel his cock so badly that nearly all rational thought went from my mind. He pulled my tits out of my bra. I stopped him, removed it completely without removing the blouse, a trick every girl knows, but few men comprehend, and dropped it into my bag. I was working on the basis that it would easier to button my blouse up rather than struggle with a half full and half empty bra if the unexpected happened, so some rational thought was still around! On top of that I felt deliciously wanton being in my workplace, with my blouse open to the waist and my bare breasts bouncing around. Visions of the tennis clubhouse filled my mind.




Jekyll and Hyde Ch. 03



I got to feel much more wanton very quickly. I undid his belt and fumbled his, by now, quite familiar dick out from his boxers and the tail of his shirt. It was very hard and wonderfully warm. He undid my belt as well and also slid my zip down. He got his hand inside and was quickly arousing me with his fingers towards my first orgasm; I was still a quick cummer.

I went to sit on his leather couch thinking we could cuddle and hold each other and gradually lead into havingsex as I lie on my back on the couch. But no, that wasn't in the script, it wasn't on the agenda. Mixing metaphors horribly, it was also not in the plan.

"No come here," he almost growled getting hold of me and pulling me behind his desk. There was still a little method in the madness that was consuming us, for through a crack in the blinds we had a view right down the outside office from behind his desk. 

Just roughly enough to complement the circumstances, he yanked my jeans down, nearly to my knees. I was wearing a thong purposefully for him for I don't usually wear them with jeans, the thong and the seam of the jeans traversing the crease in your bum can get a little uncomfortable.

"You sexy bitch," he, again, almost growled looking at the slither of black lace and silk that just covered my pubes and sneaked sexily, I thought, between the cheeks of my bum. "Turn round," he instructed me as. Willingly, eagerly even I did as he asked.

He had a large wooden desk becoming the status of a senior director in a marketing consultancy. Rosewood I think it was and it was kept beautifully polished so it was as shiny as glass. It was quite cold when he pushed me face forward onto it so that my boobs were squashed against the wood making smears on the shiny surface. I was at ninety degrees or so at the waist, with my jeans round mid thigh. He didn't take the thong off, but merely pulled it to one side. He ran his finger deliciously along the crease between the cheeks of bum, pausing meaningfully on the place that hadn't yet featured much in our relationship, and right onto my soaking, pulsating, bloated pussy. Then, not to put too fine a point on it, he fucked me bent over his office desk. We both knew only too well that would be a constant reminder of this every time he or I were in his office in the future. And that was sordid, very sordid, deliciously so.

Back to trying to analyse things.

It got worse though. Or maybe better, dependent upon your viewpoint. 

I have often looked back in recent years, after Patrick and I finished, to try to discern just how much was really just lust and sexual adventure and what was real love. I still haven't found a full answer to that.

Of course there was loads of remorse after that first full sex in the office. Both immediately after he had cum, later that evening when I was home and for a few days after. My thinking was that what we'd done was dangerous, rather sordid, a bit like teenagers, but so fucking exciting I could hardly wait for the next time. That wasn't long in coming either.

I hadn't wanted it to turn out as it did. I didn't really want to become an office 'bike.' I wasn't really expecting my deep love affair with Patrick to revolve mainly around me being fucked in the office and fucked in his car. But then with married people who go off the rails, sexually and romantically, where else is there?

That first time in the office was probably the most sordid position I had ever been in, but then I haven't been in that many, yet on the other hand when I think of Craig, no don't let's go there. Face down on my bosses desk, my blouse open, my tits bare, my jeans round my ankles and my panties pushed to one side, I had been groaning and moaning with pleasure as he had made me cum and now I was bathing in the warm afterglow of a strong orgasm as Patrick softened inside me. He pulled himself out and I stood up. His eyes ran up and down my near naked body and dishevelled clothing. He took me in his arm, kissed me deeply and with a broad grin on his face said.

"That was fantastic Cat, almost as fantastic as you look right now. Perfectly and absolutely wonderfully fucking sordid." It was exactly the right thing to say to reassure me, but I wondered if he would have felt the same if he could have seen what I could feel, his sperm slipping down my thigh!

I was finding out new things about myself. I realised that not only had I got the capability of being a devious and calculating cheat, but also I was becoming a 'thrill junky!' Being prone to analyse most things I do, I worked out that the thrill and excitement of the affair, the going to hotels and now having sex in the office, were as equally exciting and important really as the sex itself. But wasn't the sex an expression of our love? I got a little stumped there for other than sort of working together at a distance, having the occasional lunch and dinner, our relationship was sex. There wasn't a lot more, but hey, don't get me wrong I wasn't complaining.

We enlarged our repertoire.

There were nights, well evenings actually, when we didn't have the 'late passes' to use a hotel; we had perhaps an hour when we needed to encapsulate all of our love and lust for each other. Whilst not a cheapskate by any means, Patrick baulked at shelling out a couple of hundred pounds for an hour or so in a hotel bed with me, or anyone probably. So when it was not possible to use the office as people were around in late meetings, we needed somewhere else. The question was where?

More naughty stuff.

'Let me give you a lift home,' Patrick messaged me about three one afternoon.

'You can't it's miles out of your way,'

'So what, it's worth it for an hour or so together isn't it?'

'Of course.'

It wasn't actually that far out of his way. It just meant he would have to almost past Hadleigh Woods, albeit on another road to get the St Albans and then retrace the ten miles or so.

'Ok, so what time were you thinking of leaving?'

'Get your coat.'

'What?'

'I'm just round the corner, come on.'

I was now able to leave the office without explaining where I was going so meeting him wasn't a problem

It was just getting dark when we turned off the main road and into a narrow lane which was a short cut to the village I live in.

"Anywhere around here we can stop and er, um, chat?" He smiled at me.

"We can chat anywhere can't we, but I doubt you really meant that do you?" I asked leaning across and resting my hand on his upper thigh.

"You know me too well, no of course not."

I hadn't 'groped' in a car since Craig, I realised as we got into the back of Patrick's Merc. After he'd pulled the car into a car park in a wood, to which I had directed him, even though I had no idea just how safe it would be, we had kissed and talked. I didn't want to get into the back on the grounds that if another car, or worse, the police or forest rangers drove into the car park how could we explain that?

"We don't have to, we're doing nothing wrong and we are consenting adults," he replied with impeccable logic, reassuring me, so I eventually, but rather reluctantly agreed.

I don't know just how much of the extreme excitement and immense pleasure was down to my feelings for Patrick, the slight frustration I was experiencing through not having had sex for more than a week or the fact that we were in car, but what I experienced was sensational.

I resisted at first, just as respectable, well brought up married women are supposed to do. I don't mean his advances, I relished those. I don't mean him kissing me, having his tongue in my mouth or caressing my breasts, I enjoyed those. I don't even mean him slipping his hand up my top, cupping my breasts in my bra and then wiggling his fingers inside that onto my boobs and nipples, after all that's what 'boys and girls' do when they sit in the back of a car. It wasn't, either Patrick slipping his hand up my skirt and pressing his fingers on the gusset of my panties. No, my resistance came when he scooped my boobs out of my bra, when he pushed my skirt up round my waist, when he tried to pull my knickers down and when he whispered in my ear.

"Cat I have to have you. I have to fuck you."

"Oh God Patrick we can't, it's too risky."

It was risky. It was dangerous. The chance of being caught, literally 'in the act' was high. But by Christ it was exciting. We couldn't undress of course, we couldn't get naked. But Patrick could get his cock out, I could take my panties off, I could straddle him and he could, just like that, fuck me. And that is precisely what we did. Clearly, I realised as I lay in his arms on the large back seat, not all German cars have sexual design faults.

More soul searching followed that of course, but I coped, probably better than I had with Craig and with when Patrick and I had sex first time in the office.

So for the next few months our affair revolved around the occasional evening in a hotel, the fairly regular once a week or so shag in the office and yes I did have him take me with me sitting on my desk as he stood between my legs, which were wrapped round his hips and fucked me. And of course in the car and a few times at our houses, but they never worked too well, nerves I guess.

After that first time I lost my reservations about being caught and inhibitions about being undressed and then fucked in his car in a car park. I actually enjoyed it and each weekend I looked forward to our, usually, Tuesday evening car sex.

My new found cunning and conniving, scheming and slyness came into play at these times. 

"Just sit there," I said after we had parked and climbed into the back.

I pushed Patrick into the corner of the usefully large back seat and knelt with one knee on the seat on the other side of the car. I was wearing a knee-length, quite loose, blue dress, with a lowish top and three buttons running from the neckline to just above my waist. Staring directly into each other's eyes, I slowly undid the top button. He smiled at me.

"Mmmmm nice," he said as the next and the third came undone and the top of my dress parted a little, thus showing a goodly expanse of my boobs. 

Taking hold of the opened sides of the top of the dress I pulled them sideways, across my boobs and let go of them leaving my bare breasts staring invitingly at him.

He reached out for me.

"No, don't touch," I whispered pushing him back into the corner.

"Christ Cat, you flash your tits at me, then say no touching."

"Well not yet," I smiled reaching down and taking hold of the hem. 

"And, by the way, young lady, where's your bra gone!" I didn't reply and instead reached down and took hold of the hem of the dress.

Holding his gaze I slowly pulled the dress upwards. I eased it further and further up my legs, along my thighs and then stopped.

"Why have you stopped?"

"No reason," I replied, sliding it further up so it was bunched almost round my stomach.

"Jesus Christ, when did they come off?" He asked looking at my uncovered pubic mound.

I had taken my underwear off before leaving the office and had the garments safely tucked away in my wags bag in the front of the car.

"Never mind, are you pleased?" I asked cupping one of my breasts,

"Pleased I'm absolutely fucking delighted, but why?"

"Because silly," I replied fumbling at his belt "You can now fuck me without me having to get undressed."

That became another feature of our sexual repertoire. On the evenings when Patrick was going to give me a lift home I would go to the ladies half hour or so before we were due to set off. I would remove all but the essential parts of my make-up and during the day I would carefully avoid wearing perfume, real mistress thinking there, but then why provide any evidence for the wife! I would then slip into one of the cubicles and remove my bra and panties. Usually I would meet him a way down the road. Walking out from the office and then down the busy road naked under my outer clothes really was a massive turn on. After that and then being in his car for an hour so in that state of semi-undress of which he was clearly aware had me primed and ready for the stimulating sex we would then have in the back of his car.

As our affair progressed so we became both more adventurous, but also sad. We knew that it would go nowehere, other than perhaps us being arrested for offending private decency.

*

Addendum

There's more to come and soon. I hope you have enjoyed reading it and have gained a similar amount of 'pleasure' from that as I have from recalling my affair and writing about it for you.

Yours

Cat



Jekyll and Hyde Ch. 04



Reality check time.

Of course the affair ended. They nearly always do unless you get caught. As much as we thought we loved each other, we just couldn't go to the next stage and leave our families. So by mutual agreement we finished with each other. I have seen or heard from him again, but that is best, it's what we agreed. I left the job and went back to doing freelance editing for my old firm and in some ways my life, on the surface at least, got back to being seemingly normal.

Hitting forty had been traumatic, but I coped. Ok it was with the help, or maybe the hindrance, I am still not sure which, of the affair. I strode into my forties with my head held high and my, sadly, slightly saggy tits pushed out. But I kept those very much to myself. As indeed I did the rest of my body. After my wild, totally sexual fling with Craig and my intense, hugely loving affair with Patrick, I didn't yearn for anything else. I had no desire to have one night stands and the 'offers' that women who belong to golf and tennis clubs and go to work, albeit occasionally in my case, simply didn't interest me. I don't have that high a need for sex that I would do anything that I don't feel particularly strongly about. Sounds pompous, I know, but I can take it or leave as far as sex is concerned other than in very special circumstances such as with Craig and Patrick.

In any case I am married, with a husband who loves me, I think, alright maybe not quite as much as he loves work, but then hey a girl can't have everything can she. In my way I also love him, but as my idea of love has become jaundiced as I have got older, I'm not sure. I think I have concluded that what Richard and I have is what most people have. We get on well, we have similar likes and dislikes, preferences and values and we are used to each other. It may not be romantic ideal, but it's probably as good as it gets in real life. And of course, we do have our photo sessions.

So as I struggled on without Patrick, I realised not much had changed. I was still over forty, my family were growing up, Richard was still away a lot, I was still bored and my tits still sagged a little. 

I am coming to the conclusion that the Hyde, or is it Jekyl, side of me comes out when I am going through life style traumas. When something big is happening to me emotionally, I react in surprising ways. I was moving house to a place that I hated, and still do, although I love the conservatory I had built onto the back of the house, when Craig erupted. And of course Patrick came about when my I was agonising over my impending fortieth. I could feel the traumatisation happening again as my son completed his A levels and prepared to go to university and as our daughter, who we had agreed would go to a residential sixth form college, also got ready to leave me; I realised my babies were flying the nest.

Obviously, being associated with writers and writing of one sort or another most of my life, I had often thought of writing myself. I had made several unsuccessful efforts at writing a novel, but had put that on the back burner as I got on with my, up until recently, quite busy life. With just my part time editing from home, my children gone, Richard away as much as he was at home, no lovers or affairs on the go, my life lost its busyness and in some ways its purpose.

So I decided to start another novel. An idea had been rattling round my mind for some time about a story for a typical 'airport' book. Code named Savannah it was about an American woman whose family owned a cotton plantation in the 1850s. After marrying a gambler and living in London for several years she divorces and returns to run the plantation when her mother and father die. 

As the Civil War looms, an old friend from years back, who has made it big in the Union military intelligence asks her to gather information on what the Confederates are planning. So she becomes a Marta Hari of her time spying for both sides and using all of her womanly wiles to get the required information.

As I wrote it I realised I was probably putting in far too much sex. It was intended to be a raunchy story, but it was turning into a highly erotic if not a pornographic one. I realised two things after I had written around fifty thousands words. Firstly, I would never publish it. I knew that I would never be able to stand the embarrassment of people reading some of the stuff I had composed, which was pretty extreme. And as to what Richard would say and my children would think just wasn't worth even considering. Secondly, and in many ways more importantly, I realised just how much I was enjoying writing in general and erotica in particular. 

Several times as I had gone into some detail about a sexual adventure I had found that I was touching myself, undoing buttons and slipping my hands into my clothing. A few times I had masturbated as I visualised myself in those situations. It was fun, exciting, enjoyable, secret and no one was getting hurt.

I wasn't that confident, though, of how to write raunchy stuff. I knew what appealed to me, but I wanted more information on what appealed to others. I googled 'erotic writing.' One name stood out, 'Literotica.' I went there and was absolutely amazed. There was so much on so many different topics. Apart from a quite natural lower age limit of eighteen, it seemed that pretty much anything goes on the site, it was exactly what I was after. It seemed to me that this was a natural bedfellow for me; a place where I could try out my writing, get other peoples' opinions, maybe hone my skills and find out what out what appealed to other people.

I spent hours a day for several days devouring loads of stories across a range of genres. Rather too many of them, regrettably, were not really to my taste for a number of reasons: too basic, lack of structure, story and 'message,' overly demeaning to women, unrealistic scenarios, poorly written and too quickly to the sex. That said, I found nearly as many that I enjoyed. I read such topics as spanking, mild bondage, incest, humiliation and bi sexual experiences by both men and women in which I had no realisation I would be interested. I was, though. One lesson I learned from my 'erotic readathon' was that one should not judge a sexual experience by its name, read about it and you will generally find some form of interest and pleasure. I did from so many different aspects of sexual reading, but I drew the line at animals, the use of bodily wastes and hard core S & M and the like. I also read lots of more 'normal' stuff between straight men and women, thoroughly enjoyed those and I did learn quite a lot of techniques that I now incorporate into my erotic writing. I now look back on those few days of reading as my 'mega wank fest,' for I seemed to be almost perpetually masturbating.

I registered as an author and submitted a short story about a businesswoman who uses male escorts. The waiting after submitting it until it was published was agonising and made me feel very sympathetic to the many authors I had kept waiting. I felt great the day I read my first 'published' piece and I felt even better during the next week or so when I received quite a lot of generally positive feedback. 

I decided to write and submit another story. For some reason I registered again under another ID, I don't really know why, but I was worried about privacy and anybody recognising me. This time I chose to write about how a recently divorced woman in her late thirties comes to terms with single life and the renewal of dating after such a long time. That also generated a lot of feedback and gained high marks.

It was getting to me, I was enjoying myself, I had found a new hobby, another interest, an outlet for my erotic needs, a different way of expressing my sexual desires and beliefs; the doctor or the mister were getting to me again. I was becoming more confident with my writing. I had always known that I can compose using accurate grammar and generally get my points across, but I didn't really know how others received my messages. The feedback told me that they were received well. It is said that art causes an emotional reaction in the viewer. If that's the case and if erections and masturbating are emotional reactions, then I must be quite some artist going on what a number of the feedback reported! At first, I found that difficult. It was strange to receive messages such as 'Reading your stuff gave me a permanent hard on,' 'I jacked off six times reading that story,' and 'I fucked my wife thinking about you.' I got used to it quickly, though!

I registered again, this time with what has become my 'nom de plume' catmoore. I put more information on the bio section kindly provided by Lit and I included a photo, which, if I do say it myself was of me in a nicely filled, blue, cashmere sweater wearing a string of pearls. I also included an email address.

I'd had what I thought was a great idea for a story.

An affair, well more a fling, if there is a difference, between an older woman and a younger guy, yes memories of Craig. However, the theme of this story was vastly different to that with Craig and me as was the way it was related. In this story I was an aunt and my lover was my nephew. That meant that we were not just addressing the older woman, younger man situation, but also adding in the taboo of incest. Why, I have no idea, but I guess it seemed a good idea at the time. The other, what I thought was an interesting twist was that it was written from the perspectives of both parties. So a chapter would be written by the aunt and then one by the nephew. I hadn't really planned much about the story. I find my best stuff comes when I just write without thinking too much, just go with the flow. And that's what I did and I guess that's why I ended up with a fourteen part story!

When Patrick and were having our affair I had not only bought a pay as you use mobile, but had also opened a yahoo email account. I had Outlook, both as part of the package on my laptop and PC, which were linked to a server at Richard's firm, and as an employee of Patrick's company. However, they were not secure enough for what Patrick and I sometimes needed to write to each other, hence yahoo. That was the address I put on Lit, but then forgot about it. That is until I read one of the feedback after the third part of 'Perspectives.' In the feedback the writer mentioned that he had sent something separate to my email. I logged in and was amazed when I saw that there was approaching fifty unopened emails.

Replying to most of those gave me a new interest. It was a natural extension to writing on Literotica, I was entering into correspondence with 'my readers.' 

At first I would exchange views on my Lit submission and then on each other; hobbies, work, partner status and the like. As I progressed down that path many would drop by the wayside, largely because they had difficulty expressing themselves in writing. Some though survived and I developed some really interesting online relationships. As time went on they, obviously, I suppose, became more focused on sexual matters. That was natural as it was one of those, my erotic submissions to Lit, which had caused the email relationship so start. 

We would discuss sexual matters very openly, including our likes and dislikes and our fantasies. I loved how open the net enabled us to be and how the anonymity encouraged online relationships to reach a stage of frankness so much more quickly than reality could ever permit. I'd been hesitant at first, but after a while I have to admit that I took to exchanging very frank stuff like a duck to water.

With a couple of guys I started to role play by each of us writing a part of a story, sending it to the other, adding some more and returning it and so on. That resulted in an exchange of mails that went on for several weeks and reached such levels of frankness that I found myself describing my orgasms in greater detail than I did on Lit. Those role-plays were gradually broadened and deepened and became stories. Generally they were written in the first person.

Some naughty online experiences.

Having 'got to know' a guy through email, perhaps even exchanging a photo or two, and then extending that written relationship into a role-play, or even more, a story was an amazingly exciting adventure for me. To write such phrases as 'When your cock sunk into me.........' and 'The feelings your fingers gave me as they sunk deeply into my cunt......' were serious turn ons. 

It wasn't just the writing of erotic phrases it was the knowledge that my 'pen pal' would soon be reading them. I loved the thought of him doing that, getting hard because of my descriptions and then masturbating over what I had written. With a couple of guys we would exchange descriptions of what we did when we received each other's mails. Reading what they did and then writing what I did was so thrilling.

Sometimes as I composed the emails, I would touch myself, undo buttons, slide a zip down and slowly undress. That had happened to me a few times when writing stories. Rarely did I complete a writing session, either for Lit or an email story, fully dressed. Almost as equally rarely did I finish one without masturbating, or at least trying to; like many women, sometimes making love to oneself just doesn't work.

I found the most sublime pleasures from this. Feeling my body react to the words flooding my mind from either, what a 'friend' had written, usually about what he would like to be doing to me, or how I described what I would do to him or have him do to me, was amazing, in a way I guess almost like a religious experience.

"Do you use messenger?" 

A simple question posed in an email from Matt, a 'friend' of some time. Little was I to know just how well I was going to get to know yahoo messenger and what a part it was going to play in my life.

At first I had no idea what he meant or what messenger was. He explained it and suggested I join 'It's modern day chat rooms.'

I said I'd think about it, but immediately after ending the email I checked it out. I was excited by it and joined, even submitting a photo, a slightly more 'raunchy' than the one on Lit.

Matt was all the good things I look for in an email mate. Articulate, bright and quick minded with a self-deprecating way about him and a great sense of irony. He could write on most topics, was an avid golfer, had a worldly-wise approach to chat rooms and a wickedly naughty sense of humour. He was clearly up for anything on-line, but wasn't assumptive or overly pushy. We were soon exchanging views on a wide range of topics including, of course, those of an intimate and personal nature.

He was married and, unlike most men I 'meet' in mail, claimed to love his wife. True, he said things were a little difficult at times, but he never pushed me to meet so I believed him when he wrote "I just like chatting to women." I believed him, for that was exactly what I most enjoyed, well with men mainly. It was also part of the reason I joined messenger and why I had been chatting to him for a couple of weeks.

We got on too well really. We were so easily able nearly every time we 'talked' to turn the conversation to sex; easy, comfortable, relaxed, non-threatening, flirty sex-chat. Not heavy, come-on, demanding stuff, but nevertheless stuff we admitted turned us on. 

I'd explained earlier when we were talking about being aroused that I didn't cyber. I wasn't totally sure what that was exactly, but assumed it was masturbation by at least one if not both parties. Since starting with him I had chatted to a few other men, well quite a few really and I never could work out how they found me. Most, though, were after just one thing, not much difference to reality there then.

"Don't or haven't?" he wrote back during an email exchange that had lasted for over an hour.

"What?"

"Cyber" was his one word reply

"Both I guess," was my three word response" I replied feeling the need, as I so often did on there when with a man I liked, to be totally honest.

I changed the subject and like the gentlemen, as many I'd met on the net were, he respected that and didn't mention it again, well not for some time that is.

We'd been exchanging e-mails for some time. He wrote well. Not with classically good grammar, punctuation and spelling but with clear, "picture painting" descriptions and forceful narrative. I enjoyed reading his mails and, increasingly, I enjoyed composing for him. And of course from both of us the writing became steamier and steamier. He told me in wonderfully graphic, but not pornographic, explanations exactly what he'd like to do to me. As I read them I could imagine him doing them to me so clearly that they became my masturbation material. Just as my replies that described my feelings as he did those things to me, became his wankfest as he termed them.

"Are you sure?" he typed.

"Yes, yes I am."

When we'd last spoke on a Friday we'd got very steamy.

"God I so want to fuck you," he'd typed near the end of the session. 

This wasn't completely out of the character of our chats but was, probably a little more intense and direct than most. 

"Don't you feel it Cat? Don't you feel that need?"

"Right at this moment," I typed one-handed as I pinched my swollen nipple, "there's nothing in this world I want more than to be fucked Matt."

"Fucked by me?"

Smiling I teased him. "Fucked by anyone Matt, but especially by you."

We both knew this was impossible for his wife was downstairs and my daughter was in the next room.

"Really? Especially me."

"Yes."

"Do you really mean that?"

"On here, yes I do."

"Are you sure, are you positive about that?"

We'd spoken about "going all the way" several times, but either the time wasn't convenient, we just talked about it so much we talked ourselves out of it, or I backed out. This time, though, I meant it. I wanted to do it. I wanted to do it with him. With Matt, my electronic lover, my soon to be cyber-sexpartner. Yes I wanted to fuck myself for him.

We rarely chatted at week-ends as it was difficult for both of us, but I received an email.

"Just once more my darling, are you positive about this? Tell me "no" and there'll be absolutely no problem. Tell me "yes" and I'll be hard and rampant until we meet at noon on Monday."

We'd ended our chat on the Friday making a date for Monday. And once we'd done that it did feel exactly like a date. The very special date that couples often make; the date when they are going to consummate their relationship; the date when all the awkward kissing, the fumbling and furtive gropings, the touches, caresses and strokings all come together; the date when they do go all the way, when they at last make love, finally have sex and fuck each other's brains out. That was the date we'd made for noon on Monday!

I typed back.

"Yes, yes, a million times yes. I want you."

It was an odd weekend. I hadn't got much planned; some shopping on Saturday and a couple of girl friends round for take away pizzas in the evening. Tennis on Sunday that I played so badly, followed by a snack at the club and home early for an evening's TV with my daughter.

But it wasn't what I did that made it odd, it was how I felt. I did feel as if I was going on a real date, as if we'd agreed to make real love. As if Matt really was a new lover, a lover with whom my relationship had deepened to the point that we'd made this pact for Monday. All Saturday, more so Sunday and especially as I watched TV, alone as it happened for my daughter popped to a friend's to do some homework, I became more and more aroused. 

There was an, almost permanent, tingling in my tummy, a warmth that ebbed and flowed through me. An extra fullness and heaviness in my breasts and a pressure on my nipples that made them feel as if, at any moment, they could burst and let that fullness from each orb gush out. I'd washed my hair and showered. As my daughter and I often did on Sunday evenings, particularly in the winter, I'd slipped into a nighty and a dressing robe. The grey and white silk nighty was beautifully lacy, had a low neck and a slightly flared, mid-thigh length skirt. It was partly see through and clung to me above the waist. It wasn't really a nighty to sleep in, more one to be shagged in. The white robe was thin, but not silk. It was floor-length and had a tie round the waist.




Jekyll and Hyde Ch. 04



Sipping my second glass of wine it was the easiest thing in the world for the robe to fall open. The skirt part of it did that naturally, so that as I sat on the sofa my feet tucked under my bottom, my legs were bare. As I'd moved around getting the papers, pouring wine or changing channels so it was nearly as easy for the top to gape, for the two lapels to fall apart and for the deep cleavage the tight nighty created to come on view. 

"What will it be like?" I wondered, my mind continually thinking of tomorrow, almost forgetting it would be a virtual and not a real fuck.

"Will I be able to do it, go through with it and finish off with him?" I asked myself.

"Will I," it suddenly struck me like a charge of electricity, "be able to make myself cum as I chat to him? Will I be able to say and do the right things? Will I find the words to make love on-line? Will I be able to fuck myself to an orgasm as he tells me what he's doing? Or will I" I smiled "simply cum too quickly as I usually do with a new lover." 

I didn't know the answers for sure, but at that moment they didn't seem to matter too much. No, as the neckline of the nighty slid down beneath my breasts and as the lacy, silk skirt slid up my legs, tomorrow really did seem so much like another today. And as one of my hands found the soft fullness of my boobs and the hardened crinkleness of my nipples so the questions became irrelevant. And finally, as my other hand found the sopping wetness between my legs, nothing seemed to matter for I was writhing on my sofa in orgasmic satisfaction, making myself cum just before I heard my daughter's key in the lock.

Monday morning was hell. I can't begin to work out how many times I changed my mind. This whole idea was becoming an obsession and taking on an importance far beyond merely masturbating, for in reality that's all it was, wasn't it? In reality I was going to take my clothes off, touch myself then make myself cum. Just as I had last night on the sofa and last night in bed and the night before on the sofa and Saturday evening in the shower. In reality it was just masturbating, wasn't it? Yes it may well have been just masturbating, but it wasn't really reality was it? True, with Matt reading every word I typed and him typing back, it couldn't be termed fantasy either, so what was it? I had no answer to that. Is there a state between the two? Perhaps rantasy or feality? Maybe what happens on the web needs some new terms like that?

I was wearing just a robe when I logged on and checked my mails. My heart pounded when I saw there was one from him. Glancing at my watch I saw it was 11.30.

"I'll definitely be there at noon, naked and numb with hardness for you, my darling. I'll understand if you don't make it or if you have a change of heart when we're talking."

I quickly typed back

"I'm just getting dressed especially for you Matt, I'll be there when you want you me."

The silk felt incredible on my breasts; it was so smooth, cool, lustrous and caressing, that I was sure my skin on them was of a much higher temperature than normal. The image in the full-length mirror thrilled me. "What an arrogant, hedonistic vain woman I can be," I thought as I looked at myself clad just in a pale pink blouse. The hem of it was around my hips the lapels were open. They were caught on my nipples, that I saw with a wry smile were almost exactly the same colour as the blouse. My breasts were full but had that sag that "older" woman who've suckled children have. My waist was nicely indented, but the tummy that should have been cosseted after birth or should have received many hours of attention in the gym, did bulge. Not alarmingly, not in a Christmas pudding like way of a pregnancy bulge, but was of size where being undressed by a younger men had to be avoided or done in the dark if possible. It did, fortunately, almost vanish when I was lying on my back naked or near so, but then the bloody tits flopped to each side, so as with woman my age, I couldn't win could I? 

"Maybe," I thought smiling, "that's the attraction of sex via the net, no peeping eyes?"

I'd promised Matt that I'd dress to excite him and that was what I was doing. 

"Or was I," I thought as I slid into the Agent Provocateur panties that were as ridiculously brief as they were ridiculously expensive, £40 just to cover those thin lips and then be cast aside. What women do to please and thrill their lovers, or themselves, perhaps?

"Again Cat are you sure?" came up on my screen in, what seemed, a rather matter of fact reply to my invitation of, "Matt now you can fuck me."

"Yes, yes I am," my writing, looking to be far more assured and confident than I felt, came up on the screen.

"Oh God Cat?"

"Yes Matt, yes I know."

"I'm so excited but so nervous," I told him truthfully.

"So am I and have been all weekend?"

"Did you make love to Fiona?" I asked referring to his wife whose photo I'd seen.

"Yes I did, it was fantastic," he told me.

It was that we could have such a conversation where we could discuss our own lovemaking that made my relationship with Matt so different to any other I'd had on the web. I'd told him practically everything I'd done in the past, and he'd told me lots about he and Fi's sexual habits, likes and dislikes, which included some partner swapping and attending mild orgies.

"Good, I'm pleased," I replied.

"But not as good as how our fantasy lovemaking is, or will be. Not as good as how it's going to be."

"No that's better, ours isn't real, that is."

"No Cat, ours is real, just different."

"Yes that's true."

"What are you wearing?"

"A pink, silk blouse and tracky trousers, you?"

"Just the tight, white CK long boxers you like."

Clicking on my picture gallery I brought up the photo he'd sent me a few weeks ago. Any doubts about my arousal vanished as I looked at him. He wasn't that tall or muscular, just nice, with little excess weight and a, frustratingly to me given my bulges, flat stomach. The white, almost cyclist shorts length boxers clung to him like a second skin. They accentuated and emphasised his genitals making them, as maybe they were, I didn't know for I'd never seen them naked, huge. Not the boastful type at all I'd had to drag out of him that he had a thrillingly near eight inch and three inch diameter cock!

I was almost shivering with desire as I imagined him at his PC in that deliciously alluring underwear.

"Just them Matt?"

"Yes love just my boxers, just those tight white boxers you like so much. Just those skin tight pants Cat that cling to me so closely."

"Mmmmmm," I clicked feeling the surge of arousal at the words he was manipulating me with.

"The ones you said made my cock look big."

"It does Matt; I have it on screen now."

"Does it look big now? Would you like to see it right now?"

"Yes, yes Matt it looks huge."

Suddenly the window in which we were chatting said, 

"Matt has invited you to photo share, Accept or decline."

I don't usually like pictures of men's' erections. To an extent it's "seen one seen 'em all," well to me at least. Obviously that's different when looking at the real thing. When near to a penis that you know you've made hard, it's a totally different ball game. When up close and personal to something that's shortly going to invade you, plunder your insides and do such amazing things to your mind and body, well then they look fantastic. But on a computer screen or a paper, no thanks not for me, usually.

Matt's cock looked magnificent. It was big, it was long, it was thick and in the about to be fucked state I was in, it looked beautiful. Yes, though cocks, most of the time, have little going for them and certainly are low on aesthetic values, when hard, hot, nearby and are about to be shoved right up a girl's pussy, then they really can look beautiful. Beautiful and powerful is how I like to consider a cock that I am about to devour.

"Oh Matt," I whimpered, adding "thank you, thank you," remembering that last week he'd asked if I'd like such a photo of him and I 'd said I would.

"Oh yes," I went on as several more of him in various naked poses lit up my screen.

"What's under the blouse babe?" Came up, making me tear my eyes away from his body and cock

"What would you like to be under it if we were together?" I asked rather coyly given the circumstances.

"Nothing of course."

"Spot on Matt, you got it in one." I typed trying to sound sexy in print.

"Does it feel nice Cat, the silk on those big, full tits of yours?"

"Mmmmmm," wonderful.

"Are you rubbing your boobs, through the silk?"

"Yes," I told him truthfully feeling a shudder go through me as my fingers ran found my nipple and caressed it through the pleasure giving silk.

"And under the trackies? Are you naked there as well?"

"No Matt, just a nice little thong, just like this," I typed as I forwarded him the page, www.agentprovocateur.com that showed the most gorgeous, but annoying stick-like model in the thong with shots from the back and front.

"I bet that looks fantastic Cat, are you looking at that thong?"

"No of course not," I typed as I started getting a little more involved with the silk on my breasts. "It's hidden by the trackies isn't it?"

"Yes, but should it be Cat? Need it be? Wouldn't it be better if it wasn't?"

"Lol," I typed turning to the chat room vernacular. "What, pray sir are you suggesting?" I asked in the mock, shock way we sometimes messed around as I undid the buttons on my blouse and pushed my boobs together with the silk between my hands and my skin. Memories of that 'goodbye fuck' with Craig came into my mind.

"Well, my naughty, randy Cat just one thing."

"Yes and what can that be I wonder?"

"Take your fucking trousers off," came up followed by "lol."

"Well as you ask so diplomatically how could a girl decline."

With hands that were visibly shaking I slid them down and stepped out of them, keeping them close by, though, just in case my daughter came home unexpectedly.

"Have you Cat? Have you taken them off for me?"

"Yes Matt," I typed feeling very free, aroused and amazingly expectant, "Are you naked?"

"Yes darling, totally naked as you want me. Are you wet?" he asked.

"Of course I am Matt, are you hard?"

"Yes, of course."

"How hard?"

"Very."

"Are you as hard as you can be Matt?"

"Yes as hard as I ever have been."

"As hard as you would be if I was there? If I was there Matt dressed as I am here?"

"How are you dressed now?"

"My trackies are off Matt and my blouse is undone," I told him truthfully for the buttons had, somehow managed to slip open.

"So you can see the thong now can you?"

"Yes."

"Is it wet, have I made you wet?"

I ran my finger along the gusset, establishing that it was indeed very wet. At the same time, I sent lovely sensations through my entire body.

"It's soaked Matt, you've made me very, very wet indeed."

"And you've made me so hard you sexy bitch."

"Ooooo dirty talk so soon."

As we both thought about such things there was no typing for a few moments. I saw the light on the window saying "Matt is typing a message." I wondered what was coming for we'd reached a seminal moment. A key time, a critical instant. We'd reached the time when either, we drifted on or, we cybered. Either we kept on talking about netfucking, or we netfucked.

"Cat, I want you so much." My heart leaped for he'd taken the plunge, made the decision and had asked the question for that was followed by. " I want us to make love, can we darling, can we please?"

"Right at this moment in time Matt, there is nothing in the world I would like more than that."

"Really Cat, really?"

"Yes Matt really, absolutely, totally. I want to make love to you here and now Matt, I want you to make me cum and I want to help you cum. So fuck me Matt, please fuck me right now and make me cum with you."

As it happens the exchanges between us in messenger were not that clear or really successful. Both of us, so we told each other later, were so aroused that our focus was more on ourselves than on the keyboard, screen or our cyber friend. It was very difficult typing to tell each other what we each doing and how we were feeling as, certainly for me, the sensation built up quickly and hugely. I was cumming with my typical first time speed almost as soon as we had 'formally' agreed to the electronic fuck.

I didn't do anything special, nothing different, nothing unique, just a straightforward masturbation using my hands on my breasts and tummy and my fingers on my nipples, clit and pussy. 

That's really how it all started. That's how I "found my feet" on the net, well not my feet literally, but it is how I found out how to masturbate on there, how to make love on there and, yes, how to, in effect, fuck and be fucked on there. Matt started me off on this latest phase of my 'secret' sex life and, I suppose, I have taken to it like a 'dog to water.'

We did it frequently for a few weeks. It was as if once we'd done it we just couldn't get enough of each other, for a while; not that unlike lovers in real life who lust for each other, but don't really go emotionally further than that. Like couples who want sex, but little more from each other. 

As so often happens in a transitory world such as the net with a couple that have only sex in common, Matt and I didn't last. We made pretence that we weren't bored, that our "lovemaking" hadn't become predictable and that we still wanted each other badly. But it was all an act. We were like an office affair or a couple that meet, become very intense, have great sex and mistake that for there being something more in the relationship. For Christ's sake how can there be more with just a bloody screen and keyboard where one's only communication is typed words? So we "had" each other less and less frequently until we stopped. Sure, a few times over the next year or so we bumped into each other in chat or messenger. It wasn't awkward. We were both very grown up about it and chatted easily even jokingly hinting at doing something for old time's sake. We didn't though, but we did chat about our lives and lovers with him telling me that he and Fiona had parted. She'd caught him messing around on the net and had found his email password. She'd found many of the mails we'd exchanged and two to women that Matt had met. End of story as far as she was concerned!

It was by no means the end of the story as far as my online affairs were concerned. If anything, after parting from my first real cyber lover, they became more complicated, active and frequent. I guess for a while I lost control. I can't count the number of men I "electronically" slept with over the next few months. I went with older guys, younger ones, blacks, Indians, Arabs and many other nationalities. It was daft and immoral, but most of the time it was harmless, enjoyable and sexually satisfying.

Yes of course having sex with a computer is limited. Sure being made to cum merely by words reduces the scope of the sex and yes it was nowhere near as fulfilling as face to face, mouth to mouth and body to body real sex. But I didn't want that. That means involvement and that I didn't want or need. No, all I needed were men with a modicum of intelligence, reasonable writing skills, a sense of adventure and a desire to cum; let's say 20% of the world's male population shall we and that was plenty enough for me! 

"You are one of the most beautiful men I have ever seen," I typed as I looked at Jason's cam.

He'd contacted me and we'd chatted a bit before he asked if I'd like to see him on cam? These had recently, particularly in the US and the Far East become very popular, but as usual technological advances were taking their time in the UK.

He was young, around 24 and lived in California. With his long blonde hair, tanned, muscular physique and tall, lean body he was the epitome of what Europeans think of as a typical Californian surfer or beach bum. The sort of young man that lots of ageing women would love to have rescue them from the sea, or even a puddle come to that!

We'd chatted a couple of times with him telling me, not unexpectedly or unusually, how much he liked older women and asking my opinions on younger men. I was fairly non-committal, but not off-putting. After all, what's age got to do with fucking by words or shagging by telephone?

I meant what I said when on the third time we met on messenger and he asked if I'd like to see his cam. I hesitated a bit not wishing to appear too keen but agreed. I gulped when after a short time my screen was filled with this gorgeous image. He was just wearing shorts; white, tight ones that set off the golden tan of his legs and his awesomely flat six pack to perfection. He really did look beautiful and I couldn't help saying so.

"You look lovely Jason" 

"Thanks Catherine, just as you do in your photos."

"Thanks again, but why do you want to bother with a woman of my age Jason, there must be loads younger you could have?"

He went on to tell me in quite outspoken terms that he found older woman far more open and amenable on line than younger ones.

"Amenable?" I typed teasingly, feeling that familiar urge starting inside me.

"Yes, amenable," he replied. "I'm sure you know what I mean."

Pleased that I'd met a young hunk that could use and understand such a word let alone start to debate it with me, I typed back.

"I know what I understand about it Jason. What do you mean by it?"

"I mean a woman that isn't offended by sexy chat and is open to flirting on here," he replied very directly.

"Hmmmm, I see, and you think that's me do you?"

I watched fascinated with my heart starting to pound a little as he put his hand on his chest. His skin was a golden tan and he had well-developed muscles and thus defined breasts. His nipples stood out clearly, for his upper body, at least, was bald, probably shaved, I guessed, and it seemed maybe lightly oiled; very Californian.

"Just guessing Catherine, but yes I do," he typed as he let his hand slide slowly down his chest. "Am I wrong?" he asked. "Do tell me if I am and I'll stop," he went on his fingers slipping an inch or so inside the elasticised waist-band of his shorts.

"Call me Cat," I typed "All my friends do" I went on my eyes transfixed on his hand.

"Ok Cat it is, so does Cat wish me to stop?"

I didn't reply for two reasons. One, as always, despite the anonymity my social conditioning made it difficult for me to be open and upfront. Secondly I didn't want him to stop. I wanted him to go on, I wanted to see more. I wanted him to do what I thought he was suggesting. Yes I wanted Jason to take his shorts off and show me his cock.

His fingers fiddling with the waist band he asked.

"Well, do you want me to stop?"

He'd put the ball firmly me in my court. It was now my decision, my choice and my direction. There was no way out other than to play the game by his rules. Sometimes, I'd found, guys just wanted to get naked almost irrespective of my wishes or, really even my participation. I called them flashers for it was the exposing of themselves to a woman that was the kick for them. With me that rarely worked. Even though this was unreal and was electronic some reality conventions applied, well they needed to for me. And one of those was that we were in it together so if he got his rocks off by flashing, what was my role other than an observer? 

Jason, though, clearly wasn't like that, although it seemed he wasn't averse to revealing his gorgeous body. And why should he be for I guessed that to many women, me included at that moment, just seeing him in shorts was enough to dampen some knickers and make many nipples harden immediately. He obviously used this ploy as his come on, his suggestion and indication that he was available and as his seduction technique. And I'm sure it worked, for as his fingers slid just a little further into his shorts so I found one of my hands on my bare breast.




Jekyll and Hyde Ch. 04



"No Jason, I don't," I typed in a way that had I have been speaking would have been very quiet.

"Are you sure?" he asked slipping the waist down a tad.

"Yes, I'm sure."

"You want to see me naked?" He asked pushing the flasher indicator in me quite a bit. He was so gorgeous though

"Yes Jason, yes I do," I replied my blouse falling to the floor so that I sat there also in just a pair of shorts.

He'd previously asked what I was swearing, so it wasn't too much of a surprise when he asked if I was still wearing the blouse.

"No, I'm not."

"So your breasts are bare are they?" he asked standing up from the bar stool and moving away from the cam so I got a pretty much full length view of him.

Although I guessed he wouldn't be able to read my reply I told him they were.

He was clearly experienced and, I thought, skilful at this for slowly, so very, very slowly he eased his shorts down his legs until the fell around his feet. He was already fully and wonderfully erect. And like the rest of him, his cock was glorious!

I'm not much of a one to admire cheesecake. I don't usually look at hunks and gasp. Men's bodies, until I'm up against, them, don't often do that much to me; they rarely turn me on just by sight; make me want the man or make me want to be fucked by him. Jason changed all that. As he walked back and sat on the stool so that he could type and I could see him from mid-thigh to the top of his golden blonde head my sexual insides simply exploded and that's when I typed.

"You are one of the most beautiful men I have ever seen,"

It was wonderful watching him masturbate. He did it with confidence and the assurance that he looked good. His eyes seemed to bore into mine via the cam as he got me to remove my shorts and panties. He asked me what I was doing and I could see an increase in the pace and vigour with which he was masturbating when I told him.

"I'm pinching my nipples, I'm pulling them hard. I'm squeezing my breasts together," I typed with some difficulty.

"Would you like this between them?" he asked pointing his cock right at the camera.

"Yes, yes I would, would you like to fuck my breasts?"

He wanked even harder, but managed to type, "What are you doing now"?

Loving every minute of what I was seeing as this young man masturbated so freely in front of me I told him.

"I'm pressing my clit Jason, rubbing all round, but not on it."

"My fingers are running round my lips, in them along them, all round my pussy."

Still pumping his erection he leaned forward and typed.

"I asked what are you looking for? What do you want?"

With my left hand rubbing my clit I typed with the fingers on my right hand. "I want to cum Jason, I want you to make me cum."

"I'm near Amanda, cum with me, put your fingers in. Let's cum together."

"Yes Jason, yes," I typed straightening my three middle fingers and holding my thumb on my little one.

"I've got three fingers ready, three straight fingers Jason, they're near my pussy, they're ready Jason, ready for me , ready for you, they are you Jason, my fingers are your cock and they want me. Jason I've just shoved three fingers right up my cunt and I'm fucking myself. Cum with me, please, please cum with me."

The sight of stream after stream of the whitish, gooey fluid spurting from his cock and splattering, firstly, on his thighs and then, as the pressure subsided, onto his stomach was all I needed. Squirming more firmly on my extended fingers I writhed the sensitivity of my vaginal innards against the surrogate cock until I joined Jason in a shudderingly satisfying mutual orgasm.

A bit of introspection.

It was, I knew, getting a little out of hand. But, I reconciled, being a cyber groupie was surely better than being someone's mistress, a company bike or an older woman available to young guys, something that I was beginning to realise appealed to me rather more than ideally it should. 

And in the end result, was it all that wrong? The mails and the cams were only really 'wankaids.' That's all, just like a vibrator really, they helped you cum more easily and satisfyingly. 

What worried me, I suppose, was where it might lead. Was what I was doing the marijuana of the virtual world? Would it lead me to the big H, perhaps allowing myself to be persuaded to meet? Did one thing lead to the other, did the addiction increase until you had to have more for your habit got bigger and harder to satisfy as tome moved on? That was the worry, but I reconciled that by thinking I had known when to stop with Craig and Patrick, I hadn't gone astray again in those ways again and this was different to those adventures, this was just me and my PC.

Could I do it? Should I? I pondered. 

I'd sometimes masturbated as I spoke to Richard on the phone when he was away on one of his frequent business trips and twice I'd done that with Patrick during our affair. But to do it with a stranger, a cyberpal, someone I'd met on messenger, wow that was a whole new ball game wasn't it?

Several men, well lots really, had asked. I'd always said no for my intent was to keep my distance from them. My web activities were kept in a sealed compartment of my life, to which there was only one key-holder, me. No one else knew I even went into messenger let alone what I did there and I had no intention of opening it up other than when I wanted to. Equally, I wasn't prepared to go any further than I had so far. I was determined never to meet. Not just because of the dangers involved, but also because it made me feel cheap; as though I was using the net to pick up men. Odd wasn't it that I'd masturbate with them and could morally and emotionally handle that, yet the idea of meeting made me feel cheap? Also I didn't want the hassle. All the lies and cheating, excuses and duplicity that go with the territory of an affair, although exciting and essential parts of the buzz are draining and get to you after a while. In my way I was now being faithful to Richard and my family. Why risk fucking all that up simply to meet and presumably have sex with a stranger from the net?

But then I'd always thought I wouldn't talk that much about sex; that I wouldn't tell men what I was wearing; wouldn't undress, bare myself or caress my body; wouldn't look at men on cam as they masturbated and certainly wouldn't say "You are one of the most beautiful men I have ever seen," as I gazed lustfully I suppose at a young man's naked and very rampant body. 

In the end I'd always given in, reconciling it as 'in for a penny...................!!

"Hi," I said quietly into the pay as you go mobile I had bought during my Patrick days.

"Hello Cat, how are you?" I heard, feeling relieved that it was clearly a female voice. 

Several times men had pretended to be women and had come onto me quite strongly. That was why I was relatively easily persuaded by Lin to chat on the phone. That and the fact she was thousands of miles away and I was becoming, no had become, more and more bi curious as I got deeper and deeper into my writing and to the net. No matter how intimate we'd chatted on the screen there was still that lingering doubt that she, or I come to that, could be a man. And so we'd agreed that before we did anything we'd talk on the phone, but with her being in California and me in London the eight hour time difference made it difficult. Several times one or the other of us had been forced to cancel at the last minute due to unforeseen circumstances such as one of my children being around or her older male lover, who it seemed treated her as almost a sex-slave, not going to work as he should

"I'm fine and you?"

It didn't take long for us to take things dramatically further. But then we'd almost been there before. Been there typing to each other and looking at the photos we'd exchanged; photos that as we'd got to know each other became more explicit, more graphic and quite frankly more horny. My "portfolio" had been taken by Richard and Lin had hers taken by her lover who was trying to get her some modelling assignments. So far it seemed all he'd managed to get her was some "erotic dancing" gigs, or as we call them in the UK strip jobs.

I was undressed as we'd planned.

"Just that blue, silk robe you've seen in the photo Lin."

"Mmmmmm and under it?"

"Just me lol. And you Lin."

"lol, I' m just me."

"Well then." I said a bit tongue-tied.

"Well then too," came back

Nothing was said for a while as I looked at the photos of the innocent face and the lustful body, the childlike look and the womanly demeanour. She was truly beautiful, had a fabulous figure with the most perfect, small but rounded 33b breasts and long, long slender legs that even as I looked at them I could imagine being around my shoulders as I lay between them lapping at the marvellous source of her femininity. That thought made me physical shudder part with desire, but mainly with surprise. Smiling, I thought, 'Why would a straight girl like me imagine another girls thighs wrapped round her face? Why indeed?

"Cat, I'm looking at your breasts imagining them in my mouth."

"I want them there Lin as I want to be between what I'm looking at, your thighs. Open them for me darling."

"Oh yes, yes," came quietly and throatily down the phone, "undo your robe darling and get those titties ready for me."

I gladly shrugged it off. I wanted to bare myself for her, to be as naked as she was. "Yes Lin, I have, I'm naked and ready," I moaned.

"I want you babe; I want you now, make love to me, make love to me now, please fuck me darling."

"Oh yes Lin, yes," I groaned both my hands cupping my breasts and caressing, squeezing and kneading them. "I want to fuck you, I want you to fuck me, make me cum Lin, make me cum" I was saying all these natural and presumably correct phrases without actually having a very clear idea as to what two women fucking actually entailed.

"I'm near Cat, I have my fingers up my cunt and I'm fucking myself as if it was you. What are you doing?"

I told her about holding my breasts.

"But now Cat you have to fuck yourself with your fingers and pretend they're mine." 

I wanted more than that and I'd planned for more than that. Why not? I knew what was going to happen with Lin today. I wanted sex with her as much as she wanted sex with me, or bringing reality into play, we both wanted sex with ourselves, for that was what it really was all about. That's what all my messing around on the net was about wasn't it? Modern masturbation; variations on a theme; bringing self-sex more alive, adding verve and flair to it, getting more from it. Wasn't that why I did it, why Lin, Matt and all the others I'd had and who'd had me did it? Didn't we all do it so we'd get more excitement from fucking ourselves because we couldn't or didn't want to fuck or be fucked by others?

Other than some mild flirting and one groping, drunken kiss at a party when I was about to go to university, I have had no experience with women. To be truthful, compared to many women I know, I hadn't had that much experience with men either; three in over twenty years and nine in total during my life isn't going to set any records is it?

In my late teens and twenties and through most of thirties I really had absolutely no interest whatsoever in other women. I knew that I had no lesbian tendencies. Even when it was offered to me on a plate several times by lesbian tennis girls, I wasn't even tempted.

My cyber stuff changed all that. Through reading Literotica, exchanging emails, using messenger and then surfing round some of the slightly seemier areas of the net, I was amazed at just how wide spread girl with girl action had become. I knew, of course, from the papers and magazine, from TV and films that it had become a hot topic, but I would never have believed just how hot and how popular it seemed to be. That made me curious, I suppose; bi curious as I found out it was termed. 

I didn't begin looking at girls and imagining them naked, I didn't look at friends and start to fancy them and I didn't develop a penis hatred or anything like that. No, as my net and writing activities increased so my interest in girly sex, I refuse to call it lesbian, also increased. I started to think what it would be like to be touched by a woman, stroked and caressed by one. How it would feel to be kissed by a girl, be in her arms, have my body pressed against hers. What it would be like to have her cup my breasts and squeeze them and, more significantly, what it would be like to feel her boobs, to cup them, stroke and caress them. And of course the more I thought of such things, the more my imagination, my bi curiosity, was stretched. What would it feel like I wondered to be naked with another girl and have our bare bodies pressed together; to feel her fingers on my wetness, to have them inside me and to do the same to her. What would she taste and smell like, what would I feel like if I made her cum.

I didn't have any real desire to satisfy that curiosity by meeting a girl. In my current thinking that would be as pointless as having another affair with a man, and in any case I'm not lesbian am I? But just as I am now physically loyal, but emotionally and virtually outrageously unfaithful to Richard, so I could be physically completely hetero, but in this virtual world, this parallel existence, I could be emotionally bisexual.

Hence, Lin was my first venture into satisfying that curiosity, my first attempt at going both ways and my initial sortie into 'having my sexual cake and eating it' at the same time.

"I will Lin, but not with my fingers."

"What then darling?"

"I have my vibrator."

"Oh yes, use that, use that to fuck yourself."

"Have you got one Lin?"

"No Chuck won't let me," she replied. 

I didn't bother to ask why, but instead switched on the bright pink vibrator.

"Oh darling," Lin moaned down the phone, "that sounds so good."

"And it feels wonderful," I told her as I ran the vibrating tip round my nipples, over my breasts and down onto the lips of pussy returning time and time again, of course, to the base of my clitoris.

That really is the most mega sensitive place for me. With the folds of pink, glistening skin pulled away the entire, fantastic stalk, that has only sexual pleasure giving as its reason for existence, is revealed and then my fingers, a lovers tongue or, as now, the tip of a throbbing vibrator can find the place where maybe my erotic paradise resides.

I was too het up to last long. I'd wanted this for some time and had thought of little more than having Lin over the phone for the past week or so. Being naked, hearing her voice and her low moans and now having my "friend" doing its business on my special spot were all too much.

"Oh Lin," I sighed holding the plastic against my clit and turning the power up a tad, "I'm cumming, I'm cumming."

"Yes Cat yes, yes, yes, so am, so am I."

We both grunted, groaned, sighed and moaned our ways wordlessly,to our climaxes.

Back to analysis.

So as we come more and more up to date I am sexually interesting and fulfilling myself with a combination of writing stories for Lit, exchanging emails, using messenger and occasionally having sex with my absentee husband.

I don't use messenger anywhere near as frequently as I did when I was first introduced to it. Now it's more like an outlet valve for when I become very frustrated or when I am writing a story or exchanging emails that particularly excite me.

I see meeting a man, and now and then a woman on there, having an intelligent and interesting get to know each other period of chat and emails, perhaps photos as well, as my 'hobby.' If, as it could in reality, leads to both of us wanting more, then so be it. I have overcome my feelings that if I masturbate with someone they will think badly of me, think I'm too easy or a slut. In many ways those descriptions may be true, but now I don't mind if others think it, after all the net is hugely transitory and probably was invented for Jekyl and Hyde's such as me.