71 comments/ 92095 views/ 35 favorites Her Secret By: Slirpuff Six inches. Not four, not eight, and certainly not ten. No, six inches is all I had, and at thirty-one, that's all I'd ever have. I always thought it was enough but guess my ex-wife Susan didn't. I'm not sure what she wanted, but I guess it wasn't me anymore. Be careful what you wish for is now my motto. My five foot ten inch and a hundred and eighty pound frame had been replace with a six foot three, two hundred and fifteen pound one. The only problem was that my replacement wasn't quite as nice as I was. Do you know what it's like to be beaten and abused by a man that big? Well Susan does now, and just maybe she's having a little bit of buyers remorse. Too bad, because she's the last person in the world I'd ever feel sorry for. She does however not look quite as stunning as she once did. Black eyes tend to take away from facial beauty. I take another sip of my drink and look at my watch. Eleven twenty-two. Eighteen minutes since the last time I looked. The living room is almost pitch black with the drapes drawn. I like the darkness. I can lose myself in it and nothing can hurt me there. That is, nothing except a wife with secrets. I'd been divorced from Susan for three years when I met Beth. She was nothing like Susan. At five foot one and a hundred and two pounds, she was six inches shorter, forty pounds lighter and attracted to me from the get go. To most people I lie about how we first met. I made up this romantic story about how we bumped into one another shopping for Valentine gifts for our significant others at the time. How we had coffee at Starbucks and never left each other's side after that night. In truth, it was a blind date set up by my sister. "You've got to get out there and meet other woman," she chastised me. "You want to be alone for the rest of your life?" I didn't, but wasn't the most trusting person when it came to members of the opposite sex. Too often the women I'd met lied, and I wasn't in the mood to be hurt by another one quite yet. So, I was kind of picky with whom I went out with. Beth worked with my sister Vicki. They worked at American Insurance Corp. Where my sister worked in inside sales. Beth was the personal assistant to the head of marketing, a woman of forty who would eat her own young if she could find someone dumb enough to breed with her. After meeting her only once, I didn't think there was a man alive that would take on that task. No sane man anyway. Beth just appeared one day at a casual BBQ get together at Vicki and Dave's house. She was cute, petite, and had a huge smile plastered on her face when my sister got around to introducing us. We were pushed together all night long by it seems everyone there. "Do you get the feeling we've been set up?" she asked, after we'd been strategically placed next to one another for dinner. "What was your first clue? The blood test we took when we walked in, or when we were then hand cuffed to one another so we wouldn't get lost?" "How about the priest with the prayer book that's been giving us the eye all night?" Beth said with a bit of a muffled laugh. "Though, it was a nice touch when Dave slipped me the two Caribbean cruise tickets and told me to have a nice time on the honeymoon." "You're kidding me right? I mean he didn't really do that did he?" Beth asked. "No, but he did mention that he and Vicki had a wonderful time on their honeymoon cruise and that they wouldn't mind going on another." "Sister or not, they are not going on our honeymoon cruise. I'm not sharing my honeymoon with anyone but my husband." She stopped talking and blushed a bit. "That is when I finally get married." The night was starting to get interesting. They did good. Beth and I were a match made in heaven, at least for the first six years. And yes, we did spend our honeymoon on a ship in the middle of the ocean. We left our cabin a total of eight times, one was required; muster they called it, and the other seven times were to dance in one of the four night clubs on board after dinner. My bride liked to kick up her heels. Thank God she would slow down after an hour or so when I cried uncle because I wanted to make sure I had enough energy left for what was to come later that night. Now there were doubts. With a boy and a girl, we decided to stop at two kids. I'd like to say life was perfect, but what marriage really is. We had disagreements but they weren't huge ones, most about the trivial things of every day life. The lovemaking didn't suddenly stop one night and we even talked about our retirement years in the distant future. I noticed a change just before our seven-year anniversary. I'd like to say it was the seven-year itch, but it wasn't. We still did it three times a week and had little if any money problems. We talked and I even went so far as to ask her if there was anything wrong. Like every other story on this site she told me there wasn't. But there was. Going on forty-one I wasn't a naïve kid and unhappily been around the block before. A man can tell there's something wrong if he only opens up his damn eyes. Problem was, I didn't know what. I didn't follow her around in an unmarked or rental car. I didn't hire a private detective, or even bug our house or phone. I just watched the woman I though I knew as well as I knew myself. At eleven-forty five I heard the garage door open and then close. I heard Beth walk into the kitchen and then towards the living room where I was still sitting, my drink now gone. "You're home late from the club tonight," I said, watching her jump about a foot and then turn on the overhead light. "I thought you and Cathy were only going to stop for a drink or two?" "You scared the hell out of me Steve, what are you still doing up?" "Waiting for you," was all I said. "Well, come to bed, it's late," she said waiting for me to get up before turning off the light. After that it was your typical night. We got undressed. I didn't notice any tell tale marks on her body and I did look, as she brushed and flossed. "You want to fool around tonight or is it too late?" she asked. "Tomorrows' Saturday so we have the whole weekend to do that. I'm tired, how about just cuddling tonight?" Well, there is a first time for everything isn't there. That was me refusing a love making session. And it didn't go unnoticed. "You getting old on me?" she asked. "No, just a lot on my mind; but if you want to that badly, I'm pretty sure I can get it up for you." "No, you're right. It's late and a little cuddling is just what the doctor ordered. We cuddled, but neither one of us slept for the next two or so hours. I listened to her breathe and even felt her eyelashes on my face as she opened and closed them. She knew that I knew that there was a problem but wasn't saying anything. We didn't fool around either Saturday or Sunday. Everything just seemed off. She didn't push it and neither did I. We did a lot with the kids, but when we were alone, there was this veil of something between us. I think Beth wanted to say something a couple of times but after opening her mouth she'd close it and look away. Guys know. For me it was something in her eyes. The only questions I had was who and why. Truthfully I really didn't want to know, but in actually I needed to know. My only problem was I was afraid to ask her. Work sucked for the next two weeks but not as bad as my home life. Our three times a week went down to maybe one, and it was a shitty one at that. I think a guy can handle almost anything in a marriage except cheating. It eats at you as you end up questioning your masculinity; I know I was. "You mind if I go to the club Friday after work?" Beth asked Wednesday night after dinner while we were cleaning up. "You going to be out half the night again?" "Steve, I was home before twelve last time. Even when I was in high school I stayed out later. You act as though you don't trust me." That question my friends didn't hang out there long. "I don't, and if you want to go, I'll go with you Friday." She stopped loading the dishwasher and faced me. She at first looked like she was about to laugh it off and then realized I wasn't kidding. "You're serious aren't you. You're saying you don't trust me? What do you think I'm going to do? Pick up some young hunk, take him outside and ball his eyes out?" The loving looks were now gone. "Maybe. It's just that I'll feel better if I'm with you." "Steve, you don't dance! You hate to dance and I love to, that's why I go with my girl friends, so you don't have to." Beth, just think of me as your designated drive and let it go at that." But, there was no way in hell she was going to do that. "So, let me get this straight. You don't trust me to go out alone with my girl friends because you think I'm cheating on you? Am I getting this right?" I nodded my head. "So, that means you think my girl friends are tramps also?" I was about to say something cute like if the shoe fits, but Beth didn't give me the chance. "Well fuck you, you piece of shit!" With that, Beth headed for our bedroom. I heard the door slam all the down in the kitchen. I wonder if she locked the door? I got the kids ready for bed, read them both a story and did our normal rough housing before finally saying goodnight. I walked across the hall and stood in front of our bedroom door. If the doors locked, that's strike two. I tried the knob. It didn't turn. I slept in the den on the couch. It was a quiet breakfast. The kids went on and on but Beth and I said nothing to one another. With my mug of coffee in my hand I looked at her one last time and walked out. At this point I wasn't sure if I'd be back. I did nothing at work for eight hours. I sat at my desk and stared at the picture on my screen saver. It was a picture of Beth and I at Sandals in Mexico the year before we had our first. We looked so happy back then. I wonder what happened? I ate dinner out, by myself and hated it. The food was good; it was the loneliness I hated. Was this what it was going to be like? I was already starting to feel sorry for myself and I hadn't even done anything yet. "Are you coming home tonight?" the text asked. "Not sure, still looking at my options." "If you're not home by ten, I'm setting the alarm!" Love you too, I thought. I spent the night at a hotel and snuck back into my house the next morning after I knew everyone would be gone. I packed a small garment bag and took all my personal essentials. I wasn't sure when, or if I was coming back. I talked to my kids after school on Thursday but not Beth. Friday I got a text just before three. "We need to talk. You coming home tonight?" "I thought you were going out with your girl friends tonight?" I never got a reply. "Hi guys," I said when I called about eight o'clock Friday. "What are you doing?" "Dad, when are you coming home? We miss you." "I'll be home as soon as I can, just be good for your mother; you hear me?" "We are, but she get's angry when you're not here." "Is she there? I'd like to talk to her." "Aunt Kathy is here, mom went out. You want to talk to her?" I thought for a minute. "Sure, put her on. Love you guys!" "Steve, is that you?" Kathy asked. "Looks like Beth went out, too bad, I wanted to talk to her." "She told me to tell you that she'd be home before her curfew, whatever that means. You want to leave her a message?" "No. Just tell her I called." I wasn't going to play her game. We had two nightclubs in town so it didn't take a rocket scientist to find her. What really pissed me off, was that she was at the second one. I'd wasted ten bucks on the first one just to confirm she wasn't there. The club was packed, the music loud, and I really didn't have a clue why I was even there. I grabbed a beer from the bar and went looking. I found her and her three friends on the dance floor. The guys they were dancing with had to be ten years younger. I watched for the better part of an hour and a half. Beth never left the dance floor even when they played a slow dance. There was a lot of roaming hands but at least she wasn't dry humping them on the dance floor. I could tell she'd had more than enough to drink but wasn't falling down drunk. When the waitress walked by, I grabbed her and ordered Beth her usual poison of choice. "Tell the lady she make a good cougar." I tipped her twenty bucks and left. I was halfway to my hotel when I got the text. "Not man enough to dance with me?" "Looks like the college boys had your dance card pretty filled up. Hope you use a condom." "Fuck you" was her quick reply. "We haven't done that in quite a while; well I haven't anyway." I turned my phone off. Monday I spent another unproductive day at work and my boss finally said something. "Steve, if you don't plan on working today, go home! I'm not paying you to look at your screen saver." "Sorry, having a bit of a problem at home," I replied. "Well then, fix it at home and work while your here, or you be spending more time at home than you'll probably like." I got the drift. He was right though; I couldn't solve it here at work or through ugly text messages. At five-thirty I walked into my house, Beth wasn't home yet. I brought my bags upstairs and was putting everything away when I felt eyes on my back. "Yes I'm back and no, I won't be leaving again." When I turned around she was gone. Finally I dumped my dirty clothes in the hamper and went downstairs to beard the lioness in her kitchen. Beth was sure making a lot of noise as she banged pots and pans before starting to set the table. Me? I grabbed a glass of wine and sat at the kitchen table and watched her. "You could at least help me," she said, turning to face me. "What do you want me to do?" "Well, you can get off your ass and make sure the kids are washed up and finish setting the table for me." "Well, since you asked so nicely, how can I refuse?" I got the kids washed up, finished setting the table and even pulled out the condiments from the refrigerator. We had Mexican tonight with fried peppers and onions. The kids updated me on what I'd missed and the rest of the time Beth and I exchanged glances. It was a long quiet night. We never so much as exchanged a word but I knew after the kids were down for the night we would be; and I was right. "Listen to me very carefully you moron," Beth started to say, when I stood up and was walking towards the stair when she asked me where in the hell I was going. "Away from you! When you can talk to me in a respectful manner I'll listen, but not before." This time, I was the one to lock the door and no matter how much she pounded on it, I wasn't about to open it. Where she slept I'm not sure, but Beth was not in a good mood when I walked into the kitchen showered, shaved and looking pretty damn cheerful. "How is everyone on this beautiful morning?" My kids responded with full mouths and I kissed each on top of the head. Beth just watched, shooting daggers at me with her eyes. "If you want to try again to talk tonight, I'll be available sweetheart," I said. She never replied. Looks like it's going to be another cold day. I was home a little late, a meeting ran over, and everyone was sitting around the table waiting for me. Thankfully I'd called and left word I'd be late. The lasagna was exquisitely done and with a good bottle of merlot it really was a nice dinner. I hoped the rest of the night went as well. By eight-thirty the kids were in bed and I went looking for my wayward wife. I found her in the den. "Getting your bed ready?' I said sarcastically. "Very funny. If anyone should be sleeping in here, it should be you, not me." "Well, I'm sleeping in my bed upstairs with or without you." She didn't respond. "You want to talk tonight or just let everything fester a bit longer?" "I don't know what there is to talk about. You think I cheated and I know I didn't." Beth was standing there with her arms crossed. "Okay, why don't I start," I said, moving over to the bar and fixing myself a drink. "How long have you been bored with our life or specifically me?" I at down in the chair behind my desk and just stared at her. She said nothing. "Okay, let me put it another way. How long have you been looking for more excitement outside our marriage? Still she said nothing but now looked a little more unsure of herself. "Well, like before, this is another waste of my time. Tomorrow I'm going to talk to Rick and get the paperwork started." Rick was my lawyer friend. I got up to leave. "Six to seven months," she said as I hit the door. "I've been bored with my life for the last six months! Is that what you want to hear?" It wasn't. I stopped and leaned up against the door jam. "Continue." "There's not much to say. One day I woke up and I was a mother tied down with two kids and nothing was going to change for the next fifteen years or until the kids left for college. Don't get me wrong, I love them to death, but I'm going to be in my mid-fifties before we're carefree again. I guess I just got depressed." I thought back to what had changed during that period of time. That's when the girls nights out started. "Well, I'm in the same boat as you and you don't see me complaining and looking for a little strange stuff on the side." "Steve, your not the type of guy that would. And besides, and don't take this wrong, but you like our life just as it is." She was right about that. "So, where do we stand? You want out? Because, there is no way on this earth I'm going to let you go out and have an affair just so you won't feel frumpy and old. Not going to happen." "Steve, I'm not looking to have an affair, just a night out once a month to let my hair down and prove to myself I'm still attractive to others." "Like what I saw you doing the other night?" "Exactly. I had a few drinks, danced my legs off, flirted with a lot of cute guys and came home to you untouched." "Technically you weren't untouched, and I wasn't here when you came home. And, how about if you drink a little too much and you let one of your sexy young dance partners have what is rightfully mine? " "That won't happen, that's why we go in a group. This way, each one of us watches out for the other so nothing can happen. Steve, it's not like we're out there trolling for guys for Christ's sakes." "But, by your own admission you are doing exactly that. I asked to drive you guys Friday and you turned me down and now I know why." "Steve, I love only you and want to stay married to you always." "You mean you want to be stuck with a boring guy for all of eternity? If I was in your shoes I sure as hell wouldn't want to be." "How about this. I have Rick draw up the papers, hold on to them and not file them with the court. Then you can go out on your girls night out and if something happens, I can have him file the papers." "But if you're not with me, how will you know if I step over the line?" "Oh, that'll be easy. I'm going to hire a private detective to film you on your nights out and send me the tape. If I don't like what I see, I'll have Rick file and we can battle it out in court. But, remember, we both signed pre-nups and if one of us cheats the other loses custody and about everything else." I was burned once, this time I went in with my eyes wide open. "Steve, don't you trust your own wife?" "NO! Don't you remember asking me that exact same question two weeks ago and what I told you? No, I didn't trust you then, and I sure as hell don't trust you now." This was not something we agreed to disagree on. "So, it's your way or the highway?" "No, it's respecting your partner and not doing anything that would jeopardies our marriage. I think it had something to do with the vows we took about seven years ago. You remember those don't you?" Her Secret Neither one of us had anymore to say so we went upstairs together and went to bed. Did we make love? Not that night but the next three nights. Life got a lot better after that. Beth went out with her three girlfriends and she did nothing with anyone else. How do I know that? I don't. You see, I never did hire that private detective to film them. I checked on the price and it was way too high, but I didn't tell Beth that. And Rick did put together some type of divorce papers that I conveniently left on my desk for about a week so Beth was sure to see them. Now I take my wife out to dinner and dancing at least once every two weeks and yes I said dancing. We signed up for couple's salsa dancing classes. You see, after Latin dancing with my wife for an hour or two she about kills me in bed. I don't think Beth is bored any more but if she is, she's hiding it well. And, she was wrong about one thing. I too felt like we were in a rut. And when we were at the mall, I looked at all the pretty ladies when they walked by. Did I ever feel like taking it any further? Never. I didn't want to end up a two-time loser like my ex Susan. I had the best family a man could ask for and a little strange stuff wasn't worth it no matter how good it looked on the outside. So, no one cheated, got cuckolded, or even got divorced. Boring fucking story, but that's sometimes what life is. But hell, who am I to judge how people live? I've got my own life to worry about... Her Secret Admirer Who's to say when interest turns into attraction, infatuation, and finally, obsession? The lines between them can get fuzzy awfully quick. It all just depends on your point of view. Max knew the second he laid his eyes on her. All it took was a brief flash of her stocking-covered thigh, a business suit skirt riding a little higher than it should have as she exited the taxi cab, and he knew he'd found the woman of his dreams. He stood frozen in the lobby of that office building, a motionless mop handle grasped in his hand while his heart pounded madly in his chest. He gawked at her in silence as she strode by him towards the elevators. Her beauty stopped him in his tracks, like something out of a movie. She was young, with the soft, smooth skin of a woman in her early twenties. Her green eyes and long, wavy, dark red hair took his breath away. Her soft, moist lips curled into the most incredible smile he'd ever seen. Max stared as she passed him, his eyes moving slowly over her body hidden beneath that smart, crisp business attire. Her beige jacket and white silk blouse clung ever so subtly to the curves of her breasts, hinting at their fullness in spite of her small frame. Her skirt, which only seconds ago flashed a silky thigh, loosely hugged her curved hips, swaying to the rhythm of her backside as she walked away. Max could only stare breathlessly as she slipped into the elevator with the doors sliding shut behind her. Instantly, a thousand questions flooded his over-taxed brain. Who was that woman? Does she work in the building? Which office? Will I ever see her again? Just like that, he was in love. The security guard at the reception desk caught the entire exchange and chuckled. "You like that, huh?" the old black man asked. Max suddenly snapped out of his dream state and could only muster a nod. The guard chuckled again. "Oh, man, you best give dat up. A fine thing like dat want nothin' ta do with yo raggedy ass." Max said nothing and immediately began mopping the floor again, letting the guard's commentary go without a response. "She don't want no janitor, dat's fo' sho'." "Do you know her?" he grunted. "Forget it, man. She way outta yo' league." He stopped mopping and glared at the old man. The guard's smile suddenly faded as a chill passed through him. "Dat's Miss Sara, Sara Sweet," he replied. "You new here. She up on twenty seven, P & G Co." Max continued staring until he was sure nothing else would be forthcoming from the old man, and then slowly continued with his mopping. Sara Sweet, he thought as he worked, sounds like an flavor of ice cream. All day, Max thought of Sara and in that time his mind let him convince himself that he had a shot. OK, he thought, maybe he was never very good with women, but this time was different. "Socially awkward" is how the high school counselors finally described him. Max didn't care what their reports said. What did they know anyway? All he needed to do was meet the right woman. A woman, he told himself, not those silly little girls in high school. At seventeen he had his first sexual experience. He'd saved enough money, fifty dollars to be exact, and went to see Ebony, a black dancer/stripper/prostitute in a seedy bar downtown. There, in a room behind the stage of that rundown strip club, he got his first blow job. It lasted all of forty seconds but that's all Max needed. At seventeen, he could pass for a man twice his age, with his large, muscular physique, jet black hair and perpetual five o'clock shadow. No one ever questioned him so getting into clubs was no big deal. Every week, Max returned to see Ebony dance and take him in the back, and every week he received another lesson in his sexual education. Some of those lessons took a turn towards the exotic, as Ebony liked to get a little freaky now and then. Over time, however, Max grew to want something more, something real, something he didn't have to pay for. But finding the right woman was a lot harder than he ever reasoned. His few relationships lasted, at most, a month or two. And now, years removed from those high school days, he finally met the woman of his dreams. Yes, he thought, the wait was worth it. This was true love. But what did Max know about love? Nothing except that he wanted it. He wanted her and he knew nothing about her either, so Max decided he'd fix that. He'd learn everything he could about Sara Sweet. Reconnaissance, the gathering of information to be used advantageously, that's how Max saw it. If he could find things out about her, where she lived, where she went to school, who her friends were, what kind of flowers she liked, he could use that information to win her heart. Information was knowledge, and knowledge was power. Power would put him at ease and make him more confident. He'd be able to muster up the necessary courage to talk to her and ask her for a date. Since he knew so much about her, she'd get to know him too and fall in love with him. He waited outside of the building across the street, hoping to see her as she left for the day. 4:30, 5:30, 6:30, 7:30, they all came and went and yet Max never saw her leave. She must have left the office already. How was he going to find out where she lived if he couldn't follow her home? And then he remembered. The twenty seventh floor. There were name plates for all of the offices and cubicles. He looked up at the building. The cleaning crew wouldn't arrive until 9:00 PM and they wouldn't get to her floor for at least three hours. He entered around the service door and took the freight elevator up to twenty seven. The offices were deserted. He walked between the rows of gray cubes and then, along the far wall, he found it. "Ms. Sara Sweet." Ms, he thought. She's not married. He looked at her desk. The typical clutter of files and papers. No pictures or personal items. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Mmmm, clean and fresh, with just a hint of her perfume. Max turned to his left. Hanging on a hook from the top of the cubicle was a coat hanger and a sweater. Dark burgundy, to help keep her warm when the air conditioning was too cold. He slipped it off the hanger. Mmmm, so soft. He lifted it and covered his face, inhaling deeply again. The sweet fragrance of her perfume flooded his senses and Max suddenly became aware of his arousal, his cock stirring uncomfortably in his tightening pants. With one hand he adjusted his crotch while holding the soft garment against his face with the other. His hand felt good and Max began to rub himself as he buried his face in her sweater and inhaled again. The soft, sensual feel of the cashmere on his skin coupled with a hint of her aroma made his cock stiffen. God, she was sexy! Slowly, he lifted his head from the sweater. He felt something on his cheek. Max dropped the sweater on her desk and reached for his face, pulling off one long, wavy, deep red hair. Her hair. He kept rubbing his cock as he held up that lone strand of hair. Lovingly, Max studied that hair. He was certain it was natural, not out of the bottle like all of those other blondes and brunettes he saw every day. No, she was an original, the love of his life. He let it dangle in front of his nose and inhaled again. Standing in her cubicle like this, next to her chair, rubbing his aching cock, holding her hair, Max closed his eyes and let his mind wander. He imagined her sitting in that chair, right here in front of him, his cock aching to be free while he held her hair in his hand. If only she'd release him and take him. His hand continued massaging his cock through those uncomfortable clothes. That chair, he thought. He opened his eyes and looked down. She sits in that chair. Today she sat right here, in that skirt, those thighs. Those silky thighs. And her magnificent ass. Max swiveled the chair out and knelt down in front of it. He imagined her sitting there, her skirt riding up again, this time only higher, up around her waist, and those stocking covered legs slightly parted. Slowly, he bent forward. Max's face rested against the cloth seat. He inhaled deeply again while his hand stroked along the length of his now throbbing cock. That smell, that's her scent. Her sweet pussy. Her magnificent ass. They were right here, only moments before. So close. His balls began to ache as his cock begged for release. He took another deep breath. Her smell was intoxicating. A wave of lust rushed over him. Max stood up and unbuckled his pants, dropping them and his boxers down to his thighs. His large cock sprung forward and he immediately began stroking himself. He closed his eyes again, imagining her sitting in that chair, her face level with his aching erection. This was her delicate hand stroking him, jacking him off. That long, wavy, deep red hair would feel good in his hand as she stared at him with those wide, green eyes, jerking him off. He could feel his orgasm mounting. His balls swelling, tightening. And then he exploded. Grunting, Max imagined shooting his warm, sticky cum all over her sweet angel face, a stream landing across her soft, moist lips while she pumped him with her hand, another on her long, wavy red hair. His balls pulsed while his hand worked furiously along the length and head of his throbbing cock. Slowly, Max's orgasm subsided and he opened his eyes. His cum had shot everywhere, on her chair, on her computer monitor, on her desk, on the files and on her sweater. Quickly, he reached for a tissue from the box on her desk and wiped his hand clean. He pulled his pants up and tucked his weakening cock back inside. Tissue after tissue, as best as he could, he wiped up the mess he created. The flimsy material left a slight steak on the monitor and files, but they'd dry before anyone could notice he reasoned. Her chair was another story. Max quickly made his way to the Janitor's closet in the hall and brought back some paper towels. He carefully and painstakingly dabbed at the cooling sperm until he was satisfied no more could be removed. Lastly, he took more tissue and did his best to clean her sweater. Once he was sure he could do no better, he carefully hung the sweater on the back of her chair. There, he thought, just like I was never here. ***** The next morning, Sara plopped her purse down on her desk and froze. It was a feeling, something she'd never felt before. She looked around her workspace. This was her cube alright, but something was wrong. Something, she did not know what. She slowly scanned her desk but couldn't determine the source of her angst. She hadn't noticed the files slightly askew, her monitor tilted just a little bit lower, or the empty tissue box next to her keyboard. Or the small cum-stain on the sleeve of her sweater as it shrouded the back of her musky chair. ***** Max avoided Sara that morning. He just knew he couldn't look at her, not after what he did last night in her cubicle. Not because he was embarrassed or ashamed. On the contrary, Max kept his distance because she had sparked such an arousal in him. He loved her more today than yesterday. She was the woman for him, the love of his life, the one he had been waiting an eternity for. He lay awake in bed all night thinking about her. He had jerked off again, imagining all of the things he so desperately wanted to do to her, when he suddenly had an idea. He was going to break the ice and he knew just what to do. That evening, after everyone had left the building, he slipped again through the service entrance and took the freight elevator up to the twenty seventh floor. Making sure no one was still around, he slipped into the P & G Co. offices and made his way to her cubicle. Immediately, his cock began to stiffen and he longed to have a repeat encounter with her just like last night. Her sweater was still there, hanging on the hanger off the hook to his left. Her chair was pulled away from the desk, the same chair that carries her scent and only a few minutes ago cupped her glorious ass. Oh, how Max longed to unzip his pants and cum again with her. But he showed restraint and self control. Tonight was the night he'd set his plan in motion. On her keyboard he placed the gourmet candy bar with his note, signed by a secret admirer. That would surely pique her interest, he thought. How could she not be intrigued? His cock throbbed, demanding attention. His lust for her was building again, boiling to the point where he was shaky in his belief of being in control. Quickly, he dropped to his knees and buried his face in the seat of her chair again. He inhaled deeply, hoping to catch all of her scent just once more. He took another deep breath and held it, keeping her essence inside of him in his lungs. Max's cock ached and he knew that he only had a few more seconds before he'd be unable to contain his lust. Slowly, he began licking her chair, the chalice that cradled her incredible ass, legs, and most of all, her pussy. He lapped at the course fabric, imagining he was licking his Goddess. He worked his tongue up and down the center, right where heaven resides during the day. Just as suddenly, he stopped. He had to go before this went beyond the point of no return. Max jumped up and bolted towards the exit, his cock aching, his balls nearing explosion. If he was lucky, he could make it home before he came in his pants. Home, to where he could be with his Goddess again. ***** Sara stepped into her cubicle and plopped down into her chair. Damn, it's only Wednesday, she thought, as she put her head back. There it was again. That creepy feeling. She couldn't really identify what it was, but her sixth sense was sending out signals. Glancing around her workspace, she saw it. There, on her keyboard, somebody had put a candy bar and a note. It's not secretary day, she thought. She opened the note: "Sweets for the sweet, your Secret Admirer." How many times had she heard that one before, she wondered. Great, another original! That's all I need. Who was it this time? The old guy in Accounting? He hit on her every chance he had, even though he was married and old enough to be her father. Eww! She took every opportunity to let any would-be suitors know, she wasn't interested. She'd be the one doing the pursuing, thank you very much, not the other way around. With her looks and body, she was going to marry some rich guy, not some schlubb with only two dollars to his name. Sara was used to getting what she wanted her way. She picked up the candy bar and cringed. It was some unknown brand of milk chocolate, the type kids sell door-to-door trying to raise money for this school club or that team. Yuck, she thought! Sara crumpled up the note, scooped up the candy bar and dropped them both in the trash can next to her desk. It was the same thing the next day and the next. Every morning, Sara would enter her cubicle at work and immediately get a weird vibe. And there would be another bad candy bar next to another un-original note. Her Secret Admirer. It was beginning to give her the creeps. At work, on her way home, Sara kept having the feeling of being watched, of being followed. She was an attractive woman and used to unwanted attention, but this was different. Her sixth sense kept telling her so. ***** Max couldn't have been happier. For almost two weeks now, he'd been slipping into Sara's office late at night or very early in the morning, leaving her candy and always with the same note from her Secret Admirer. She must be going crazy, wondering who could be so much in love with her, he thought. Every morning he'd be in the lobby, mopping, cleaning or fixing whatever, just to watch her walk in. My God, she was beautiful! Each time he'd simply stare at her, drinking in every movement of her magnificent body. One day it might be her smile that captivated him, the next day her eyes, or her hair, or her breasts, or her legs, or her ass. They were each just another reason to fall deeper in love with her. One time, she walked right by home, jabbering on the phone, not really noticing him. He could smell her perfume and instantly, his cock got hard, remembering those nights in her cubicle. Another time, she walked past him towards a trash can. She tossed a tissue but missed, and Max watched as it hit the floor near the wall. Immediately, he made his way over and picked it up, but instead of putting it in the garbage can, he slipped it into the pocket of his coveralls. That night as he masturbated thinking of her, he blew his sperm into that very tissue, the one she held up to her face. Every day he got bolder, even smiling at her as she walked through the lobby. Oblivious of her Secret Admirer as she hurried towards the elevators. Max had been watching her and realized she left work anytime between 5:00 and 5:30. How he missed her that first day he wasn't sure, but slowly, he discovered her routine. That first day, he saw her getting out of a taxi, so he figured she didn't drive to work. He was correct. The first time he followed her home, she took the bus. He trailed her to the bus stop and watched her getting on, too nervous to go any further. The next day, he'd gotten up enough courage but she changed on him and walked. He followed her, maybe twenty paces behind, watching every movement of her incredible ass in that skirt. For blocks he followed her, hypnotized by the rhythmic churning of her round cheeks. God, her ass was perfect! Round and tight, her skirt framing her curves perfectly, with just the right amount of jiggle for each step of her athletic legs. She was a true Goddess! Each of those steps, every movement of her magnificent backside, added another drop of fuel to the burning fire of lust inside of him. Max used every ounce of self-restraint and control he possessed from simply rushing forward, throwing her up against a wall, ripping up her skirt and taking her from behind. He followed her for blocks as she walked, carefully averting his attention when she'd stop and turn around looking back. Her Secret Admirer was much too clever to be caught that easily. She must being going crazy with joy wondering when he would reveal himself to her. Max followed her all the way to the train station. She doesn't live in the city, he determined. She must commute from the suburbs. However, once again, he lost his nerve and did not get on the train. The next day, he followed her to the bus stop again and this time was able to summon up enough courage to get on the bus with her. The rush hour crowd packed in. She stood no more than ten feet behind him in the aisle as the bus lurched onward. Max did his best to focus and look straight ahead because he knew if he kept turning back toward her she would figure him out. No, not yet, he thought. He must stay strong and not ruin her surprise. Block after painful block, the bus crept on through the traffic, finally arriving at the train station. Max already knew which train she took so he walked ahead of her. 007 had never been this smooth. She slipped into a seat with Max taking one across the aisle and a little behind her. He bought an end-of-the-line ticket from the Conductor, not exactly sure of her stop. Oh, the delicious agony of it all. She was this close, close enough to reach out and touch her. Through his sunglasses, he stared at her as she blankly looked out the window, his eyes burning each of her delicate features into his memory. Unfortunately, he lost her at the station. She had her car in the parking lot and there was no such thing as taxi service in the suburbs. He watched as her little sports car drove away. Tonight, however, was going to be different. He tried to drive to the station yesterday and meet her train, but with rush hour traffic he was almost an hour behind her. So, he parked his car in the lot near where she had parked the day before and took the train back into the city. That way she'd be able to drive off in her car with him in tow in his. Smart!