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She was considering something out of her character.
The notion had struck her as she was walking down the hallway last summer. She was walking from the restroom back to her office in the next hallway, when she saw a co-worker. He said, hello and caught her eye. The encounter was nothing out of the ordinary — polite, open, friendly eye contact, combined with a verbal greeting.
But when she got back to her office, she felt a bit flustered. This was different. She had worked in the same organization with him for over a year now, and had just the most basic of interactions alongside of and with him. However, something about *this* encounter caught her eye. He was an attractive man — why hadn’t she noticed that before? And there was something about his gaze that pulled her in this one time.
She took a deep breath, smoothed her dark hair down with her hands, and got back to work. Must be some sort of hormonal shift, Callie thought to herself. He’s just a man. And besides. You’re married.
The summer continued to pass, and the pace of the offices picked up as fall approached. The annual meeting cycles started up again. Callie stepped into the first meeting of the school year, expecting nothing much. But there he was, already in the conference room. He looked up, smiled and greeted her. Again, the same, polite, open eye contact, and the same, appropriate greeting. Nothing out of the ordinary and nothing inappropriate. But as Callie and he exchanged pleasantries, Callie noticed that she was flirting. In a non-obvious, office-appropriate way, of course. But there was an undercurrent. A tension present. A sexual tension present. Callie realized that she was getting wet — this was new. Very, very new and very, very unexpected. The rest of the staff arrived, the meeting got underway, and two hours later, all dispersed.
As Callie drove home, she pondered the exchange. ‘There’s nothing there,’ she thought. “No strange or inappropriate looks. No unexpected conversation topics.” Nothing to indicate the unsettled feeling in her womb, or to indicate that he felt the same. But the feeling persisted. Was this just a girlish crush on a coworker? Why couldn’t she shake it off?
That evening, Callie fucked her husband with a touch more abandon than usual. Afterwards, he smiled down at her. “That was nice.” She kissed him in response, while ruminating on the fact that she had just fantasized her way through a fuck for the first time in years. What was going on in her head? And her body? She resolved to keep an eye out for any other clues that this crush could be more than just one-sided.
That fall, they were assigned a project. The basic stuff combining education, long-term planning and office organization. It was to be a nine month endeavor, with a team of six. She saw the email recipient list and noted his name beside hers. “Hmmm,” she thought. A good chance to get to know him more, and to try and feel out if this was something more than a friendly guy.
The next evening, Callie dreamed of him. She had had sexual dreams before, of course. But even in those dreams, whenever they featured a man other than her husband, there was an undercurrent of guilt, of concern, of discomfort, that this was not her husband whom she was being intimate with. But this dream, it felt….right.
She stood in the shower the next morning and thought about her dream. It began with both of them topless and standing in a room somewhere — perhaps in the office? He was kissing and licking LICKING! her neck, trailing across the side of her neck up to her ear, and then nibbling on the bottom lobe canlı bahis –a surefire way to get her to cream herself between her legs. His arms were on either side of her, pinning her to the wall. She could smell him — a horny, masculine scent, similar to the scent of a clean man when she goes down on him. But with a touch of that post-orgasm tang, almost metallic — the smell of semen. Then his hand was gripping her arm near the shoulder, as he forced his mouth upon hers for a crushing, dominating kiss.
Callie realized that she had been in the shower for a while — and she was horny. Not in a “need to get off and then get on with my day” kind of way, but in a “need to be plowed into submission until it hurts and my pussy, nipples and thighs are rubbed raw” kind of way. Damn. This was new and exciting. And dangerous.
As she drove into the office, she realized that her dream targeted every fantasy she had longed for — a man who was much physically larger than her (oh, broad shoulders and thick, muscled arms!), directing the lovemaking, and turning it into an uninhibited fuck, because he wanted her, and because he needed to fuck. Her. Hard and long and repeatedly. She squeezed her thighs together after she shut off her car in the parking lot. “I want to see what it is like to be pursued,” Callie mused. “I shall turn my attention upon him…and see how he responds.”
Working that day, her mind kept wandering. What was the meaning of this lustful connection? How did this unassuming coworker suddenly come (heh) to the forefront of her mind and awaken this sexual longing? She wanted to be plowed. Sex at home was good, and she loved her husband very much. But somehow, this new man had entered into her dream and made her begin to think some very, very wrong thoughts.
Callie had been happily married and sexually satisfied for over six years, now. But after that dream, her thoughts kept returning to the adolescent fantasies of her teenage, overly-hormonal years. And they all involved Adan. They became masturbation fodder — more and more she was looking forward to being alone with her toys on the nights that her husband had work or meetings.
She imagined Adan in her bedroom, holding her down as he seduced her, whispering that he was going to make her cum until she was in danger of passing out. As Callie used her silver bullet on her clit, she felt his fingers palming her breasts — the C cups nestled in his hands, and her nipples rubbed insistently against the palms of his hands. He took one hand and forced it under her head and neck, bringing her mouth to his as he opened her lips with his tongue. At her whimper at the welcome intrusion, he rumbled into her mouth in satisfaction. As Callie opened her legs, seeking more sensation through her silky panties against her dripping pussy, he trapped her hips against the bed and pushed his flesh against her. The pressure was intoxicating, and Callie couldn’t help but hump up against the firm length of him. She was getting so wet that his cock was sliding swiftly across the saturated fabric. The simulated fucking was driving her crazy — she needed to be filled up and stretched and hurt in a delicious way, but she couldn’t gather the self-control to push him up off of her and slide off her panties in order to get him in properly. Callie was realizing that Adan was in control. It infuriated her, but it was also just what she wanted. She was submissive to his greater size and his sexual agenda. This was new, and this was arousing to no end. Was it wrong to be lusting after a co-worker (a co-worker who might even be offended if he even knew what she was bahis siteleri thinking!)? Was it evil to objectify this man that she didn’t know outside of the office? Was it wrong to want to be pursued? Was it wrong to need this body of this man who she was not married to, and to need it so much that her sexual fantasies became so easily interwoven around him?
Imagining his body over hers, dry-humping her into submission, made her spasm and cum all over her bullet. But even though the orgasm was painfully strong, she still longed for more. Her nipples were still begging for abuse, and her pussy needed to be filled with thick, warm male flesh. Shit. This was not good. She didn’t want to hurt her husband…but she had this new, scary need to sample someone else. Not just anyone, but this coworker. Someone who she had a physical, lustful connection towards. But was it mutual, at all?
As the days passed, she would see Adan walk past her office. Occasionally he would stop and say hi, sometimes he would wave a hello as he walked by, and other times he would remain in conversation with his associate as he passed through the hallway. Twice Callie saw him peek into her office when she was with other people, and then move on. Always eye contact. Was this Adan being friendly? Was he just an extrovert? Did he just want to say hello like co-workers do? So confusing…Callie tried to put it on the back burner (it’s just a crush, he’s just a nice guy, don’t be a fool, you’re both married to other people…) but she would look out the window of her office and see him walking outside…or hear him talking down the hall…or read his words as he responded to a group email about their project. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing unexpected or inappropriate…but. Callie longed and lusted. “Stupid girl,” she thought. “You don’t need an office romance, you’re married, he’s married, and not to each other lol. Just refocus your energy to your husband. It’s just a hormonal quirk. You’ll get over it.”
Right after Christmas, Callie went off of her birth control. She and her husband had been talking about having a baby, and it seemed to be the right time for it. Within a week of ending her pills, Callie felt…alive. And horny. And feminine. She had always had a strong sex drive, but this erotic eruption of need was insane. Half of the men in the office now looked appealing. And they were looking at her differently. Callie tried not to be on the prowl…but she felt good, and she looked good, too. The constant undercurrent of arousal was giving her a confidence that was intoxicating. She began to seriously think about this Adan man — he looked like her husband (similar coloring, dark eyes, strong jaw) and wondered if he was attracted to her. Wait! Not okay! The warning bells kept going off, and Callie kept trying to reign in her attraction. But he kept showing up around her. Again, nothing out of the ordinary and nothing that could be inappropriate. But she would be in a large workshop, hear the door open, and just *know* it was him. Who never went to office-wide workshops. She would turn around after the hour-long presentation, and he would be sitting right behind her. She would go early, as was her custom, to the team meetings…and he would already be there. He would respond to her group emails…but only to her, and engage in conversation that was informal, but not inappropriate. But not necessary. Callie worried about her judgment — was she seeing something that wasn’t there? Was she creating something out of nothing? Was her overwhelming lust misguiding her?
Months passed, and Callie and her husband did not bahis şirketleri conceive. She was not as concerned as she thought she would be. If it was meant to be, then it would happen. It was strange, however, that Callie never felt herself ovulate. In the past, when she had taken breaks from her pills, she could feel her cycle progress, note a change when she ovulated, and could tell to the hour when her period would start a week or so later. Now? She was open for business, but it was constant. She wanted to be intimate with her husband. But there was an intensely constant need for sex with Adan, with no cycle, no down-time, no ebbing away of lust when she was on her period.
The dreams began again in April. They were becoming intertwined with her solitary fantasies. One fantasy she would carry through in her mind while she was bearing down on a dildo (another new thing — she used to never like penetration while alone) consisted of an alternate universe, where the two of them were in some sort of socially acceptable relationship without concern for their spouses. A funny way to skitter around her guilt for craving this coworker. She watched the two of them in her mind like it was a pornographic film…which was funny. Callie was “an appropriate girl” and Adan put off the vibe that he was “an appropriate guy” — so to have this fantasy of lust and fucking winding through her mind constantly was a new thing. Callie saw their two faces first — he was on top of her, sucking the breath out of her as he fucked her mouth with his. The shot moved out to them from the waist up — Callie saw her flushed chest and breasts. Her nipples were hard, and the movement of her torso belied how much she needed to be fucked. She saw Adan’s arms on either side of her, strong and thick with muscles. His chest moved as he slid his long shaft across her pussy. She could see the head pass her navel as he fucked the outside of her lips. Callie could smell herself and the distinct female aroma of needful pussy as he teased her with the long ridge on the front of his cock. Callie realized that he was trying to get her to cum, and to cream up against his cock before he even put it inside of her, setting her up for a climax that would immediately lead to more need and a helpless begging for a fuck.
Finally, once he was ready (never when Callie was, not even when she begged), he would force himself inside of her. No matter how ready she was to be penetrated, he was too big to fit comfortably at first. He would push inside of her, carefully, but somehow being rough, stretching her walls almost too much. She could feel the long ridge along the length of him in the front, and then the blunt tip of his head pressing against the top of her inside. Then the fucking would begin — a strong, steady rhythm, relentless pressure, and a forceful, violent stroke in and out of her. Too much to handle — Callie would always cum once it got to this point in her fantasy, breaking up into painful spasms inside her pussy and even in her upper thighs and around her anus, but she still always wanted more. She wanted to feel him spasm within her, and to feel him as he let go, almost hurting her in his need to dominate her so he could cum. Callie always stopped here, though. She was afraid that it could become too good. If these images in her head could bring her off so violently, what happens the next time she sees him?
Callie became very, very careful at work. She desperately wanted to find out if he felt the same way (stupid, young woman, creating something where there is nothing!), but she hadn’t a clue as to how to go about that. If only there was a way to ask him if there was something — anything — any kind of spark, without fearing for a sexual harassment suit, or even worse, an end to what seemed to be a natural, appropriate office friendship.
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