The Desire – part 1.

The June sunshine fell warmly through the French window of the blue

bedroom onto the half-naked torso of the naked full breasted young

blonde. In her simultaneous yawning and stretching, she made her full,

melon-shaped breasts rise and fall as she breathed in the fresh morning

air, her long blonde hair cascading sensuously over the satin pillow

slip. Ann Dexter stretched her lithe body as she awoke, blinking slightly as

the cool morning air, mingling with the soft sunshine, gently stirred

her awake. When she and Carl had gone to bed the night before, she had

forgotten to draw the drapes. But it did not bother the voluptuous young woman to miss an hour or two

of sleep. She was feeling sunshine all over lately — particularly up

between her firmly curved thighs, and the fact that Carl had been more

than occupied — obsessed, perhaps a more apt description — with his

work had helped to keep her natural sexual interests rather keen.

And

this spring warmth with its soothing, tantalizing fingers of yellow

light was like dried kindling to her desires. But she didn’t mind. In

fact, the young woman rather enjoyed it, because then her orgasms —

when they did come — were all the more lusty and overpowering. Ann shrugged and all of the sheet fell away from her lushly opulent

contoured body, revealing, beside the ripe fullness of her lust

inciting breasts, her nicely rounded belly, the tiniest of waists,

flawless white skin, and just the hint of straw colored hair at the

center of her loins. She had the usual kind of blonde coloring, only

hers was a true blonde, with not so much as a hint of peroxide: bright

blue eyes and pink cheeks, with high cheek bones accentuating a

perfectly shaped nose and nostrils that had a tendency to flare with

just the slightest provocation. As she stretched she fluffed out her wealth of thick, wavy blonde hair,

which had only been cut twice in her life: once on her fifteenth

birthday in sacrifice to her young lover who deserted her for her next

door locker neighbor at high school, and the other time in retaliation

to her fiancee who had called her a prude in a most untimely situation.

But her husband, Carl, was crazy about her hair and, like most men,

that was the first thing he noticed about her. But the men also paid

rapt attention to her magnificently put together body as well. Curves

no man could resist, she had been told more than once. Ann smiled softly to herself as she thought about this in one flash of

deja vu. Taking both of her protuberant pink nipples between thumb and

forefinger, she toyed with them until they stiffened in self-defense,

imparting pleasant sensations into her swollen breasts and a matching

tingle deep down in the center of her belly. She was not an over-sexed

whore, but only a normal woman who had come to enjoy sexuality of late.

Consequently, every morning when she awoke she seemed to be more

aroused and anxious for her husband’s fond attentions than ever before. Not that Carl noticed. Indeed, lately he didn’t seem to notice much of

anything.

And it showed. He’d lost weight from skipping lunches, or

just grabbing a bite for dinner. He and his assistant, Dr. George

Everett had just started an extensive research project under the

auspices of the Medical Center where he and his colleague were studying

the psychological causes of unnatural sexuality and the changing

sociological patterns that resulted, always with an eye to the ideal

zero population growth theory. To Ann, it sounded complicated as could

be, with all those big words and demographical terms and gobbledygook

that she didn’t give a damn about hearing, although the sexual case

histories were another matter entirely. Ann patted her breasts and then pushed her hands up in back of her

lengthy hair, and let it fall again. Her pretty head couldn’t really

get much interested in her professorial husband’s affair. All she knew

was that Carl just didn’t seem to care much about being in bed with her

very much these days. “Ann, have you seen my tie clasp?” came a cross voice from the

bathroom, and then her husband was standing in the doorway, fiddling

with his tie, his shock of graying hair falling forward over his

forehead. He was clad only in his underwear and his shirt, and her eyes

locked unavoidably on the spot where his genitals nestled between his

legs, but as usual, there was no tell-tale bulge there to encourage her

to expect more than a peck on the cheek for a good-bye. “No, I haven’t dear,” sighed Ann and tried to help him find it by

looking around in the bedroom a little, but she couldn’t find it

amongst her feminine debris littering the dresser tops and the

bathroom. “Guess you’re just going to have to settle for a bow tie,

Carl.” Finally he changed his tie and Ann slipped a housecoat over her

glowing body and went to the kitchen to start breakfast. As she broke eggs into the frying pan alongside the spitting bacon, Ann

could not help but wonder if this was the life she chose or if this was

simply her fate. For a moment, she listened to her husband in his study

just off the living room rattling his paper and throwing books into his

already-over-stuffed briefcase. Turning the bacon with a fork, wincing

as it shot a flying speck of burning grease onto her hand, Ann felt the

same surging, growing resentment well in her chest as it had for the

past two years of marriage to the near middle-aged, professorial

husband who had unwittingly ensnared her with security and his

intellectualism, qualities she’d always treasured — until she found

out that in the end, it all balances out, and every tidbit of

intellectualism seemed to rob the sensual character of her husband. Love him? Yes, oddly enough, she knew that she still did in some

ridiculous sort of way. But what she had in mind, what had begun as a

mere student-professor relationship until he’d asked her to marry him.

In the beginning, she had hope for their marriage, but the sexual

frustrations had quickly extinguished those hopes, leaving some sort of

sterile bond between them. Now, in the second year of their marriage, Ann Dexter asked herself

more than once a day just why she’d married him in the first place.

Their affair had created such a stir in the private junior college that

she’d been forced to leave, the Dean of Women having politely asked her

to enroll elsewhere. Something about intellectual men had always turned

her on. Maybe it was because of her journalist father, she wasn’t sure,

but whatever that magic ingredient was, she’d wasted no time finding it

in the man who was to serve as her protector — her security blanket to

replace the loving father who was now dead. So, having left school, Ann had become Carl’s part-time assistant,

helping him in the lab by typing up reports, most of which were case

histories, in preparation for the final report that the sponsors would

most certainly demand to read after two years of financing. It got her

out of the house, if nothing else, and there were people to meet at the

lab. But God, all Carl did was work; there was none of the typical

chase-the-secretary-around-the-desk games that you see in magazine

cartoons. Not Carl! He was all research and study. Ironically, from the case histories she’d typed up in the past months,

she’d learned that there was always a sexual problem between a middle-

aged husband and a young wife. And it was true! She was about to lose

her mind! She was twenty-two and Carl twice that. It wasn’t the paunch

he was showing traces of that bothered her, but his performance in bed.

He was destroying the most intimate of her possessions — her

sensuality! She turned the bacon now, listening to her husband’s voice calling to

her from the hallway. “Ann, do you think you’d have time to come down

this afternoon and type a couple more interviews with our experimental

subject? Our quarterly report is about due and I’d like to get a head

start on it. Good for the image you know,” he said dryly, pulling up

his chair in front of his plate of bacon and eggs with a piece of

toast, dripping with butter, lining the edges. “I know this is rather

sordid literature I’m making you type, dear, but it’s certainly

appreciated,” he said, crunching into his toast. “Hey, come on, Carl,” she teased. “Just because I’m younger than you

doesn’t mean I don’t know anything about sex. In fact,” she continued,

standing over him and filling his coffee cup, “I find it rather

interesting learning about these sociological theories of yours. I’m

sure that sex research is going to be the thing of the future — maybe

even more important than missiles and bombs even. Sure would make the

world a better place to live if we all made love instead of war,” she

quipped, hoping he would catch the double meaning in her statement and

the desperation in her fired loins that ached for fulfillment. And part of that ache was the work she did for her husband! Ann had

always considered herself a normal, desirous female with basic

tendencies, but her husband’s case histories of married and divorced

men turned gay, of woman turning to each other for physical love

instead of their husbands and confessions of incest and sodomy. God, it

was better than pornography because it was all true and it had

generated tingles of forbidden temptation inside her the likes of which

she’d never even dreamed of! She’d even been tempted to experiment with

some of the wanton tales that subjects — people just like you and me –

– had told the interviewer, such as which positions offered the

greatest penetration, if they preferred a hard mattress to a water bed

— things she’d never considered in her husband’s missionary style

lovemaking. For him, lovemaking was a fifteen minute affair. His maddening pattern of inability to satisfy her, in fact, had grown

even worse before her increasing, passionate springtime need, until the

typing of his reports had, like an aphrodisiac brought her to this very

morning! “How about some ketchup for the eggs, Ann. You know I like to have

ketchup with my eggs …” he muffled behind his napkin that dabbed at

his mustache. A grating twinge immediately gnawed at the young wife’s belly at her

husband’s demand. Okay, lover man, she mocked under her breath. He’d

been that the night before, all right. As usual, he’d driven her almost

to the peak of the mountain, then left her there to get over the top by

herself, or slide back down, whichever she preferred. He’d been too

tired to know how she’d managed it, but she had and by stealing a few

minutes in the bathroom while he’s snored like a disgusting, satiated

ox in the bed, she’d brought herself to fulfillment with her fingers.

It was then she’d decided something had to be done … and it was that

something that had brought a smile to her lips this morning. “Ann?” she heard him, this time turning to her just in time to retrieve

the bottle of ketchup offered him. “Here it is, Carl,” she returned, carefully keeping the irritation from

her tone, and it wasn’t too difficult. With the morning sunshine, she

realized that she had again slept away the frustrated hurt and anger.

That, along with the sensuous intentions she’d set her pruriently

fevered mind to in luring her husband’s assistant into an affair, left

her no room for resentment. Still, Ann couldn’t help but remember with a series of tingling

sensations just how close Carl had come to satisfying her last night.

She’d made him her special dinner — beef stroganoff with noodles and

spinach salad which they ate to candlelight and soft music. The mood

was set, but Carl’s wasn’t, his only concern being the stack of tapes

on his desk in the study that needed sequential numbering. She’d

ignored his mutterings, as she skipped around in her see-through

nightie to fill his wine glass before curling up beside him on the sofa

and letting him lustfully run his big hands over her nearly naked,

erogenous curves — he should have ended up a sex crazed maniac after

all that foreplay! He’d been a panting, rutting animal, and even staggered when they’d

made it to the bedroom for the final course. Smoldering, she whipped

her nightie over her head, bouncing nakedly onto the bed into a lewd,

thigh-spread position like a child playing statue, except that she’d

been a very hot young wife with no intentions of taking an immobile

part in the game! “Oh, my dear Annnnn,” he’d purred, thick tongued in a

hoarse voice, pulling at his clothes while she laid there watching him. Sure, he was getting soft with age and noticeably paunchy with an

overhang of spare-tire around the middle, but the long, thick hardness

of his lust swollen cock standing out from his strong, loins

immediately dwarfed all else. Trembling sensations of shameless desire

had shivered over her exciting nakedness, her craving eyes riveted on

his large, sperm bloated testicles heavily swaying between his legs.

God, how desperately she had hoped …! Suddenly, he’d been on top of her, kissing her with wine dizzying

passion, nibbling at the hardened pink nipples of her swollen breasts,

running his big, searing hands over her wetly throbbing pussy, while

his cock throbbed against the sensitive flesh of her thigh. He’d

muttered and panted to her sensual writhings beneath him, choking out

obscene, stimulating words and phrases of love that had fervidly goaded

her to a point of whorish lust. God, she’d suck him if he’d let her!

But no … no, not first! He had to … had to make her cum at least

once before anything else, and she wanted to do nothing that might

destroy that possibility! He drunkenly crawled between her trembling thighs which she’d anxiously

spread wide for him. “I’m going to fuck you right out of your mind, my

dear, Ann!” he’d lewdly promised, using the right four-letter words to

spur her on. Their graphic sounds fired her with wild chills of

intensive passion. Was this really her husband saying, “Put it in, baby! Stuff it in your

hot little cunt!” She’d been that certain of the ‘at last’ moment when she’d reached down

and grasped the heated length of his solid, thick cock to splay open

the moistened lips of her hungrily throbbing cunt, placing its fleshy

head at the mouth of her cunt. Impatiently, she’d spread her legs even

further as she raised her steaming loins up to him, confident that this

time his fantastic hardness was going to do it for her, and not caring

how hard he fucked that first time! Getting it in was the main thing. He had! His huge, hotly throbbing cock had raced into the liquid

channel like a flash, filling the dilated core of her seething young

body with an enchantment of fury. Yes … yes, this time it would

happen for sure! She’d fervently reasoned, straining beneath this

powerful man, her husband, in sluttish abandon! His raging cock had wildly pounded in and out of the tight, pink

opening up between her legs, while he grunted and spewed deliciously

foul words and phrases down at her, each and every one inciting her all

the more. “Oh … oh, Carl … lover! It’s wonderful! Yesssss …! Fuck me out of

my mind … just like you promised!” “Yehhhhhh … right out of my beloved’s mind!” he gasped. “Your lover

man’s really filling you this time, isn’t he?” “Oooooohh yes, darling … yessss! A-and I’m going … going to suck it

for you … make it cum right in my mouth!” she’d obscenely hissed up

at him, realizing now that her lewd promise had been her first mistake

because he had gone out of his mind in excited anticipation. She’d felt the tremble of muscular tension ripple over his big heavy

body above her. “Goddamn!” he blurted. “And … and you mean it, too,

don’t you, Ann? S-suck me off …! Oh! Get ready, Ann, Carl’s coming

in!” And then a quarter of a second later, “Oh, damn, oh damn, oh

damn!” And he had, his cock had raced into her frantically churning pussy and

began to spew its life draining, masculine semen into her. With bitter

frustration, she’d dug her long red nails into his naked ribs, his

arms, his shoulders! “Oh, no … ooohhh, noooo, Carl. Please!” she begged, even knowing it

was useless as she thrust her wetly pulsating loins up at him to accept

his warmth puddling into her belly …! Until finally, there’d been nothing but the rolling of his passed out

frame off of her, the wild burning hunger aflame in her loins and belly

nearly driving her to tears! She wasn’t about to try and haul him up

onto the pillow; in fact, he could have died right there and she would

have celebrated! The bastard! The stupid old selfish bastard! Oooohhhh

… and she’d been so ready and so hot! With a loud “hmmmppphhh” she sat up, taken Carl’s hand to place his

thick fingers the way she wanted them, and then wormed two of them up

into her hotly seething cunt. She locked her naked thighs to hold his

fingers in place while she obscenely squirmed and writhed her naked

loins onto their semi-limpness, at the same time fingering her tiny,

sensitively erect clitoris. In the interim of building climax, she’d

lustfully fondled his long flaccid cock and played with his emptied

balls, but all of it together as she remembered it now, had hardly been

a night of love … anything but the erotic scene she’d so desperately

hoped for! “You think you could be at the lab in about an hour or two?” her stodgy

husband wanted to know as he pushed his chair away from the breakfast

table, his napkin neatly folded at the place setting. He was a most

meticulous man. Chapter 2

The Medical Center was nestled in a grove of Eucalyptus trees on the

west side of the hill, separating the hospital from the research center

and classrooms that were scattered over the hills. Everything on “Pill

Hill,” as the doctors, professors, and research students called it

affectionately, was painted white and now, in the late morning sun, the

hill had a magical feeling to it. Buzzing with activity, students

rushed to and from classes, eyes glued to the sidewalk in worry …

spring time was a time of completion — graduation, diplomas and

careers all pending. And so, too, Ann Baxter shared in this elation of growth, although to a

minor degree in her involvement with her husband’s research project.

Not that she didn’t have any plans of her own! For if the young

blonde’s fantasies had any foundation, today would be the final test! The gears of the Dexter’s second car — a blue Volkswagen they bought

two years ago when new cars were purely a thing of the future — ground

and meshed as Ann maneuvered the car up the forty-five degree hill to

the underground parking lot, slowing only to drop two quarters into the

slot and waited for the mechanical machine to spit out a piece of paper

as her receipt. With anxious, shaking hands, she smeared on a fresh layer of reddish-

brown lipstick and an extra smudge of black mascara to make her

eyelashes look like spider legs. Ann couldn’t remember when she’d been

more uptight, unless it was at her wedding when one of her old

boyfriends who’d warned her that a marriage to a man twice her age

would never work, slipped her a piece of paper with his phone number on

it, and right in front of Ann’s mother, too! From that moment on, she’d

looked on Carl with cooler, less ardently loving eyes. It was an omen

she’d ignored. From the underground parking lot, it was only a short walk to the

elevator that zoomed her to the mezzanine level of the student union

and from there, a half block to the Research Center building

overlooking the sun-warmed city. Spring is in the air, chirped the

birds hidden in the low hanging branches of the shrubbery following the

sidewalk in parallel lines. Ann’s heeled sandals slapped at the

pavement as she half ran to the building, glancing down at her watch to

see the hour hand glide past the seven. Carl hated for her to be late,

especially since they’d given her a more substantial chunk of their

grant in return for more responsibility … “Well, hello there,” chimed George Everett the second Ann strolled

through the door, looking as calm and unhasseled as possible

considering her plan of attack. Her blood pressure quickened when with a handsome smile, the thirtyish,

tall and broad shouldered doctor appeared, offering his hand in helping

her out of her coat. When was the last time Carl had shown such

chivalry? Little twinges of lurid excitement immediately stirred in the

depths of her belly at the way he carried himself; but there was

something else in her belly — an apprehensive knot forming there too.

God … she could never go through with it, even if Carl wasn’t in the

same office. Imagining having an affair is one thing, but going through

with it is another entirely! When it actually came down to the nitty

gritty … what would she do? She turned in time to see him hang her trench coat on a hanger that

clattered on the back of the door. Instantly, she wondered where Carl

was. Was her courage lessening? “I hear we have a report to get out soon. Is that true?” she asked,

falteringly, feeling the need to close the obvious gap in conversation

that seemed unavoidable whenever Carl was in the office. “You heard right, Ann. Lots of work to be done. Hope you got a good

night’s sleep!” George suavely beamed. “More than I’d expected, yes,” answered Ann, hoping the desperation in

her voice wasn’t as obvious to him as it was to her trembling body. Jesus, she thought self-recriminatingly, what am I trying to do? Just

because he asked me out for a drink the other night, I’ve been having

these fantasies of starting an affair with him. He’s married, I’m

married … it’s ridiculous, now just cut it out, Ann Dexter, before

you get yourself in trouble! “For starters we have to finish those interviews — they’ll be very

influential in getting us a grant next year to complete this damned

study. Oh, and when that’s proof-read and copy-tight, we have to take

it to the photocopier. Think you can get that all done by this

afternoon?” he laughed at the ludicrousness of his own demands. “Whew!” whistled Ann, more relaxed now that the subject of conversation

had turned to work, the only common denominator. She wiggled into a

comfortable position in her desk chair near the window, and began

sorting through a stack of edited copies of interviews. Out of the

pile, only a few would be selected — the ones most applicable to the

study of course; the rest would be filed for further reference. She turned her head at a scraping sound to see George pull up a chair

and with a flirtatious grin, announce, “Carl suggested you and I work

together on these interviews. He’s back there drawing up comparison

charts. You think you can stand working with me all day?” Ann’s nostrils flared. Was it her imagination or was he really coming

on to her? Jesus, she wished she knew; it certainly would make her

decision a bit easier. Somehow it’s always more innocent and exciting

being chased than chasing. It would also make it simpler to explain to

Carl, if it ever came down to that. “I … I think I could tolerate that,” was Ann’s nervous reply as she

carefully folded the typewriter cover and drew open the bottom drawer

of her gray metal desk that housed everything that could not fit on her

crowded desk. “Are you sure?” George softly questioned, gazing up at her with deep,

dark eyes, the trace of a smile flickering about his attractive mouth,

as with super-sensitive hands, he opened a manila folder. “I’m sure we’ll know before the day is out.” There, she’d said it, now

she’d let him take it from there. “Now don’t take me personally,” she

quickly added, reluctant to discard her original bailing temptation. “First let’s start with these two interviews, m’dam.” He crossed his

knees and pulled his swivel chair closer to her so that she could

almost taste the sweet smell of his fresh breath. The alluring young wife tossed her long blonde hair in a characteristic

gesture, then swept it back over her shoulders. The act, she was well

aware, had made her bra-less, ripely full breasts nipple in provocative

freedom. She was hardly conscious of her husband, Carl, entering the

room, and she could barely contain the smile she felt tugging at her

wetly parted lips at her handsome colleague’s visible uneasiness. It

registered that he must have enjoyed many sensual panoramas at her

feminine expense before.

At the moment, while his perceptive hands were skillfully flipping

through the file, Ann couldn’t help but notice how soft and well-

manicured his hands were. My God, it looked as if he polished his

nails. God to have hands like that running all over her body! She

swallowed hard, blinked her eyes to shut out the tempting sight, but

opened them only to be drawn to the short, black masculine hair lightly

enshadowing their backs, a sensory shiver dancing up her spine. She

leaned forward then, supposedly to observe the case history number,

coyly playing with the top button of her black knit dress, but not

without a certain gracefulness. The nervousness had long since passed. “Mmmmm … I think I can read your handwriting, Dr. Everett,” she said

for the benefit of her husband who had slipped into the coat room,

which doubled as a supply room, for a cup of coffee. She continued to

pretend to study the editing marks in assorted colors, but from the

corner of her eyes she saw the lusty gleam leap into his deep, dark

ones as they flitted back and forth, overly lingering each time they

focused down her generous cleavage. “How’s it going, folks,” asked Carl dryly, as he sipped at the instant

coffee steaming in a Styrofoam cup that he always kept in his desk

drawer. Carl was the practical sort. “Just … just fine, Carl. We’re going over the interviews now so that

Mrs. Dexter can get at them. No problems, I assure you.” Mrs. Dexter? thought Ann. Shades of guilt before the eye-hungry

husband? Something’s astir and I don’t think it’s my imagination. “Everything is under control, Carl,” finished Ann, hoping that would

send her husband back to the catacombs where he belonged. Over her

shoulder, she could almost feel George’s eyeballs snapping back, then

he lowered his head as if studying the file folder’s contents, his

gentle fingers flipping through the pages, but Ann wasn’t fooled. While

his broad brow hid the recesses of his eyes, she knew he was straining

them damned near out of their sockets to feast on the alluring,

hardened nipples beneath her black knit dress that molded her lithe

body. “Should we glance through the second one now?” He fumbled, dropped the

folder, retrieved it. Almost pathetically, he looked up then to catch

her suggestive little smile of understanding. Angelically, Ann crossed her hands in her lap and, which her blue

begging eyes asked, “Now what kind of paper do you want this typed on?

All I have in my desk right now is canary. That can’t be used for

Xeroxing, can it?” “I’m sorry, Dr. Everett, but I don’t know where to find it …” she

turned her blonde head, looking in the direction of the multi-purpose

room behind them that served as a store room and coffee room, the only

nook of the four room office that offered any privacy. “I’d be more than happy to show you,” George eagerly replied, rising to

his feet and glancing out the window, almost as if he couldn’t weather

another dose of her voluptuously presented charms. Ann was delighted! She’d reached him, all right! In fact, she’d wager

that the slight bulge in the front of his trousers he was uncomfortably

trying to conceal wasn’t perpetual. Damn, she sure had reached him, and

in good style! “Yes, I think we should use the heavy bond … takes

wear better,” he managed. “I’ll help you find it,” announced Ann, looking him straight in his

perplexed, burning dark eyes. “Of course, come along … it’s back here!” he finally got out, his

nearly tremoring voice cracking twice. “It shouldn’t take a minute.” “Yes, then I’ll get right at it,” Ann heard herself say, while

intensive, if timorous, excitement, gripped her as she followed him

into the coat room. “You … you’ve got typing paper in your desk. I saw it when you put

your typewriter cover in there,” he hissed, his breathing short and

raspy as he stared at her. “I-I know …” Ann whispered, moving toward him, so tight inside she

thought something was surely going to burst! Everything that her

middle-aged husband had ever recorded concerning promiscuous wives made

itself available like a sensual reference library in her erotically

determined brain! She raised her arms with obvious intent, letting her

fingers pressure against his broad shoulders, then mindlessly ease

around his neck while he stood as if immobilized into a helpless

numbness. “I-I know …!” she huskily repeated. “J-Jesus Christ!” he choked, his strong arm wrapping around her slender

waist and drawing her tightly against him, his handsome mouth hungrily

finding her warm, tongue moistened lips in an ardent soul kiss! She let

her own little tongue wetly greet his, her incited brain reeling as she

enveloped him with the resilient fullness of her breasts, soft belly

and hot thighs, urging the erogenous swell of her yielding fleshy mound

against the lengthy bulge of his thickly aroused hardness. The

passionate sensation of its solid, masculine feel whipped her breath

away! “Y-You’re beautiful!” he hoarsely panted, smoothing his big hands

lustfully over the rounded swell of her buttocks. “Y-You were showing

your breasts out there to me on purpose, weren’t you?” “Y-Yes …! D-Did you like what you saw?” “Good God, who wouldn’t?” His words were hot, gasping breaths against her face, the heat of his

strong, sensitive hands penetrating through the knit of her dress to

the tensed ovals of her rounded buttocks! It’d gone just as she’d hoped

… her bit of lewd exhibitionism … but now, what? God, this was no

time to get panicky, or suddenly have second thoughts! Yet …? “Well …?” he insisted. “When can we get together, you little ball of

fire? You want it real bad, I can tell that. Is this work getting to

you, honey?” “Ooooohhhh … I-I don’t know!” she tremulously whispered. “But … I

do want to, darling …!” “Damn, you really mean that, don’t you?” he croaked, his breathing

filling the cluttered little room with short, sizzling sounds. For an answer, Ann uncontrollably pressured even tighter against him,

almost imperceptibly undulating her desire-filled, soft belly, loins

and thighs with suggestive fervency against his hardened, rhythmically

throbbing cock. A scene from a men’s magazine she’d found in her

father’s underwear drawer raced through the archives of her sensually

intoxicated mind and like the young wife in the story who was

desperately trying to seduce her reluctant neighbor, she passionately

kissed him on the lips, then began to tickle the end of his handsome

nose with the tip of her hot, wet little tongue. “Ummmmggghhhhh …” he huskily groaned, his heated hands stroking

downward to the backs of her nyloned thighs, then up in under her tiny

skirt to tease the smooth flesh of them above her stockings, and

finally to caress and cup the rounded fullness of her flimsily covered

buttocks! His wetly fevered mouth smothered her own as she sensually

returned as much as he gave, eagerly lashing tongues with him, while

his finger tips descended, tracing the deep crevice separating the

tensed mounds of her ovalled, near naked buttocks. Then, one

outstretched thick finger was worming its way between her trembling,

full thighs from behind, the erotic sensation causing her to gasp out!

Suddenly through her panties, she felt its wanted hot pressure against

the desire-dampened mouth of her cunt, and an electric current rippled

through her as it tried to wriggle inside the moistened, narrow crotch-

band. “No … no, darling, not here!” the hotly aroused young wife whispered,

locking her strong, full thighs like a fleshy vise over his probing

hand to hamper his frantic operation. “Please… what if Carl should

walk in? Please … it’s too dangerous with him right out there in the

other office!” she insisted, her sultry blue eyes searching his while

she reached behind her and gently disengaged his lewdly exploring

fingers. Then, pressing the hardened tips of her proud young breasts

against his chest, she reached beyond him to the top shelf and began

tearing open a ream of paper. “What the hell are you doing, Ann?” “We’re in here getting paper, remember, Doctor?” she flirted. “Oh, my God, I forgot. You’re something else, girl, believe me …” And then the frustration of last night’s disappointing lovemaking came

over her. “Please don’t tease me …” “Me? Teasing you? Oh, that’s really funny, Ann! Who the hell is teasing

who?” he hotly questioned, trying to draw her back tight to him, while

she wedged her hands against his chest as a buffer. Then, in defense of

his actions, he quickly added, “Believe me, if Carl wasn’t in the same

office right now, I’d … I’d …!” “You’d what?” she excitedly pressed, wanting to hear him say it. “Well, you know. Don’t play coy with me. I’m a doctor, remember? I do

research on sex, I know what I would do …” “You’d fuck me right here?” the intensively fired Ann lewdly finished

for him in an intimate whisper, the four letter word never sounding

more exciting to her, or to him, as it obscenely tumbled from her lush

lips at that moment. “I-is that what you were going to say?” “Couldn’t have put it more aptly, you luscious creature!” he cawed, his

lust-inflamed dark eyes reflecting the depth of the jolt her use of the

graphic word had triggered inside him. He gushed a hot draft of breath

against her face, his eyes gleaming with a frenzy. “When, Ann? After

work? After lunch? When?” “Wait a minute, not so fast. We have a report to get out, remember?”

Ann reflexively countered, something in the nature of apprehension

clutching at her within. She took the ascot from his breast pocket to

dab away the smear her darkly tinted lipstick had left on his mouth. It

was a stall for time, her mind racing in a melee of confusion. “B-

Better throw this hanky away,” she said, tucking it back into his

pocket. “What … what about after work? My wife won’t be home til later

tonight since she has a late class …” “What about work?” she interrupted, in God’s name, never knowing why,

unless that was a woman’s natural reaction and subconsciously placing

herself in the position of his vivacious young wife whom she’d only met

a couple of times. He stared at her open-mouthed, part of the expression on his handsome

face and in his tormented eyes enough to make her want to climb right

up on the shelf for him! Ohhhhh … she was really hot — it was a

wonder that her tiny, thin panties didn’t disintegrate. Maybe they had!

Still, she couldn’t deny the forces, whatever their source, that were

restraining her, and she’d never realized how devoted to her work she’d

been before. Or did it have something to do with allegiance to her dear

husband Carl, who, at this very minute was dully plodding over his

work. “What the hell! Forget about work for a change, okay, Ann? This affair

between you and me has nothing to do with work, and personally, I need

a little time off now and then … Besides …” he added in a

calculated aside, “you can’t tell me the subject of this research has

nothing to do with your condition …” Before he could finish or she could answer, Carl’s voice boomed from

the other room. “How about somebody in there making me a cup of

coffee?” With bated breath, they listened to him pacing back and forth,

maybe shuffling through the files on her desk and lay open and waiting

for attention. “How about it? After work?” George pressed in an urgent whisper. “N-No, I have to finish that work and get it to the photocopier. You

said so yourself … isn’t that right?” Ann defensively answered,

hardly knowing what she meant by those words. “Work? … Christ, girl, what’s wrong with you, anyway? You’re hotter

than a pistol one minute, and the next you want to put me off for a

Xerox machine. What’s the deal?” “Hey, anybody in there?” It was Carl’s voice, louder and more insistent

than before. “We’ve got work to get done out here in case you haven’t

forgotten!” “Oooooohhhhh … I-I shouldn’t have let you touch my …!” Ann covered

her face with her hands in humiliation. “The hell with that shit! W-What are you, a cock tease?” he spat at

her. “You come tripping in here behind me with those big tits of yours

hanging out, show me your breasts with your husband standing in back of

you, then tell me that you have to work tonight. What’s the matter?

Aren’t you getting enough in bed these days? Isn’t that great sex

researcher enough for you?” The venom in his biting words burned into the young wife like eating

acid, and she backed away from him with tears brimming up into her big,

round eyes! God! What had gone wrong! It had all seemed so innocent and

fun and then … suddenly … it wasn’t so much fun anymore. Oooohhh

… she’d truly blown it … blown it, damn it! And now she’d have to

sit next to him all day remembering how lewdly she’d flirted with him. “Hey, I’m sorry, Ann,” George’s mellifluous voice calmed her and she

felt her self-confidence soar from a minus one to a plus two. “It’s

just that you got me so carried away. I-I was disappointed, that’s

all.” “Hey! Are you two coming out of there or is there something you’re

looking for and can’t find? If you’re looking for the instant coffee

it’s on the shelf behind the tea pot,” Carl’s voice reached out, a tone

of uptightness barbing it. Ann moved forward, quickly reaching for the ream of bond paper; she

daintily wiped at her eyes as George said: “Look, we have to work next

to each other all day, so let’s forget about this till another time,

okay?” The voluptuous, long-haired blonde wife didn’t look at him. She knew

that if she did she’d probably end up in the back seat of her

Volkswagen at lunch time, fucking her husband’s colleague till he blew

the sun roof off her car. God, she’d never been any hotter, or closer

to spreading her legs in her life! “Yes, Dr. Everett, I think it’s a

good thing we get back to work.” “Goddamn it, listen to me … wait … wait!” Ann heard him choke

behind her as she brushed past him out into the outer office, every

fiber of her alive with sensual excitement. From the other side of the door Dr. Everett could hear Ann’s solicitous

words to her husband. “I’m so sorry, dear, we were looking for the bond

paper. Oh, we have so much to do, but I promise you can depend on me to

get it done.” A brief silence during which he imagined a give-away glance shooting in

his direction … or was she kissing Dr. Dexter just as she’d been

kissing him? “The water is boiling for your coffee,” he heard her lie,

wondering just what kind of a woman his middle-aged colleague married. Chapter 3

Ann sat nervously at her typewriter, her fingers poised and trembling

above the keys as the electric machine’s constant whirring noise seemed

to reverberate around in her confused and tortured mind. God, there was

so much to be done and although she generally worked best under

pressure, this particular day was a very difficult one for the

voluptuous young blonde. Her mind was a jigsaw puzzle whose pieces were

scattered all over the floor waiting to be put back together again.

Confused and nagging emotions fought against one another in her

tormented mind; feelings and desires she never knew she could

experience battled against one another and her thoughts seemed to have

a dozen different sources at one. After she’d gotten Carl off her back by shoving a steaming cup of

coffee in his hands, she’d had to work with Dr. Everett breathing down

her neck, intermittently brushing his hand on her leg up and down her

thigh till she thought she’d go bananas for sure. Finally, as if by an

act of God, Carl had called him into the back office for a weekly

conference to plan the activities for next week. “Damn!” she hissed under her breath as she made the third typo on that

first line of the page. All thumbs, she felt her neck muscles tense and

freeze in position. That would never do, she thought with gut hurting

anguish. I can’t boggle this work just because of some young stud. And

as if her physically handicapped condition was not enough to cloud her

mind, everything she typed had something to do with sex. God, it was

driving her crazy! She winced in anguish, still feeling the touch of Dr. Everett hotly

slithering up and down her body. God, how stupid could one get? Pretty

rotten, she inwardly seethed, sick at the thought of having him, that

gorgeous hunk of man, right in her eagerly yearning little hands, then

frittering away her hold through girlish reluctance. Damn, she’d never

intended they be any more than lovers, an affair, maybe. For what seemed like minutes, she stood there staring blindly out of

the window, watching students spill out of the building across the

street. Some stoop shouldered, disappointed and grim, others half

skipping with the bounce of springtime in their airy steps. For a brief

she imagined where she would be, what she would be doing, and whether

she would be happy had she not married Dr. Carl Dexter. A stewardess

flying to Australia, maybe? A model on the cover of Vogue? “Uh, Mrs. Dexter, could you come in the office for a minute,” Dr.

Everett’s voice interrupted her wildly, dizzily spinning thoughts. “Yes, of course, right away,” Ann answered, reaching down to pick up

the file folder. “No, you won’t need that,” Mrs. Dexter,” he said coldly, and then she

knew she’d blown it! Without so much as a smile, he turned his back and

disappeared into the wood-walled interior of her husband’s office.