Allure of the Vixen (12 page)

Take it or leave it, that’s the choices I had.

Someday I’d likely leave it, maybe even before
Joanne tired of me. Right now, she was here, she was aroused, she wanted me.
That was undeniable.

And I wanted her.

“Tell me more about how you got ready this morning,”
I said, signaling my acceptance of her terms. For now.

Her entire face brightened, like I had surprised
her, pleasantly so, for the first time. She leaned up and kissed me, a
wonderful, accepting, open kiss. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“Don’t thank me yet. You have to answer my
question.”

“It actually started last night. When your text came
in. Peter was right there. I didn’t even have to tell him it was you, he knew
right away.”

“He knows who I am now? I mean, that I’m the guy he
met at the party?”

“He suspects it, he knows it actually, but I didn’t
confirm it. My rule, no names.”

It didn’t surprise me, I had seen the look on
Peter’s face. At one time I might have been a little concerned, some crazed
jealous husband making a stink at my office, or even coming after me. Not that
I was afraid of Peter, but who needed that? Somehow that all seemed very
unlikely here. “How did he know that the text was from me?”

“Because of my reaction.”

“What did you do?”

“I got up and went into the bedroom. After a few
minutes Peter followed me. I was at the closet, deciding what I’d wear.”

“That doesn’t sound odd. He might have thought you
were just picking out your outfit for work the next day.”

“It’s what I did next.”

Joanne was enjoying this, dragging it out. I was
enjoying it too, so to give her a hint of my approval I unbuttoned the fourth
button on her blouse. She looked down and watched my hands, as if mesmerized by
this simple action. “What was that?”

“I held a few outfits up against me and looked at
myself in the mirror. All the time Peter was watching. He could tell I was
looking for something special. I was trying to imagine what my day would be
like. Should I wear something sexier than normal to the office? Something that
would make me hot for you? Or something that you’d be able to get past quickly,
in case you wanted to fuck me in the hallway again? There were too many
possibilities, all of them so exciting.” She looked up into my eyes, her voice
hardening. “It’s been
weeks
since I’ve had you in me. That’s way too
long. I don’t want that ever again.”

I couldn’t tell if that was a demand, a desire, or a
threat. Because it
might
have been a threat, I re-buttoned one of her
buttons.

Joanne hissed at me and tried to undo it, but I
slapped her hand away. “Keep talking.”

Her head snapped up, and I expected the deep green
flash of anger, but I saw only desire. For once, I might have had her in my
control. Just by fastening a button.

“I couldn’t decide what to wear. And I was getting
so turned on thinking about it, about us, about today. I couldn’t take it
anymore. I threw all of the outfits on the bed, and then climbed on top of
them. I was wearing only a long tee shirt, and I stripped it off. I was naked underneath.
I wrapped myself in silk, in stockings, in panties. All of the clothes I might
wear to see you. My nipples were hard as I thought of how you would play with
them. My clit—I could feel my clit stiffen, without touching it. All just by
thinking of you.”

I undid the button again.

“And what was Peter doing all this time?”

“He lay down on the bed next to me. Not touching me,
just watching. He could see how excited I was getting. He
knew.
”

“And?”

“I told him he could pick out just one thing for the
outfit I’d wear today, and I would match everything to that.”

“What did he pick?”

“Do you want to guess?”

“No. I told you, I don’t think like he does. If I
did, you probably wouldn’t be here. With me, anyway.”

Joanne nodded. “You’re right. But I do think this excites
you. Hearing about it, about what I did.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.” To prove my
point I undid her last visible button. A long sliver of olive skin was now
visible, broken only by the lace of her bra. Once again she had chosen a low
cut plunge bra, perhaps so it wouldn’t be visible when she had three buttons
open. I ran my finger from her neck down to her belly, her skin warm, as it
always seemed to be.

For me. That’s what I wanted to believe.

I let my hand go to the top of her skirt, and then
around back, where I briefly let it rest on the hook, atop the zipper. Then I
took my hand away.

Joanne groaned. “You’re going to make me wait some
more, aren’t you?”

“It depends on the rest of the  story.”

“I was lying there on the bed, and I was so worked
up I started to touch myself.”

“Where?”

“I started with my nipples.”

“Like this?” I raked my fingers across her breasts,
squeezing her nipples, the fabric of her bra no barrier at all, I felt them
stiffen, hard. I kneaded them, squeezing, pulling, until both of them poked
through, making a mockery of the bra and its attempt to hold them back.

Joanne leaned into me, her eyelids fluttering, not
resisting, even as I milked each nipple, making them grow impossibly large.

“I should make you go back to the office like this,”
I said. “See if that draws any attention.”

Her eyes shot open, then came the smile. Another
woman would have admonished me, or called me a tease, or worse. But Joanne—she
was thinking about it, about what it would be like to go back to the office in
such a state of arousal. “If I told you I touched my pussy next, will you touch
me there?”

“Only if it’s the truth.”

“It is, I swear it.”

I yanked her skirt up and pushed the heel of my hand
against her pussy. “You aren’t wearing underwear.”

The gleam was back in her eye, the one that told me
the next words would have more than one meaning. “That was just in case.”

“In case I wanted to fuck you?”

“No. In case you changed your mind. I’d be so worked
up by then, I’d have to go to my other lover. He doesn’t like to wait for me to
take off underwear.”

I spread my fingers, capturing her clit between
them, snapping my fingers back and forth, letting them catch on her clit,
little milliseconds of roughness, just shy of pain. Instead of pulling away Joanne
leaned into me.

I had no right to be mad, but couldn’t help what I
said next. “Bitch. I thought you said I was the only one who fucked you.”

“I said you were the only one who fucked my pussy.”

Now it was me who groaned. Even with her sensitive
clit ensnared between my fingers, she could still jerk me around. “You’ll pay
for that,” I muttered.

“I hope so.”

My cock was straining against my pants, and I ground
into her, using my crotch to mash my hand against her. I tightened three
fingers into a spear and thrust into her, forcing it with my hips.

Her folds were no match for my force, but even with
her wetness she tensed, clutching at me, her arms grabbing me for support,
tottering on her heels.

“What did your husband pick out?” I demanded.

“I made him think about it for a long time. I told
him it had to be good, especially since you were going to fuck me.”

“Pretty sure of yourself, weren’t you?” I pulled out
my fingers, and just as they cleared her labia I shoved them back in so hard
she would have fallen if she wasn’t holding me.

“You wouldn’t be with me if I wasn’t.” Joanne was
trying to keep her voice steady, to finish the story. I thought I was winning.

“Did you make yourself come? Did you have an orgasm
in front of your husband, thinking about me?”

“Not right away.”

“I thought you were turned on.”

“I was! And so was he. He pulled out his cock and
started to touch himself. He was asking me what you were going to do to me,
what I thought you would do.”

“And what did you tell him?”

“I asked him what he hoped you would do.”

I reached around with my other hand and deftly undid
the hasp on her skirt, then unzipped it. I didn’t want to remove my fingers
from inside her, so instead of taking it off, I pulled it up, hiking it around
her waist, revealing her long legs and firm ass.

“He pointed to a pair of shoes. The shoes I have on.
He said he wanted me to wear them. And that he didn’t care exactly how we did
it, what position, only that you fucked me, wearing these shoes.”

I drove my fingers into her pussy, and with the
other hand grabbed her ass. I lifted her like that, her entire body suspended
by my iron grip, my fingers crushed up against her g spot, my palm jammed
against her clit.

Joanne moaned, in surprise, in excitement, in pain,
I didn’t know.

I carried her like that all the way to the bed. Her
whole body was shaking, she was hanging on my neck, only that keeping her from
being lifted by just her pussy. Her eyes widened in shock. I think I had
surprised her again.

I dropped her shy of the bed, and her arms had to
fly out to keep herself from falling. I grabbed her hips and used my knee to
push her legs apart. Her skirt was still wrapped around her waist. I let go of her
ass and reached around, pulling her waist back toward me so that she was
standing spread-eagled over the edge of the bed, supporting herself with her
arms, her legs wide, half dressed, her naked ass welcoming.

“Don’t move,” I ordered.

I stepped back to remove my clothes and admire her.
Her pussy was so swollen it poked out from beneath her slim thighs. Her ass was
simply perfect, tight, but still with a heart shaped fullness.

I grabbed a condom off the dresser. We’d never used
them before, but something about knowing she was married made me do it. I’d
broken one rule with her, and would do it again. I had to draw the line
somewhere.

One thing left to do.

I stepped forward and yanked up her blouse to reveal
more skin. A button popped, one I hadn’t gotten to. Joanne hissed. “Shut up,” I
said.

That was better.

She stood there, her legs spread, her head down, she
couldn’t see me, and yet I knew she was begging me, her pussy was begging me.
Her legs were tight and quivering in her tall heels.

Peter was right. These were shoes to be fucked in.

I tore open the condom and started to put it on.
Joanne turned her head to see what I was doing.

“We don’t need that,” she said.

“I do.”

“Please,” she said, and now I could hear a pleading
in her voice, the first time she had let me see that side of her. Or maybe it
was all an act.

I hesitated, the condom in my hand.

“You have other lovers.”

“Don’t disrespect me. I’m very careful. I know you
get an executive physical every six months that includes all kinds of testing.
I wouldn’t take that chance, even for you. And I don’t with my other lovers.”

“That’s only part of it.”

“Nothing’s changed. I didn’t just get married, I
already was. You won’t be doing anything you didn’t do before.”

Damn, she was right. What difference did it make
now? I tossed the condom aside.

“Turn around again,” I ordered.

I positioned my cock against her pussy and pulled
her arms off the bed, bending them back toward me while simultaneously driving
my cock into her. She was more than ready, taking me all the way, grabbing at
my hips. Yet she still gasped. Her lifeline was my cock and my hips, the only
thing holding her up.

I let go her arms and she almost fell forward,
forced to clutch at me. I grabbed her hair, pulling it free, and buried my
fingers in it.

Then I fucked her.

I fucked her for me, for her, and god help me, maybe
even for Peter. I fucked her harder than I had ever fucked her before, harder
than I had fucked anyone before. If she wanted my come, my virile seed, she was
going to get it, but on my terms.

I didn’t give her a chance to take part, to thrust
back at me, to be part of the fucking. Today was going to be my day. I knew she
enjoyed it, this wasn’t that kind of selfishness, me just getting myself off,
using a woman. I knew she wanted this. She had told me, and I believed her.

But I was going to do it my way.

I let go her hair and grabbed her hips to get more
leverage. Her hair fell over her face, I couldn’t see any of her, I could have
been fucking anyone.

No. Not with that body. Not with the way she aroused
me. Only Joanne could do this. Maybe she’d be the only one who could do this,
who could arouse me like this, from now on.

Just when I thought I was finally, totally in
control, when I was ready to finish on my own terms, she said, “Give it to me.”
No, she didn’t say it, she
demanded
it.

As if I had a choice. As if I ever had a choice.

I tried to hold back, just for a few seconds, just
as I had made her wait for this moment. Here, a few seconds would be like the
weeks I thought I had made her sweat.

Joanne hadn’t sweated at all, she had always known
I’d be back.

She gripped me with her vaginal muscles, and,
totally surrendering, I shot my load in her. She grabbed my hands, squeezing,
pulling at me, at my hands, at my cock, soaking up my sperm, my legs against
hers, feeling the ripples of her orgasm run all the way to her feet.

I spasmed again and again, filling her.

I was drained. I wanted to just fall onto the bed atop
her. Instead I pushed my cock in as deep as I could, squeezing out the last of my
own fluids into her. “There’s something to bring to your husband,” I growled.

She twisted, freeing herself, but never losing
contact. She lay her head against my chest. “It’s too deep,” she whispered.

Joanne’s clothes were a mess, wrinkled, her skirt
half around her waist, her makeup smudged. She had the proverbial just fucked
look. But no one had ever appeared so beautiful to me. Not even her, not even
in her most elegant outfit, her most pulled together demeanor.