Keith and I moved in together when we came to the city for Keith’s first big job as a paralegal. We were as close to being an amorous couple of characters in a Hollywood screenplay as two people could get. From day one, we just could not get enough of each other. Whether it be day or night, here or there we did not discriminate. Keith and I were more than willing to strip down anytime, anywhere for a few fast and furious moments of passion. And the real possibility that someone would discover us made us that more horny.

We could be caught in a frantic embrace at the movies, with Keith’s hands inside my shirt and my hand inside his jeans, or sitting out summer nights on the tire escape of our brownstone, touching and kissing, or behind cars in the garage down the street, with me eagerly kneeling on the cold concrete and Keith’s thick erection sliding between my lips. Nothing was too outlandish. The knowledge that someone might walk by at any second was so electric for us.

I will never forget the first time Keith took me to Yankee Stadium: It sure was bigger than the football stadium at my college! It was a crisp September afternoon, and we sat way up high in the crowd with a blanket draped over our laps. I was dressed for the weather except I wasn’t wearing panties — it was a surprise for Keith. I knew that when he found out I was completely bare under my skirt, he would go absolutely bananas.

The game had barely started before his hand went under the blanket, and under my skirt. His fingers inched higher and higher up my thigh, closer and closer to my naked pussy. We grinned at each other and pretended to be watching the field. But Keith forgot all about the game when he touched between my legs and encountered nothing but soft hair and warm flesh. His mouth dropped open, and he didn’t look at me, but he smiled. He stroked me under the blanket, right there in front of God and twenty thousand baseball fans. I was light-headed with excitement. My nipples tightened and tingled, and I could feel my slick, warm juices.

As everyone clapped and cheered for the home team, he pushed his finger between my slippery pussy lips, exploring deep inside me, nudging my inflamed clitoris. I tried to act cool, but I felt as if I was going to explode. I was certain that everyone was staring at me — and I had never been so aroused.

Orgasm swelled inside me. I tried to fight it, but it was too late. It crashed over me like a roaring ocean wave, radiating through my body-tingling down my legs and racing up my spine, curling my toes and taking my breath away. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back, biting my lower lip to keep from screaming. Gripping the bleacher seat. I rode it out to the sweet end, limply collapsing against Keith’s shoulder once the tremors had subsided.

Maybe I was feeling a little paranoid, but judging from the smiling faces around us, I had a feeling everyone had figured us out. And that only served to excite me all over. I wanted more.

Hand-in-hand, we scrambled down the aisle. Just as we reached the exit ramp, a stiff breeze lifted my skirt, exposing me to the crowd. A little cheer went up around us. Once inside the bowels of the stadium, Keith dragged me — or maybe I dragged him — into a storage room.

He shoved me up against a concrete wall as I was urgently freeing his hard cock, guiding him inside me. As we began to fuck, I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him deeper and deeper until his heavy balls were slapping against my ass. Suddenly, I heard something and looked up to see a janitor standing in the doorway, broom in hand. He was speechless. He stared at us as if we were from outer space. As my eyes locked on his. I squeezed my cunt tightly around Keith, holding him inside me, frantically working my vaginal muscles over him until he tensed and jerked and exploded into me. With the custodian looking on, Keith came long and hard.

“Great game, huh?” Keith said. as we pushed past the open-mouthed and staring custodian.

What was it about marriage? At first it all seemed like a dream come true. Keith was taken on as an associate by an old, established firm; we bought our condo, we got married. It was wonderful. We could not wait to get home from work every day and climb into bed together.

But after a few weeks, the frequency and fervor of our lovemaking diminished. We went from twice a day, to once a day, to once a week, to “Let’s see who Arsenio has on tonight, honey.” Though neither of us dared say so for fear of hurting the other, we were becoming bored — not so much with each other but with the same old thing in the same old place.

This is not what I had looked forward to all those years of dating. I often found my thoughts returning to those crazy old days of almost-getting-caught sex. I longed to experience the illicit thrill of doing dangerous things in dangerous places again.

Since I always left work before Keith did, I picked him up at his office every night. I always waited outside in the car for him to come down, but one Friday when I had made some special preparations, I went on up. It was my first step inside the firm that he had started working for two weeks before the wedding.

It was all so chic. A pleasant middle-aged receptionist spoke in a near whisper as she directed me to his office. I wandered slowly through the high-ceilinged office suite, admiring the dark woodwork and the rich furnishings; it all smelled of furniture polish. seasoned leather and money.

Distinguished-looking men looked up from their desks at me as my high heels clicked out a tattoo across the polished floor. Even though I was wearing a full-length leather coat. I felt deliciously conspicuous. My nipples were stiff, and a wet fire smoldered between my legs by the time I found Keith’s office and stepped inside, closing the door behind me. He was leaning back in his chair, talking on the telephone. He looked surprised to see me but motioned for me to take a seat, though he kept right on talking, outlining a litigation opportunity to someone who probably understood what he was talking about a lot better than I did.

I stepped behind his desk and leaned down to kiss him hello, slipping my tongue between his lips. He gave me an odd little smile and went back to his conversation.

I perched on the desk in front of him. I kicked off a pump and lifted my foot to his face, lightly touching my nylon toes to his cheek, trying my best to distract him. I caressed his chin, slowly tracing the outline of his mouth with my big toe, playfully pushing it between his lips and touching it to his tongue.

Keith was having trouble keeping a straight face and his conversational train of thought was stating to wander off track, but he didn’t push me away. He played along, taking my foot into his hand. tracing hot kisses over my instep, playfully biting my brightly polished toes. I had not seen such an excited gleam in his eye in months. I dropped my foot into his lap, curling my toes over him — he was already thick and hard.

He covered the mouthpiece. “Lock the door.” he whispered with a mischievous grin.

“Don’t be silly,” I answered. I recovered my shoe and stepped back from the desk. I unbelted my coat and opened it, letting it slide over my shoulders and to the floor.

I thought Keith was going to drop the telephone.

Prior to leaving my own office, I had slipped into the rest room and stripped off my dress, bra and panties. I stood in front of him now wearing only a lacy black garter belt, sheer smoke-toned nylons and the black pumps. I pushed his chair back from his desk and knelt between his legs.

By now, his end of the telephone dialogue had been reduced to monosyllabic grunting. His eyes darted frantically between me and the door.

It was getting on after five o’clock, and his fellow employees were leaving the office. We heard them laughing and joking as they hurried down the hall. We could see their distorted images flitting across the frosted-glass window.

“Look at the time!” Keith stuttered into the phone, as I slid his zipper down and freed his throbbing cock. “Why don’t I get back to you first thing Monday morning?” By the time he had hung up, my tongue was swirling over and around his velvety, purple-pink head.

“You little devil!” he whispered, squinning, as I tea􀀌ed my tongue over and into his salty slit. “What if someone walks in?”

I ignored him, wetting my lips, opening my mouth wide and pushing down slowly over him.

He shook his head in disbelief and tangled his fingers in my short hair. He applied gentle pressure to the back of my head. “What the hell,” he said, with a grin. “It’s just a job.”

I moved rhythmically up and down his hard flesh as he twisted and writhed above me, gripping the arms of his plush leather chair. Keith gritted his teeth and held his breath to keep from moaning out loud. Grabbing his thighs. I took a deep breath. relaxed my throat muscles and slid down to his thick root, feeling his fat mushroom-shaped head squeezing past my palate. I continued down until my nose was buried in his wiry pubic hairs and it felt like his spongy head was embedded somewhere between my breasts.

Through the ocean roar that filled my ears. I suddenly heard him desperately whispering to me. I opened my eyes and heard someone tapping on the office door. “Keith?” a male voice came through the glass. “Are you still there?”

Keith panicked. He started to push me away from him, but he was too far gone to have me stop. I reached up and squeezed his balls. His body strained and spasmed, and I was instantly deluged with torent after torrent of thick, hot come. I swallowed as fast as I could, but it still dribbled out of my mouth and down my chin.

There was another tap at the door. “Keith?”

We stared silently at the unlocked door, paralyzed in the most compromising of positions, waiting for whoever was there to twist the knob and step inside. But he never did. His fuzzy image disappeared from the window.

Keith breathed a loud sigh of relief. “God, do you know who that was?”

I shook my head, wiping a sticky droplet of semen from my chin and sucking my finger clean.

“It was the senior partner.” he announced, pulling me to my feet. He sounded so intense I assumed he was angry, but he was kissing me and nuzzling my neck, cradling my heavy breasts, pinching and twisting my swollen nipples.

I straddled him and draped my arms around his neck, rubbing my slippery cunt against him. His cock was still wet with me, still dripping his sweet come, but he was already rising to life again. The too-close-for-comfort call had turned him on as much as it had me.

Keith grinned, lifted me up onto his desk and pushed me onto my back. Papers, reports and folders fluttered to the floor. I opened my thighs and reached for him, guiding his rigid erection between my slick pussy lips. I wrapped my legs around him, digging my spike heels into his thighs, and lifted my hips to meet his long thrusts, rhythmically tightening my cunt over him.

As he pumped in and out of me, his cock seemed to grow bigger and bigger. The desk shook, and the framed portrait he kept of me clattered to the floor. The friction on my inflamed clitoris and the way he was sucking my nipples — twisting and licking the tender flesh until the delicious pain was almost unbearable — was driving me closer and closer to climax. All the time we could hear the cleaning crew slowly moving down the hall toward us, clanking wastebaskets and mops, loudly joking with each other, getting closer and closer.

“What is it with us and janitors?” Keith asked with a hoarse chuckle, driving deep into me.

Before I could answer him, our orgasms overwhelmed us. I came over and over again, trembling from head to toe as he erupted inside me, his semen running down the crack of my ass and dripping onto the desk.

I had just belted my coat, and Keith was still picking up the things that had been knocked to the floor, when we heard measured footsteps approaching down the hall. It wasn’t the janitors.

Suddenly, an important-looking gray-haired man poked his head into the office. I knew immediately from Keith’s reaction that this was the senior partner who had knocked on the door earlier. The color drained from Keith’s face.

“I thought I heard someone in here,” the older man said. He looked at the photograph on the floor, then at me, instantly making the connection. “I knocked on the door a little while ago.

You must not have heard me.”

“I was on the phone with a client, sir.” Keith said “You know me — work, work, work.”

“I admire how industrious you are,” his boss said with a glance at his watch, “but all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.” His eyes shifted to me “You should be ashamed of yourself for making such a beautiful young lady wait. If she was waiting for me, I know I wouldn’t be working late. Go home. Have fun.”

As he turned to leave, he smiled at me with a twinkle in his eye. He knew.

We were awake until dawn, reliving our near-miss over and over again. The passion was back. And the next time we felt it starting to fade, Keith paid a surprise visit to my office. We had lunch — and each other — on the conference room table while, nearby, my fellow employees worked at their desks, blissfully unaware of what was happening right under their noses.

Most people could never understand why we endanger our reputations in pursuit of something they are happy to find in the privacy of their own bedrooms. We are well aware of the possible consequences of being caught in the wrong place, by the wrong person. Not everyone would be as understanding as Keith’s boss. But it is that very real danger of exposure that makes sex so exciting to us. We thrive on the adrenaline rush. We are addicted to the thrill of it.