It‘s been one year since I began having an affair with a god of a man named Mitchell.

As I type these words on my laptop, I‘m sitting at a desk in a hotel room in an open robe, my mouth, cunt, and ass pleasantly sore. Mitch has just left, and every inch of his gorgeous body is still fresh in my mind.

Eighteen months ago I turned 27, and had just moved to a new city with Ted, my husband of three years. I had a new job and was excited, happy, and ready to get life moving. Little did I know how moving it would become and how happy would take on a whole new meaning.

My first day on the job I was assigned to a new project team. The team leader was Mitch. Within minutes I was struck by his confidence, intelligence, and warmth. He was also easy on the eyes, your classic tall-dark-and-handsome, with broad shoulders, a cute butt, and large powerful hands. He took charge quickly and got our unit moving. Increasingly he began to rely on me for tasks, and I dove in, eager to please. We spent more and more time together. He set up a weekly two-hour lunch meeting just for the two of us to hammer through the work for which I was now responsible.

I really felt I was coming into my own, personally and professionally. My self-esteem was high. I‘d been working out, had got a new haircut and wardrobe, and started to enjoy the looks that men and even women gave me. I have long blonde hair and big blue eyes. My breasts are barely a C-cup, but they are perky and bouncy. I was extremely comfortable with Mitch from the start. We worked hard, but laughed a lot too. I learned he was in his early thirties and had been married for seven years. I found myself looking forward to our weekly one-on-one meeting more than anything else. I thought about him a great deal more than a married woman should think about another man. While Mitch could be flirtatious at times, I never got the sense that my crush was in any way mutual. I figured it was my own private little thing, and I would never act on it and never betray my husband. I was wrong on all counts.

One day I arrived at our usual conference room carrying two salads and my overloaded project folder. Mitch said, "Don‘t even bother to put that stuff down. We‘re getting out of here. This day is too beautiful to waste." He whisked me out of the building and into his car. We drove to a spot overlooking the bay, and set up shop at a picnic table. It was indeed beautiful. The sky was clear except for wispy cartoonlike clouds. A warm breeze rippled our papers. The sun felt great against my face, and I took my shoes off to feel the grass under my feet. I wore a light cotton dress that fluttered in the breeze.

The sun — and Mitch‘s hot glances — warmed my thighs. It felt like we were playing hooky, breaking the rules. It felt good. But Mitch steered us straight to the project, and we worked steadily for an hour. I got through status reports on five of my six tasks, and was about to plunge into the last when Mitch raised his hand and said, "That‘s enough, Vickie. Let‘s just take a break and enjoy the sunshine. I know you‘ve got everything in hand." We talked about nonwork things, and as usual he had me in stitches. Suddenly he stopped talking and smiled at me, staring into my eyes for what seemed like forever. There was something about the way he was looking at me now that felt different. Then he laughed to himself and looked away, remaining silent. "Hey, let‘s get back to the office," he said.

"What is it?" I asked, sensing that something was wrong. He shook his head and would no longer meet my eyes. "Mitch … what?"

"I‘m sorry," he said, meeting my eyes again. "It‘s just that sometimes I reach a point with you where I either need to kiss you or go away." I couldn‘t believe my ears. With my heart in my throat, I reached under the table and gripped his thigh. He reached down and moved my hand up his thigh until I was feeling a very hard, very large penis. "See what you do to me?" He said.

I glanced around to see if anyone was nearby. Then I moved around to his side of the table. I felt like a complete slut, but I couldn‘t help myself. I kept my eyes locked on Mitch‘s as I stepped over his thighs to straddle him. We started making out like teenagers, French-kissing, biting, probing. I hiked up my dress and ground my silk-covered mons against Mitch‘s cock. "I‘ve wanted this for months," I whispered.

Some people started to walk by, so Mitch said, "Let‘s go to the car." Lightheaded, I managed to make my way into his BMW. Mitch pushed the seats back and we started to make out again. Our hands roamed. I played with his cock and balls while he reached into my panties and stroked the folds of my vagina. He unbuttoned the front of my dress and managed to work one of my breasts free of my bra. He sucked the hard nipple into his mouth, sending shivers down my spine. Thirty seconds later I was bouncing around the passenger seat while an orgasm swept through me. As I started to calm down, he withdrew his fingers and fed them to me so I could taste my own juices.

I was so turned on. I had always thought my sex life was pretty good, but with Mitch there was a level of energy, a wildness, a freedom I had never felt before. Kissing him deeply, I unzipped his fly. With some difficulty I released his penis. I‘d been a bit timid about oral sex with Ted and the few guys before him, but now I dove in without inhibition. Mitch‘s cock was gorgeous. It was long and so thick I could barely get my hand around it. A stream of pre-come flowed steadily from its huge, round head. I took as much of him as I could into my mouth, swirling my tongue over the tip while I stroked the shaft. I worked his dick deeper into my mouth until I could feel it poking at the back of my throat. He rolled his hips and I met his movements with my bobbing head.

Mitch started to gasp. I could taste the increased flow from his cock. I backed off a little in anticipation of his ejaculation. But his control, as I would learn with pleasure over and over again, was incredible. "Not yet," he said. "I‘ve waited too long for you to come too fast." He caressed my thighs and upturned ass. Pushing my panties aside, he ran his hand between my ass cheeks and down to my dripping cunt. I tried to concentrate on his cock as he explored me with his fingers. Mitch played me like a piano. He pushed his thick index and middle fingers into my pussy, dragged a finger across my clit, and then, to my lustful surprise, drove his thumb into my virgin ass hole. He said into my ear, "I don‘t want this to stop. You‘re mine now, Vickie. Soon my tongue and cock will replace my fingers. You‘re so beautiful."

Mitch cupped my face with his hand and started rocking fast. It was all I could do to stay on his prick as another giant orgasm hit me. A muffled scream escaped my lips. Mitch moaned deeply and let loose with shot after shot of hot come. I did my best to swallow it all, but I couldn‘t keep up. I pulled away and let the final ribbons stream onto my lips, cheeks, and chin.

Mitch pulled me up and I looked at him, smiling. He dabbed the come on my face onto his fingers and fed them to me one at a time. I sucked happily, longing for as much of him as I could get. Then he kissed me, not caring that he was tasting his own come. He whispered into my ear, "We need to do this again, and a lot." I laughed in agreement as we drove back to the office.  From that point, Mitch and I have gotten together once or twice a month. We typically meet at a hotel on a weekday afternoon. I try to get there early to prepare myself. I‘ll give myself an enema (I‘m now a card-carrying ass freak), take a bath, and slip into some new lingerie. Mitch will arrive sometime later carrying a surprise of some sort: a vibrator, a Kama Sutra guide, chocolate sauce. We then proceed to enjoy each other to the fullest for the two or three hours that we can manage to steal from the rest of our lives.

Once that hotel door swings shut, I am Mitch‘s completely. I worship his body and what he can make it — and me — do. He knows what I want before I do. There are no limits and no guilt. I‘m still happy in my marriage and I have no intention of leaving Ted, but I also know that I couldn‘t live without Mitch and the pleasure he brings me. For now, I‘m just going to enjoy both as much as I can.

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