Craving My Boss's Wife

I close my eyes as I softly stroke my protruding c**k, imagining her right in front of me, her mouth suckling on my d**k. My hips lift, and I groan lightly. I had been eager for this moment, which explains why my skin is too sensitive to touch. “f**k!” Clearly, the image of her tight hole f****d by my hard d**k flashes right up in my mind, turning me on even more, heat rushing through me and– My name is Kai Miller. YOU may be wondering how we got here. I am currently at work and available to pick up Mrs. Olive Williams, a beautiful woman to behold, probably in her early thirties. I am patiently sitting in a sleek car. The soft seat and the cool air from the AC feel good enough to make me sleep. I glance at the entrance, waiting for her to appear. An hour could pass, and she still wouldn’t come out. She always takes her time. I allow the hum of the engine to replace the silent wait, and my mind drifts, as it always does. I see her — the way she walks, confidently yet effortlessly. Her hair sways backward while she moves. Her boobs jiggle along, while her backside follows the rhythm of her steps. Her curves, I trace them all in my imagination; her endowment hits my nerves every time in a way I know I shouldn’t want. I feel heat flow through my body, my C**ck rising hard, pulling my idle hand from the wheel to get busy. I shouldn't be doing this here, yet I can't stop myself. She is everything beautiful. Every muscle in my body gets tense with anticipation. My breath catches in my chest as my fingers venture down, under my black cotton shorts. I think back to my white shorts the night I first saw her, I had spilled it with c*m for the very first time in my life, and I giggle to myself. If anyone had told me back then that the urge I had would turn into a constant thing, I wouldn’t have believed I would have the nerve, as the virgin guy I claimed to be. And now the urge to touch myself while thinking of her is honestly very sporadic. “I need you, Olive…ee!” I stroke faster and faster as I imagine her moaning and asking for more of my c**k inside her wet p***y. “Urghhh…!” I moan out, slightly loud. The hum of the engine covers part of my groans. You'll mess the place up. My mind yells back. I stop touching immediately, so I won't come. I didn't want to mess up the car. I think of what would happen if she walked in on me like this. What would she think of me? But my senses get clouded with an unimaginable dream of her helping my misery instead. Oh, shut up, I scold myself. Would you really want to f**k someone's wife who has no interest in you? No, because that would be weird. I’d made a salient point to myself, yet it doesn't stop my wild thoughts from creeping in, picturing her catwalk to me with her hands on her boobs. I stare out the window, no sign of her yet. Everywhere was quiet, just as it was. My c**k refuses to stay quiet, getting hard at the slight thought of her still cat walking, gracefully in heels. “Damn it!” I can't resist this. It feels so good. My fingers roll up on my hard d**k again, now at every rhythm, I imagine her tongue moving. This time, I go faster, my eyes close, my mouth wide open, gasping as her name escapes me. “Urghhh!! Olive!” “I wish you could just f**k and Suck me dry right now!” The car door clicks open, and the weight of my desire becomes like an electric current. My lungs seize, my limbs quiver. I open my eyes, and a soft groan escapes me as I see her. She drops her bag in the back seat. Her serious gaze on me. I don’t know how I manage to maintain eye contact, but I do, tucking back my d**k in. I was at the edge of coming; all it needed was one stroke, but I had to stop. Fuck! She saw me. I have never felt so embarrassed in my entire life. I sigh, trying to catch my breath. “Im… sorry mam. I stutter. I didn't mean_.” ‘Drive,’ She interrupts me while I'm explaining, staying seated at the back. Usually, on a normal day, she sits in front. I guess it was disgusting enough. I drive as commanded, my heart aching from embarrassment. How could I be so foolish? How long did I expect her to be inside? I stare at her neutral expression through the car mirror. She looks and acts like she saw nothing. Maybe she doesn't really care about what she saw. She’ll probably think it's my life anyway; what she doesn't know is that I can't get over her. I glance at her with every chance I get, and each time I feel a flutter in my stomach. Her perfect, round face is covered in fine makeup, the kind only women of her class like to wear. She is comfortably dressed in a white body con dress that accentuates her curves. My favorite part is that her pretty boobs are half displayed. I can't stop staring, even when I know I have lost my dignity in her eyes. I stop the car as we arrive in front of her boutique. Oh yes! She was a big business owner, a renowned one at that. “We are here, ma'am.” “Ohh, really. That was fast,” she says as if nothing happened, with a weird expression I couldn't quite place, just that something beneath me jumps. I squeeze my legs to keep it down. “ About what happened…you know what? Pick me up by 8 pm sharp,” she says before stepping out of the car, walking majestically. Did she just say, “Pick me up?” Then I’m in a whole lot of trouble.