It's Over

He enters my room even though we decided that we were finished. I'm such an idiot. I let him in. What the hell was I thinking. I knew where this was leading. But my heart raced. He looked at me with those eyes and I just stepped back and let him the fuck in. Weak ass bitch. I could feel my pulse quicken, so I quickly covered saying something so incredibly witty it would throw him off "What do you want...?". Who was I fooling. I walked back to my desk chair and sat down.

Every time I convince myself I got over him he throws me back to the start with one look of his blue eyes. Damn it! I'm a strong woman. I've been down this path before and know what can happen. He's married. it doesn't matter that it isn't a working marriage. It doesn't matter that I want to drag him to bed and do things with him that would make me blush. He's fucking married.

He walks over and kneels at my chair. I try not to look at him, but keep stealing glances. He leans in. He is going to try to kiss me. I know it. I'm going to resist. He'll get frustrated and leave. Then it will really be over. Turn to look at him. Mistake! His eyes lock on to mine and I'm caught. I can't turn away. He is leaning in, I try to run away and his lips kiss half my lips and half my cheek. Oh god, I can't resist. I quickly turn my head and lock onto his lips. Oh! Sweet, wet, perfect. I'm lost in this kiss, the next one, the next. "We can't do this, it's over." I whisper. "I know" he replies as he kisses me again.

As we start to breath each other's breath, locked together kiss after kiss after kiss, he reaches over and quickly and efficiently scoops me up into his arms. One arm across my back the over under my legs. He quickly walks over to the bed, sets me down and lies half on me. I love it. We lose ourselves in each other. Kissing, caressing. His hands are on fire. Touching my breasts through my clothes. I start dry humping him. I can't help it. I need him.

I move away, breath. I am able to slow my breathing with great difficulty. "I'm going to go to the bathroom, and then you need to leave." I go in. I'm so nervous I can't actually go. I turn on the faucet and it helps me finally go. I pull up my pants, wash hands and go back out.

He is laying on the bed wearing only his boxer briefs. He starts to laugh. That dog! He's playing with me. I sit at the desk again. He comes over, again. "I can smell how aroused you are." He's right. I'm still drenched. My panties soaked. "Stop it." I feebly protest.

"I want you to read something." He shows me his journal. We move to the bed, lay down on our stomaches and read. It lists his doubts, his lust, his confusion - all over me. It is overwhelming. It is flattering and scary. And it is erotic. He really wants me. Attraction is so attractive. We kiss. And again. Heart racing again. It only takes a second with him. My body responds. What is it about him? He has this instant on switch hidden somewhere and flicks it every time we are together.

We roll over with him on top. We continue to make out. This time he reaches under my shirt and lifts my shirt and bra in one motion. I protest and he does the same with the other bra cup. I now am exposing my breasts to him. This is wrong. This is a mistake, because I will not be able to stop. He sucks on my nipple. Sweet jesus. His lips are creating a connection between my nipple and my cunt. I'm wet and open. I pull my shirt down. "We need to stop this." I struggle. He does not respond. He moves very deliberately to press his bulging cock between my legs. He starts dry humping me. I can't help it, I grind back on him. It feels so good. He adjusts so he is lined up directly on top of my clit. We grind together. We are fucking. If it wasn't for three tiny layers of clothes we are fucking. I wrap my legs around him grinding in unison with him. I can almost feel him inside. I keep reaching for his briefs to pull them off. No. I can't do that. We are clinging to each other. I pull his briefs half off on the side. Just need to remove these so he can fuck me proper. I finally orgasm. It is some relief but not enough.

I can't believe his control. He did not get relief. We lay there panting until we can move again. We know we must stop. We look at each another both wanting more. Control has kicked in. I pull my clothes together while he dresses. As he buttons his shirt I can imagine myself in it. Feeling wrapped up in him. We look at one another longingly but knowing if we stay we will not be able to live with the consequences. One last kiss and he slips out the door.

In the morning getting ready, I think I hear a knock. I go to the door and no one is there. However there is a dry cleaning bag. I bring it into the room. Opening it up it is his shirt. I grab it and inhale his smell. Tears slowly start to well up in my eyes.