Journal Entry 01

Apr 2

Butterflies grace me as a tingling in the pit of my tiny stomach, even before I can consciously process – downstairs from the balcony where I stand overlooking the work areas and speaking to my colleagues – the tingle graces me unexpectedly, a half second after my eyes pass over him – tall and mysterious, strong and breathtaking; dark hair and glasses... almost painfully beautiful. I shift my focus – I must work. I am appalled at myself, at my own physiology, realizing he has caused this tingling. Bittersweet is this experience, as I both understand and hate the effects all simultaneously.

I realize that he will be in my quarters soon, brewing my coffee, only enhancing my affection.

In a secret world, a wonderful dream unfolds before my eyes. I can think of only him, though I try, try to curb the distraction, averting to work again and again. We hustle and bustle about, a twinkle in our eyes when they meet, knowing that we have a special secret, and a strong friendship that others can never seem to grok. Though we've promised time and again, that we must keep our relations neat and professional, keep ourselves and our bodies sacred for our partners, we cannot seem to. My body entices him, my large breasts and manner - brazenly unafraid and sexually experienced. His youth and masculinity enthrall me. His physical features, dark and magnetic, his body strong and yet, gentle. His sexuality so responsive and aware of me, my passion can only grow fonder.

The day wears on and stress proliferates. In this together, as both good friends and bonded colleagues, we experience pure hysteria in our workday – unhappy colleagues, unhappy bosses, unhappy customers, and webs of ridiculous paperwork. Yet the weight of the workplace is upon our shoulders, for us to problem solve each question and demand.

On trips out of town, to restaurants, and in our offices after hours, our hands are roaming constantly, our passion, insatiable as we forget the day's rigors and the real world. I am fascinated by his power, his energy, his masculinity in ways that are both insatiable and forbidden. He is forbidden, and so am I.

In the car, he kisses me, his lips charming and sweet - I breathe him in and taste his lips. We could hardly wait for this moment together, to release the stress of the common day. I feel as if I have been asleep for a thousand years and am just awakening. Feeling him, touching him as his lips warm me, enveloped in his sweet smell and taste - his scent is perfectly clean, as perfect hygiene is something for which I am always fond. In the restaurant during our luncheon, he could not keep his hands from me. Under the table, on my thigh and inching its way under my waistband, his touch feels as natural to me as breathing. I am electrified, and we leave the restaurant in a hurry.

This time we park after lunch. I bend my leg, lifting my skirt slightly. I am able to tease the fabric of my girl boxer shorts, pushing it to one side, which exposes the fleshy carnation within my thighs. He has long awaited this, and only hopes for more. Exploring, teasing and caressing the outside, he strokes me until I am breathing heavily and moaning with great pleasure. He comments that he loves the sight of my flesh, that it is perfect and pretty – his fingers delve within, and I can feel involuntary muscles contracting and responding as my back arches and I cannot help moaning insatiably. I almost cannot look into his sweet face -- for he is too beautiful with dark eyes beaming deeply from beneath his oval glasses. Continuing for several minutes, Micah is hot, too... obvious when I cast a peek at his trousers, tented and bulging. "I just want to Fuck you...so... bad..." I say... knowing that we cannot, and probably will not. He agrees, "so do I, you are so fucking sexy..." I am shy and laugh like a child. I reach out and squeeze the bulging of his trousers. He likes this, but too much will leave him with an aching desire. Alas we must return to work.

Micah and I have both determined that the outcome of our romance, should it be

discovered, is the ultimate demise of existing relationships, our lovers, his and mine. This is our tragedy, we fight with ourselves to play according to the rules, but alas our spirits our weak within it. Twice as we were alone together, we acted scenarios like curious children creating play rehearsal. He requests, jokingly, that I present beautiful breasts to him. One day, I obliged his request... which surprised him, and me, when he approached and touched me, suckling and fondling them excitedly.

We kiss and play with our bodies, always at least partially clothed. We have dreamt of one another, and shared such dreams enough times that they may as well have been real enough. We act out our dreams, I lay across his manager's desk on my belly, as if I am opening to him, waiting to be filled with him. Again he has my skirt cropped on the small of my back. He wants for my fleshy nude body so badly, I can feel it. We fear being caught by stragglers in the building, it is a large building with creaks and strange sounds when the workers have all gone home. No matter that our offices are seated privately.

The fear both feeds my desire and suffocates it all at once. To my utter surprise he exposes his glaive. I cannot allow it to penetrate me; I want for it so badly but am too frightened of pregnancy or the prospect of being caught and fired – and losing my man, my true love if discovered. Oh but I want so much to please him, to feel his pulsation and pleasure consuming my senses.

His office window is set slightly high, therefore I fall to my knees and tease his glaive, beautiful and prophetic, with my lips and tongue. I am in for several slides of my mouth – which feels amazing stroking him, causing him such pleasure that he moans and whispers my name. When he calls my name, or calls me "baby", I am especially enticed and know i am pleasing. He gives in within seconds, exploding waves of pleasure, which as I slide up and down, I catch – following the rhythm of his spasm and taking care to position my mouth and head to maximize his sensation as he cums for moments on end.

He falls seated, light headed. I realize just after he finishes that I am late for my appointment. I quickly run out, kissing him once tenderly as I leave with my sweater and handbag.

On the first occasion, we parked at an abandoned building in a small town where I proceeded to lick and suck him off as he caressed and kissed my large breasts. He cannot get enough of them – and that beautiful cock exposed itself magically in the daylight – I could not help but twirl my tongue around its top, driving him crazy all the while as I then take it all into my mouth. I look up at him slightly, as I put my tongue out, licking and flicking him wildly in between strokes. He can hardly stand this -- tells me he is going to explode - I always love when he tells me – and I am ready to make him scream with pleasure. He cannot stave off the temptation to cum wildly... for our desires have built upon themselves and over and over all day. For the remainder of the day we laugh and smile, he cannot take his hands off of me – nor his eyes... until again when we find ourselves in the presence of others at the worksite. Time is of the essence and our actions are executed quickly so as not to arouse suspicions.

All I can think about is fucking him, and he, pressing into me with force and wild abandon. I imagine presenting my breasts to him, without worry of uninvited eyes, and allow him to shake them and kiss them long into the night, complimenting my nipples for their size and response as he manipulates them. I imagine he puts his lips near my very flesh, kissing and sucking at my pink parts until I explode into volumes of sweet honey.

For one night, what would i give to feel passion in his arms and his sex, insatiable... i envision just for an evening. Then returning to our lovers, returning as friends... always with the passion lingering on in our minds...