A dozen years ago Scott and Carol had an affair. At the time they each had their own reasons why it began, but once it did, it took on a life of its own. They had been friends for many years, and remained friends even after Carol moved halfway across the country following her husband to a new job. But during the two-years the affair lasted, sex dominated every moment they spent together.
They fucked in cars; they fucked in the woods at local parks; they fucked on the desk in Scott's office; at times, if they were lucky, they even fucked in a bed, if one of their houses was empty. For months they met each afternoon in a seldom-used stairwell and fucked, standing up, before Carol left in her vanpool. It was sitting in the van, her pussy filled with Scott's come, that she figured out if she crossed her legs just so, and squeezed them just right, she could apply pressure to her clit.
Carol's legs had been crossed for the past 10 minutes in the nearly empty Metro car, and the pressure was starting to build. She looked around to make sure nobody was watching, then closed her eyes and focused on what she planned to do to and with Scott later that day. Soon she felt a familiar warmth spread upward from that single point of contact; her pussy overflowed, soaking her new thong. The orgasm that swept over her was her fourth of the still-young day. Number one was in bed, when she woke up wet after dreaming of Scott's cock; two and three were in the shower at her hotel.
Scott was mostly unaware of Carol's plans as he drove through suburban Virginia toward the Metro station. Although they regularly talked on the phone and exchanged emails, he hadn't seen her in nearly four years. And he had never been alone with her since the affair ended. By mutual agreement, they didn't want to risk resurrecting something they controlled so badly the first time around.
Today risk and control were the last things on Carol's mind. For years she had been effectively sexless. Sex with her husband, which had never been good, was now virtually non-existent. She didn't miss it. And she had never been comfortable taking care of herself. Then a friend told her about a web site -- Literotica. Visiting Literotica -- reading stories and, later, talking to people on the Board -- reminded her of what she was missing. Women she met on Lit helped her understand that there is nothing wrong with making yourself come. And once she started, stopping was out of the question.
Of course all the toys in the world are no substitute for the real thing. And there was only one real thing that Carol knew she both wanted and could have. Scott suspected something was up when Carol told him that she would be in D.C. on business during the same week his wife was away visiting family, and suggested that they spend part of a day together. But as he pulled into the Fairfax Metro Station he had no idea what, exactly, was headed his way.
Carol's heart was still beating quickly and her face was slightly flushed as she stepped off the train. She stopped in a rest room to wipe off the streams of thick warm liquid flowing down both her legs, and after a moment's thought, tossed her drenched panties into the trash. She had a clean pair in her purse, and the thought of walking through the Metro station with nothing on beneath her sundress was too enticing to pass up.
The welcoming hug at the top of the escalator lasted just a moment too long; the kiss hello lingered on the lips, not the cheek; and Scott knew as they walked to his car that Carol was not wearing a bra. She didn't need one to support her small breasts, but the lightweight dress did little to hide the fact that her nipples had hardened despite the summer heat.
Scott opened the door for her, catching a glimpse of thigh as she climbed inside. The sexual tension in the car was palpable even before they left the parking lot. Carol reached over and laid her hand on the bulge in Scott's shorts. He flinched, and the car swerved slightly on the two-lane road.
"Careful, Scott," Carol said, smiling. "You used to be able to focus better."
"I'm out of practice," he replied, then, after a short pause. "Is this a good idea?"
"Do you want me to stop?" she asked, tracing the outline of his cock through the fabric. It was a rhetorical question. Like all men, it didn't take much to make Scott start thinking with his little head.
"Not really," he conceded.
Carol's hand moved down his leg and rested lightly on the exposed skin above his knee. Scott glanced down and watched as her hand slid under his shorts and boxers. Her fingers encircled his cock, squeezing gently. It felt familiar in her hand -- thick and hard.
Carol unbuttoned his shorts, reached inside and pulled his cock through the opening in his boxers. This time when she squeezed a drop of clear fluid escaped from the tip. She unfastened her seat belt and leaned across the seat.
"Try not to crash," she said, as she bent down and transferred the drop to her tongue. She savored the salty taste and squeezed him again, searching for more.
Carol took the head between her lips and ran her tongue over the smooth warm flesh, spending extra time on the sensitive spot below the tip. Her hand cupped Scott's balls and massaged them gently, rolling them between her fingers. She took him deeper into her mouth, as deep as she could from this angle, until she felt the head touch the back of her throat.
Scott rested his right hand on her back and tried to keep the car on the road as Carol's head began to move up, and down. He arched his hips to meet her, fucking her mouth as he drove. He didn't last long.
