Chapter 1:
This is not so much a story but a confession. The confession is not wholly my idea and not something I wish to share. It contains my most personal thoughts and actions which I am sharing it with you to achieve some sort of redemption.
Before I got married three years ago, I used to see this girl, Caroline. She was attractive in a sexy way but not particularly so. However, she had a great body; lithe and supple with long slender legs, flowing blonde hair. Intense green blue eyes that would stare at me filled with lust while she wrapped herself around me as we luxuriated in each others bodies. She worked at keeping her body in top condition and used all her femininity to entrap her lover.
Our relationship was, for me, one of a convenient alternative to my then fiancée. I did not love Catherine, but she would always be there to meet my desires, to ease the burgeoning libido that my fiancée Karen saw as a chore. For Catherine it was much more. She wanted me, she needed me. She would send me lewd text messages, telling me what she was wearing, where her fingers were, what she wanted there and then and what she would do to me if I was to come around. All this to draw me to her.
It started out as a one night stand, at least that is what I had intended. Nearing the end of a long drinking session on a conference in NY I bumped into her in the lobby of a hotel bar. We chatted and flirted with each other. After a few more drinks she took me up to her room and then used me. Drunken sex is never great but she threw herself into it. After a few seconds of stroking my groin, she quickly got on her knees and pulled my hardening cock from my trousers taking before it deeply into her waiting mouth. She then got me to take her from behind then switching positions more than 10 times before I eventually came with her straddling me, pushing her pelvis down hard onto my member as she held my arms above my head.
It transpired we were both living in London so we exchanged phone numbers as I left her flat. I never expected her to call and I had no intention of calling her.
The day after the conference I got the text message:
My pussy hurts from YOU! But it wants MORE!!
I had already forgotten about Caroline, but her message created a stir in my pants. It was wrong, I was going to get married soon it should never of happened. I ignored her message.
For the rest of the week I received a new message every day. Each one more graphic than the last. She told me she was picturing my cock, she was fingering herself, she was working a banana into her pussy, she was pushing her fingers into her ass. I enjoyed it I have to say. Being teased like this and teasing by not responding. Her messages though were getting to me. I kept thinking about her, what I would do to her and what she would be doing to me. On Thursday night while I made love to my fiancée her image flashed through my brain. The image of her watching me fuck my fiancée from behind while her fingers were a blur between her legs, her eyes burning through mine.......and then I came.
Friday night drinks again, and too many gin and tonics later, another message came through. This time, it just said "I'm waiting" and gave an address. My brain addled, my resolve weakened, I responded. An hour later I was ringing the bell on a door in Notting Hill. A buzzer sounded and the door opened. I made my way up to flat 3.
The flat door was open and walked into a beautifully furnished room Caroline was sitting on the sofa with her legs pulled up to her chest. A skirt and blouse revealing her pale legs and the hint on her breasts pushing against the fabric of the blouse. A large glass of red wine in her hand. She stared at me then smiled:
" I knew you would come" she said.
I sat down opposite her looking into her eyes. Those green blue eyes.
"Yeah, I didn't" and walked over to get a glass of wine. "Haut Brion" you have good taste."
"In all things" she whispered licking her reddened lips.
We then sat there, watching each other, sipping our wine, not talking, soft chillout music playing in the background.
When she finished her wine she placed her glass to the side and reclined along the length of the sofa. Her smooth porcelain legs slightly bent. Her hand began to trace across her chest slightly above and then below her breasts. It was now clear that she was not wearing a bra. My heart was thumping in my chest. I was sitting here, while my fiancee was at home in bed tired out from organising our wedding which was planned to take place in six months time. My excitement barely concealed by the tenting of my trousers as I leaned forward where I sat, mesmerised by her.
Her eyes closed and her tongue slipped between her lips as she cupped her breasts in both hands. A small involuntary sound escaping as her thumb brushed her left nipple, both of which were now prominent against the silk fabric. Long hard bullet like protrusions revealing her excitement.
A hand descended lower beginning its urgent journey. I watched for some minutes as she rubbed the fabric of her skirt, pushing down hard between her legs. I wondered if she had any panties on. I wondered what I was going to do, I wondered if I could handle this. Eventually, my heart racing I crept across the room to place my hand on her ankle. Gently, caressing the pale skin and then working it upwards along her calf and then along the inside of her thigh. Standing staring at her face as my hand reached its goal and felt the wetness of her panties. They were sodden. It was only when my hand touched her there that she opened her eyes and smiled.
My fingers caressed her silken panties, and then worked their way under the moist fabric and then inside her. I stood above her looking into her eyes as one then two then three fingers penetrated her, my eyes never leaving her face. She began panting, pushing back with an urgency against each thrust. The heel of my hand grinding into her pubis, pushing down on her clitoris, squeezing her sex as my fingers sought out her hot inner core.
Then she came. Her hand clutching at mine, sitting up involuntarily as her body was wracked with the force of her orgasm. A couple of minutes later, she turned to me rubbed my tented trousers, and then kissed me, biting my lower lip as she did so.