Allison's Affair
written by:
dubd

Allison's Affair

Allison Carmichael buzzed around the room like a hummingbird flying from one cluster of flowers to the next. An image enhanced by the outfit she'd chosen to wear this evening. The black skirt couldn't be described as a mini but, since it was intentionally half a size too small, it left little to the imagination as it defined her curves to a point a little more than halfway down her thigh. Her stiletto heels drew your eyes to the floor to start a slow climb up her frame over her well-toned calves, past her perfect, heart shaped ass all the way to her loose mane of curly black hair. What really sealed the hummingbird deal though was the sequined halter that concealed her firm C-cup breasts. Depending on how the light hit them as she moved around the party, they would flash either gold or an iridescent emerald and in the back it was cut low enough to leave no doubt that her tits were not supported by a bra without being slutty. If that was even possible. When she had checked herself out in a mirror after getting dressed, she had wondered about two things. The first was if she had possibly gone too far. The second was going to be if anyone would actually have the guts to talk to her. Certainly not the married men, she'd thought. Especially if they had brought their wives.

She'd decided to tweak a few assumptions. She was and she wasn't on the prowl. As second in command of the accounting department of the bank, she projected a conservative air. Always dressed in business attire that concealed her natural attributes and with her hair normally pinned back, the men in the office hardly ever gave her a second glance. Besides, how exciting could an accountant actually be? Moreover, since she didn't believe in workplace romances, she'd carefully cultivated an air of inapproachability. So successful at it was she that she would forget to drop her guard, even when she was out on the town with the one or two women that she regarded as girlfriends. The result was that she hadn't had sex with anyone but her fingers in going on a year now. Not that she was willing to have a workplace affair now, but she at least wanted to catch a guy or two in the office looking at her with desire instead of an uneasy fear.

And it was working. Moving around the room as she was, moving from group to group, she'd catch men following her out of the corner of her eye only to turn away when she looked in their direction. She took perverse pleasure in torturing husbands as she'd join their groups for idle chit-chat, their eyes studiously fixed above her neck while they talked, so as to avoid any conflict with their wives who talked to her only coolly.

She saw her boss and approached him to see his reaction. He was at least ten years older than she was with thinning hair and the beginnings of a mid-life paunch at his waist. He was a single man and she was curious to see what he would do with his eyes. She'd always suspected that he harbored a secret desire for her and sure enough, his eyes took a journey up and down her frame that left her feeling naked. Suddenly feeling uncomfortable, she bolstered her courage and said, "Hi Clyde, are you enjoying the party."

Clyde cleared his throat, abruptly aware of the blatant desire he was revealing with his stare and looked out at the crowd, "I'm enjoying it quite well, Allison, thank you. The merger is progressing without a glitch but one. How is your investigation on the missing funds going?"

Way to rain on a parade, Clyde, Allison thought. The party was supposed to be a celebration of the merger of her bank with another, her bank basically swallowing the smaller, as well as a sort of meet and greet with a bunch of people from the lesser institution that come Monday would, sadly, be looking for work. Everyone knew it; everyone spent time living in denial and the gathering was as much a nod to that denial as a fond farewell to dead wood that would be winnowed away. At any rate, it was not an occasion for business. Clyde's question demanded an answer, however, since that dead wood could conceivably come from either side of the merger so she said, "It's going. Whoever did it was very skillful in covering their tracks. My initial estimates show the loss to be in the $5.3 million dollar range, though it could be more. Right now, I'm trying to track down exactly how the embezzlement happened. So far, it's like the money just disappeared. If I can get a lock on the how, I'm hoping that will lead me to the who."

Clyde frowned at her use of the word "embezzlement" but nodded, "Well, at least we have an idea of how much now. If I can help, let me know. In the meantime, this merger isn't quite a done deal. If the ‘E' word gets bandied about, it could sour the whole thing so let's watch our language. I think you're right, though, about figuring out the how first. Please keep me informed."

Feeling dismissed, Allison said, "I will," and slowly turned away, lingering to tease him with an opportunity to take an unhampered look at her backside. She growled inwardly as she spied Quincy Holbrook across the room talking to a woman she recognized from legal. Quincy was in HR and she'd had a crush on him from the moment he had shook her hand at her first interview four years ago. Forgetting Clyde and fixing on a quarry she really wanted to impress, she began across the room, snagging a glass of champagne off the tray of a passing waiter.

Halfway there, the woman smiled and broke away and drifted off to another part of the room, leaving Quincy alone as Allison arrived, "Hi Quince, I hope I didn't scare off a potential conquest."

Quincy hadn't looked at her yet, his eyes following the woman who had just left, "Might have been, but not after Monday." He shook his head sadly, "She'll be getting a pink slip in the morning mail."

"Anything I should be worried about," she asked, joining him in watching the soon to be unemployed woman join another group of women.

Quincy finally turned and noticed how she was dressed, "Whoa, Allison, that's an entirely different look for you." He smiled and she nearly melted. "I like it." Then he remembered her question, "You worried? Never. No, Angie there just doesn't have the same skills as a member of the new bank's legal team. Nobody on their side can match your ability, however."

She sipped her drink to conceal a smile, thinking that he wanted to add or your attributes, "That's good to know." And then she couldn't come up with a gambit to continue the conversation so she resorted to the same pathetic territory as Clyde had, "How goes the wrongful termination suit?"

She felt pity for Clyde when Quincy's face took on what was probably the same expression hers had just minutes ago.

"It was a good cut," Quincy said defensively. "For God's sake, she got caught with five-hundred dollars worth of office supplies in her briefcase. It should be a slam-dunk, but Angie over there is overcomplicating it."

Allison placed a hand on his arm, sensing tension there, "Sorry, I know better than to bring up business at a function like this. Forget I asked."

He smiled again, "Already forgotten. So, why the change in style? Can we expect a more casual look from you during business hours?"

"No," Allison demurred, "I just decided to have some fun tonight. Maybe get some tongues wagging a little. Keep people a bit off balance, you know?"

"Well, I think you succeeded. Just looking around the room I'm seeing a bunch of daggers flying my way just for talking to you by myself." He guffawed, "Oops, that guy's going to be sleeping on the couch tonight. If it was me, I'd tell my wife that I was just imagining her in your outfit and how looking forward I was to getting her out of it. He doesn't appear to have that kind of imagination though; too bad."

Allison was tempted to suggest that he show her exactly how he would smooth over the described situation but controlled herself. But then she had a new concern. Was she or wasn't she on the prowl? She was worried at her body's response to the errant thought. Her nipples hardened as if the room had suddenly gone cold while at the same time a warm tingle sparked to life between her legs. Quincy was still surveying the room, so she took the opportunity to study him. Full head of dark hair, with no hint of gray, piercing blue eyes and a strong jaw atop a trim, thirty-something six-foot-two frame. Would she really shelve her own attitudes toward a workplace tryst so easily? If Quincy said, "Let's go to my office and I'll show you exactly how I'd solve that guy's problem," would she really go? What frightened her was that she was pretty sure that the answer would be an emphatic, "Yes." Just let me finish my drink, would be her only stipulation.

Realizing that retreat was her best course, she said, "Well, HR has a bad enough reputation as it is, being in charge of hiring and firing, after all. You don't need any more daggers coming your way so I'll remove the target." But before she left she nodded toward the couch sleeper, "Maybe you could do him a favor and give him some pointers on how to save his back tonight. I know him though, so you'll need to be fairly explicit."

She shot a smile over her shoulder at Quincy's chuckle as she walked away; again giving potential prey time to watch what might have been move away.

She kept working her way around the room, making idle chat, noting that the CEO of the company, Jacob Sloan, had noticed her, until she found herself by the doors leading out onto the terrace. It was a warm night and she needed to think about what she did and didn't want from this evening, so she stepped through them, finding herself alone on the flagstones in the dark, with an incomparable view of the nighttime skyline from a fiftieth floor vantage point.

She wasn't aware that she was being watched as she walked to the rail to thrill at the dizzying height when she looked down the face of the building.

On either side of the terrace were large pots holding trees that she was familiar with, but couldn't remember the name of. Tall and cylindrical evergreens of the cedar variety, she thought. People used them for privacy screens in a residential setting, and she'd found that they served the same purpose here. When she wanted to be absolutely alone with her thoughts at work, she'd come out here and walk around the end of the row nearest the building to find a three foot wide passage between the pots and the building. In there she could look at the city without being disturbed and find a moment of peace as she leaned against the railing.

She wasn't aware that the watcher had followed her out onto the terrace in time to see her disappear behind the hedge.

Alone, she allowed her mind to explore the possibilities of an affair with Quincy. If he had asked her back to his office, she already knew that her answer would be yes, but what if she were to go back into the room and invite him to hers? Would he agree to go, without being certain about what she had in mind; or would he maintain his professionalism and demure? From the look he gave her when he first saw her outfit, she thought he certainly would. How would she go about it once they got there? Would she find a pretense for bringing him there, some trivial file to show him that would provide an occasion for random body contact; a breast brushing his arm, a lock of hair tickling his cheek? Maybe a provocative pose; bent at the waist as she was now, leaning at the rail, sipping her champagne, her skirt riding up, the cooler night air caressing the backs of her thighs. Would he take the hint, or would she need to be more direct? He might be worried about a harassment complaint, so she might have to look him squarely in the eyes and suggest that he show her how the couch sleeper might smooth things over with his wife. Would he start by kissing her? And during that kiss, would his hands go first to her tits or her pussy? Or would they cup her ass first?

Could she do that? Would she let him do that? She didn't know, but the deepening warmth in her groin told her that her body wanted her to.

It was then that she sensed the presence behind her. Later she would wonder what it was that had first alerted her. She hadn't heard anything. He hadn't touched her yet. Maybe it was the cologne; musky without being overwhelming. Its scent was a mood setter. A heady ambiance initiator that fed the flame growing in her crotch, moistening her thong with juices that suddenly flowed freely.

Feeling vulnerable, Allison tried to stand, but firm fingers in the middle of her back pushed her back down. She turned her head, "Hey," but those fingers gently pressed against her chin, insisting that she face forward. "I don't know what you think . . . sssss." The fingers trailed down her spine, causing the hissing breath. Just as anger boiled in her mind and she was about to stand and spin, slapping the interloper, he pressed himself against her ass and her body betrayed her by pushing back. Her hands gripped the rail, her eyes popping wide as she realized that the simple act had nearly made her cum. Oh my God, this can't be happening, she thought desperately. I'm going to be raped at an office party!

But it wasn't rape, she knew, even as she tried to convince herself it was. It was her body's desire that wouldn't be denied that made her hips grind against his. It was excitement that shortened her breath when she realized that she could feel his ready member through his slacks. The thrill of possibly being caught in the act made her press her tits into his hands when he cupped them.

All pretenses that she was an unwilling participant evaporated when his hands unfastened the halter at her neck and then used her naked breasts to pull her up against his body, her head falling to the side to let him kiss the juncture of neck and shoulder, his intoxicating cologne making her head swim. She snaked an arm up around his head while he kissed and licked her, her eyes never leaving the skyline before her. His fingers gently pinched and twisted her nipples while she continued to move back against him.

Sensing her desire, he once again pushed her forward and she found herself gripping the railing again, her bare breast swinging free, the halter dangling from her waist. His hands slid down the sides of her back until they reached her hips where they gripped her to hold her steady while he ground against her, making her moan.

Then his hands were sliding over her buttocks and she understood that he was kneeling behind her. In what felt like a single motion, she felt her skirt pushed up onto the top of her ass, gathering at the small of her back, and then her thong sliding down her legs to her ankles where she stepped out of it. She risked a look over her shoulder but, in the darkness, could only make out a shock of dark hair before his hands spread her ass cheeks and his tongue plunged into her cunt, making her eyes slam shut as she gave a little squeal of pleasure. Alarmed, she looked to her left, past the last tree of the hedge to see if there was anyone else on the terrace. Thankfully, there wasn't, and she closed her eyes again, trapping her lower lip between her teeth to control her sounds as she enjoyed the tongue fucking she was receiving from the stranger behind her. Wouldn't want to attract attention, after all, she thought as a finger slipped inside of her. She couldn't quite stifle a gasp as the stranger's lips closed around her clit.

As her body began to twitch with her approaching orgasm, another part of her mind raced to figure out who to thank for her first climax in a year. Dark hair? About the right height? Quincy? Oh, okay. And the thought of her secret crush sent her over the edge, her body convulsing, her knees nearly buckling, tears squeezing out of her eyes as she bit down on a forearm to muffle her moans. The stranger's hands against her ass supported her throughout her climax even while his tongue lovingly cleaned her nether lips of her nectar.

She didn't notice that his tongue and fingers had withdrawn, while she panted, nearly limp, barely supporting herself on weak legs, until she heard the unmistakable sound of a zipper going down.

"Oh no Quince," she whispered desperately, "not here. Let's go . . . ooohhhh . . . ." The head of his cock crossed the threshold her pussy lips and she felt the shaft as it slowly, inch by inch, parted the folds of her cunt. Her eyes widened in surprise when, instead of bottoming out as she expected, she continued to be opened to depths that she wasn't used to. One memorable boyfriend in college had stretched her pussy to the point that she was worried that she'd split. Quincy, on the other hand, was comfortably sized but she was beginning to wonder if she was deep enough to accommodate his length. Her feet spread a little and she hung her head between her arms that draped over the railing in front of her as she felt fabric against her naked ass, "Oh, Jesus, yes."

He held still, pulling her hips back against his, giving her a chance to appreciate his length, before slowly withdrawing, letting her feel each inch of her cunt closing as he retreated. He stopped, leaving just the head inside of her, then pushed forward again, making her gasp. He kept the rhythm slow, and Allison felt her juices fill her chamber, coating his shaft while he plunged in and out of her.

How had she come to this, she wondered while she enjoyed the sensations emanating from her long unused cunt. Minutes before, she had wondered if she would have the courage to approach Quincy directly, taking him back to her office to fuck, and now here she was with her clothing bunched around her waist in fuck-me heels, behaving like a back alley harlot, her pussy starting to twitch again, signaling the advance of another orgasm.

He reached around as he picked up the pace, using both hands to massage her tits. She reached a hand back to his hip to spur him on, "God yes, Quince," she panted in a whisper. "Fuck me harder."

He responded, positively pounding her cunt now and she stared out at the city with her mouth slightly open. Movement to her left caught her attention and she turned her head to see Quincy step out onto the terrace, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his coat pocket and lighting up. She didn't understand right away what she was seeing as he stepped to the rail and exhaled a stream of smoke at the skyline. Then comprehension exploded in her brain like a haymaker from a southpaw.

What?! If that was Quincy, then who . . .?

At first she felt betrayed and anger surged in her mind. She came very close to ending this right then. She was being used by someone as if she were a common whore! How dare he?! But who was it?! Who would have the balls to think they could get away with fucking her like this?

Like this, a voice in her mind reminded her. Whoever this is, he's fucking you like you haven't been fucked in a long time. He's doing a fine job of it and you've missed it, you know you have.

Suddenly she found the knowledge that she was being pounded by a total stranger, an anonymous lover, highly erotic. Her hand reached down between her legs and found her engorged clit, her fingers sliding along its length, feeling his shaft, slick with her honey as she moved it in little circles. She had to bury her teeth in a forearm again to keep from drawing attention to herself from Quincy as her pussy clamped down on her lover's cock and it was all she could do to keep from screaming around her arm while the orgasm wracked her body with spasms. Oddly, the fact that she had to keep silent through the course of it seemed to intensify it and, from the force of it, she was fairly certain that streams of fluids were flowing down her thighs. Her anonymous lover - Anonymous Lover? A.L.? Al? That would be his name from this point on - held steady while she came, letting her move back and forth on his shaft with abandon, grinding her hips around his cock, grunting like an animal while the convulsions of her climax began to recede.

Her vision cleared, and she wondered if she had screamed as she'd cum. She looked to her left and saw that Quincy was still calmly smoking his cigarette as if nothing was going on a mere fifteen feet to his right. As she watched, he dropped the half smoked butt to the floor and ground it out with the toe of his shoe and then went back inside to the party. She realized then that she should have known that it wasn't Quincy fucking her. The cologne was wrong; Al's was musky while Quincy's was more spice.

As her orgasm subsided, Al began moving inside her once more. If it wasn't Quincy fucking her though . . . .

"Please, whoever you are," Allison breathed quietly, "what you're doing feels sooo good. Don't stop but please, don't cum inside my cunt."

Al stopped moving, as if considering the request and Allison was certain that it was just a tease. He'd start up again and pound away, his hands on her shoulders to, at the same time, prevent her escape and control her movements until she felt his hot jizz coat the inside of her cunt. She waited, staring straight ahead at the skyline before her, feeling motion back there that was not his cock.

Suddenly, the skyline disappeared as material covered her eyes and she was cast into total darkness. She felt a thrill of fear as she felt him tie a knot in the fabric at the back of her head. Not that she'd been using her vision for much during this whole time, but with it gone entirely she felt even more exposed than she ever had. He could do anything and she was disturbed to find that the thought excited her. With one sense removed, she found her other senses heightened. She realized that she could hear people in the party room talking and laughing. Glasses clinking and such. She could feel chipped paint on the rail under her fingers. She thought she could feel the veins on the cock buried inside of her with the walls of her cunt, but dismissed that as impossible.

Then she felt a hand at the back of her right knee that lifted that leg, forcing her body to twist and lift, her right hand instinctively joining his while her left supported her on the railing. He put his left hand at the back of her head and pulled her to him, passionately kissing her lips for the first time as he spread her wide for maximum penetration. His musky scent filled her nostrils and her head began to swim. Her right hand grabbed the back of his head and she returned the kiss, their tongues dueling as he resumed fucking her; this time in earnest. With her maintaining their lip connection, his left hand dropped and reached around to maul her tits.

She found herself rising on the crest of a wave of pleasure once more, the new position giving him better access to her g-spot and, with his mouth covering hers to muffle the sounds, she let herself moan more openly. She had never cum so quickly in succession before, but the fury of Al's attack drove her over the edge, the waves of ecstasy crashing through her body. She depended on his hand at her knee and her own arm now wrapped around his shoulders to support herself even as she squealed into his mouth. Through it all, Al's pounding of Allison's pussy was unrelenting and as she came down from her final climax she noticed that Al's own breathing was becoming ragged. He was getting close, she knew, and wondered if he would cum inside her after all.

She felt his cock begin to pump inside her and thought she had the answer but before she felt the first gush, he pulled out, turned her around to face him and pushed her down. She felt grit on her knees and the tips of her fingers as his hand tangled itself in her hair and he growled the first words he had uttered since he had first found her in her hiding place, "You didn't say anything about your mouth."

Alarmed, she opened her mouth to protest but that just allowed the spongy head of his cock to slide past her lips and fill her mouth with taste of her own cunt. Al pulled her face onto himself until she gagged when he reached the back of her throat. Allison placed her hands on his hips and pushed him back until she had just the head in her mouth and then sucked the twitching rod in to a comfortable depth. She bobbed her head and was rewarded by his seed spurting over her tongue. Her hands gripped his buttocks and pulled him in deeper, her throat working to take every drop - she didn't want to have to try to explain a random cum stain to anyone who might notice as she left the party. Now that the urgency of his need was gone, she let him face-fuck her until his flow dwindled and his rod began to deflate. He was considerably gentler than when he had to cum and she was actually able to let him slip down her throat until he finished.

Finally, he pulled his cock out of her mouth and she didn't move, expecting him to remove the blindfold and reveal himself so that they could go to one of their places and continue the evening. Instead she heard him turn and his zipper go up as he left.

She ripped off the blindfold and stood to chase him but stopped, looking down at herself. Skirt hiked up, halter hanging down, nipples still erect with grit in her knees and holding a - a necktie. That might make the water cooler gossip mill; ya think? She had to put herself back together and looked around for her panties. She couldn't find the tiny thong. Quickly, she fastened the halter behind her neck, smoothed down her skirt and brushed grit from her knees. She ran her hands through her hair and stepped out from behind the screen and, with a confidence she didn't really feel, strode back into the party room.

She scanned the room, looking for likely suspects but couldn't spot any. Quincy was over at the bar and she knew it wasn't him anyway. The other most likely candidate, from the way he had leered at her earlier, was her boss Clyde. Okay, the thought was disturbing, but if he could make her feel that good, what the hell? She spotted him sitting on a couch with a woman close to his own age, clearly in the middle of a conversation that had been going on for a while (judging by the wine glasses on the table in front of them) and he was still wearing his - oh yeah, he wore bow ties. Damn.

Gathering herself, she walked over and interrupted their conversation, "Pardon me, Clyde, but I don't suppose either of you saw someone come in off the terrace just now?"

Clyde looked up, befuddled at being pulled away from his conversation. "Geez Allison, no. I'm afraid Andrea and I weren't really paying attention to the rest of the room; sorry."

"That's okay," Allison said, "thanks." And they returned to talking between themselves, Clyde's hand on Andrea's knee, she noticed. Of course, that didn't solve her immediate problem. She held the necktie to her nose, noting that she could smell his cologne on the silk and slowly turned in a circle, studying the men in the room. Who was it?

* * *

He put the key in the lock, turned it and let himself into the apartment. He placed the keys on the table in the hallway and cocked his head to listen. There was music coming through the open door of the bedroom down the hall interspersed with moans. He walked that way and leaned against the doorjamb, watching the naked woman on the bed slowly pump a latex version of his own cock in and out of her cock. He smiled as he remembered the night that they had made it, taking Viagra so that he could remain hard until the quick setting plaster hardened to make the mold. "This way," she'd said, "even when I'm not fucking you, I'll be fucking you." His cock moved inside his pants at the memory of the sex that followed when his dick was freed.

The woman opened her eyes, seeing him leaning there and pulled the dildo out of her pussy. "Did you do it?"

Without a word he reached into the pocket of his suit coat and pulled out Allison's lacey thong.

Silently, the woman crawled to the end of the bed like a jungle cat stalking its prey. "Let me have your cock. I want to taste her."

He stepped forward and lowered his zipper, pulling out his swelling member which the woman took into her mouth with a moan.

"I don't know how much you'll be able to taste," he said. "She didn't want me to cum in her cunt, so I came in her mouth."

That gave the woman pause. She stroked his pole asking, "She didn't put up a fight?"

"Nah," he said as she returned to blowing him. "She was sort of into it. You know, she's got this prim and proper image around the office, but she's definitely a hottie. I think it's been a while."

The woman had his pants pooled around his ankles while his cock hardened in her mouth. "This is going to destroy her, you know. Is it really necessary? She's not really a bad person. Why does she deserve this?"

The woman paused long enough to say, "I have about five and a half million reasons why she deserves it. I can't help that she has what I need." Now that he was hard, she spun around, presenting him with her backside, reaching for the dildo, "Speaking of need, I really need you to shove that thing up my ass now."

He stepped forward, pressing his tip against her sphincter and slipping in, making her grunt. "It was weird though. It was like she was expecting me to be someone else."

"What do you mean," the woman panted as she became accustomed to the intruder up her ass.

"She called me ‘Quince'."

"Quince?"

"Twice."

"Perfect," the woman said as, now that her rosebud had relaxed, she slid the dildo into her cunt, "I get to fuck up Quincy Holbrook's life too. Maybe we can make this work for us. Ohhh . . . ."

To be continued