October 11, 2015 Views
I had known Anne for as long as I could remember. A few years before I was even born, my mother opened a florist in our hometown and, over the years to come, built a profitable little business. Anne was one of eight full-time employees, all of which I came to know during the course of my childhood and adolescence. The women employed at the flower shop were all endearingly nice to me any and every time I was around. It helped that they had tremendous respect for my mother, their boss.
Anne was the youngest of the women who worked for my mother, though she was still 22 years my elder. Married, with two kids, she was also â€“by farâ€“ the most attractive physically. Anne was modest, most likely due to the fact that she married young. Despite possessing an incredibly toned body, she never flaunted it. She was petite, maybe 5-foot-4, with a blonde pixie cut, stunningly bright blue eyes, and a bubbly, friendly, personality. Her face was that of a classic girl-next-door beauty, cute as a button, naively unaware of her true beauty. She was the type of girl whose smile made you completely unaware of your other surroundings. Her professional, conservative-ish, work clothing went to great lengths (disappointingly for me) to obscure her assets, but it didnt take much imagination to picture what she had covered up. As I progressed into my teenage years, I put my imagination (and a photograph of Anne I had slyly borrowed from a drawer at the office when no one was watching) to work several times in the privacy of my childhood bedroom.
During high school, whenever I would stop by the shop to visit my mom at work, I began to increasingly take interest in Anne. There was no denying that she was hot. When the occasional male customer would stop in to by flowers, Id watch them mildly flirt with Anne. Theyd all smile a little more when dealing with her. Engage longer in conversation. Ask more questions. Watch her a little more closely when she bent over to pick up a flower arrangement from the lowest shelf. Admittedly, foolishly, comically really, I would watch in jealousy. I was too young, too bashful, to be able to flirt myself. Anne and I were friendly, mostly due to coincidence. She worked for my mom and had known me most of my life. Only now that I was a teenager, was I beginning to develop a crush. A crush I was certain was not reciprocal.
Eventually, I went off to college. Grew up, got taller, stronger, more confident and self-assure. Met a pretty girl in history class, kissed, dated, fell in love. Lost my virginity. But, as puppy love often does, the feelings ran their course. I got dumped. The summer following my junior year of college, as a 20-year-old young man, 6-foot tall with a clump of bushy, brown hair and a newly acquired physique from the college gym, I went to work for a few months at my moms florist delivering flowers for pizza money.
That summer, I worked every chance I could. The job was fun, easy, and I could use the cash. Id spend most of the day alone in a truck, driving around town, dropping off flowers, fruit baskets and balloons to homes, businesses, hospitals. I also got to know the ladies at the shop even better. I was an adult now, still naive to the world, yes, but undeniably more confidant in my own skin. I was chatty and friendly with all the flower shop ladies. Most thought of me as the cute little boy all grown up. I enjoyed working with them, being part of the team, and, of course, I enjoyed working with Anne the most.
I had the hots for Anne. Frankly, most every man did. She was in her early 40s now, but still a firecracker. She had aged, but it was refined. The years had treated her kindly, matured her look from a mere comely beauty into a sexy, more worldly, experienced, fox of a woman. Despite my newly acquired social confidence, I remained cautiously nervous around her. We chatted frequently during the course of the day, but I was careful not to show her more attention than any of the other ladies. I was sheepish. Afraid. I didnt want to reveal my crush. Truth be known, I thought about Anne every day. I lusted. I imagined to myself. My god, what would it be like to fuck her? I often wondered. But, never, ever, did I remotely tip my hand. No one but I knew â€” hell, even had a clue â€” that I longed for Anne. It was pointless, anyway. She was married. A mom. Mature and not interested. Even I knew nothing would ever come of it, except for my occasional fantasy jerk-off session.
Working in the flower shop meant I was privy to more of the gossip. Over time, I learned details about Anne that piqued my interest. Her husband, James, whom I had met once or twice is passing, was becoming a grump. Anne often complained that he was generally cranky and unhelpful around their house. I got the impression, just from listening to idle chit-chat around the office, that he was drinking more routinely. A family photo on Annes work desk revealed that James had packed on some extra weight.
One particular Friday afternoon, I went out on my last delivery of the day. It was a large load and, with rush hour traffic, it took me several hours to complete. By the time I got back to the shop, it was closed. With my key, I let myself in through the back entrance. I was surprised to find Anne, alone, working on wedding arrangements.
Wow, long night, huh? I said to her, as I went to hang the truck keys up on their hook for the night.
Yeah, big, fancy wedding tomorrow and it looks like Ill be stuck here awhile, she said. It was unusual for any of the ladies to work overtime, but it was not so strange that the scenario made me uncomfortable. I knew I had no chance with Anne, but we were certainly good-enough friends that I could hang out a while and innocuously chat.
So, thats what we did. Several minutes turned into a half-hour. Are you sure you want to stick around? she asked once or twice. I have nowhere to go, I replied, secretly crushing. I pulled up a stool next to Anne and watched her work. She was so sexy. Earlier, while alone at the shop, she had removed her light sweater, revealing a sleeveless, yellow, summer blouse and just the slightest little glimpse of cleavage. She smelled good. Her freckles on her shoulders, well I had never seen them before. Her arms were tan. Her eyes were mesmerizing. I was intoxicated.
Eventually, Anne started to talk about her husband. I listened as she let her frustrations run over. They seemed to be legitimate complaints. You could tell that it was a heavy emotional load for her. Shed ask me for advice, or at least my opinion. I was too young to offer much in the way of guidance. Eventually, I told her that I thought her husband was crazy.
Really? she asked, almost surprised I had said it. What makes you say that?
I grew confidant. In a split second, I made up my mind to pay her a compliment. Because you are stunning, Anne. Youre a beautiful woman. Someday, I want to marry a girl exactly like you.
She looked at me. I looked directly at her. I was nervous, but glad â€” hell, proud really â€” that I had finally spoken up. Then, she kissed me.
It was a short kiss. Maybe a second long. She looked at me and asked if I could keep a secret. Of course. Ill never speak a word. She smiled and kissed me again. I trust you. Youre too cute not to, she said. I couldnt believe her words.
We started to make out. It felt so spontaneous, even though I had fantasized about it for years. I could not fathom that it was happening, but I was so excited that it was. We would kiss, then take a break to smile at each other, then kiss again. We both stood up, and I placed my hands along her waist. We began to french kiss. Our tongues were tangling. I softly bit her lower lip, pulling it towards me with my teeth. I moved a hand on top of her clothed breast and squeezed. She did not resist. In fact, she kissed me harder. I was beginning to feel my cock start to move.
There were no nerves now. I was going for it. I started to kiss and suck her neck and ear, while I desperately ran my hand under the tail of her blouse, grabbing for her tit. I whispered in her ear. You are so fucking hot.
From underneath her shirt, I pulled down the front of her bra and felt up her breast. Quickly, I found her hard, erect nipple and pinched it between my thumb and index finger. Simultaneously, I clutched her close, my left hand on her ass pulling her against me. We kissed passionately. My cock was rock fucking hard and throbbing. She could feel it pressed against her, no doubt.
Without saying a word, Anne sat back down on her stool and started to unbutton my shorts. I could see her diamond ring on her finger. It was then that I had a moment of true revelation. I was looking down on the sexiest woman I knew. A married woman who I had always dreamed about. A woman I never, ever, thought Id be with. And she was about to suck my cock.
My shorts fell to the floor, and my dick rose to attention, pitching a tent in my boxers. She looked up at me with a grin, then pulled down my underware. She started right in on it. Lips around my cock, she began to bob her head and full-on blow me. No licking or kissing it first. She wanted to suck it. I was incredibly hard. I watched as she first blew me with her mouth, then started to use her hand and mouth together. It looked so incredibly hot, and felt even better. She was lightly moaning while sucking, and her mouth was salivating enough that I could feel the wetness around my cock and hear the slushing sounds. I began to breathe heavily. My toes were curling inside my sneakers and I felt weak in the knees. She stopped sucking briefly, but continued working my cock with her hand. Does that feel good, baby? Anne, the woman of my dreams, called me baby. Fuck yes, it does, I replied. Then, completely instinctual, I followed up with, I want to eat your pussy.
I stood her up, kissed her, and told her to sit on top of the work table. We pushed flowers, scissors and knives to the side to make room. I untied the drawstring of her linen pants and pulled them down. Her legs were beautiful. Tanned and spotted with the occasional freckle. Freshly shaved smooth. She scooted to the edge of the table and I spread her legs and kissed her inner thighs. I could smell her pussy. Her panties, I still remember vividly, were light blue with small raspberries printed on them. I grabbed them at the side of her waistband, she arched up her hips, and I brought them down, exposing a glistening pussy that was already slightly wet. Her light-blonde bush was trimmed, but not shaven. It looked so inviting. I plunged face-first into her snatch.
She began to moan and clutch onto my hair atop my head, pulling my face closer and deeper between her legs. I was sitting in the stool, licking her clit, with my hands grasping her around her hips. I was completely naked, and my cock was at full military attention. I could taste her cum. As I licked, she gave way to the passion. She started to moan, then to curse. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck... Her words just fueled my desire further. I gave long licks, mixed with shorter flicks. Circular moves of the tongue. Horizontal licks, then vertical ones. I sucked up her pussy juice. She began to grind her pussy on my face. Then, in an instant, she came. Oh fuck, Im cumming! Her screams just made me more determined. I clasped her around the waist with my arms, dug my fingers into her ass, and brought her pussy even closer to my face. I could feel her spasms. I was making her shake. I wanted her orgasm to last forever.
Finally, I stood up and kissed her. Her girl cum was all over my face, lips, tongue and chin. I knew she could taste it. Standing up, I began to remove her top. One tit was hanging out of her bra, the result of my earlier, frantic attempt at finally feeling it. She reached behind her and unsnapped. Her tits were amazing. I had longed to see them for years, and finally, like a mirage, they were in front of me. I kissed them, groped them, squeezed and sucked on them, trading off to show each tit equal attention. I ran my hand down between her legs and rubbed Annes clit. She reached down and began stroking my dick.
Fuck me. Thats all she said. Simply stated, like a demand. I wondered, however briefly, if she was on the pill, but there was going to be no stopping now. I spun her around and she assumed the position. Arms outstretched, clutching the end of the table, she bent over and stuck out her ass. Her ass was perfect, especially for a 42-year-old. I could make out the outline of her bikini tan. I wanted to inhale her. I squatted down, spread apart her cheeks, and gave one last, long lick of her pussy.
I stood up, got in behind her, and slid my cock inside Anne. She gasped longingly. She was so incredibly wet. Saturated. I was so hard I could feel my heartbeat inside my cock. I began to fuck her, slowly at first. She began to bounce to my rhythm, fucking along with me. I sped up, and our skin began to smack. She liked it. Fuck me harder, she instructed. I held on to her by the hips and fucked her like a 20-year-old jackrabbit. Oh god, oh yes, Oh My Fucking God! I remember her saying. Dont stop. Oh god, fuck me hard. Im going to cum again. By now I was fucking her as hard as I could, her cum sliding down the base of my cock and dripping down my leg. I was about to pop. Anne was cumming hard. I could see it coating my dick in a slick, white film.
Anne, Im going to cum. Ohhh, fuck. Im going to cum, I said, as I continued to thrust inside her. I had this primal urge to plunge my dick as deep as it would go. An instinct, a reflex, a need to fill her up. She was panting, sweaty, and drained off adrenaline. Cum inside me. I need to feel your cum, she said. That was it for me. I exploded inside her pussy, filling it with several blasts of cum. Eventually, exhausted yet satisfied, she stood up and kissed me.
No one can ever know about this, ever, she said.
I promise I will never utter a word. You can trust me. She smiled, and I could tell she knew I was sincere. We kissed again and began to get dressed. I was floating on clouds. The happiest Ive ever been in my life. I looked at Anne and she was glowing. I made a point to look again at her ring finger. Knowing that I had just fucked the married woman of my dreams made it so much more dangerous. Naughty. Exhilarating.
With one final kiss, I headed for the door, leaving as the luckiest guy in the world. Before I went, I reassured her one final time. Our secret, I said. And it has been, up until now.
Hi there! :) My name is Shantell, I'm a student studying Asian Studies from Dortmund, Germany.