- First experience

Catching her eye from across the room, I could sense her frustration in her own contentment: beautiful home; beautiful family; successful in her career; a husband that adored her. But this was not enough and I could see the burning desire in her eyes for more. That’s our issue as humans isn’t it? We always crave more, we always long for the grass on the other side of the picket fence, no matter how perfect life on our side is according to societal standards. Sometimes, all we long for is for dirt to be traipsed along our ivory

porcelain tiles, for our hair to be yanked so hard that its perfect bounce is knocked off kilter, and for our Joules scarf to be wrapped around our necks so tight that we can't breathe, whilst the cold slap of skin and reverberates leaving us sore but gasping for more. One more thrust. One more slap against the skin. Just...one…more... Never satisfied. Her shoulders shook with unbridled laughter as she responded to something said within her circle of peers. She flung her head back, and I felt her look at me as she did so. Almost immediately, she looked away but for that second in time, her eyes locked directly with mine with complete and utter intent. I sipped slowly at my Old Fashioned, attempting to quench my thirst for her, whilst I watched her delicately place the martini glass to her lips and swill the bitter sweet liquid around her mouth. Did she realise how fascinating she was? Did she understand how compelling she was to watch from the side-lines? Did she know I was watching her? Or was she completely and utterly oblivious? She

rolled the coffee bean from her Espresso Martini around her mouth before she balanced it between her teeth and tongue, and retrieved it delicately with her fingers, sucking them carefully as she did so as not to waste the remnants.

What was absolutely crystal clear was that this was not a performance for the consumption of anybody else. She was entirely herself, enjoying time away from her mundane. Here, she could be her true self; the one she often loses sight of: not Mum, not Senior Management, not established business owner, not anybody's wife. Here she was free from the shackles of middle class ‘contentment’ and the pressure that came with that. The only giveaway being the triple stack of diamond rings on her wedding finger. I drank the remains of my drink and gestured for the bar staff for another. It was only ever my intention to come for a swift drink after work but she intrigued me. What's more, my wife would most definitely be asleep by now in anticipation of her night shift and the last thing I wanted was to end the night with the deflation of cleaning myself up with a tissue when all I really wanted was to fuck somebody so hard that my dick was raw, my back was scratched, and my balls were empty. Who was I kidding? I didn't want to fuck just any somebody. I wanted to fuck her: the woman across the bar. She who has it all but longs for more.

Lost in thought?" I heard a voice asked, accompanied with a faint smell of coffee and the subtle floral tones of a perfume that had clearly faded throughout the day, sparked my senses and snapped me back into the

room. She stunk of self-made success and I couldn't help but long to experience the scent of her sweat. "Long day. Processing it all. Let my thoughts get away with me." I replied, regretting immediately the mundanity of my response; typical business man. Such a bore. "I feel you. Thank God for this place, hey?" She gestured at the room around us. I smiled. There was an awkward tension between us; a chemistry of strangers with the same intention, the same 'problems', the same routine, and the same desperation to break that routine. "Can I get you a drink?" She said. "No, but I can get you one. Same again?" I said without waiting for an answer "Espresso Martini, please." I requested across the bar to the assistant. "I can get my own drink, and I'd really like to get yours too. I'm Louise, by the way." She interrupted, with gentle assertion. She leant over me to grab our drinks, and her almost sheer blouse dropped low enough for me to catch a glimpse of her skin beneath it. She caught me looking and, for some reason, I didn't look awkwardly away. I didn't need to hide my desires, and it was clear to me that she didn't want me to. "Like what you see?" She enquired, playfully. She gave nothing away: nothing but confidence in her posture, and not the slightest blush despite a situation that most others would find intimidating and awkward. Perhaps it was the alcohol, or perhaps she truly was this sure of herself. I'd never met a woman like her, a woman with seemingly no vulnerabilities. I longed to see what was underneath her exterior, literally and

figuratively. I ached to make her vulnerable to me. I ached to make her lose that control. She sat beside me and said nothing, did nothing apart from stare in my eyes whilst she swilled the cocktail around every morsel of her mouth, and stroked the stem of her glass with the tip of her finger. I burned with the desire to be that glass and I could feel that burn swelling in my trousers. She broke my gaze to look down and she knew. Now I was vulnerable and, just like she was used to, she had the power. She leant forward and placed her left hand on my thigh, her diamond rings catching the lights above, whilst she took the point of her stiletto and gently brushed it against my calves. "I'd better get back to the ladies." She whispered. "I don't think they've noticed you've gone," I replied, gesturing to her circle of friends laughing animatedly in the distance, determined to open her up to insecurity. I placed my hand forcefully over hers which was still on my thigh "And I think we both know that you want to stay right where you are, don't we Louise?" My fingers intertwined with hers, the breadth of them forcing hers to splay as I squeezed my hand around hers. I felt her pulse through her hand, quickening. She wanted me just as I wanted her.

She stood up, and I released my grip from her hands. She trailed her finger down from my upper thigh, her nail scratching through the fabric of my trousers. She began to walk, and I followed. Not a word was said as

we walked at pace across the bar, onto the terrace, and into the cold. Our breath became visible, and the almost silent outside in contrast to the buzz of inside the bar made obvious the heaviness of our breathing. We were alone. She placed herself against the exposed brick wall, a glass window making the happenings of the bar inside translucent only with the barrier of a white voile. Here, she was vulnerable. Alone outside with a man who wasn't her husband, three storeys above ground level, and with a whole bar full of people seeing her but not truly seeing her. I pushed myself against her so that she could feel how hard she had made me. The warmth of her pussy against me made me throb with desire and she felt it. She reached up to touch me but before she could take back control, I pinned her arms to the wall above her head. I needed to bottle up this vulnerability and spill it out all over her, and she needed to let me. Holding both of her wrists with one hand, I used my other to grab between her legs. Hard. Her tights clung to her moisture but I made zero effort to keep them in tact, I didn't give a shit how expensive they might have been. I ripped at them with vigour and heard an audible tear as I did so. She gasped. Underneath the tights, I felt the texture of wet lace and I slid it to one side, my fingers desperate to tap into what was under the surface. She scrambled and tried to release her hands with the desperate, lustful urge to touch my skin but I forced

them back against the wall, the rough brickwork scratching the skin of her delicate hands, and scraping the metal of her wedding rings. My fingers slid into her and I felt her entire body tense around them. There was nothing gentle about my movements, but everything about it was intimate. Her eyes were closed, and her head was pushed back against the wall, whilst she writhed with pleasure. We became lost in ourselves, forgetting about the glass windows surrounding us with merely the voile as our shield to protect from onlookers. I didn't know her body. I'd never touched her before. But somehow, I could read her. As the tension in her body mounted and almost piqued, I slid my fingers out of her and placed them into her mouth with force. I wasn't about to make this easy for her and I wanted her to be begging me for more. She was to shed the armour of mundane contentment here within her controlled, predictable life, and instead allow herself to be completely vulnerable, spontaneous, and flawed; letting go of the endless expectation by herself and society to conform to the expectations of a woman of her time whose monotony of home and work life had become something she settled for to sustain an easy, comfortable life.

I pulled her scarf tight around her neck and used it to spin her around, pushing her face into the brick. I yanke

d her lace knickers, which I could now see - predictably- were cream, to the side and pulled them back so that they would burn. She was shaven, but not entirely bald; trimmed, but not overly groomed. The sign of a woman who took ownership of her body and who, despite the exterior day to day, didn't conform to society's expectations of women of her type. She didn't give a fuck what Women's Health or Grazia told her about self-care, she wanted hair down there and so she fucking kept it. Pushing her face against the brick despite her resistance, I exposed her bare arse and marvelled at it for a whilst before slapping it hard and grabbing it with my nails leaving behind scratch marks and some draw of blood marking just beneath her skin. I quickly unbelted my trousers. My dick hurt from want. It ached from longing to fuck her since the moment she locked eyes with me as she laughed at some mundane, highbrow comment. I pushed myself hard into her pussy and felt the slap of my skin against hers. Slow to begin with, feeling every thrust in every nerve ending. Her vocal appreciation suggested she felt the same. With every thrust, I felt her moisten more and my dick glistened with her. I finally released her wrists and pulled her head back from the wall, taking handfuls of her chestnut hair in the grip of my fist and watching her head jerk back. As I pounded her hard I felt her hips slam against the wall in front, almost certain there would be bruises as evidence of my emancipation of her power. The thought of this physical show of my dominance made me fuck her with further aggression, slamming her entire body against the brick work with force. My whole hand stretched out across her back and forced her against the wall, her huge chest flattening out onto the brick work

whilst I took her from behind, slamming her harder and harder on each thrust. The pitch of moans heightened and I knew she was on the edge of losing every inch of control, so I stopped. Her frustration was clear: vocally, physically. Her sheer desperation for me to continue to take her was palpable. I turned her to face me, and couldn't help but smile at the dusty, terracotta grazes on the height of her cheekbones where the brickwork had left its mark. I pushed her down to her knees, and she looked up at me with huge, gazing eyes. Vulnerable. I watched as she wrapped her lips around me, working her way right to the base of my dick. I resisted the urge to grab her by the crown and fuck her mouth and, instead, let her mouth find its way around my entirety whilst simultaneously tasting herself. She pushed my dick right to the back of her throat and it was clear she knew exactly what she was doing; quite the connoisseur. However, as enjoyable as her gagging on my dick was, I refused to relinquish my power over her, so I pushed her back onto the concrete floor.

She lay, flat backed on the floor, knees bent. Everything about her was mine for the taking. Or so I thought. The door to the terrace swung open and a couple stumbled outside, intoxicated on a cocktail of lust, young love, and happy hour cocktails. They looked at Louise, and then at me. My heart pounded as hard as my dick had been whilst longing to be inside her. The young, olive-skinned woman stepped towards Louise w

ho was lying beneath her. She placed herself down on to her knees and hovered over Louise. Neither of them flinched. Hoiking her skirt up her tights to reveal a complete lack of underwear, she pressed her pussy into Louise's, still dripping wet from my pummelling just a moment a go. Louise's back arched with utter pleasure, the friction from her defiant smattering of pubic hair only adding to the sensation. Olive's, as we will call her, man leant himself against the door, believing himself to be some sort of voyeuristic, protective bodyguard. It was clear he was to be a spectator in this sport. But I wasn't about to join him. I took myself over to the women whose pussies were pressing so hard into one another that their bodies twitched. I knelt down over Louise and she immediately took my balls in her mouth, whilst I embraced Olive in a passionate kiss and wrestled her tongue with mine. I felt Louise buckle beneath me and Olive's hands wrap around my dick. Olive climbed off; it was clear we both wanted Louise to lose all control, but only on our say so. Olive placed herself, cross-legged, behind us. She lifted up Louise's head and placed it on her lap, grappling for her tits as soon as her head had settled. She pinched Louise's dark, erect nippes, whilst also letting her hands trace her entire torso. Louise's hairs stood on end. Olive stopped teasing and took whole handfuls of Louise's breasts into a firm grip. Louise's short breaths were testament to her lack of control. I spun around to see the both of them. Complete body opposites: Olive of slim build and a mere handful of breas

ts to play with, Louise with a body made for child rearing with her huge hips and massive tits which would spill over anyone's hands, even mine. Opening Louise's legs wide against the hard, cold floor and exposing her entirety, I placed my expansive palm over her pussy and made forceful, circular motions. Olive grabbed Louise's wrists and held them against the floor. "Take her. Take every fucking bit of her." Olive instructed. I slapped her around the face, leaving a red mark. She needed to be shown who gave the orders here, and it wasn't about to be her. "Shut the fuck up you little slut." I hissed. I balled up my hands and fisted them into Louise, who was still dripping wet. "Fuck!" I heard her scream. A pleasurable expression of pain. It spurred me on. Splaying her legs to the side, I lifted her crotch to mine and let me dick force its way into her. Slap. Slap. Slap.

Olive had Louise's wrists against the floor, whilst I grabbed at those handles for hips. I thrust deep and pulled her deeper. The audible hit of my dick into her pussy turned me on further and I pounded hard, and fast. Bang. Bang. Her back arched from the floor higher every time I fucked her. She was so close, as was I. I placed my hand tight around her neck and pummelled her pussy so hard until she called out in sheer ecstasy. "Please," She begged "Keep fuck

ing going!" She was entirely at my mercy here. I fucked harder, with more aggression until she writhed again like an exaggerated version of her unbridled laughter on my first noticing her. Unbridled ecstasy and she came harder and harder. Her pussy squirted and drenched me hard every time she came. Olive let go of Louise's hips and sat on her face, rocking back and forth on the tongue Louise had released to taste her clit. Her rhythm was sporadic but Louise's tongue was insistent and the sounds of Olive's wet pussy on Louise's lips was enough to make anybody explode. I pulled out of Louise, and as I did so, Olive bent forward. I watched as my come covered Olive's orgasmic face as Louise brought her to climax in unison with me. All three of us collapsed onto the floor, breathless. Louise fidgeted with her wedding rings, Olive looked up at the door and blew a kiss in response to her boyfriend's wink, and I thought about my next extra marital career woman conquest. Never satisfied. I longed for more.