Chapter 1: The Office Party

I quietly watched the rural scenery pass swiftly by as we sped along the twisting highway. Paul had turned off the radio nearly an hour before, and we rode along in tense silence. He had not wanted to go to the party, but he had no choice but to at least make a token appearance.

Secretly, I was eager to attend. I had heard so much about his boss' parties through the grapevine. I was anxious to see if the stories were true. To be brutally honest I desperately craved some excitement for a change from the usual neglect of married life.

I am twenty four and have been married for six years. Yes, I married young, but was, and still am, hopelessly in love with Paul. Our union was passionate at first but our love making grew stale and predictable over the years. Paul is two decades my senior and showed me many wonderful, pleasurable things at first. Then the passion faded until it has been three years since Paul last touched me. I still have so much to give and recent cravings have left me feeling unfulfilled in the stifling confines of our traditional marriage.

I have often been told that I am pretty. I have long, wavy, chocolate-black hair that falls past my shoulders, just far enough to hide my breasts if I feel the rare need. I have a youthful face, a bit long, with high cheeks. I wish my lips were a bit fuller and my nose a bit smaller. My eyes are blue, the color of a clear morning sky. My neck is long and delicate. My bust is bouncy, perky and full. I confess, I enjoy displaying my breasts and I enjoy the attention they bring. My waist is narrow and firm, not overly muscled, still soft and feminine. I work hard to keep my hips solid and lean, diligently exercising my glutes to keep my bottom fit, sexy and trim. And finally my legs are long, slender, and shapely.

My sexual appetite has escalated in the last year, driving me to explore new fantasies in fiction and video. Sometimes Paul catches me in the act, heedful only of my sensual fantasy and my overwhelming need to achieve self satisfaction. Only when I am spent will he alert me to his presence and usually he finds a subtle way of expressing his disapproval.

I have found myself craving more. But of what I did not know. Until the office party.

We were late, as usual, to the annual summer party at the lake. Paul works for a small legal firm in New York. At the kickoff of each summer, the firm's founder and senior partner, Mr. Soto, hosts a party at his isolated lake house in Connecticut for a select few friends and associates. Paul had been invited before, but he had always managed to schedule a case to conflict with the party. This year, however, he had no major pending case to save him.

The silence in the car was deafening. I tried to start conversations to pass the time, but Paul was very tense. He gripped the steering wheel in a white-knuckled death-grip and ground his teeth as we grew closer. I diverted my attention to the green countryside that in so many ways reminded me of my mid-western youth.

Soon enough we turned off the highway. All traces of the great New York metropolis was forgotten. Here there were green fields and woods. I could tell we were close by the way the veins jutted out of Paul's neck.

"I won't be able to stay with you at all times, I'm sure. Be careful," Paul cautioned. "Soto's parties have a reputation for a reason."

I nodded my understanding and looked away to hide the thrill that was swelling inside. Then I saw the lake house. A magnificent Spanish house perched on the shores of the lake. Red, clay tiles caught the sun, and dark blue waters splashed beyond tan stone walls. I felt a tingle of excitement between my legs and squeezed my knees together to maintain my composure.

Paul parked the car, a second hand Jaguar, with the others and we went up to the house. We were warmly welcomed by Paul's co-workers and fruity, alcoholic drinks were immediately pressed into our hands. The music was loud and the air had a pungent, herbal quality to it.

I recognized some of the guests as coworkers from the firm, but many others were unknown to me. There was a lot of bare skin showing. Several servers, barely clad in the skimpiest of bikinis, kept the drinks flowing. Strippers danced topless around the house. It was exciting and thrilling.

Everyone was exceptionally friendly and complimented my dress, a gauzy pale blue minidress with spaghetti shoulder straps and a plunging neckline that I was sure would attract a lot of covetous glances. Sure enough the men had a difficult time looking away from my breasts.

Mr. Soto's parties were legendary for their hedonistic nature, which is why Paul insisted we arrive late and leave early. For the hardcore carousers the event would span the entire holiday weekend. We wandered through rooms chatting with coworkers and acquaintances. Somehow I always had a full fruity drink in my hand. Before long we found ourselves in the great-room which featured a small stage. A beautiful blonde woman danced on the stage, peeling her clothes off to the music.

Paul quickly led me away when the stripper slipped out of her tiny, red lace g-string and danced naked to the delight of the men and the women in the room. We went to the kitchen where we stopped for appetizers. A cute little brunette with creamy breasts practically spilling out of her tiny blue bikini top offered cheese, crackers, and grapes. I accepted with a smile and watched the delightful way her breasts bounced as she scooted around the kitchen.

Two coworkers joined us and soon Paul was pulled away for some quality man time. They dragged him toward the great room so I assumed their quality time included gawking at and possibly molesting the strippers.

"Be careful and don't drink too much," he warned as he was drug away.

Almost immediately an attractive young man refreshed my drink with a much stronger one. He let his hand drift down my side and rest familiarly on my hip. My heart skipped a beat and my cheeks grew warm and flush. There was a forbidden thrill to allowing this strange man to touch me.

I never caught his name. He had dark eyes and a sparkling smile that he wore almost too casually, like a mask. He asked me to dance and before I could reply he led me by the hand to the patio where the music throbbed and pounded.

I swallowed the strong drink and let him guide me to the dance floor. There were only two other couples dancing, if you could call it dancing. One woman was topless and her companion molested her big, naked breasts mercilessly. The other couple was so close I was not sure if they were intimately dancing or making love.

I found myself between the other couples and soon my partner had his hands on my swaying hips. He pressed his body against mine. I shuddered when I felt his erection against my pelvis. I knew it was wrong to enjoy his advances. I knew it was wrong to enjoy the pressure of his cock upon me. But I did enjoy the attention.

I pressed my breasts against his chest and swung my hips in rhythm with his, grinding my pelvis against his manhood. He smelled of alcohol and cigars. He whispered in my ear, but his words were lost in the music. I wondered what Paul would do if he found me dancing so intimately with a stranger. The very thought sent a thrill through me.

My partner became bolder and caressed my hips before slipping his hands around for a quick grope and fondle of my ass. It was shocking. It was far too bold. I weakly protested, but his disarming smile quickly overcame my feeble objections. Within moments his hands were under my skirt, stroking and groping my ass. As thrilling as it was, I feared Paul's reaction if he should discover us. But this stranger's forbidden touch was exciting and as long as it had been since I had enjoyed the touch of a man, I could not stand to make him stop.

My anonymous partner smiled and withdrew a hand from beneath my skirt and boldly laid it upon my breast. My nipple hardened beneath his gentle fondling and I closed my eyes, lost in the motions, his touch, and the pressure of his erection against me. Breathing was more difficult and the patio seemed so much hotter than before.

His hand upon my ass stroked my cleft, following it down. Before I knew it, his fingers were stroking between my legs. "You are excited," he whispered in my ear. His lips lingered upon my ear lobe. I shuddered. He had gone too far. If Paul found us now, with his hand there! His fingers pushed aside the thong's flimsy material and he slipped his finger inside of me.

I shoved him away and pulled free of his embrace. I bit my lip and shook my head at him, then ran down the winding stair to the lake shore. The air was cooler and a soft breeze off the lake moistened my face. My body ached with an unfulfilled need. My nipples strained against the dress and my pussy was flooded with desire.

Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, he had not followed.

I wandered around the lake and imagined myself back on the dance floor with my partner. In my fantasy he had bared my breasts. He sucked upon my nipple enthusiastically as I slowly stroked his hard cock. I wondered what he felt like, what he tasted like.

While musing upon the young man's qualities I heard a noise on the breeze. Curious, I followed the sounds until I came to a small copse of trees and bushes. I crouched down and approached cautiously, entered the brush. I was careful to not tear my dress or make any noise.

A couple stood only a few feet from me. I concealed myself behind branches and watched as the young woman slid out of her red dress to stand nude before her lover. She had short blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes that reflected her passion. He reached out and caressed her small breasts. His fingers circled her small, pink areolas and pinched her long, hard nipples. Her belly was flat and her mound was shaved, displaying a prominent cleft between her long, lean legs. With an immense grin she slowly kneeled before him, sliding her hand down his chest, his stomach and over the bulge in his pants. Slowly she unfastened his pants, pushing them to the ground.

The man's penis sprung free and bobbed before her face. She carefully traced his manhood with her fingers and then lovingly kissed the tip of the bulbous head. She flicked her tongue across the crown, eliciting a groan from her lover. She giggled and affectionately clutched him with her fingers. She kissed him down the length of his shaft, then held him upright. She carefully sucked on his balls, her tongue caressing his sensitive flesh. Her lover closed his eyes and tilted his head back to groan with pleasure.

I bit my lip to stifle a guttural moan. I was transfixed, mesmerized by their carnal exploits. It had been three years since I had tasted Paul's cock, that I had touched him and felt him.

I had pulled the top of my dress down, my breasts were bared and exposed. I found my hands groping my own breasts, pinching and pulling at my aroused nipples, kneading and caressing the soft flesh.

Her lips were around his shaft and she slowly descended upon him, drawing him deeper and deeper into her throat. Little by little, inch by inch she took him, until her lips were wrapped around the very base of him. He groaned, a deep, throaty rumble, and threaded his fingers through her hair. His hips undulated, and she suck at his thrusting cock with wet slurping moans.

I gathered the hem of my dress up around my waist and thrust my hand down my panties. The short, curly hairs were already wet and my fingers slid between my nether lips. I grazed across my clitoris and sparks of pleasure radiated through my body. I pressed inside, my pussy sucking at my wet fingers, as I tried to fill the aching emptiness inside me. I thrust my probing fingers into me in rhythm with the man's thrusting hips. I found my mouth gasping open, craving for his cock down my throat.

Soon, all too soon, he finished. He stepped back and groaned and his body spasmed. Streams of clingy white semen erupted from the tip of his cock to splash across her pretty face and into her eager mouth. He stroked the last few drops out and she hungrily licked him clean.

I franticly massaged myself, eager to find my own climax. I imagined the flavor of his seed and imagined the fullness of him filling the emptiness inside me. I imagined her sucking at my breast and the tides of pleasure began to rise inside.

"Nothing is more beautiful," a man's whispered voice declared in my ear.

I recoiled from the voice and gasped. I jerked my hand from within my panties, letting my skirt fall back into place. I struggled to cover my breasts and then hid my wet fingers behind my back. My heart pounded and I felt my face grow flushed. All at once I wondered who he was and how long he had been watching. I was trembling when I turned around.

"Nothing is more beautiful," he repeated softly and nodded. Mr. Soto placed a warm hand on my naked shoulder with a self satisfied smile. "Than to watch someone's most intimate moments. Isabeau, what a pleasure to see you." He offered his hand to me.

He was older, though taller, than Paul, and thick chested with powerful arms. His hair was even darker than Paul's except for the touch of distinguishing grey at the temples. His eyes were dark and his lips thick. He had a square jaw that dimpled when he smiled. His waist was narrow and firm and his legs long and strong. Even his scent was intoxicating.

The lovers were alerted by his voice. They hurried off, following the lake shore. I, too, wanted to flee, to run away and pretend nothing had happened. I wanted him to lower his hand and to wipe that smug smile from his face. I wanted to kiss him and take him in my mouth and make him shoot his seed across my face.

Finally, reluctantly, I raised my hand and took his. He jerked me into his embrace and raised my hand to his lips. Slowly, deliberately he kissed my wet fingers, tasting my juices. I found it repulsive and disgusting. He tasted my sex. His smile was sexy and attractive.

"Let us dance a moment," he said and drew me into his embrace. He put his hand very low upon my waist and pressed my hips to his. I felt his erection grinding against my belly. He was so very large and hard. I wondered if it caused him pain for it to be crushed within the confines of his pants. I had a sudden urge to free him, to see with my own eyes what I felt and imagined.

"I want to taste you, Isabeau," he murmured in my ear. "I want to drink your juices." His hand was upon my breast, fingers stroking my nipple to a painfully full arousal. "I want to lick your ass and fuck you until you wail."

I was breathless. He was vulgar. He was dirty and erotic. It had been a very long time since I had been vulgar, dirty and erotic.

"Mr. Soto, I can't," was all I could stammer. "My husband would..."