Wednesday, August 21, 2002

Touch me there

After that first hysterical kiss, the techie and I started meeting in out-of-the-way places on our way to and from work. We also snuck off to tucked away conference rooms and made out like high school sophomores. It was all kissing and rubbing in the beginning. The first time he made me cum, I almost cried at the intensity of it. We had entered a whole new level of pleasure.

From there we advanced to “our” secluded meeting spots where we did anything and everything but sex to get each other off. The desire was breathtaking. Using only his fingers, he would make me cum until my legs shook from the strain of holding them open. I would suck, stroke and rub him until he was fully satisfied.


We set the date for our first time. He picked the hotel. I wore something pretty.

Sunday, August 04, 2002

Evolution

At one pinnacle of my life, I found myself: a mother, a wife, a satisfied professional and unhappy. I felt weighted, struggling for the definition of who I am, not how I am defined.

And then I met my techie. He talked to me about sports, weather, books, food and everything under the sun. He smiled and me and didn't see childbirth in my history. He wanted me, he called me sexy. I let him have it all.

Our first venture into the dark land seemed innocuous to us. We went for drinks after work and after a beer or two, I confessed that I had a little crush on him. As the fates would have it, he felt the same way. We laughed and shrugged at the silliness of two grown and married people having crushes. That was Wednesday.

By Friday, we were convinced that the only way to dispel the flirty aura around us was to share just one kiss – get it out of our systems. It was ridiculous but we were consumed with the thought of it. How would it happen? Where? Who would make the first move?

I met him in an isolated room near his office. Neither of us would make the first move. It was so juvenile, but my heart was racing like he was the first boy I’d ever kissed. I leaned in for a hug and his mouth was on mine, fevered and wet. I was insane with kissing, but it was all wrong. He didn’t taste right, he didn’t kiss right. His hands were all over me. I pushed him away. This was no longer funny. We’d really crossed the line.

I shrugged and laughed. Told him that he needed some practice before we did that again. He joked about teaching him the tricks. I left.

Later that night I called him and offered that lesson. We’d officially crossed from flirting to fucking.