He had been married for too many years.

As a successful, idealist, non-profit legal services attorney in a fairly small Southern town, he met plenty of attractive, available, grateful women. He flirted with them to make them feel wanted, he fantasized about all of them, some he even took out to dinner, but he never ever touched them, for he was a decent moral man who loved his wife even if he could not stand her.

He was attracted to Stacey the minute he met her, and being a creature of habit he approached her as though she was an attractive grateful client, and not a fellow attorney flying in from up North to help with an important case. Which is to say that he was forward, and aggressive, but still distant, as though the flirting was a defense mechanism, and it confused her.

Stacey, as a rule, disliked confusion. She enjoyed flirting for teasing’s sake, and she enjoyed flirting as a prelude to making out, blowjobs and/or fucking, but she did not like games, and what he was doing struck her entirely as some weird demented game, especially since he was clearly intensely attracted to and turned on by her, qualities that she almost always found admirable in just about everybody.

But she bit her tongue, thinking as she did so that she would like to bite his tongue instead, for the duration of the first day's preliminary meeting, and resolved to herself that if she had to come back to work with him again it would be on her terms and clearly understood by both of them.

A month later he was interrupted both to his joy and consternation by a call from Stacey. She was coming back, she was flying in, not to the nearest airport but to the one on the other side of the mountain, and she was hoping, really hoping, that he could pick her up and drive her into town so that they could spend the time "chatting."

There was something about the way she said "chatting" that made him think she was implying much more.

She greeted him in the airport with an extremely unprofessional hug, the hard nipples of her obviously braless breasts pressed against him through her blouse, her face inches from his as if to kiss him. And then she did. Right there in the airport. It was a simple soft meeting of the lips but it made him instantly hard.

She stepped back. They stared at each other longingly for just a second and then he picked up her bags and headed for the parking lot.

The entire drive across the mountain they chatted, but about ten minutes in to the drive she shifted in her seat, turned to face him, and began to stroke his thigh with her fingernails as they talked.

He wanted to object, to explain the painful truth about being decent and moral and loving his wife even if he could not stand her, but he could not find the words, could not find any words as his cock grew hard and her hand strayed to it and his cock grew harder and her hand pressed more firmly and the drive across the mountain became a slightly riskier exercise.

Part of him wanted the ride to last forever. Part of him wanted to find a spot to pull over, a motel to get a room in, something, anything. But no, she was staying in his guest room and his wife was home and he needed to get there as fast as possible to the safety of home and wife and guest bedroom and no, he could not go there, he had to speed up, and the drive across the mountain became even more dangerous.

Somehow they made it back to his house alive. Somehow he managed to introduce her to his wife, to show her the guest bedroom, to pull away from the door of the guest bedroom when Stacey began to undress without even checking to see if he was still standing there, knowing, he correctly assumed, that he was still there, that the pulling away was difficult, and that his cock was even harder.

Dinner at the best restaurant in town, one of the only good restaurants in town, the Indian restaurant in one of the many strip malls that collectively almost defined for themselves what the town was, was supposed to be for the lawyers and their spouses but his wife, at the last minute, as she usually did, declined because, as he strongly suspected, she could not stand him either, and this left him perilously alone with Stacey in the car again, and at dinner where he could not keep his eyes off her as he ate and she could not keep her hands off him under the table.

The dinner eaten, the bill paid, the other lawyers and their spouses gone, the two of them still seated at the table, side by side, hand on thigh, his mind finally, fatally, irreversibly made up, he spoke to her out loud for the first time in what felt like an hour, "I need to get some papers from the office."

She smiled, and nodded, knowing, he correctly assumed, that there were no papers that needed getting.

He drove deliberately through the highways and exchanges and exits to the strip mall where his law firm lived, let them in, walked with her to the back where his office was, not bothering to turn on the light, the ambient glow from emergency signs, power strips, and screen savers illuminating their way. Stacey, one step behind him, closed his office door behind her, locked it, and was already unbuttoning her blouse and dropping her skirt, her only two items of clothing, as he turned to face her, as he grabbed her naked body and pulled her to him, a sensation he only dimly remembered, and he had no memory of ever holding or kissing anyone as urgent, as eager, as pliant, as crazed as Stacey, who was removing his shirt and pants and underpants as they kissed, pushing him back on to the couch in the corner, her hand on his cock and then kneeling beside the couch her mouth on his cock, and he knew he had no memory of any sensation so incredible, any sight so wanton, as her head bobbing furiously along the length of his cock, licking and sucking.

"Stop," he cried out, as though someone else he did not recognize, "stop, I want to fuck you!"

She stopped, reluctantly pulled her mouth off his cock with a slight popping sound, her fist still wrapped around the based of his shaft, sweat glistening on her face in the almost dark where she knelt beside him. "No," she answered, "not tonight. I don't know you well enough yet. Tonight I'm blowing you."

Her mouth returned to his cock, his hands on the back of her head, urging her on, disappointed and yet thrilled, adrift in a new universe with rules and consequences and ways of thinking he could not comprehend but focused completely on her bobbing head beneath his hands, on her face, on her expression, on the way her mouth looked stuffed with his cock, on his rising seed, on her total control as he exploded, as she swallowed, as pleasure and confusion and the insanity and intensity of their interactions, of the enormity of what he had done filled his brain and overwhelmed him and there was for just a second, only darkness that seemed like death.