Office Temptations, Adulterous Implications

Closed for SannaBlonde82
"And that should do it for the Peterson proposal," I concluded. "Good work, Sanna."

The blonde sitting in front of my desk smiled at the compliment. I smiled back; there was something infectiously cheerful about her that I couldn't resist.

Her smile wavered a moment as a bit of discomfort washed over her face. She closed her eyes and stretched in the chair. The movement drew my eyes to other aspects of Sanna that I couldn't resist.

She wore her usual businesses attire: bright colored silk blouse and a black, knee-length skirt. As she twisted her torso, the blouse's buttons gapped slightly as her breasts strained against the fabric. Sanna had always been busty, but midway into her pregnancy, her bosom had expanded dramatically. Her twin orbs seemed determined to outpace the growing swell of her belly and had thusfar succeeded. The bulge of her womb rode high on her abdomen, so she still had a waist before the very feminine hips below. That flared into a very round ass and thick thighs, a side-effect of college athleticism that she'd maintained into her thirties.

Now was hardly the first time I'd thought about the possibilities if things were otherwise. Impaling this blonde Swedish beauty atop my big black cock and fucking her senseless was a familiar fantasy. To be honest, her being pregnant only turned me on more. But she was married and seemingly happily, so I'd kept such illicit ideas to myself.

Fortunately I was well-practiced at concealing impure thoughts about beautiful married co-workers, so I showed her nothing but concern when her eyes fluttered open. I stepped around from my desk and sat down on the front edge.

"Muscle cramp?" I inquired, nodding towards the picture of my wife on my desk. "When Marie was first pregnant, her lower back and upper thighs would tense up if she sat in a chair for too long. Or is it something else? I know pregnancy can be tough at times."

"Yeah.. muscle cramp, but it's ok.."

I didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to complain. Apart from these small muscular nuisances, I was having a wonderful pregnancy, meaning I was having one of those pregnancies I'd heard about but was skeptical actually existed. I was feeling strong, alive, revitalized even. I had been feeling energetic and yes - constantly sexually aroused. That last thing was a bit of a problem right now. Because even if I was feeling strong, my size and my general physical situation was.. well. I was sitting here, feeling fat and sweaty and crampy, and horny - in front of a man who had visited my fantasies for the last past six months. Let's say I wasn't completely relaxed.


I looked up at Simon, his black eyes showing genuine concern, and from what I could gather, not only was he a father of two and thus experienced in the field of "pregnant cramping women", but also seemed to love his wife Marie very much.

Simon, or Mr.Idris maybe I should say (even though he'd asked me to rid myself of formalities a while back), had began his employment with us a year ago. The first six months he was to me just a "hello" in the corridors, nothing more. His physical appearance, and to be honest - his jet black skin colour, stood out like a sore thumb at our office though. And all the women talked. Sore thumb is a misguiding reference though - black prince, sex beast of the century, smoking hot - are more fitting descriptions of this fantastic figure who now graced our pale white corridors and offices.

Six months ago, he moved over to our smaller department and took over as manager. This meant I had dealings with Mr.Idris every day, and the last few months our working relationship had intensified when I was moved up a notch and basically was assistant manager.

So, the fantasies. My sexlife has been just too vanilla, just too much routine and just too fucking uninteresting the last couple of years. It's my husbands' fault. No, of course it's my fault too. But I have found myself increasingly agitated at his lack of initiative. I guess it's the downside of a man who in so many other respects is easy to live with, happy-go-lucky, carefree and kind to me. I've tried. We've tried. But it's been hard. I was in my sixth month now, getting big. And had during these months been feeling a growing horniness of the kind I really never had experienced before. Not even as a teenager, discovering myself. Dan wasn't there for me, to relieve me of my sexual distress. I mean, he wasn't completely uninterested - but it wasn't in sync with me at all. Not anywhere close. I could have had sex every single day, and not having a partner wanting to satisfy me, I satisfied myself. And here's where the fantasies come in. Mr. Simon Idris, come on inside.

Black men? Yes. I mean, no - it hadn't been any specific source of erotic pleasure for me earlier, and I had never been with a man of a different ethnicity. That irritated me a bit. How white was I?? Very very white. But here comes Mr.Idris, and as my relationship with him intensified at work, so did my sexual needs - and so there he was, smack in the middle of every sexual fantasy I concocted in my mind when masturbating - which had lately become almost a daily habit.

So, I told myself, as his concerned eyes looked at my state, inquiring into my well-being, get a grip, Sanna. Get a grip.

Simon made it sound as the most natural thing in the world. I let him help me stand up and the slight brush of my breasts against his chest, well it was like at the doctors, no?

No. Just the touch of his powerful black hands against my arms (I had observed the blackness against my whiteness), and then my sensitive breasts and now he was going to massage me?? My god. My whole body, every cell craved it - but come on. It was stupid.

He was behind me now and before I had a chance to continue my train of thought his hands were on my shoulders. And now I found myself explaining without hesitation what was hurting and where.

- Well.. Yeah my neck and shoulders are a bit tense but I think that stems from my lower back and hips that ache from carrying all the.. Oh.. haha.. that feels good..

I giggled, and was stopped in my speech. Because it felt so amazing when he started pushing his thumbs into the back of my shoulders, and his thick, long fingers stretching out on the front, also moving slowly and surely on me. And we were both a bit too silent..

- Good, yeah?
I nodded. Yes it was more than good. It was dangerously fabulous.

Would I mind taking off my blouse??

The man who I had had advanced and extremely pornographic fantasies about for the last past six months was asking me if maybe I could take off my blouse.

The black man who had now worked magic on my shoulders, pressing and kneading me, sending signals right through me, was asking me. If I could take off my blouse.

"Well.. Ok.. but, do you really think.. I mean.. well you know what I mean.." I answered him, at the same time feeling his thigh against me, and not retreating.

I knew it was coming off. I also knew, which he didn't just yet, that when it did, my hardening nipples would be in clear sight through the thin white fabric of my bra.

I didn't wait. I started unbuttoning.

It felt as if even Simon’s bass tone of voice reverberated in me reaching parts of me it shouldn’t have. I opened my eyes, and then closed them again. His hands might have relaxed muscles in my back, but they were pushing my loins, my stomach and my beating heart up to stress levels in the red.

- Yes.. please. Mr. Idris. Unzip my skirt and take a look at my beautifully rounded and big ass, and how my white thong parts it..

No that’s not what I said. It’s what i thought. But its what my sane and normal persona would have said, as a sarcastic remark. Like as in ‘yeah right. I’m going to let my boss undress me. Like i’m a 19-year old intern being taken advantage of by the office predator. Not a 35-year old married pregnant woman’.

But here I was, hearing myself saying ‘yes.. please..’ in a submissive voice I hardly recognised as my own. Yes. I let it happen. I wanted it to happen. And with that, my skirt fell to the ground.

Yes please, Mr. Idris.

His hands on my ass felt amazing. And now.. my thighs, the insides, slowly moving upwards. I could have moaned audibly for less, and trying not to was proving difficult. I knew he could hear and feel my breathing becoming heavier, and now an involuntary move of the head, backwards... and my legs, yes I moved them apart just a touch, it couldn't have been more than an inch.

And I felt it. Yes there was no doubt that something hade grown hard behind me, against me.. And how I wanted it. I wanted it so bad. Flashes before my eyes of huge black cocks all based on a myth, a pornography I'd never even.. well.. perhaps once or twice.. And I actually wished it, as if anything smaller than my crazy expectations at this point would be disappointing. Silly girl.

And his hand moving up my thigh, mother of christ.. touch me, you motherfucker.. just do it..

I looked down a moment to catch a glimpse, but my pregnancy was in the way.. Should I now have woken up from my madness, at the sight of my unborn, at the thought of it's father??

But it just made me want it more.

I dropped to my knees. Without a shadow of hesitation. It felt good to comply. But kneeling wasn’t an altogether easy manoeuvre anymore, so Simon stretched out his hand and caught me by the elbow as I rather heavily came to my knees.
‘Oh.. thank you.. haha..’ A bit embarrassed by my heavy and clumsy state, I laughed nervously, turning my head slightly and looking up at the large man standing behind me. And as I saw his face I tried to discern what it was he was planning.

It was stupefying. I looked, and I truly understood what it meant to have your breath taken away. I had to make a deliberate effort. He had told me to suck. My boss had told me to suck his cock. For a short second I tried to find something suitable to say, things I have said to past lovers, to my husband - to men with average dicks, or below average dicks, men with issues - to sooth them, to calm them, to strengthen them. All completely egoistic of course. To get what I needed.

But there was nothing to say here. I had heard of women who complained about the big ones, and personally I'd only really been with one man anywhere near this that was now before me. Yes, I'm sure it wasn't something for every woman. But.. It was. For me.

I put my hands on his big thighs, and opened my mouth. I opened it wide, and tasted the bulging head, let it pass in and went straight for trying to get as much in my mouth as possible. Hungry, a cock-hungry pregnant white woman. That's what I was. I wanted to show him. But even with my jaw as wide as was possible and my lips stretched round the dark-brown girth of his shaft, I wasn't getting more in than a third. I breathed through my nose, held there for three seconds, before backing down, and admiring him.

"Jesus... haha.. " I giggled. It was a happy and content giggle.

The way he managed to move my body from kneeling to up on top of his desk amazed me, and I looked up at the big frame of my boss as he stood between my legs and informed me that he was going to fuck me. Or, as he expressed it, that I was going to fuck him. It was an interesting change of perspective I thought, before he suddenly had his hands on my thong. And as the flimsy nylon fabric ripped, I just gasped, looking with disbelief at the remains of my underwear.
"Oh.. what the.. "

It was actually extremely arousing. No one had ever done this to me. I was resting on my hands flat against the surface of the table, just staring down between my legs, the sight of my bare, moist pussy and just there, a few inches from it, the black thick snake, now hard and bulging, blood-filled and ready.. for me. I was ready.

I leant back on my elbows against his desk, trying to relax. It wasn't easy.. It was 5.30 pm, and even though the office was empty and there wasn't any big risk someone coming knocking on his door - I was expected home at 6.30.. I tried to block out that thought, realizing that it would probably be difficult..

About as difficult as what was now happening to me.. I couldn't see it, my big stomach was in the way.. I just looked at Simon's face, his eyes focused on his cock splitting me open. Yes god... I felt it slide slowly in, and I'm not sure what I was expecting - he had already given me warning - but whatever it was, the psychological factors were holding sway over physical ones. I wanted it, I wanted him. I wanted to be impaled on his huge fucking black cock, wanted him to open me up completely, wanted so badly to feel it.

I wanted him to take my bra off, let me lay there completely naked.. I could feel how hard and big my nipples were under the lycra, I wanted him to see them, wanted to see them myself.. I looked at my white legs in the air, against his blackness.. and the words that came out of my mouth shocked even me.. I had never said anything like it in my life..

"Fuck me.. please.. come on fuck my white pussy.. Oh god.. oh..."

I had such a weird feeling in my face, I could feel the muscles in them contract, the immense heat in my cheeks and mouth and down my throat and chest - I probably looked almost piggishly white-pink to such a black man. Had he had many white women? I thought about the photo of his wife there, framed on the desk. I was that woman.. and I never had been before... I actually enjoyed it...

Jesus christ he was big.. and what was just as surprising was my ability to take him..
Fuck me then, fuck me hard you motherfucker...!! I wanted to shout. I didn't. But I started moaning.. he hadn't even touched my clitoris, which I usually needed to get properly horny. For the first time he mentioned my womb, fuck yes. The idea of getting nailed when pregnant.. the secret fantasy that I had, it was real. And it was just as good as I had hoped. I was the slut, the whore.. his whore..

Oh my god.. Through the fuzzy stained glass of the door, I saw a shape. I knew instantly it must be one of the cleaners, or a janitor.. I couldn't make out if the person just passed by not noticing, or had stopped and paused and heard..

"Simon.. look..." I whispered, panting..

And in me, a sense.. that I didn't care less.

"Oh fuck!! Oh please, dear god..!!"

My reaction to his grip of my face, his words.. they should not have made me so aroused. They should have had the complete opposite effect. It's what I would have told anyone who would listen, about how to treat a woman. "Stupid slut??". Fuck you.

But here I was, on the verge of an orgasm from a big black cock fucking me on a desk, without any clitoris stimulation. Just the cock. The situation. And those words, and his hand round my chin, his fingers pressing my cheeks together. Treating me like a slut. A pregnant slut, cheating on her husband. God almighty.

I came. And he had barely started.

My naked white body sprawled on his desk, impaled on this black monster, moving in me now making my ass bounce and smack. Jesus, and now my heels on his shoulders, fucked like some porn girl. The vibrations from the orgasm still in me, making my legs feeling as if asleep.. and his face, his eyes – bearing down on me, so full of.. It was his arousal, but it was also an aggression, or maybe just the face of a man using something. It filled me with more desire for him. It shouldn’t have.

“Oh god..! Oh yes, fuck me..! Oooh.. Ooh..”

My own voice, my sighs and moans felt alien, but also maked me even more aroused, like I was observing someone else getting fucked. But it was me. It was just me.

I stretched my arms back, taking hold of the other side of the desk, which was now completely cleared – no papers, no documents, no picture frames, no pens. Just me there. And my thoughts about myself: A white, pregnant, cheating slut. And understood that I wanted to be humiliated for it.