Tag Archives: the pilot

Brinkmanship

Yesterday, I spent the afternoon in the company of the pilot, his wife, child and their friends. A mutual colleague (and yes, another serial adulterer) had invited us over to his place to ‘work’. No one told me it would be a family event. I genuinely thought we were going spend Saturday afternoon working at his place. 

A strange afternoon, with three children playing and running around, two wives, distant, unsociable, watching TV, whilst the three of us poured over laptops, working and cooking dinner for everyone. The pilot would brush past me in the kitchen, tackling me to the floor, playfully. We stepped out together to pick up some missing ingredients and beers. He drove. We talked about sex. He told me about a 3 year affair he’d had at his last job. Apparently, no one knows about it. Not even the co-pilot. I told him about my little bondage fun with the co-pilot. He said he was jealous.

Then he asked me a question that’s been playing, tantalisingly on my mind ever since: “Have you ever had aggressive sex?” I racked my brains, various images, memories flitted across my eyes. Animal, yes. Instinctual, raw. But not aggressive.

Now I am curious. I imagine what he would be like. I think he knows me better than I know myself. I long for this brinkmanship to climax. 

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Flying with the co-pilot

Insomnia. It is a good state to be in when you want to write. Dark outside, husband asleep, brain racing.

Last week was that start of an adventure. It has been six months of build up – looks at work, touching under the table in bars and conversations full of innuendo and promise. The co-pilot is someone I’ve had my eye on for some time.

He is the pilot’s best friend and partner in crime. The pilot has instigated a role change for me at work, so that I now work directly with the co-pilot. I can tell he fully expects something to happen between us. It has brought about a delicious dynamic between the three of us – meetings, lunches, drinks – we all know what will eventually happen. You see they are both like me. They are serial adulterers.

Last week the co-pilot and I travelled on business together. We stayed in the same hotel, taking the local teams out for dinner and drinks – a double act of charm and hard work. There is an unsaid understanding between us. We work well together. We play even better together. As the evening drew to a close and we regaled the remaining stragglers with stories of the London office, we fondled one another’s legs under the table. That familiar heady heat began to course through my veins. It was time to leave. A short taxi ride later, we stepped out of the lift and walked calmly to his room.

I had decided not to give myself to him yet. I wanted to retain control over him, so I undressed him, not allowing him to remove my clothing. Blindfolding him and tying his wrists together with his leather belt, I pushed him to the bed. It has been such a long time since I had touched a man. I reveled in his pale, naked skin, his beautiful body and fully erect cock. He has a cock to admire – both aesthetically and proportionally. My objective: to give him the best blow job he could have hoped for. And to leave him wanting more.

Taking him in my mouth, I slid his shaft in until his tip touched the back of my throat, clasped his girth with my lips and pressed my tongue against the underside of his cock. I began to massage that throbbing vein with my tongue as I masturbated him with my mouth and hands.

The first time you bring someone to orgasm is like a sketch for a painting. You are looking, watching, reading, interpreting. It is the first stage of a process. Every sigh, exhale, shudder and gesture hints at how you need to capture the person. The co-pilot promises to be an interesting subject for a longer term project. The first studies are done, I begin to plan my masterpiece.

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The pilot

Let me introduce you to the pilot. He is someone I work with. Charismatic, engaging, intelligent, ambitious. He can also fly a plane and for the purposes of this blog, will henceforth be known as the pilot.

We have spent a couple of evenings together (always within a work context), yet it is already clear that both he and I share a physical attraction. His hands have strayed to touch my back, slipping around my waist as others were not looking and quickly withdrawing before being caught. Sitting side by side at a table, our legs brushed and remained touching as conversation above the table continued with other colleagues. We have exchanged late night texts, confided aspects of our personal lives with one another and I am beginning to realise he and I may well be a similar species: adulterers. There is something about the way he makes eye contact (held just a fraction longer than is socially acceptable); his smile (the slight twitching of the corners of his mouth as he decides whether to toy with me or not); the way he looks at me (I feel undressed, light headed).

The unspoken conversation between us is unravelling into the most delicious, delectable game of flirtation, chastisement and desire. How delightful that he and I have a meeting over coffee tomorrow morning.

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