I have a fantasy about this cute guy at the office…
Peter is slim and not terribly tall, with dark curly hair. He’s always dressed to the nines in a three-piece suite with a flower in his lapel. He even has one of those old-fashioned hats like the debonair heroes of black-and-white movies. Did I mention that Peter is gayer-than-gay? Openly so; it’s not just conjecture on my part.
This guy is quite a sight to behold, but my fantasy about him doesn’t involve me at all, except in a voyeuristic capacity. What I’d really love to see is cute little Peter getting it on with my husband Ray.
It’s pretty far-fetched, but this fantasy started up when I was working a lot of overtime alongside Peter. Ray would always call me at the office if I’d stayed into the evening to make sure I’d grabbed a bite for dinner. He was always concerned if I was too busy, I’d skip meals.
I kept hoping Ray would show up at my office one evening with a picnic basket full of chicken and ginger ale, like the one Cary Grant and Grace Kelly share in To Catch a Thief. My mind would wander to Ray and I inviting Peter to share in our meal. I would see the spark between them the moment their eyes met. They’d look away from each other the way people do when they’re uncomfortable with what they feel, but the air would be electric.
To give them a moment to get acquainted, I would suddenly “remember” that I needed to run to the printers before they closed. Leaving my husband alone with cute little Peter, I would race from the office just long enough for the boys to surrender to temptation…
Quietly, I would sneak back in and creep down the hallway, listening for their soft panting words: Should we? Could we? But your wife… It’s all right; she thinks it’s hot…
They’d have shifted to Peter’s office, where the door locks and the blinds shut. If it weren’t for those two knee-high broken slats, I wouldn’t be able to see a thing! I’d sink to the floor and peer inside to see what my husband was up to.
My Ray’s a pretty big guy—“big-boned,” he would probably want me to clarify—so I picture him as the top. He’d be leaning against Peter’s immaculate desk as my cute co-worker dug my husband’s cock out from his unzipped jeans. Somehow, in another man’s hands, that familiar penis would seem like the most delicious thing in the world.
Sitting in his streamlined office chair, Peter would dive at my husband’s erection. Ray would release a great moan as Peter’s lips closed around his big meat. I know how much my man loves a good blow job, and I’m happy to sit back and watch him get one from another guy.
Peter’s head would move forward, taking in more of Ray’s cock, then shift back and away from the open fly of my husband’s jeans; toward Ray, then away from him. His pace would pick up like a locomotive pulling out of the station. It would be almost as if Ray’s stomach exerted some kind of magnetic pull on his head, because Peter would always pause for a moment when he was closest to my husband. He’d nearly have to pull his head away from my big man, until his lips caressed Ray’s cockhead. Then he’d swallow it up all over again.
Finally, the motion would become smooth and intentional, on both ends. Ray would grasp the edges of Peter’s desk and thrust his hips, sending his cock deep into my cute co-worker’s throat. Peter would reach forward and grasp the desk as well, like despite the fact that one had his cock in the other’s mouth, they were both too timid to actually touch each other.
They’d get into a rhythm. They’d become perfectly coordinated, Ray thrusting forward as Peter leaned in, and Ray withdrawing as Peter leaned away. They would be beautiful to watch, this cute guy and my sweetheart husband.
I would recognize when Ray was about to come by his unusual facial expressions. His foot would tap wildly against the floor before he started thrusting in double-time. Peter wouldn’t know what to do, so he’d just take the rampaging cock in his throat. One, two, three slow-motion thrusts and Ray would throw his head back and howl like a wolf.
At that point, I would rush to the office entrance and open the front door, slamming it shut. I’d yell, “Hey guys, I’m back!” and walk slowly down the hallway to give them time to get decent. I bet they’d start some nonsense conversation about “guy stuff” as they walked out of Peter’s office. They wouldn’t be able to look me in the eye, and they’d be wondering why I had such a huge smile on my face.
I’m not sure whether or not I would ever reveal what I’d seen to either Peter or Ray. I’d be concerned they’d feel embarrassed or apologetic, when neither of those reactions would be necessary for my sake. They’d probably never believe they were acting out my most persistent fantasy.
Giselle’s other sexy stories published here on Every Night Erotica can be found here.
Eroticist, environmentalist, and pastry enthusiast Giselle Renarde is a proud Canadian, supporter of the arts, and activist for women’s and LGBT rights. For Giselle, a perfect day involves watching a snowstorm rage outside with a cup of tea in one hand and a chocolate truffle in the other. Ms Renarde lives across from a park with two bilingual cats who sleep on her head.
Giselle has sexy story in the anthology “The Bad Girl’s Sweet Kiss” available from http://www.xcitebooks.com/category-208/9781908006639.html or http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0049H963C.