The Client Who Seduced Me in My Own Office

As I’ve told you before, my husband and I run a transfer service: companies, families, events. I take care of the office and, when needed, I drive too. I’m fifty-two years old and I thought that by now I knew myself by heart. What I’m going to tell you proved I was wrong.

One morning, an email came in from a man named Sebastián. He wanted to book a transfer to a wedding at a country estate outside the city. We exchanged phone numbers and the conversation was cordial, almost fun, as we coordinated schedules and details. Something about the way he wrote left me smiling for reasons I couldn’t explain.

On Saturday at seven in the evening, I went to pick him up. Sebastián was a man in his forties, tall, with an easy smile. After that, the rest of the family got in and we headed to the party.

These events are tedious for drivers. Waiting until dawn with nothing to do but eat and doze inside the van. I took the opportunity to answer messages and put together quotes on the tablet.

Hardly had the party started when Sebastián came over to the van. He said the noise was deafening, that he preferred some quiet for a while and to chat with me. He was charming, attentive, one of those men who really listen. We were in the middle of that when a girl came to get him, looking very interested in his company.

—I’ll be back in a bit, I’m joining in later —he told her, not moving from his seat.

—Is that your girlfriend? —I asked, just to say something.

—No. I like older women —he replied, looking at me.

An awkward silence fell, and I didn’t know how to break it.

After midnight, while I was dozing in a seat, he appeared again with a non-alcoholic beer and a slice of cake. He apologized for waking me and asked for a place beside me so he could rest too. I made room for him. He laid his head on my shoulder, pretending to sleep, not without first praising my perfume.

For a woman my age, having a young, handsome man look at her like that doesn’t happen every day. I let myself be flattered more than I should have.

When the sky began to lighten, the party started to wind down. We drove back along the same route, dropping each person off at home, and in the end I took Sebastián to his. Before getting out, he asked if I’d had a good time, if we hadn’t bothered me, if he could recommend us to his friends. I told him yes. Once on the sidewalk, he blew me a kiss with his hand and I answered with a smile that made me feel like a teenager. I closed the door with the absurd sadness of something ending.

Sunday was for resting. My husband was coming back from visiting some important clients and we stayed home watching TV, but I couldn’t get that complicit smile or the furtive kiss goodbye out of my head. That night, while he snored beside me, I slipped my hand inside the waistband of my pajama pants and touched myself thinking about Sebastián, about his mouth, about what would happen if I found myself alone with him. I came biting the pillow, my cunt soaked and a guilt that barely lasted as long as it took me to fall asleep.

Monday marked the start of an intense week: husband, son, and another driver were leaving for the coast on work and would be away for several days. Around noon I was helping a couple arrange a group excursion when I saw a car pull into our garage. I thought it was another client waiting for me to free up.

It wasn’t a client. It was Sebastián. He got out looking all around and asked me in a low voice if I was alone. My office occupies a corner of the garage and at that moment there was no one else there.

—Yes, I’m alone —I told him.

He went back to the car and brought me a beautiful plant to decorate the desk. I stood up and thanked him for the gesture with a hug that lasted longer than it should have. He brought his face to my neck and murmured that that perfume had kept him awake. He brushed my skin with his lips, under the pretense of wanting to feel it up close. His hands circled my waist and a sigh escaped me without permission. I felt, against my hip, the hard bulge of his cock straining inside his pants, and my knees weakened.

I tried to pull away and, as I did, his lips sought the corner of mine. I stopped him dead, firm on the outside, burning on the inside.

—This isn’t right —I told him—. I’m married, I’m years older than you, I don’t get involved with clients.

Without letting go of one of my hands, he pressed a finger to my lips, asking for silence.

My senses were on the verge of bursting. I was panting and couldn’t hide it. My cunt was already dripping inside my leggings and he knew it, he could smell it, he could see it in the way I was breathing.

—Just one kiss and I’ll go —he whispered.

I refused again, but his body pressed against mine in a way that was impossible to resist.

—Just one, and you go —I replied, and my voice sounded like a lie to me.

At first I only offered him my lips, but need won out and I gave him my whole tongue. His came all the way to my throat, hot, hungry, and I sucked on it as if it were something else. I closed the garage gate with the remote and that one kiss became an endless series. I was no longer in control of my actions or the situation. From kisses we moved to caresses, feeling each other over our clothes first, then under them. He slipped his hand under my T-shirt and squeezed my tits over my bra, then pushed it aside and pinched my nipples until I was moaning against his mouth. I, without thinking, grabbed his cock over his jeans and felt it throb under my palm.

He pressed me against the desk and pulled my leggings down until my underwear was exposed. My panties were a wet rag stuck to my lips. His fingers played at the edge of the fabric, pressing exactly where I needed it, then he shoved them aside and drove two fingers into my cunt in one go. He swallowed them whole, my pussy dripping over his hand and the desk. He pumped them in and out with an obscene, wet sound while his thumb hammered my clit. I moaned, trembled, laughed and cried at the same time, lost.

Suddenly he knelt and, without finishing undressing me, yanked my panties off and buried his tongue in my cunt. He ate me out like my husband hadn’t done in years: he sucked my lips, opened them with his fingers, licked me from bottom to top with his tongue flat, then closed his mouth over my clit and sucked. He slipped his tongue inside, pulled it out, pushed it back in, and fingered me at the same time. My legs were draped over his shoulders and I pressed his head into my cunt, begging for more, harder, for him not to stop. I came out with a scream that rose from deep inside, from a woman who had gone weeks without being touched, months without being eaten out like that. I felt my release run down my thighs and he licked it all up, not leaving a drop. I made him come up and share with me what he had in his mouth, with one huge kiss, feeling myself on his tongue.

Then it was my turn. We switched places: he braced himself against the desk, me kneeling and looking up at him. I opened his belt, pulled his jeans and boxer briefs down in one motion, and his cock sprang out, hard, thick, with a visible vein running along it and the tip already glossy with fluid. I asked permission with my eyes before taking him into my mouth. I started by licking the tip, taking the salty taste off it, then slowly worked him in, as far as I could, until he hit the back of my throat. I could have stayed there forever. I sucked his whole cock and popped it free with a little click to run my tongue over his balls, to suck them one by one while still stroking him with my hand. Every time I moved, he answered with the same moans I had let out minutes before. This time I was in charge.

He tried to pull back, warning me he was about to finish. I ignored the warning, quickened the pace, my hand sliding up and down the base while my mouth wouldn’t let go of the tip, and I took him all the way. I felt the first hot spurts explode against my palate, thick, and they kept coming, one, two, three, until my mouth was full of semen. For the first time in my life, at fifty-two years old, I chose not to pull away. What spilled out, I caught with my hand to start again, until he made me come up and shared that taste with me in another kiss.

Our clothes finally came off completely. He lifted me onto the desk, spread my legs wide, and played with the tip of his cock at my entrance without fully going in. He dragged the head of his dick over my cunt lips, up, down, against my clit, until I was crying from wanting it. I begged him to do it with the crudest words I knew.

—Put it in me, you son of a bitch, put it all the way in, fuck me already, I can’t take it anymore, I want your cock inside me.

The bastard wouldn’t listen to me, he’d only go in a few centimeters and pull back, and I was shaking on the desk, hunting him with my hips like a bitch in heat.

All at once, without warning, he filled me completely. We both shouted. I felt him force his way to the very bottom, his cock touching places no one had touched in years. He started moving hard, grabbing my waist, driving himself into me to the balls and pulling almost all the way out to slam back in with one thrust. The desk creaked, my tits bounced to the rhythm of his pounding, and I begged for more and harder, with no shame at all. It didn’t last long: the excitement was so much that within minutes we both announced we were about to finish. I came first, in spasms, squeezing his cock with my cunt until I choked him off, and seconds later he came too, sinking all the way in and unloading inside me with a roar that made me come again. We collapsed exhausted onto the couch beside the desk, naked, sweating, semen dripping down my thighs, and it was barely ten in the morning on an ordinary Tuesday in November.

We lay in each other’s arms for what felt like a century. He tried to start up again, with his hand between my legs playing with the liquid coming out of me, but I had nothing left. My house is thirty meters from the garage, so as best I could I got dressed and invited him to come with me. His shirt was stained and, besides, he had to see a client in a matter of minutes.

***

As soon as I got home, the first thing I did was take off my clothes and turn on the shower. He followed me and did the same. I was going to shower with a man for the first time in twenty years. We soaped each other slowly. His soapy hands traveled over my tits, my belly, my ass, slid between my cheeks and came back up. I soaped his cock, which was already hard again, and worked it slowly under the hot water. He turned me with my back to the tiles and looked for another path; his cock slid between my buttocks and the tip searched for my asshole. I refused softly. It had been more than six years since I’d given up that part, and if I was going to, I wanted it done carefully. I had bad memories of rushed, forced attempts.

But I wanted to show him I had surrendered. I asked him for something I had never asked for before: that he wash me with his urine. He froze for a second, not believing me, and then forced me to kneel in front of him. He grabbed his cock and aimed. I felt the heat run down my face, my chest, all the way to my crotch, a warm stream marking me as his. I didn’t dare taste it, though I swear next time I will. I finished the whole shower for him, my tits wet and my mouth open.

We went to the bedroom to find clean clothes for my husband. Before getting dressed, he threw me face down on the bed and, while we were still wet, he started kissing my lower back and playing with his fingers between my buttocks, prying them apart, wetting my little hole with saliva. I was on the verge of something new, my face pressed into the mattress and my ass raised, when his cell phone rang: the client was waiting for him and we had forgotten. He got dressed in a rush and promised to come back that same night to return the clothes.

I went out to buy cream and lingerie. I waited for him like a diva: heels, fishnet stockings, garter belt, all black. I cooked one of my specialties and, at the promised time, he rang the bell.

With our tongues tangled, we fled to the bedroom. We repeated what we’d done in the morning: he ate my pussy until I came twice in a row against his mouth, I sucked his cock slowly, savoring it, until it was soaked in saliva. Then he fucked me from the front, on all fours, from the side, changing positions as if he were studying me. And this time, when we finished the first round, he kissed my back and lower down with a patience that undid me. He spread my ass cheeks with both hands and ran his tongue over my little hole, up and down, wetting it, nudging it barely inside. My face was buried in the pillow, moaning like a madwoman.

—Take care of me —I told him—. It’s been a long time since I did it there.

He was an expert. First the tongue, then a finger coated in cream, then two, then three, always with cream, always slowly, turning them, opening me little by little. When he brought his body closer and started pushing the tip of his cock against the little hole, it hurt, yes, I felt like I was being split open, but I didn’t want him to stop. He advanced millimeter by millimeter until he was inside me completely, until his balls rested against my ass cheeks, and then he stayed still, throbbing inside me, letting my ass get used to him. It hurt and at the same time it was heaven. He started moving very slowly, pulling out just a little and pushing back in, and with his free hand he found my cunt and slid two fingers into it. Feeling myself full on both sides at once made me lose my mind.

Just then the phone rang. It was my husband, arriving at his destination, asking for a video call. I told him I had no battery. My voice came out choppy and that, far from slowing Sebastián down, turned him on even more. He started fucking my ass harder, without care now, his fingers going in and out of my cunt in the same rhythm. He sped up until he finished, unloading inside my ass with deep thrusts while I pressed the phone to my chest. I hung up before I could scream. I felt the warm semen stay inside me when he pulled his cock out, and a thread of it run down between my legs.

The filthy thrill had driven both of us wild. I don’t know where we found the strength to keep going. He mounted me again, this time from the front, so we could look each other in the eyes, and he drove his cock into my cunt until he made me come once more. At last he pulled out: exhausted, sore, but happy. We showered again, this time without touching each other, ate dinner naked, and before midnight we said goodbye with an almost innocent kiss.

We repeated it on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. Each day something new: he sucked me off in the kitchen while I stirred a pot, he fucked me against the window with the blind half-open, he made me finish with just his fingers in my ass while he talked dirty in my ear. I was at my best; we’d finish and I still wanted more. I touched myself in front of him without a trace of shame, legs open on the bed, showing him how I caressed my cunt, how I slipped my fingers inside me, so he’d get hard again and mount me once more. I was unhinged.

***

Then the proposition came up. Sebastián had a friend, a year younger, who dreamed of a threesome and didn’t know how to broach it. He was trustworthy, he said, and he was sure I’d like him. It took me a while to agree, but he brought it up at exactly the right moment: after making love, when I asked for more and he had nothing left to give. That was when, he said, his friend would come in to continue.

We agreed to have dinner the three of us out somewhere to see how we got along. Andrés was thirty-seven and had one of those faces that doesn’t make a woman ask for ID. The chemistry was immediate, so we decided to continue the drinks at home.

Seated on the couch in low light, me in the middle, I started kissing Sebastián while Andrés waited nervously for his turn. Sebastián was running the show and asked me to kiss his friend the same way I kissed him. I did, and I didn’t hesitate to run my hand over his jeans to discover what he had hiding there. He was rock hard, and from what I felt through the fabric, he promised a lot. I unzipped him right there on the couch and pulled his cock out. It was thick, shorter than Sebastián’s but much wider. My mouth watered. I bent down and sucked him while Sebastián stroked my back and whispered how well I was doing it.

I asked permission to go to the bathroom and came back transformed: this time wearing a costume that left little to the imagination. Andrés was about to burst, his cock poking out over the waistband of his boxer briefs. The three of us went to the bedroom. I kept only the fishnet stockings and garter belt on.

Sebastián made his friend go first. Andrés threw me onto the bed, spread my legs, and shoved it in all at once; he filled me so abruptly I shouted. I rode him after that, sitting on top, moving my hips in circles, my tits bouncing in front of his face while he grabbed them and sucked on them. Sebastián came up from the side and I grabbed his cock and put it in my mouth, one inside my cunt and one inside my mouth, coordinating the rhythm. He put me on all fours, taught me everything he already knew about me, and handed me over to Andrés without jealousy. Andrés drove into me from behind while Sebastián stood in front of my face so I’d keep sucking him. Then Sebastián lay on his back and made me mount him, his cock going all the way into my cunt, while behind me an eager tongue prepared me, licking my ass, salivating it, slipping in one finger first, then two.

The routine repeated itself: first one finger, then another, and finally the full game. Andrés lubed his cock up well with cream and started pushing against the little hole while I kept riding Sebastián. I thought I wouldn’t be able to do it, with Sebastián already occupying me in front and Andrés looking for room behind. But after several days the area no longer protested as much. He got in, not without pain, though bearable, and the sum of the two of them inside me took me somewhere I didn’t know. I could feel them moving in opposite directions, one rising as the other fell, then both at once, and I was a flesh swing packed with cocks. I felt every vein, every pulse, the way they brushed each other inside me, barely separated by a wall of skin. I couldn’t stop shouting, saying filthy things, asking for more.

—Fuck me, fuck me hard, wreck me between the two of you, I’m a whore, your whore.

The cherry on top came when Sebastián took my phone and called my husband so I could talk to him like that, right in the middle of it, with both cocks still inside me. When his voice came through the speaker, the two of them went wild. They started moving faster, synchronized, driving themselves into me to the bottom, and I bit my lip until it bled so not a single moan would escape into the phone. I hung up fast, before my moans betrayed me, and then I screamed with everything I had. They filled me between them, one in my cunt and one in my ass, almost at the same time, feeling both hot streams unload inside me. When they came out, a river of semen ran down my thighs, mixed, from both of them. Still trembling, I let myself collapse between them.

We woke up the three of us in each other’s arms. We had breakfast naked and, at different times, each of us went back to our life. Andrés promised he’d come back today, with Sebastián’s approval.

I’ll tell you tomorrow.