From Slow Dance to Savage Sex

Mark is a driven professional, 47, and the Chief Operating Officer at the tech firm where we both work. He’s married to Claire, 43, a devoted mother to their two daughters. Claire is the epitome of a traditional homemaker – nurturing, quiet, and unassuming, always dressed in understated, elegant outfits that conceal her figure. She’s not conventionally striking, but there’s a subtle allure in her reserved demeanor, a hint of untapped passion beneath her loose cardigans and flowing skirts that sparks curiosity about what lies hidden.

I’d only ever seen Claire with Mark, her shyness keeping her words few, but her fleeting glances – ntense, almost secretive – stirred a primal intrigue in me. I wondered what desires simmered beneath her poised exterior. My chance to find out came at the company’s annual holiday gala. After a lavish dinner, a group of us, including colleagues and their spouses, hit a downtown lounge to keep the night going. As a single guy, I was unattached. We danced in a lively crowd, but Mark, who tires quickly of social scenes, soon retreated to the bar with a few others, leaving Claire behind.

The music shifted to a slow, sultry beat, and I seized the moment, slipping an arm around Claire’s waist. – “Mind if we dance?” I asked. She nodded, her eyes flickering with something unspoken. I pulled her close, her body yielding against mine. Her breasts, firm and warm, pressed into my chest, and I could feel the heat radiating from her skin. I leaned in, my lips brushing her ear. – “You look incredible tonight,” I murmured. Her breath hitched, and she melted closer, her hips subtly swaying against me. My hands slid lower, grazing the curve of her hips, and I felt the tautness of her body – ripe with unspoken need. Her response was electric, a silent confirmation of the fire I’d sensed in her.

Claire’s movements grew bolder, her pelvis grazing mine, feeling my growing arousal. The music’s rhythm masked our intimacy, but her quickened breathing betrayed her. I whispered again, – “I can feel how much you want this.” Her body trembled, and I could sense her craving release right there on the dancefloor. But discretion won out. – “Let’s head back to Mark,” I suggested, guiding her toward the bar to avoid suspicion.

Days later, I bumped into Claire at a bustling shopping plaza, both of us tackling last-minute holiday errands. Over coffee, we opened up. She shared that Mark was her high school sweetheart, her only lover. After years of marriage, their intimacy had faded into rare, perfunctory encounters. – “I feel things he doesn’t notice,” she admitted softly, her eyes downcast. – “I’m alone most days, with the girls at school. Sometimes I… explore online. It’s all I have.” Her confession of watching adult videos and pleasuring herself alone fueled my imagination. I leaned across the table, kissing her gently. She hesitated, then leaned in, her lips parting hungrily. Our kisses deepened, tongues entwining, her hands clutching my arms as I brushed my fingers over her sweater, feeling the swell of her breasts. She was a powder keg of desire, but I pulled back, wary of complicating things with Mark’s wife. We parted without plans to meet again.

Months later, at a weekend corporate retreat in a coastal town, spouses were invited for a Friday-to-Sunday summit. I arrived at the hotel, settled into my room, and joined the group for dinner. Claire sat beside Mark, with me on her other side. During the meal, I let my knee brush hers under the table. She didn’t flinch. Emboldened, I slid my hand beneath the tablecloth, resting it on her knee. Her silk stockings felt smooth under my fingers as I inched higher, reaching the bare skin of her thigh. She parted her legs slightly, her breath catching. My fingers grazed her panties, pressing gently against her warmth. Her lips parted, a silent gasp, her eyes darting to mine with raw hunger. I withdrew, not wanting to push too far in public.

After dinner, Mark joined a poker game, while Claire lingered with other wives. I sipped a bourbon, watching her. When she stepped out to the hotel’s courtyard, I followed after a moment. She stood under a pergola, the moonlight catching her silhouette. I approached from behind, wrapping my arms around her, kissing the nape of her neck. – “You’re driving me crazy,” I whispered. She turned, her lips crashing into mine, her tongue urgent. To avoid prying eyes, I pulled her behind a hedge, our kisses growing desperate. My hand slid under her skirt, fingers slipping past her panties to find her slick and ready. I teased her slowly, circling her sensitive core, her moans muffled against my shoulder. She was ravenous, her body screaming for release she’d never known. – “Please,” she gasped, – “I need you now.”

The setting was risky, but her desperation was undeniable. I unzipped my trousers, freeing myself, and lifted her skirt. She spread her legs, and I nudged her panties aside, pressing against her entrance. Her heat enveloped me as I entered, slow at first, then deeper, lifting her slightly so she could wrap her legs around me. I thrust rhythmically, her back against the hedge, her nails digging into my shoulders. – “Harder,” she moaned, her voice raw. I obliged, driving into her with force, her body shuddering with each movement. Her tightness gripped me, and as she cried out, her climax triggered mine, our bodies trembling in unison. I set her down, handing her a napkin to clean up, which she returned damp before I discarded it.