Another View of Amanda Williams

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I have written a great deal about my relationship with my ex husband. In some ways, it was the failure of that relationship which prompted me to become a Literotica contributor.

Recently, Kevin and I have found another sort of relationship. We now talk, in depth. And from that I have learned more about him, me and what was us.

I have also realized that there are always at least two sides to everything. This is another side to many of the stories I have penned for this great, erotic writing site.

Chapter 1

It must have been some sight. An eighteen year old, gorgeous looking bird with a mane of wild, chestnut coloured hair propped up against the desk in an office with a thirty-year-old bloke. The girl, her legs open, her jeans round her ankles, and her sweater bunched round her shoulders was being fucked. The bloke, his trousers round his knees, his shirt open was hammering into her. It was their first fuck. They were doing it in the ad agency where the girl worked as a junior copywriter and where the thirty-year-old bloke was a client. The copywriter was breaking the first law of advertising, ‘never fuck the client.’ The client was being a bastard and taking advantage of the new, young, junior copywriter who, fresh from university, was working on her first account.

It was a bit of a fucking mess, but both were too into each other to care.

It was an equally wild sight. A twenty-year-old girl with a forty-five-year-old bloke. The same bloke, a different girl and a different place. This time, it was a plush car, a hotel room, her flat or anywhere really, where the young woman was getting shafted. Similar scene though, skirt round her waist, blouse open, tits out of her bra and me laying behind her spreaded legs, fucking her.

Hi, I’m Kevin; I married the first one Mandy and had loads of the second ones.

I never loved Amanda, but then I have never loved anyone and aren’t really too sure what love is, other than it seems to be a fucking restraining order on what most men like doing most, screwing loads of birds. I did, and nearly every man I knew either did, or wanted to.

So, thirteen years of me and Mandy. Where have they gone? What happened, why did it all go so wrong? Simple, me and my dick: I just had to exercise it too much. So I exercised that, she found out, she forgave me, she found out, she forgave me; she found out, she kicked me out.

Simple straightforward and happening all the time. I guess on balance I did well, she only found out three times, there was, possibly, a hundred. That includes chicks I pulled, birds that worked for me (I considered it part of their induction to shag them), friends we had known for ages, hookers, massage parlor girls and, really, anything I could get my hands. Am I bastard or what? Don’t answer that.

She was a good shag, Mandy that is. Not that adventurous, but really enthusiastic and a quick learner. But, she was too conservative. I tried to loosen her up, suggested swinging or partner sharing, but all that ‘fell on deaf ears,’ just as did my requests for anal. In the entire thirteen years we were together She only let me into that lovely, secret passage twice, and one of those was with my finger!.

I tried to get her to relive some of her peccadilloes that I knew she had got up to at uni with other girls, but that got nowhere, well not until near the end. In fact, I think that when I got her to agree to go with Jenny, that was the end.

I was ‘relatively’ well behaved during the first few years of our relationship. That was the year or so we ‘went out’, while she lived with her parents, the six months or so when she shared a flat with two other girls and the year or so we lived together before getting married. I even kept up my ‘relatively good behaviour’ in the first couple of years of that.

By ‘relatively well behaved’ I don’t mean I didn’t have bits on the side. Of course I did, players always do don’t they? We can’t help it; it’s just the numbers that alter! So during that ‘honeymoon period’ with Mandy, I didn’t actually go out of my way to seek it; I more, rather let it find me. And enough did to keep me ticking over. But then that was when I was building the business and was traveling, by myself most of the time, all over the world.

I was a buyer, I was a boss, I was businessman, I was a big spender and those sorts of things attract pussy just like honey attracts bees. So I had enough cunt, my fair share, I was happy, I had nothing to prove.

Oh yes, I had given up using whores, well a man has to straighten himself up a bit when he marries doesn’t he? Hookers apart, I had women who worked for clients, women who worked for my or associated companies in places like Singapore, Bahrain, Qatar, Oz and the States, women who were also traveling on business (the easiest and the best by far to pull, excuse me, let come to me I mean, when on the road) and expats frustrated wives. All innocent, all just sex, all just bits on the side.

But back to Mandy.

After Konya Escort that first fuck in the ad agency where she handled my account, well actually she handled my cock, balls and other parts of me as well, we saw a lot of each other and I don’t just mean without clothes!

I was building this oil-field equipment packaging business and needed an agency to write specialist ads to go in technical mags. I wasn’t a big spending client, so I go the junior copywriter. If she hadn’t been so fucking attractive I would have told the snooty account manager to shove it up his arse, but when I saw Mandy all I could think of was shoving it up her arse: that took five years in the end and may well have been the reason we stayed together so long. See I’m a patient guy really.

Chapter 2

At that time Mandy was slim. She had a gorgeous body. She was 5 6 or so and weighed less than 130 pounds. She had long, slender legs, a totally, flat stomach and nice little tits with wonderfully chewy nipples. And of course she had that great mane of wavy, shoulder-length, chestnut coloured hair that she had then that she kept all through our relationship and still has today.

Apparently, she had been studying English at Bristol University, but had got fed up and quit. Mum and dad as they usually do in such circumstances had firstly gone barmy, they so want to keep up fucking appearances that Mandy leaving uni, was, in their eyes as bad as her having a black baby!

But dad had connections and he used them. So, Mandy ended up as a junior copywriter in a well-known, West End ad agency. Sure, it paid peanuts, but it was a great training ground for a young bird, both in the practice of advertising, basically writing fucking bullshit and pretending you know more about everything than your client, and in life. London was far more swinging then, 1989, than it was in the time when it was famous for that.

So Mandy started learning about life in the big city.

I wanted to fuck her immediately Colin Blakeney-Smith, the Account Director introduced us. She was wearing a loose shirt outside her knee length, denim skirt that had, fashionably at the time, brass buttons all the way up the front. As girls did then, she had left several undone so that when she sat opposite me the skirt parted and fell away from her upper leg, which was crossed over her lower one. She had gorgeously tanned legs and seemingly bloody long ones. The tan had been gained as a ‘reward’ for flunking university by her overindulgent, snooty parents taking her to their house in Naples Florida for a couple of weeks, wankers.

I, of course, was totally mesmerised by her and the great display of flesh she was, seemingly innocently, flashing at me. I flattered her on the crap she had given me as copy and said how pleased I was to be working with, as CB-S put it, this ‘raw, new talent’, what a load of bollocks admen speak! Actually she was good with words; it was just the message that was daft.

Giving it all I had with my charm, staring at her, flattering her and trying to tell her with my eyes just how much I wanted her, I felt we made progress. We had a couple of meetings and a couple of lunches, but all the time CB-S tagged along, what was he, her fucking chaperone, I wondered.

Things went a bit flat with Mandy as I had a six week trip through the middle and Far East, Australian and back home via LA and Houston. Fucking hard work sees. We were able to keep in touch by fax, remember those? And the occasionally horrendously expensive phone calls, so I saw how the campaign was coming along: it was pretty good.

Once back in London I had two objectives: get the ad and marketing campaign finished and continue with my fuck Mandy campaign.

Oh, there was the minor irritation and inconvenience of me being married at the time, but as she was my age, actually a month or so older and had been a spur of the moment action a couple of years earlier, she was on her way out. The marriage was all over bar the paperwork, but due to a temporary cash flow problem, basically I had put everything into the business and was as good as broke, I couldn’t afford to end it, I did actually have a few birds on the go at the time, but none got to me like posh Amanda, as I thought of her: well that is when I wasn’t thinking of her naked, with my cock in her mouth or something equally sexy.

It all happened very quickly, far more so than I had expected, but not as fast as I had hoped.

I didn’t have that much to do other than work on the campaign so I started occupying more and more of her time, both at the agency and at my poky offices in the East End. We had endless meetings, long meetings and as I made them, flirty meetings. I bought her pizzas, took her to pubs and restaurants, mainly in Covent Garden near the agency. All the time we were getting closer.

We had popped out from the agency for some pasta and were returning at around seven or seven thirty. It was deserted. We had had a bottle of wine Konya Escort Bayan and y, I thought, Mandy asked if I would like some more.

“How, shall I go out and get some?”

“No there’s no need, all the brass have fridges stuffed full of beers and wine so that they can entertain clients. You’re a client, so I can entertain you.”

Bingo I thought, there’s the opening.

“I can think of other ways than wine Mandy.” I said looking right into her eyes. We were seated across a small coffee table on low chairs. She was wearing tight, blue jeans, which showed her great bum off to magnificent effect, and a thin, yellow vee neck sweater under which the swell of her little boobs was quite apparent. She looked great.

She smiled as she stood up.

“And how, I wonder, could that be?” she asked in a rather flirty manner, which was unusual for her. So far nearly all of her reactions to me had been dead straight.

I had at times wondered whether I was ‘pissing in the wind’ with her and that it might be best to forget trying to pull her. But then I would think of her lithe body, her nice tits, great arse and fantastic hair and I knew that not trying to get into her knickers simply was not an option. I had to try; men like me see no other way. I fancied her so she became a target and I had to try to get the bull’s eye, well you do, don’t you?

I stood up. Smiling at her and holding her gaze I said.

“Oh I think you can guess that Mandy.”

Again, that unusual for her coquettish smile as she said.

“I have no idea what you can mean… Kevin.”

By adding my name, after that short pause, Mandy seemed to change the context of the sentence. Until the word ‘mean’ it sounded that she genuinely may not have known, but by using my name, it was clear that she did. That put her in the game, that got her in play, that made her fair game.

We just looked at each other for a moment or two. I saw the signs: the slight smile, the wrinkling of the eyes, the small inclination of her head and the holding of my gaze. They were signs of interest, small signs but, to an experienced player like me, such meaningful ones that she almost might as well have taken her knickers off and said fuck me.

I moved a tad closer into her space, closer than people usually stand, close enough so that I could smell her perfume almost feel her heat, close in a way that was suggestive and enquiring. That’s always a good, non-verbal proposition. Get that close and leave it to the bird. She can move away, basically saying probably not, there isn’t a ‘definitely no’ in my world, or she can stay right there and essentially say the same as the small signs earlier had said.

Mandy didn’t move an inch or bat an eyelid. To be honest I was surprised. Pleased and fucking excited yes, but certainly surprised for she hadn’t shown many signs of really fancying me. Over the next few minutes, that all changed and how!

After muttering “I think you know exactly what I mean,” I closed the space between us and put my hand right on her hip. Again she didn’t move so then I really went for it.

She was quickly in my arms and our mouths were clamped. She was a better kisser than I would have guessed and she soon got her tongue as far down my throat as I got mine down hers. She was also far more into me that I had thought. There was little hold off or resistance, the fucking morals of the young has gone to pieces haven’t they? She didn’t stop me: kissing her deep, long and hugely energetically, crushing her body against mine, squashing her tits against my chest and running my hands up and dawn her back and onto her bum.

And she joined in. She: kissed me back as enthusiastically as I was kissing her, she squirmed her body against mine and she thrust her stomach as firmly against mine as I was pressing against hers.

When we broke the kiss for a moment I murmured. “Don’t you Mandy?”

Again that beguilingly flirty smile. “I’m beginning to get the idea now” she said putting both of her arms round my neck.

That’s always a great sign for a girl opens her chest up by doing that, it’s almost a signal to say ‘there you go, there’s my tits for you.’ Well that’s how I take it and how I took it then. And on the point of tits, when going for them I never believe in sodding around. None of this light touch first, then a gentle squeeze all outside the clothing before getting inside. No, I go for broke. Hand straight inside right on the tit, a few nice squeezes then get inside the bra. As the Yanks say, ‘It’s important to press the flesh.’ It’s also bloody nice and once you’ve got the girl’s bare tit flesh you’ve as good as got her.

And that was exactly how it went with Mandy.

I found out later that she had fancied me almost as much as I had her since about the same time; a minute or two after meeting in my case. So when I went for it she was pleased and was very much up for it. In fact, she admitted a few weeks later, I could have had her much Escort Konya sooner, bloody women, you never know where you are do you

With her arms round my neck it was easy to slip my hand up her thin sweater.

I felt her body jerk and heard a sharp intake of breath as I cupped her breast. It obviously felt good for her, it certainly did for me, and she had nice tits. With such a positive reaction I didn’t bugger around at all. As we kissed again I slid my fingers inside her bra, which was a little too tight, and fumbled around trying to get her nipple. I found it and pinched it, again feeling that jerk in her body. This time it was mainly in her stomach and thus, that pressed right against my dick which had, of course, got hard. As our bodies had been pressed together during the hardening process, I hadn’t been able to fiddle my clothes around that my erection could grow vertically. Hence, it sort of grew with the top of it pointing downwards and thus, what she felt against her was more like a rounded tube than a thrusting cock. I’ve never quite worked how, when with a bird for the first time, you easily overcome that.

It didn’t matter, though for Mandy was now away. As I said, she may not have always been that adventurous, but what she lacked in that, she more than made up for in enthusiasm.

As I fiddled both her tits out of her bra, she was moaning and groaning and pushing herself harder against me.

As I rolled her sweater up and got my mouth on her bare tits, she grabbed my head and ran her fingers through my hair.

I had both my arms round her, my hands stroking and squeezing her gorgeous bum so it was quite easy to maneuver her over to the desk. I pushed her against it so that she was almost sitting on the edge, more propped up I guess than sitting. As I did that, I reached down and adjusted myself so that my dick was at attention. I pressed myself hard against her shoving my knee between hers, opening her legs and giving my rampant cock access to her denim covered mound. She again gave that lovely little grunt as my length bisected the front of her lips, pressed against her clit and pushed into the softness of her stomach above her mound.

Kissing her hard, squeezing and rubbing her boobs and pinching and pulling her nipples, I crushed my cock against causing her to grunt and moan quite deeply. It was an, almost animalistic sound. For some reason that really turned me on as did, actually, the strong belief that she was going to ‘go all the way’ and in her fucking office no less, what a result!

I started to dry fuck her. I grabbed the cheeks of her arse, crushed my lips onto hers, pushed her head back, shoved my tongue down her throat and started thrusting my cock up and down against her. She was rolling her head from side to side, running her hands up and down my back and through my hair and pushing back almost in time with my thrusts.

Still, just about maintaining contact between my cock and her mound, I leaned back and reached down. I had got hold of the blue, pleated leather belt and undid the buckle and the button at the top of her jeans before she realized what I was doing, She reached down and grabbed my hands.

“No Kevin.”

“What do you mean no?” I said rather sternly. I get like that when turned down.

“We can’t not here?”

“Why not?” I said getting hold of the tab on the zip.

“It’s my office.”

“So? I bet half the horny fuckers have had it off in here.”

She didn’t take a lot of persuasion, must have been my impeccable logic. That may, I suppose, have been added to by mouth licking one of her nipples and my hand sliding between her legs and rubbing her pussy through the denim.

Whatever the reason, it was fantastic to see her wiggle her body as, together, we pushed the tight jeans down over her nicely rounded hips. She was wearing a pair of lemon coloured, bikini style panties. They were tight; they fitted snugly across her mound, and thin, so that the shadow of her pubes could clearly be seen.

She looked great so I kissed her again and pressed my, now, full erection hard against those lovely little panties, which I was determined wouldn’t stay where they were for long.

“Your turn,” I heard her saying from where my face was buried in her thick, lustrous hair: God I did, and still do, love her hair. One of the sexual tricks she did indulge me with when we were married, and there weren’t that many, was to lie with her head near my waist so that her hair tumbled all over my stomach. She would then run long tresses of it

all over my cock, balls and thighs. The silky touch of that on those sensitive places was like the most erotic massage imaginable, But it got better for she would then take a thick strand in her hand, wrap it round my cock and wank me like that, lifting her head at the last moment and letting me cum on her tits. Fantastic.

I lifted my head as she said and then felt her hand on my cock through my trousers. I reached down and unzipped and, far more confidently than I would have thought she would be, she slipped her hand inside right onto my cock outside my boxers. I didn’t want that, I wanted her to ‘press the flesh’ as well. In fact I wanted her to first press that flesh and take that bugger inside her.

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