A Crazy Little Thing Called Love

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I’ve read that one in four people have had sex at work—more men than women admit to it, which might mean the numbers are really higher. I also see “workplace spouses” and office romances all the time. The statistic that really shocks me is that six in ten men and four in ten women admit cheating on their spouses at least once during their marriage. That, too, might be an understatement.

“Are you gonna keep working double shifts forever?” Ricky laments.

“Don’t we need the money?” I tell him what he already knows.

That was a sore point for us both. Here we are in our forties and working two full-time gigs just to get by. Don’t get me wrong. I really like being married and I love my husband, Ricky, though he is a little bit of a nerd. He takes care of the kids, picks up the housekeeping so I can go to work, and kisses my feet when I get home. Did I mention he cooks? There is no earthly reason I should stray and look at other men with lust, but I do.

The hospital is the best place to find a clandestine lover, but the worst place to act on it. I see young and old, foreign and American, sexy and awkward physicians day in and day out. Where do we go for a drink, a quiet chat, and an intimate encounter? The elevator, stairwells, lobby, operating rooms, emergency room, patient wings, labs, and cafeteria are all poor locations for a rendezvous. The staff locker room, shower, and lounge are safe havens, but hardly private. The only place you can be alone is the small unisex bathroom, the size of a broom closet, consisting of a toilet and a sink. It doesn’t even have a fan.

The first co-worker that tempted me was Jeremy Holt, a staff psychiatrist, who usually worked with teens. Jeremy was tall, six-six, and always wore a suit and tie under his scrubs, unlike most residents and interns, jeans and sneakers for them for the most part. Head shaved with a little goatee, Jeremy was friendly-plus and always had a song to sing or a story to tell. One night shift, after we chatted for an hour at the nurse’s station, I ran to the staff bathroom and pleasured myself with a finger in my pudental cleft, imagining it was Jeremy’s manhood, though I suspected his piece of flesh might be a bit more substantial.

On another occasion, I mustered the courage to ask Jeremy to grab a sandwich in the cafeteria with me. I was as thrilled as a teeny-bopper when he agreed. We talked about life, music, and office politics at the hospital.

“The administration only cares about the bottom line,” he declared ruefully.

“Fuck the staff and fuck the patients, right?” I said, shocking him with my tough language, which I wondered about myself. We talked about music. We shared a love of old soul singers—especially Sam Cook, Otis Redding, and Marvin Gaye.

“All of them were great songwriters, not just singers, and they never get credit,” he said and I heartily agreed.

I touched his hand. When he scarcely reacted, I lifted his bronze hand to my lips and kissed it.

Embarrassed, he didn’t know what to say or do at first. Then he said, “You do know I’m married.”

“So am I.” I still clung to his hand. He watched me turn it over and kiss his pale palm.

“What would your husband think?” Jeremy asked, wrinkling his brown.

“Ricky and I both had black lovers before we met,” I confessed to Jeremy’s brown oval eyes. “It’s something we have in common.”

Jeremy seemed hesitant, perhaps distrustful. Yet his eyes twinkled and his voice hushed, signaling that I was luring him. Now what do I do?

“I’m gonna go down to the bathroom in the staff lounge,” I said, trying not to let my voice quiver with nervousness. “I’ll leave the door unlocked. If you think I’m sexy, come on in.”

Jeremy didn’t answer. I kissed him wetly on the lips, but he still didn’t respond one way or another. I got up from the little table where we had lunched and smiled at him as I walked away.

Five minutes later I was sitting on the toilet with the lid closed. I took off my scrubs, removed my panties and bra, stowed them in my carry-all bag, and put back canlı bahis şirketleri on the blue scrubs. My heart rate was already doubled and my vagina was wet—perhaps for naught. A quick knock and jiggling of the handle brought Jeremy into the bathroom. He stared dumbly as if my presence was a surprise. I greeted him by opening my top and letting my oblong titties dance for him. I stood up, grabbed him with both arms, and pulled him toward me. My head only came up to his chest.

“Better close the door,” I suggested and he did, as I ripped open the front of his scrubs. He seemed the interested observer while I let his work clothes fall to the floor and spread open his suit coat, revealing a red tie on a white shirt. I yanked a handful of shirt from his belted pants waist and he took the hint, unbuttoning his collar and loosening his tie. Then I went to work on his buckle, clasp, and fly. His gray tweed pants dropped around his ankles and I laughed at his baggy, plain, white boxer shorts.

“I would’ve guessed you for colored jockeys,” I chided.

“They give me a wedgie,” he answered in all seriousness.

I kissed Jeremy feverishly on the lips, sucking his tongue, licking around his mouth, and drooling saliva.

“Ready to rumble?” I said suggestively. I dropped to the tiled floor on my knees and gave his boxers a tug. His beefy, thickly veined penis bounded before me and I caressed its length in my left hand while cradling its helm with my right hand. “Now I remember why I like brothers so much.” His cock was eight or nine inches, about two inches longer than my sweet husband’s.

“That’s a myth,” Dr. Jeremy asserted.

I laughed. “Well, let me lick your myth, sugar.”

I rolled my tongue up and down his uncut phallus, flicking the blade of my tongue against the underside and grazing my teeth on his fleshy foreskin. His pricker tasted like salty leather. I covered the crown with my mouth, sucked hard, pulled away with sticky smegma clinging to my lips, and then gobbled his big thang once again. He moaned and hummed a fractured melody while I sucked his cock for a good two minutes till his back and thighs began to stiffen. I stopped.

“No coming yet,” I made it clear to him. “You have some work to do, doc.” I burrowed my snout in a tiny patch of kinky chest hair between his pectorals. I savored the scent and texture of his skin. Next I stepped out of my scrubs and straddled the toilet seat. I rubbed my clitty and showed him my trimmed fur bush. I told him, “I need a good tongue lashing.”

I caressed Jeremy’s bald head as he licked and slurped my soupy cunt. My odor was so strong it stung my nostrils. My big boy didn’t seem to mind, swallowing a stream of my juices, which poured from my mound of Venus in a rhythmic orgasm.

To consummate, I turned around and leaned against the wall. “Stick it in me from behind,” I asked with breathless desperation.

Jeremy mumbled the word “condom.”

“I’m safe,” I said. “I want you to do me bareback.” Maybe my hypersexuality is a symptom of menopause.

Jeremy held my ass cheeks and slowly slid his peckerwood between my legs, cleaving my fluffy labia, swelling inside my tightening vulva, and filling my cistern. I wiggled and swayed and pressed my face and hands against the plaster walls as Jeremy cooed while giving me a nice slow fuck. Then, as his fever peaked, Jeremy’s muscular loins stoked his member to a rapid-fire piston thrusting. My eyes rolled back in my head and five minutes later Jeremy came, shooting several ounces of ejaculate into me vase.

We kissed profusely, I watched him pee, and he helped me dressed. Jeremy was a gentleman through and through. Then we discretely left the bathroom separately, which was a good thing because there were other people around. Jeremy gave me my best sex in years, but we haven’t hooked up for a repeat performance yet.

My next workplace lover was Alan, an anesthesiologist with whom I have been friendly for years. We regularly talked, grabbed a coffee together, and consulted on patients. The funny thing is canlı kaçak iddaa we always talk about politics and religion, which people say you should never do. We agree on almost everything, even though he’s a Protestant and I’m a Catholic —or, at least, I used to be. So, I really don’t know why I started to have amorous feelings for him. Yes, he’s handsome—short, brown haired, with a slim, noble nose and square jaw—and unmarried. That aspect bothered me. He was cute enough to snap his fingers and bring girls running, but he didn’t seem to have a love life. I even suspected he was gay, but, in today’s world, that wouldn’t even be a secret.

Over coffee in plastic cups, at the end of our shift, we sat together on a couch in the staff lounge.

“Do you think I’m sexy?” I asked him, catching him off guard. By the way, I’m a menopausal, middle-age mom with sagging boobs and belly fat, but a nice set of $10,000 white teeth.

“Yes, I do,” Alan replied without hesitation and riveted his eyes on mine.

“I think you’re sexy, too,” I told him brazenly. “I have fantasies about you.”

“What kind of fantasies?” he asked with genuine naïve curiosity.

I said, “Meet me in the bathroom in five minutes and I’ll show you.” Then I touched his cheek and kissed his forehead, chin, and lips. “I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

For a few minutes I feared humiliation, afraid Alan would stand me up. I sat shivering, naked on the john, cold from the A/C, and the door swung open without knocking. Alan came in and I leapt into his arms. He tenderly fondled all my lady parts as we kissed endlessly. He dropped his pants and showed me his average-sized penis. It paled in comparison to Jeremy’s and was no bigger than Ricky’s wiener awaiting me at home. However, Alan’s cock was smooth and tasted fruity, perhaps due to lemony bath soap. Regardless, I enjoyed giving him a long, slow blow job, which ended with a howl on his part and a hot stream of fluid in my gullet. He twirled my clitoris with his finger till I climaxed. I was sweating embarrassingly profusely by the time we finished.

“That was very nice,” Alan understated. Moreover, our trysts became regular events. We didn’t fuck, just cunnilingus, fellatio, or both. I hate to admit it, but I was falling in love.

A few months later, Alan asked me to assist at a workshop presentation he was giving. I hesitated because there are more qualified nurse educators than me, but Alan insisted.

“Besides,” he added cheerily. “The workshop is in my hometown. My place is walking distance from the venue. You can visit after the presentation.”

I don’t think he intended it, but I knew if I visited his place, I would end up sleeping with him.

“This thing is going to run late,” I told my beloved Ricky. “It’s out of town. So, I’ll get a room at the Holiday Inn and come home in the morning.”

“Oh, well, be careful,” Ricky said. “Don’t let any strangers in your room.”

“Oh, gawd, no,” I barked. “No strangers!” Was Ricky suspicious? Probably not, poor guy. “Kiss the boys for me.”

“Will do,” he chirped. “I love you, honey.”

“Me, too,” I answered and clicked the off button on my cell. Then I prepared for my adulterous seduction of Dr. Alan Shaheen.

Alan’s place was a vintage white house in the historic district of Winchester. It was all wooden and narrow with a slight odor of colonial antiquity. He showed me the kitchen, study, parlor, and three bedrooms before going to the kitchen to put on pot of coffee and unwrap some store bought cookies.

I excused myself to use the bathroom. To my horror, I felt queasiness in my stomach. My plans didn’t include dumping a load in my lover’s toilet. Since the odd feeling was due to nervous excitement, the crisis passed. I undressed in the bathroom, cut the light before I came out, and slipped down the hall to Alan’s bedroom. I waited in the dark, heard him call my name, check the bathroom, and lastly peek in his room. He found me naked under the covers in his bed.

Alan quickly disrobed and joined me, our hot kissing accompanied canlı kaçak bahis frantic explorations of one another’s vital parts. He suckled my breasts and licked my pussy, thighs, belly, and ass. I stroked his dick, sucked it, and kissed his balls, ass, and hairy legs down to his feet. He shot a small load of jizz on my belly and I scooped it up with my fingers and ate it. Then he stuck his index finger in my anus and tasted it. We did everything except screw. Finally, I begged for it.

“Please, fuck me, Alan!”

The first coupling was loud, sweaty, and thunderous, shaking his wooden bedposts. The second time, Alan gently rolled his shaft in my asshole, coming twice before withdrawing. The third time, I rode him in “woman astride,” and the fourth time it was “reverse cowgirl.” I lay in his arms, stinking of sweat, and told him, “I love you, Alan.” Then I sucked his cock dry after kissing his body from neck to toe, licking the soles of his feet. We fell asleep just before daybreak. We awoke just before nine and Alan said it this time. “I love you, Renee.” I asked him to fuck me in the ass again and he did, this time harder and longer. I cleaned my shit, sweat, and blood off his penis with my tongue before we showered together as a sensuous sendoff to the most erotic night of my life—or since my days as a single girl, anyway.

The complication wasn’t Ricky, who was totally clueless about my infidelity. Not only was he completely faithful, he wouldn’t have believed anything less from me. The complicating factor was a new man at work.

I was in the lounge, taking my break, during the overnight shift. A trim, broad shouldered young doctor came breezing in and out so quickly that I might have missed him. He had thick, kinky black hair, not quite a retro Afro, but scupted with sideburns and a full beard, black onyx in hue. He had a cocoa brown complexion and the tightest twin buttocks I have ever seen.

He took my breath away. I wanted to eat him up—in the erogenous sense. I needed to know who he was.

“I’m Renee Dion, RN,” I said with formality. “And you are?”

Expressionless, the new guy offered, “James…Doctor James Ward.”

“James, you have a nice ass…and I mean that as a complement.”

James nodded, giggled nervously, and backed away from me.

I assured him, “I’m not a crazy stalker, but, if you’re looking for a good time, wait sixty seconds and follow me into the bathroom.” I cupped his bearded chin between my index and forefinger. I kissed his full, red lips. He didn’t speak.

I undressed, propped my ass upon the sink, and spread my vaginal wings with my legs dangling. The door opened and James wasted no time, presenting a beautiful specimen of sinewy manhood for my adoration. I kissed his cock and balls before taking his first load down my throat. James was a vegan and his semen tasted of papaya and banana. Without missing a beat, James cocked me for a full five minutes, sending hot fluid in my aging, barren tubes before hoisting my butt upward and drilling my cornhole till I screamed his name as if he were a god. Finally, I ended by eating out the beautiful man’s ass, the object of my ardor in the first place. I thanked him and we said goodbye for now.

The next day, trouble exploded. Alan confronted me. James had bragged about our fuckfest. Alan called me a slut, a whore, and an unfaithful bitch.

“We’re not a couple, Alan.” I said that even though I felt like we were.

“But I thought you loved me,” Alan said, almost choking on a sob.

“I do, but …” I didn’t know how to explain. The same sexual obsession that led me astray, led me to Alan, and led me to James.

“I’m done!” he said. In a moment, he was gone and I was alone.

I started to cry. One lover was a jerk with a big mouth and the other was a jealous fool. The biggest and baddest office stud doesn’t even come to see me anymore. Now I’m broken-hearted, all alone and blue.

Wait a minute! No, I’m not. I hit speed dial on my cell.

“Hi!” came Ricky’s voice.

“Hi!” I was tearing up with sweet, fuzzy feelings. “Warm up my side of the bed, honey. I’m coming home in an hour.”

“I’m ready and waiting,” my hubby said in an imitation Romeo’s voice.

“I love you, Ricky.”

“I love you, Renee.”

Man, was my muffin sore the next day!

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