I remember the days rather vividly sometimes. We literally couldn’t keep our hands off of each other in the early days. We were only able to be together at work or if his wife was out of town. We couldn’t not be together. As if it weren’t enough that I was with a married man, the risks that we took to be together at work were a little crazy now that I look back at it. But in the moment, I didn’t care. I wanted to be with him. I needed it.

Hubby knew my mood when I walked into work. He knew the look on my face. He got to know that pants meant one mood. Skirts meant a green light… the longer I worked there, the more skirts I would wear. By the end I think he even knew my period cycle. If it was going to allow us to be together, we wanted to know it.

We worked in a small retail store together…you know the kind…only open Monday-Saturday…didn’t start until mid-late morning, closed at a reasonable time…customers who knew you by name and vice versa. Most Saturdays there were only three people on the schedule and luckily for us, the third person who was scheduled to work had one of three options 1) cover lunch hour only (this was reserved for “busy” weekends only), 2) called in ‘sick’ or 3) no showed. It was always the same person for numbers 2 and 3. To this day I’m still not sure how she kept her job as long as she did. But I was okay with it. Each Saturday was 7 hours of time with my hubby. And the more time that we had alone, the better. Sure, there were customers and busy times, but there were also Saturdays where we could go an hour or two without a customer.

It started with sassy comments towards one another. The kind that you could get away with saying to a friend. But the longer that we were involved together, the more intense the comments became…”oh, I can’t wait to do this or touch you here”. Eventually the words were not enough. We would walk by each other and our hand would graze against the other or grab the others ass. It became a game to us. But a game of fun and daring each other to push the boundary. What could we get away with. What was the other willing to do.

We had a couple of back rooms in the store. It was also the place where I could lay on my back on the floor and let him eat me out until I couldn’t cum anymore.

But even that became “safe” because it was happening after work. We’d lock the doors and turn off the lights and go spend as much time as we could together before we had to go.

It started to take a turn when we no longer waited until after work.

In the back rooms we could hear if someone came in the front door or peak through the window of the door to make sure that everything was okay. But the back rooms weren’t accessed by the customers…so what was the harm in having some fun during working hours. Those back rooms became a spot we’d sneak off to for mid-day sex and oral.

But as we continued down that road, the need became more and more. I would be rearranging the sales racks in the store and knelt down on the floor to organize things and be in the perfect position to give a blow job during the middle of the day without anyone being the wiser.

Or the counter that was perfect for standing at and leaning slightly forward so I could get fucked from behind…and because we were able to see the parking lot, would know when we had to quickly stop to help an incoming customer.

We continued to take risks each and every time we were together. When I was in school and only saw him at most every couple of weeks, we would push the boundaries further because we didn’t have the time together like we wanted.

The furthest boundary that we pushed was having sex. On the front counter. At night…when it was dark outside and security lights were on inside…meaning everyone driving by could have looked in and seen what was happening.

I didn’t care where as long as it meant he was inside me.

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