This is a story brought about by friendship of a woman of my acquaintance. Though it is purely fictional, it was not conceived without reason or thoughts of the adventurous tale told of a bond that should never be; regardless of how much the glory of fulfillment might drive friends to seek it.

It had been a year and more since I met her at work, her name, though I will change it to protect the innocence of her reputation will be known as Brenda. Mine, as usual is rarely the same twice in a story of my adventures, for this tale I will call myself Jerome; Jerry to those who would call me friend. I work for a major department store chain as a shift supervisor, a worthy position in both stature and pay grade, certainly a step or two beyond the new employee when she began as a cashier and sales clerk, but not above her in ways of honesty, integrity or graceful beauty. No one knows better than I to never forget the adage of, “Don’t dip your pen into the company ink well,” but over a lengthy span of time the sharp edge of that sword somehow can be forgotten.

Brenda is a bit, well actually quite a bit, younger than my 60 years, she had been wed when she turned 19 and had only been married a bit less than two when she began working in the store I call home for my time of labors. Her beauty is without measure, she is short, well 5’2” with her shoes on, perhaps, she wears her lustrous brown hair long in waves that surround her shoulders more oft than not which frames the pixy face of an angel. Her alabaster skin is set off by eyes of alluring pale blue that sparkle with a particular joy for life that would make anyone’s day brighter, mine included, and has quite often taken my breath away over the time since we met, even though I hid it as best I could from both her and those around us, one in particular. Her figure is slender and firm, her waist thin above finely shaped hips with just enough at her back side to draw a man’s attention, especially I must confess, mine. The bust she modestly covers each work day is not vast as some would think a man’s preference, but pert and firm as her full orbs lushly overflow from her B cup bra on those days she wears a top that shows any cleavage at all; I secretly look forward to those days with eagerness. Her lips carry the perfect bow, a small mouth that holds back nothing in its smiles or seductive capacity as she speaks with enchanting tones that are no less than heaven sent. “Sigh,” is often my silent reply when she speaks with me of our common interests, BOOKS; from wondrous tales of dark creatures of fantasy to even deeper dark tales of mystical magic, powerful compelling yearning and desire.

It took very little time for the two of us to find this common ground, I have read and written my share of dark tales and she had read of many more authors than I even knew existed. We shared what ones we purchased or borrowed from the local library and found the ears around our conversations bored with our quiet conversations of adventures, desire, love, soul mates and when alone on break, the erotic portions contained within the epic adventures of varied author’s words. So could it be a wonder we became closer as time went by? No, but in truth, it should have never happened, though I for one am delighted it did. I still hope for the times of sharing to continue on, and on, perhaps for a long time to come even with the ever present dangers of our spirited bond’s possible discovery.

Like I said, I am almost forty years her senior, but age seems unimportant when affairs of the heart, body or spirit are involved, or at least to Brenda and I that span made no difference in the scope of all else that, in favor of or against, played its hand in our eventual joining. I stand 5’10” and luckily am fit physically and mentally both, though my wife might speak other wise of my sanity as I peck at the keys of a computer more often than she’d like to write yet another tale of erotic adventure or fantasy of adventurous demons, werewolves, vampires or shape shifters. I wear my hair conservatively trim, though not short as is today’s standard, I was a hippie in my early life growing up around San Francisco during that era; and still live by the philosophy of Love, Peace and Happiness with each breath I draw. As compensation for my hair modestly worn I wear also a Van Dyke, both a hum drum shade of grey, though it seems to suit me in a way of mature dignity even though most could argue the point of me being mature at times; I am, however, always a gentleman. I greet each acquaintance, new and old alike with a friendly, “Good morning, afternoon or evening, and will always hold a door open for a lady, and often a man as well.

As far as ladies go, I have but a singular motto, “ladies come first,” first through a doorway, first to be allowed an opinion, “first in all ways,” though in my mind I spell it “CUM” in that I have never failed to arouse a lady to climax before I give forth my heated seed. Perhaps that too is old fashioned in these days of instant gratifications, but it is my way; strangely there have never been any complaints in the sensual or sexual areas of my existence, and Brenda would prove to be no exception.

Enough of the background for now, I know the readers of my tales do not do so to hear the routine ho hum of its pseudo reality, but want to see or rather, feel, pardon the pun, the meat of the story quickly, sincerely and to put it bluntly…to the point. The point of my ten inch cock driving a woman to the edge of satiated lust and then carrying her over it time and time again. This story will be no different, though it is far closer to my heart than most for reasons one may well read between the lines to know.

Brenda and I had talked so many times of authors like Christine Feehan, Karen Marie Moning, Kresley Cole and others it was easy to see we needed to share even more than the love of the words held in the volumes we each read with a zeal for the pleasures they contained, yet only the looming threat of infidelity restrained me, for one. For Brenda, I should not speak her private thoughts, fears or desires. All of the authors we read held a common interest and goal, each spun tales with a plot, several strong characters developed within the story line and yes, they each share a passion for detailed accounts of pleasures of the flesh. That was one of the things she and I shared deeply in spirit, though our spouses each seemed to be far less enthusiastic than us as we increasingly spoke of sated glories and passionate climaxes.

About two months ago our relationship changed for a reason neither of us can truly explain, a twist of fate would best subscribe to its happenstance. It may have been timing, or just simple need; perhaps it was just meant to be, but the facts remain, things happened and I for one am grateful they did, and most certainly glad that we didn’t get caught.

It was on a Thursday evening, I got off work at 4:00 as usual and took my time departing, and I was destined to sit home alone until Jane, my wife, got off work anyway. As I walked out of the store I saw Brenda sitting on the curb waiting, as she often did for her ride home. Her husband was late that day and she was, shall I say, unhappy about it. I asked, “What’s up? Is Brian running late today?”

Her reply came with a forced smile, “He went to the casino and has apparently forgotten me,” and frowned revealing the pent hostility she held close to her breast.

The downturn of her beautiful lips was like a slap in the face to my ever gentlemanly persona as I sat down beside her to visit while she waited for her ride. “He’ll be along,” I assured her with the most positive words I could think of, “He’s probably winning big and hasn’t realized the time.”

“Yeah,” in a curt response, “he hasn’t won at the casino in months. In fact the rent for last month was past due when I got paid and had to take it in to the landlord myself before he could get his hands on it, again,” with a tone of anger I hated to hear from such a normally upbeat person as Brenda.

I did something I probably shouldn’t have done and laid my hand on hers as it rested on her thigh, squeezed it gently to give her encouragement to bear with him. We both knew she loved him with all her heart, and little things like losing some money at the casino would work out. “It’ll be okay Brenda,” I assured her. We sat for a few more minutes in silence until it was broken by her cell phone’s chirp; I smiled knowing it was the tone of an incoming call from Brian.

“Where are you?” she queried with abrupt words on the border of anger. I couldn’t hear the lengthy response, but apparently it wasn’t what she wanted or needed to hear as she replied, “Fine, I’ll find a way home on my own then!” and with a definite rage to her voice said, “Bye, see you when you can find your way back,” and clicked the connection closed as her eyes glowed red with her rage on the verge of tears.

“Brenda,” I said in as soothing a tone as I could muster, “What’s up?”

“The ass hole told me he’s stuck down there. He called his parents, but it will take a while to go and get him, or find a tow truck, or whatever the fuck he’s going to do.” She paused as the tears welled in her eyes and fought against them as she continued, “He’s in Oklahoma City; a fucking hundred and eighty miles away. He went down there to play in a Texas Hold Em Tournament and now the car won’t start and lost his ass on top of every thing else.” She couldn’t stop the tears from flowing as her anger and disappointment took over; it about broke my heart to see a friend in such a state.

My hand slid over her shoulder and I pulled her closer, I knew it was not the thing to do right in front of the store where everybody knew both of us and our spouses, but I couldn’t let her suffer alone without knowing somebody cared; that wouldn’t be me at all. I whispered to her, “Sit tight for a minute or two; I’m going to go tell Jane that I’m taking you home.” Jane, my wife of almost forty years works in the same store as I, well, we both do.

Her head turned quickly to look into my eyes, something between fear and hope glistened beyond the tears that still filled her orbs. “Jerry, we shouldn’t; you shouldn’t,” and stopped before going on to explain.

“Well Brenda,” I said commandingly, “I don’t know why the heck not. You’re a friend of ours, and Jane would be the first to admit you need help and would do it herself if she weren’t stuck here until midnight. I’ll be right back,” and rose to my feet to go back into the store to explain that Brenda’s husband had car trouble and she needed a ride. Jane agreed wholeheartedly and asked that I tell her to let us know if she needed a ride to work in the morning. I nodded and walked back outside to the still seated lady in need. “Let’s go kid,” I chided as I so often had of our age difference.

Her face twisted into a faint smile in spite of the woes of the happenings at hand. “You’re sure she’s okay with this?” she asked sheepishly.

“Yep,” I replied as I held a hand outstretched to help her up as I relayed Jane’s comment, “She said to tell you to let us know if you need a ride to work in the morning,” and turned my gaze through the glass where Jane stood watching with saddened eyes. Brenda looked through the window as well and was met with a sympathetic look and nodding smile. We turned and walked out to the employee parking area and I unlocked the door of my SUV for her to climb in. She did as I walked around to the driver’s door and unlocked it as well, climbed behind the wheel and started it up to warm the chilled interior from the day of sitting in just above freezing weather. After the oil pressure came up I put it in reverse and backed from my normal slot; having a normal place to park was one of the few benefits of being a long term employee, though it wasn’t a rule, only a silent agreement of the others that worked there. It wouldn’t take long for the heater to kick in and steal away the chill, in the mean time I glanced over at the pert, barely visible bumps of her nipples just beyond the parting of her hoodie’s gap; puckered from the cold of sitting on the curb.

Brenda lived a bit farther from the store than I did, but it was a nice day to drive anyway, the pavement was dry even with the chill and the sky was a pale blue grey, reminiscent of the eyes that had so often drawn my attention, without any clouds at all in the waning sun of the day ebbing winter’s day. We rode silently for the first mile or two before she began thanking me for helping her out. My gaze turned to her and told her jokingly, “No problem, I know you can make it up to me; somehow,” with a naughty sounding chuckle. I hoped in ways she thought I meant sharing another book’s wonders, but silently my thoughts were for a more personal adventure. The look on her face was, as the advertisements say, “Priceless,” as if some epiphany had blossomed in her mind.

The drive to where she lived would normally take about 45 minutes, so we had a time to share whatever we wanted with a privacy we had rarely found, the books we were currently reading would have been our favorite topic, but somehow only parts of them were discussed; sex became the theme of the ride. About half way to her place I made comment that we had just passed the turn off to where I lived. She asked me about where I lived and I told her just a couple of miles south of the highway if we had taken that turn off. The rural setting was something we were both accustomed to, but she interjected, “Can you show me? I’ve never seen your place. I’ve heard it’s nice. Is it true you even have a guest house?” in rapid successive questions.

I chuckled as she asked to see my home, the one I shared with my long time spouse, the one my children had been raised in, the property that we had built a guest house for my now deceased mother in law. I slowed and turned in to the next driveway on the left side of the road and turned around. “Yeah, sure, why not? We’ve got time,” I said as my heart thumped a bit harder than usual. “It’s just a simple house; we built it ourselves a little over 30 years ago, but the guest house is only a couple years old. That we built for her mom, and it sits empty now since, as you may remember, she died a couple of months ago.” I took the turnoff and wheeled our way to my acreage in the woods as my heart began to thrum a song of arousal I couldn’t seem to control. I felt it happening, but couldn’t counteract it as each pulse forced more and more blood to fill my worthy member as the thoughts of want drew me deeper into desire for the younger and usually happily married woman who I had in truth only offered a ride home to.

I saw her eyes fall towards my lap and an expression of wonder filled them as she took note of the bulge that had erupted down my pant leg all but to the knee. We had long ago discussed penis size and how it related to degrees of pleasure for a woman vs. a man, Brian being well hung with an average girth and worthy eight inch length, but even though she had heard me say I was fairly well endowed she had never really looked, I guess; or had she? I knew she realized I had checked out every availed inch of her, even though nothing had ever been suggested to know more than what could be seen in our typical work clothes, those were lines that co workers shouldn’t cross, especially married ones when one of those very spouses worked in the same gossip center of town.

“Um,” she stammered as her eyes stared down at my right leg and the evident bulge...