"It ain't over, 'til it's over." Yogi had it right, at least when it came to Angela and me. She introduced herself in my office while I was fixing a bug in our new operating system. I was in the IT department at the Indemnity Assurance Company and deep in thought when she said, "Hi, I'm Angie." I gave her a fake smile and went back to my problem-solving mission.

I wasn't trying to be rude, but that's how she saw it. Being sociable at that moment would simply be an unacceptable disruption, even though Angie was a very attractive girl. Cute described her best because Angie looked like one of our high school interns. It turned out she had been hired as our AI or artificial intelligence expert. Who would have guessed she was a computer expert? Angela was assigned the office adjacent to mine. That became a welcome diversion.

I tried to make amends. Angela wasn't going to forgive me for being uncivil. It took a week before she would even talk to me. I profusely apologized and said, "Let's bury the hatchet. Let me take you out for a drink."

She said NO. I tried humor, "Moses had the first tablet that could connect to the cloud." Ha ha ha. She called me a jerk. I tried again. "How about this one?" I asked. "I love pressing F5. It's so refreshing." Her eyes rolled.

Okay, you can't win 'em all but like I said, it wasn't over.

I tried the after work drink idea again with the same result. When her birthday came up on the company mail system, I sent her flowers. She said she didn't like dandelions. They were yellow daisies. My masculinity was being challenged, so I kept trying.

There was a breakthrough at an office party. It was an after-work affair at a local club for drinks and hors d'oeuvres. The booze was flowing and everyone was in high spirits, including Angie. It was a tough situation watching the male staff buzzing around her like drones on their queen. I was the drone that wasn't included.

Fortified with three martinis, I gathered up the courage to ask Angie for a date. She said, "Sure," like when you agree only to get someone to leave you alone.

At work, I asked Angie when she was free. "Free for what?" she asked.

"Our date. You agreed to have a date with me."

"I did? I must have been drunk."

"Drunk or not, when are you free?"

We negotiated and settled on having lunch together. It didn't happen.

The weeks went by without much contact with Angie. Ricky, a colleague of mine, who had taken her out a couple of times made only one comment, "Christ she's hot!" Soon after that, I heard through the grapevine that she was dating the boss.

The rumor was that the boss had taken her to Kentucky for a business meeting. The truth was that they went there for the Derby. Then there were trips to the Super Bowl and the World Series. It's impossible to compete with that kind of influence. It's good to be the boss.

Angie married Mark, our boss, a year later. She left the firm to care for her first born. A second baby arrived two years later. The staff gave him a surprise party each time. The boss passed out cigars on both occasions. My heart wasn't in it.

I kept in contact with Angie over the years since she became an outside consultant. Most of it was by e-mail or phone calls, and we became friends. On a wintry afternoon, she called my office to wish me a Merry Christmas.

"Hey, how's it goin', Angie?"

"Could be better," she replied. "The kids are all excited about Santa, and I don't know what to get Mark. What do you get a man that has everything?"

"Do you know the song, 'I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus'? Every guy likes to be romanced, if you know what I mean. It's a gift that keeps on giving. It never gets old."

"Well, Bernie, that's the problem. You know Mark used to be so affectionate in bed but in the past several months, the magic we had is gone. I found out why last month. I read a text on his cell from that big tit bimbo in Receivables. My husband has been cheating on me, Bernie. I don't know what to do."

I said, "Look, let's meet for lunch next week and talk about it."

"Sure, why not. It's got to be after the first of the year. I've got decorating for the holidays, presents to buy for the kids, and contact my lawyer."

After all those years, Angie finally went to lunch with me. It was a cold and snowy January day when we met at Olive Garden. When Angie arrived, she looked tired and drawn. Even her electric smile was missing. She wasn't the woman I remembered from the last year's office party when she wore a Santa outfit. Angie looked so cute and sexy that night. It brought back the feelings I had for her from the past.

I helped her off with her coat, then she sat opposite me. "Bernie, it's good to see you again. My god, it's cold out there."

"Yeah, glad we finally could have lunch together like you promised."

"Like I promised? What do you mean?"

"Oh, never mind. It was long ago."

"Bernie, I've only got an hour. So let's order."

I signaled the waiter. We ordered two martinis and a light lunch.

At first, it was a little awkward. "We missed you at this year's office party," I stammered.

"Yeah, one of my kids was sick. Anyway, I didn't feel up to it this year."

"What's goin' on?"

She sipped her martini, then looked for an answer in the bottom of the glass. "I don't know, Bernie. I've decided to get a divorce. My whole life has fallen through the roof. I never expected this to happen. Mark and I were going to be the perfect couple living in the perfect house with a perfect yard and a picket fence. We were going to have six perfect kids."

"Well, you got the house, yard, and fence along with two beautiful kids."

"Yeah, and a husband that can't keep his hands off the hired help."

"There was more than just Millie in Receivables?"

"Do you want a list, Bernie? By last count, it was five girls, all younger than me. One is the college daughter of my best friend. She worked for him as an intern."

"You're still beautiful, Angie, and if you don't mind me being presumptuous, sexy."

"Thanks, Bernie. I needed someone to say that. I mean I knew Mark liked the ladies when I met him. When I worked at Indemnity,  the secretaries warned me about Mark. I didn't condemn the man because he was a womanizer. It wouldn't be fair. I had my own college experiences as well.

"Mark took me everywhere. He was so exciting to be with and we both loved sex. We couldn't get enough of each other, so I shacked up with him for most of the year before I married him. Did you know I was pregnant before Mark and I were married? Hey, you might have seen me as a prude when we first met, but I have my own stories."

"You want to tell me about it?"

"Not now, maybe later. Let's say I liked boys and Mark likes girls. We were a match made in heaven. I hope that doesn't shock you."

"Not at all. This isn't nineteen-fifty when your parents were young."

She agreed, saying, "Yeah, I guess so."

We finished our lunch. As she left, I asked her to dinner. She said, "I'll let you know. I'm still a married woman," and gave me a warm kiss.

I didn't hear from her for several weeks, then she sent me a text asking about a Saturday night dinner engagement. "Mark is taking the kids to the Bucks' game. Will that night work for you?"

At six-thirty, I picked her up and drove to a fondue restaurant. That seemed like an interesting way to share a dinner and a few stories. We enjoyed a bottle of wine and a very nice meal while talking about everything from the kids, her divorce, and sex.

Angie and Mark were in the process of finalizing their divorce. Mark had moved out. She would get the kids except on weekends. Angie would also stay in the house titled in her name. She felt it was a fair settlement.

I told her a joke about a couple getting a divorce. "They were in the lawyer's office," I said, "when the wife says, 'I wish you had tried to screw me this much while we were married'."

She giggled and said, "That says it all, Bernie, but that's not the worst of it. Divorce is painful."

"So tell me about your stories."

"What stories?"

"You said you had interesting college experiences."

"Oh, that. Well, it really started in high school. You know how it was, Bernie, teenagers trying to learn about sex. So much were just rumors or just plain wrong. Anyway, I was in my dad's workshop looking for a hacksaw for my junior project and stumbled on a box labeled 'Navy'. He was an Ensign in the Navy."

She continues, "Along with some Navy memorabilia, there was a stack of porn magazines. One was called Screw and there were others. I learned a lot from those magazines. That's when I found out that girls can have sexual pleasures too. I'd sneak a magazine up to my room and masturbate like crazy."

"Were you a virgin?" I asked.

"At first, but later that spring, I was wearing my cheerleader's skirt when my boyfriend pulled down my panties and, well, you know, we had sex."

"Was it good?" I inquired.

"I don't remember that it was good, but it was exciting. It got better and better my senior year, especially when I got a new boyfriend, a college guy."

"Then you went away to college and the extracurricular activities continued?"

"Yes and no. I really don't want to get into that tonight."

It was nine o'clock when we left the restaurant. She invited me in for coffee. The coffee never got brewed. Both of us knew where we were headed, and it was straight to the bedroom.

There she was, naked and beautiful like I had imagined. I deep throated her mouth with my tongue, then she took my quivering cock down hers. Hell, I was steely hard and oozing precum the second she started sucking my dick.

I went down on her sweet pussy, doing some sucking and licking of my own until she whispered, "Fuck me, Bernie. I'm ready for you now."

She was wet when I slipped in. Angie was active, bucking her hips to mine, making me go deep with each thrust. I just wanted this to last forever but that isn't what happened. Time and time again I plunged into her until I couldn't hold it any longer. While I shot load after load into her, she shouted, "More, Bernie, more. Shoot me full of your hot cum."

Wow, it never occurred to me she would be that hot.

Both of us had worked up a considerable sweat by the time we had finished. She took me in the shower, gave me a blow job, then said I had to leave. "Mark and the kids will be home before midnight. Thanks for a nice evening."

I drove away just as Mark was pulling into their driveway.

The next time I saw Angie was on Mark's birthday. Their divorce was nearing a settlement, and Angie said she wouldn't feel comfortable at the party. The kids were picked up at two, the party was at two-thirty. I arrived at her house at three. She was ready to play, meshed stockings, a garter belt, and not much else.

Angie had me on my knees while she sat on the bedside with her legs spread, pushing my head between her thighs. My god, what a pussy. She was shaved except for a tuft of hair above her slit. Her pussy was perfect. Everything was in its place, no extra protrusions, just pouty and swollen pussy lips. She was so wet it wasn't long before she came on my tongue.

I fingered her slowly at first, then finger fucked her faster and faster into another orgasm until she pulled me on the bed giving my cock and balls the attention they demanded. She was an expert cock sucker.

Angie rolled me on my back and mounted me seconds later. Her breathing was rapid as she pumped my cock like an oil rig. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," she hollered. "Ooogh, wait, wait, Bernie, I'm almost there." Of course, my own self-control was about to expire. "I'm cumming, oh fuck, I'm cumming," she yelled. At that moment, I erupted inside her with a half dozen gushing spurts.

I continued to see her on the weekends when the kids were with Mark. We called them fuck parties. Sometimes I would stay the night, Most of the time I went home, but not before she had several orgasms and a couple of mine, as well.

Angie said that on the afternoon of Mark's birthday party, she decided to make a short appearance. There was something awesome about Angie attending her husband's party with my cum coating her tight cunny hole. Nothing could have made me happier.

Angie's college stories were wonderful as well. She was very open about college sex.

"My roommate, Ginger, and I went to bars to pick up guys. We would play pool, and watch how the guys slid the cue between their fingers. Ginger liked the guys who moved quickly. I liked the slow methodical boys. It was a pretty good indication of how we were going to fuck each night."

Angie continued with another story about Ginger and her double-dating and screwing guys in their dorm at opposite sides of the room.

"Did you swap partners?"

"No, we never did that, probably because the guys couldn't get it up a second time."

"Have you had two guys double team you?"

"No, but I dated two guys on the same day. I watched a football game at a friend's apartment. He was a guy I had met in class. We had sex at halftime. I had to leave as soon as the game ended to meet my date. He was a really handsome black dude who was married. He said they had a trial separation. He fucked me once in my pussy and once in my ass. I never wanted anal again after that."

Angie and I kept our weekend parties regularly. She told me more about herself, and I never tired of eating her lovely pussy. She responded with a pussy so wet and slippery, orgasms came easily for her.

Angie had a technique after I had cum that was so sensuous that it almost equaled fucking her. She would softly stroke my back, giving me incredible sensations. It was as if my skin had acquired a new set of erotic nerves after ejaculating.

I asked her if she had been with a girl. Angie said, no, but she had thought about it.

I changed the subject. "Look," I said, "I have a pal who has a timeshare in Cabo San Lucas. He told me I could join him if I could get away."

"Where is Cabo San Lucas?"

"It's at the southern tip of Baja California."

"Oh, California. I've never been there."

"No, actually it's part of Mexico."

"When are you leaving?"

"Next month, the week before my birthday. I thought you'd like to go with me, and we could celebrate together."

"Oh, Bernie, I can't. You know with the kids and everything since my divorce, I can't leave home. I'll make it up to you," and she did.

Before I left for Cabo, Angie took me out for dinner at a very exclusive hotel restaurant and booked a room in the Honeymoon Suite. We never had a chance to sleep. There wasn't a position in Kama Sutra that we didn't try and some we invented. It was an unforgettable night of pleasure and the most romantic night of my life. I had fallen hopelessly in love with Angie and hated to leave on my vacation. I wanted her with me. I wanted her as my life's partner.

Cabo was spectacular. The weather was warm and sunny. The ocean was perfect. My pal was a gracious host sharing his beautiful copper-skinned Mexican girlfriend with me. The young girl was an exotic dancer with breathtaking tits. She was moonlighting as a hooker. Her name was Maria who didn't want to do DP until we offered her a sizeable incentive, in dollars. She was willing and able to satisfy us both, but Angie was on my mind 24/7. I kept thinking how much greater my vacation would have been if she was in Cabo San Lucas with me.

I sent her a few text messages and several pictures. She didn't respond. Every day I sent her a picture and a note saying, "Wish you were here." I received nothing from her until the last day. It only said, "We need to talk." My heart dropped. I knew it wasn't going to be a good thing.

When I got back home, it didn't go well. She said she had been seeing someone.

"How long, Angie?"

"Two months."

It dawned on me that she had been fucking the "someone" and me for that long. "Do I know him?"

"Probably. He works at Indemnity."

What's his name?"

"Ricky."

"Holy shit. Ricky Morgan, the actuarial?" She nodded, yes. I couldn't believe it. "So what, he has a bigger cock than mine?"

"That's not it Bernie. I like your cock. I love the way you give me oral. No one does it better. Here's the deal. I want another kid. You don't want to be a father. Sure, you love sex, but you don't want what comes with it. Ricky loves kids. He wants to be a dad. So there it is. He wants to marry me and yes, he does have a bigger dick in case you need to know."

I was devastated. I tried to collect my wits. I looked at her adorable face with moisture building in my eyes. I left with as much dignity as possible. What can you say when the party's over?

We still keep in touch during birthdays and holidays, but I'll never forget her beauty, her smile, and the way she loved sex. I still have wet dreams, hallucinating about her lovely pussy.

A Yogi-ism that could be applied to me was, It was so painful, it hurt.