Call me an asshole, a bastard. Tell me I’m a terrible person, manipulative and conniving. I don’t care.
I saw what I wanted and I found a way to get it.
I’d seen her around the office for a couple years. It was impossible to have not noticed her. She had kind eyes and a bright smile. Her body was just a little soft after a kid or two but that only served to accentuate some incredible curves. She had these tight, pinstriped pair of black pants that shaped her hips …
I’m digressing. The point is that I noticed her. So I quickly noticed the change in her, it was obvious if you were just paying attention.
Her clothes started getting a little tighter. Her skirts started getting a little shorter. And her shirts started dipping just a little lower.
She was looking for attention.
I knew from the few conversations we’d had that she was married and was happy. She loved her life, her kids, her friends. She loved her husband.
But I could tell she was missing something. There was a craving inside her that wasn’t being fulfilled. A craving to be longed for, to be desired. She loved her husband but he obviously wasn’t giving her what she needed.
I decided that I was going to be the one to give it to her. A spent a few days coming up with a plan that I was confident would work. It’s not difficult when you know what you want.
You set your objective. Figure out the steps to get there. And commit to do what it takes. That’s really all it takes: commitment and patience – I’m not generally great about patience but I’ve got stubbornness in spades and I was sure I could put in the work needed to accomplish my goal.
The first step I call “The Drive By Compliment”.
Smile. Be friendly. And make sure you’re not always just complimenting her appearance.
I’d see her in the hall once a week or so and say something like, “You nailed that presentation yesterday. You must have put a lot of work into it.”
I’d be walking by her desk and do a double take. “Hey, you got a haircut? You look fantastic.”
I’d send her a short email, “Thanks for your help with that report. I don’t think I would have gotten it done without you.”
We’d have a short, friendly conversation and right before I’d walk away I’d add, “I really like that color on you. It really brings out your eyes.”
Movement is key here. I’d compliment her work, her skills, her dress, earrings, or something like that and I’d move on.
If I had stuck around it would have looked like I wanted something from her. I’d have been a creep hitting on a married woman. She would have gotten all caught up in her thoughts, trying to figure out what I wanted, stressing over how to turn me down, worrying about how she should respond.
So I’d keep moving before she really had a chance to say anything. She didn’t have to worry about a response. I’d leave her to soak in the compliment, free to feel good about herself, free to think about the things I said rather than what she should say to me.
Step 2 was casual flirting.
Casual is the key word here. Stupid little jokes with a self deprecating smile. A sly glance during a boring work meeting.
We’d be working on a project in a conference room and right before we’d leave I’d say “If we kept this door closed any longer people are going to start wondering what we are doing in here. I wouldn’t mind all the high fives but we can both do without all the gossip behind our backs.”
Once after we’d both been stuck doing a lot of overtime a few weeks in a row I mentioned I felt like I should buy her a ring or something to make her my official work wife.
All this took time. A lot of time. A maddening amount of time. But I had to be careful. I didn’t want to come on too strong. Sometimes I’d have to go more than a week with nothing more than a smile and a wave.
I had to give her time to make her wonder. Was I hitting on her or just being friendly? How much did I really mean that joke I made?
Every once in a while I’d have to pull back and let her lead things. I’d wait for her to come talk to me, keep things extremely professional and let her be the first to make an almost flirty joke.
Even the most well thought out plans require flexibility.
Step 3 required the most precision and the greatest amount of care. Step 3 is longing.
The whole point was to hint that I wanted her (which wasn’t hard) without being obvious how much I wanted her (which was hard). Often times the distinction came down to a difference of a half second.
We’d talk and I’d hold eye contact with her just a heartbeat too long. Like I had to force myself to turn away.
I’d have to slide past her to grab something, touch her arm to let her know I was behind her, and let my fingers brush her skin with just a hint of familiarity.
Every once in a while she’d “catch” me looking at her before I smiled shyly and quickly turned away.
I wanted her. I ached tell her how I felt. But I knew I couldn’t have her. She was married and I respected her but I just couldn’t help but torture myself with the idea of touching her.
She ate it up. I think it is the mixture of confidence and vulnerability that really sold it.
I was safe. Nothing would ever happen. I was never overly inappropriate. There was nothing for her to feel guilty about. We were just work friends.
But I was also a little dangerous. I wanted her. I paid attention to her. I noticed the little things about her.
It was the risk. Toeing the edge of the cliff. Telling yourself you won’t jump into the waters below but you could …
She liked the thrill of being wanted so desperately, of pushing the line just a little, without the guilt of actually crossing it.
Finally the time was right. It was time for step 4.
Step 4 is where I finally got to have her. It’s the step the required the most forethought and planning. Most people spend a lot of time planning out the act, whatever the act may be, and very little time planning out what happens later. And that’s the trick. I had to engineer the situation so I not only got what I wanted but I left her in the mindset I wanted.
I was planning for the future.
It took months to find the exact right time. It ended up being an after work party. Someone had gotten a promotion or the company had secured a huge deal or something.
They’d rented out a ballroom at a fancy hotel. Open bar. Everyone dressed up. Awkward middle-age dancing. And for some reason or another her husband wasn’t able to come. It was perfect.
I forced myself to keep my distance for the first hour or so. I kept an eye on her, paid attention to how much she was drinking, but I acted like I hadn’t seen her.
I waited until her second glass of wine was nearly empty and the look on her face showed how tired she was of the inane small talk of work associates. I grabbed myself a drink (only my second of the night) and her another glass of wine.
She looked relieved to see me: a safe, comfortable friend. I handed her the glass of wine and then gawked like I’d just noticed what she was wearing. I looked her up and down and mumbled “Wow … wow, you look amazing.” I hesitated a moment like I just realized what I said before adding, “Sorry. Sorry. Just that dress is beautiful on you. How are you enjoying the party?”
We stayed side by side the rest of the night. Talking, laughing. We even danced a little. I watched as she finished the glass of wine I’d given her.
The wine was very important. I’d researched carefully the perfect way to spike her drink. I didn’t want her to pass out. I didn’t want her unconscious. I just wanted her loosened up a bit. At the end of the night I wanted her at a 5 drink stumble, a couple hours after her third drink.
I wanted her to remember what had happened that night but I wanted the memories to be blurry and scattered. I wanted her to remember how it felt when I had her but leave her questioning who had initiated it.
Most everyone had left when she finally said she needed to head home. “Said” might be a bit of a stretch. Her words were slurred and her body swayed a little as she spoke.
“Are you ok to drive?” I asked.
“I uh …. I guess it’s been awhile since I’ve drank this much” she mumbled.
“Let me call you a cab,” I said.
I pulled out my phone and pretended like I was pulling up the app then stopped. “No,” I said. “I don’t trust you getting in a car with some stranger.” I grabbed her arm gently and started leading her to the door. “Come on, I’ll drive you. I need to make sure you get home safely.”
An overprotective gentleman. That’s me.
I led her by the arm to my car. When we got close I slid my hand to the small of her back to guide her toward the passenger side door. I waited until we were just a couple steps away and shoved her against the door, firmly but not rough.
I stepped in close behind her, pinning her body between mine and the car. She was too out of it to respond quickly. I slid my hands down to her ass and leaned over to whisper in her ear, “God I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”
She tried to say something but I wasn’t really paying attention. I started kissing her neck, that little spot between her jaw and ear, down to her shoulder. I slid my hands around her waist to her hips, letting my fingers brush the crevice of her thighs. I pulled her body against me, pulling her ass in to rub against my cock.
She was trying to push herself off against the car, trying to pull away from me, so I leaned in harder. I started kissing her ear and whispered, “Shhh, it’s ok. I’m not going to hurt you.”
I pulled her dress up over her hips, ran my hands over her ass through her panties. Slowly, I slid my hands back around her waist. My fingers traced the seam of her panties, from her hips down between her legs. Slowly. Gently.
I kept kissing her neck and shoulders, murmuring soft comforts as I tasted her skin.
“It’s ok.”
“Your body feels so good.”
“You want this as much as I do”
“Just let go and enjoy it.”
“God I want you so much.”
I slid my hands up her body until her I was cupping her breast through her thin dress.
“I can’t help myself.”
“I just have to have you.”
“A body like this needs to be taken advantage of. I know you need it.”
I pulled her dress down, letter her breasts fall free. Maybe she really was into it, maybe it was just the cool night air, but her nipples were firm as I rolled them between my thumbs and forefingers.
“Fuck you’re so sexy,” I whispered.
I pulled her down the car a couple feet and bent her over the hood. She barely even resisted. I held her down with a gentle hand on her back while I unbuckled my pants. The relief of allowing my duck to spring free of my pants was a pleasure in itself.
I pulled her panties to the side and slid my cock against her pussy lips. I’ll tell you, it wasn’t the cool night air that made her pussy so swollen and wet.
God, it was the sexiest moment in my life.
Even with how wet she was, she was tight, and it took a couple solid thrusts to bury myself inside her. She let out a little gasp as I entered her fully.
I let my hand up from her back and she just laid there. Sure the drugs had made her woozy but the majority of what they’d done was eliminate the mental barriers that prevented her from letting me fuck her. She loved having me inside her. She wanted it.
I took a firm grip of her hips and began to thrust inside her. I tried to start if gentle but I was quickly losing my control. I’d worked so hard, waited so long, for that moment and everything inside me cried out to consume her very soul.
As I started slamming into her harder and harder the aggression started to slip into my words as well. It was like I’d lost my fucking mind. All the things I’d held myself back from saying came pouring out of me in grunts and groans.
“I knew you were a little slut.”
“Desperate to be fucked hard.”
“This is how you need it, isn’t it?”
“A body like this just needs to be fucked.”
“Fuck. Take it like a good girl. Take it like a little slut.”
All the sudden spacey, vacant body tensed up. Her hands balled up in fists. Her eyes shut tight. Her body sagged as her knees went weak. Her head curled back and her mouth opened into a pained, breathy moan.
“That’s right my little slut.”
“Cum for me.”
“Cum on my dick like a good slut.”
Her moaned turned into nearly a roar. She pressed her palms against the hood of the car and she arched her back. Her pussy clamped down on my cock and her entire body began to convulse.
That did it for me. I exploded inside her, grunting my pleasure as I finally released the tension so long built up.
It was a magically moment.
After a minute or so I caught my breath and managed to get my pants zipped up and buckled. I took a minute to adjust her clothes, straightening her panties, realigning her dress. I smoother her hair back from where it was clinging to her face.
“Come on,” I said, “We better get you home.”
She nearly collapsed in my arms and I half carried her into my car. I fastened her seat belt, closed the door, and got in on the drivers side.
We drove to her house in silence. I think she dozed on and off but by the time we made it to her house she was starting to wake. I asked if I needed to carry her inside. She looked at me blankly for a minute before muttering something about her husband. She got out of the car and walked to the front door. I watched from my car until she made it safely inside.
I’m sure you’re wondering if I feel guilty about this. And honestly, maybe I do, a little. But I’m a firm believer that if you are going to get what you want in life you have to be willing to put in the work.
So, to be completely transparent, I don’t feel all that bad. I found what I wanted and have the resolve to do what I must to reach my goals. Besides, I don’t have a lot of time for guilt.
I’m too busy planning for step 5.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/125ky22/the_hidden_slut_noncon