As soon as she parked the car, I jumped out and ran around the front of her car to open the door for her. She thought me the gentleman instead of the pervert that I was.
“Oh, Freddie, you are such a gentleman. Thank you. I’ve never had anyone open a car door for me.”
“My pleasure, Trudy.”
If only you knew how much of a pleasure it was for me to open her car door and watch her spread open your legs while her skirt was nearly up to her crotch, she’d understand what a pleasure it was for me to open her car door. I had a bird’s eye view of her stretching her legs wider open, as she put her left foot down on the ground while her right foot was still in the car.
In hindsight, I wonder if she knew I was looking. In hindsight, I wonder if she was flashing me on purpose. It was only the briefest of moments, but she delighted me with a flash of her cream white, satin panty that I took away with me later when I was alone in the privacy of my bathroom thinking of Trudy’s panties, pussy, and tits.
Of course, you guys all know that I was only opening the door to get a glimpse of her panty. Trudy had nice legs and she never wore pantyhose or stockings, just a skirt and panties and she always gave me a great view when she alighted from her Buick. There’s something so exciting when you get to see something that you are not supposed to see. That, to me, is more exciting than seeing a woman naked unless, of course, the naked woman is in bed with me.
I bided my time hoping to see more of Trudy and it happened at the annual Christmas party. I lied when I told her that my car was in the shop and asked her for a ride. I was hoping to get her drunk and drive her home. It was a devious plan, a simple plan, but a plan that worked perfectly.
Back then, the rule was not to have illicit affairs with your co-workers, which most people abided by that rule. Of course, there are exceptions to every rule and that exception was the annual, drunken Christmas party. Rules went out the window once they started freely pouring the alcohol at the open bar.
After her second drink, she was getting real friendly. She was always a touchy feely woman, but that day she never left my side and was always touching my arm or shoulder. Once, she even reached up and put her fingers through my hair. I would have thought nothing of that until I looked over at her and she had her eyes closed and her lips parted. Oh, my God, give me a break. She’s fantasizing about me while I’m standing next to her. Are you kidding me?
She kissed me three times for standing under the Missiletoe that she carried around with her and continually reached up and put it over my head. She thought that was so funny. I thought that was so erotic. She was the first 40-something year old woman I have ever kissed. It was a kiss without tongues, but it was more than a peck just the same. I so wanted to slip her some tongue, but I was afraid. The last Missiletoe kiss, she buried her pelvic bone in mine. I thought I was going to cum in my pants. I so wanted to hump her back, as I reached down and cupped her ass while lifting up her skirt. Pardon my fantasy.
Until, now, it was all innocent fun, but I had more lecherous ideas for her in mind on the drunken drive home. Oh, yeah, it was a time before MADD, mothers against drunk driving, when if you were caught driving drunk, the police put you in back of the cruiser, parked your car at the side of the road, and drove you home. And God forbid if you accused someone being drunk to a cop, they’d ask you, “What are you a doctor? Maybe, the man is on medication.”
Now, if caught driving drunk, they throw you in jail with the rapists, murderers, and thieves. It’s easier to get away with a murder rap than it is to beat a drunken driving charge. I miss those days of drunken, wild office parties.
By the time we left the party, Trudy was drunk. She wasn’t staggering or falling down drunk, but she was too drunk to drive. This is where my plan started working. I helped her on with her coat and took liberties with my hands. I loved feeling her big bra through her blouse, as I helped her move her arm in her sleeve. My hands were all over her spectacular tits when I helped her on with her coat and when I helped button her coat. She didn’t even notice, I don’t think. In hindsight, maybe she had a plan of her own pretending to be drunk. God, now I feel like such a fool.
“It’s cold out, Trudy. Let me help you on with your coat.”
“Oh, Freddie, you are such a gentleman. I wish my husband was more like you,” she said slurring her words.
I spent considerable time helping her button her coat making sure my hands and fingers were in constant contact with her tits.
Of course, when we got to the car, I helped her off with her coat on the pretense that the car heater would make her too uncomfortably hot. Besides, I was driving and she was sitting on the right side of me so that whenever I turned to her, I had a clear few of her bra covered tits between her partially opened buttons of her blouse that strained against those big breasts to stay buttoned.
As soon as we got in the car, she was all over me running her fingers through my hair, feeling my chest, and leaving her hand on my thigh. She was sitting so close to me and her skirt was so high up, that I so wanted to stick my hand between her legs, but I was afraid. Nonetheless, I took a chance and drove to a secluded spot.
“What are we doing here, Freddie?”
“Oh, I’m feeling a bit dizzy from drinking. I want to wait a few minutes and allow it to pass before I drive.”
“That’s a good idea. We can use the time to talk. We never get a chance to talk,” she said as she took my hand and held it.
To be continued…
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