Watch (6)

We did this a couple of times - me watching, instructing, photographing, enjoying their pleasure in the performance. No touching. Just observing as closely as I could without directly participating in the sweaty, intense fucking.

"Having an audience brings out his aggressive side," she confided in an email, and I could imagine the satisfied smile on her face when she typed the words.

The second time we met was more hurried and improvised than the first. I was in their city on short notice, but when I emailed ahead I got an almost immediate response. I don't know, but I imagine a furtive lunchtime phone call between the two of them, whispering into their mobile phones somewhere out of the earshot of colleagues.

This time we started in their dining room, her skirt around her hips. She sat on the edge of the sturdy table and leaned back, inviting him between her legs - two fingers teasing her labia. He took her in his mouth with a satisfied growl, his mouth settling over her sex, pushing her fingers away.

They stumbled from table to chair to sofa, bending, sitting, stretching their bodies to put on the show they wanted.

In their bedroom, he came in her mouth. Standing with knees slightly bent he grabbed her hair with both hands, holding it bunched in his fists. She knelt in front of him, eyes closed in the deep pleasure of being ruthlessly used, and he seemed to have no restraint left. Fucking her mouth in long, deep strokes that she struggled to accommodate, he let out a loud, deep roar of primal satisfaction. His cum, mixed with spit dribbled down her chin as she pulled back and caught her breath.

Falling to his knees, facing her, he kissed her before she had time to open her eyes, lovingly stroking the rumpled mess of her hair.

"You looked funny just then," she told me later. "The way your mouth hung open was terribly cute."