He worked on my floor and we rode the elevator from time to time. He was in his fifties and me in my twenties. He had a large belly and he was tall and when he looked at me he always looked at my boobs. One day he stared straight ta my crotch, I had leggings on and he could see my slit, I crossed my legs but it didn't help, he asked me if I was up for a fuck.


I told him not on his life, but the elevator was slow and he reached out had grabbed my boob and told me he would really like to suck some tittie. He didn't let go and asked me again if I was up for a fuck. He fucked me after work in his office chair, with me riding him after giving him a blow job. I came when he stuck his finger in my bum and his tongue down my throat. He came after putting me across his work table. We cleaned up with Kleenex.

He fucked me so many times I couldn't even count any more, not that he was calling me over, I was going over, my thing was giving him a long blow job and getting him really hard and either riding him and letting him finger my bum, or leaning over the work table and taking it that way. He told me he was taking a pill every day to keep up.

I tried to cool things down, but he came over to my apartment and fucked me on my bed. In my head I was all no don't do that, but I offered myself to him just like I did in his office. It was the first time he fucked me on my back. I think that is the day I feel for him for real, I didn't want him to leave, I cooked dinner and fed him. If he was going to come over and fuck me then I got to cook dinner for him.

One Saturday afternoon, I was on my stomach and he was fucking me from behind and I started to think that I could get pregnant. After that every time he fucked me I thought about getting pregnant, until I got off the pill and let myself get pregnant. He was pissed, and I got yelled at for the first time, and all I did was get down on him and suck on him until he started to rub my head and tell me that I was ok. Then I think for the first time since I met him, we made love, and I confessed that I loved him and it was his fault for making me love him and that more than anything I wanted to have a baby.

With a baby you are really tied to man, after two weeks of day care he had me quit and stay home. I became a kept and housed mistress, keeping a home for him, I see him two or three times a week and sometimes on the weekend. I don't care, any time with him was ok, he is my man and that is what I get and truthfully I don't ever think about anything, I just want him to be happy with me.

The things I know about his wife he tells me, I never look. My rule for myself is not to look, he is my man and this is my circumstance, if he wants me to know about his wife he will tell me.

I am into my mistress relationship for six years now, my son is going to be five. My man is my man and I am his mistress. My close friends and my family know and they have quit asking stupid questions. I am his mistress, not his wife. He supports me and looks after me and my son and when I tell him I love him I mean it. I show him how much I love him. He is my man.

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