It had been a lousy year. My wife of nearly twenty years had walked out on me. The only good things had been that the settlement had left me enough to buy my own place and that I'd moved to a better job in a big multinational. After months of only occasional and very vanilla sex now I was getting no sex at all except what porn and my ever faithful right hand could give me. Then I encountered Patricia.

Patricia was a woman in my office. She was about my age, early forties. She had curly dark hair and she'd kept her looks. She'd also kept a figure and legs a woman ten years younger would envy, which she displayed in boob-clinging white blouses, skirts tight over her bottom, sheer black or tan nylons, and shiny black high heels.

There was plenty of mini-skirted young eye candy in my office. But there was something about Patricia that excited me. Perhaps it was because she was about my age. Every time I saw her I felt that familiar stirring down below and my eyes locked onto her well-filled blouse, her sensuously swinging hips and her nylon-clad legs. Even more erotically exciting, I began to notice that Patricia's eyes started to regularly linger on me. I thought she would just be a masturbation fantasy but one day it happened.

Most of my colleagues were away at a team meeting and I was almost alone sitting at my station in our open plan area. I saw Patricia approaching as if to pass by my station, then a moment later she sat down on the chair next to mine, demurely crossing her black nylon clad legs. She looked around as if to check all was clear. Then she smoothly swung her legs apart in a movement that pulled her skirt high up her spread thighs. As any man would, my eyes almost involuntarily went down to see if I could look up her skirt. At what I saw, I almost fell off my chair.

I saw Patricia was wearing sheer black stockings with bare thigh above. Above that I saw her naked pussy with her pink vagina lips peeping through her bush of dark cunt hair. I was speechless. Then Patricia spoke.

“I recognise a lonely, frustrated boy when I see one and I know what lonely, frustrated boys want. I provide a service that might go some way to meeting their needs.” She laughed softly. “I also do the things that men want their wives to do but daren't ask them.”

I was fast getting the message. I’d encountered the office whore. Before I could say anything, Patricia continued.

“This is what's on offer.”

From a cardboard folder, Patricia took out a photograph and handed it to me. It showed a naked woman on all fours on a bed with her breasts hanging pendulously and her legs wide. The view was from behind, showing her bottom with her hairy pussy peeping out just below her bum cheeks. Her face wasn’t visible but the hair colour and style was Patricia's.

From the folder, she next pulled out a pair of panties. They were simple thin white cotton with lacy embroidered hems and very brief. They were still warm and smelled of a mixture of her perfume and her juices. She handed them to me.

“One of my cunt hairs is caught in the stitching, if you're interested.”

I was certainly interested. I ran her panties hungrily through my fingers. Something about the feel of women's panties drives me wild, especially with that strand of dark pubic hair caught in a hem.

“I charge for my services, of course.”

"You make yourself sound like a prostitute,” I replied. I'd recovered my voice.

Patricia laughed.

“You could think of me like that. I see it as providing a personal service. It depends on what you want. Give me a theatre ticket or a bottle of wine, good wine, mind you.” Someone was approaching and she crossed her legs demurely again. She stood and adjusted her skirt. “Do keep our little secret between the two of us. Think about it. You know where to find me.”

With that, Patricia turned, and with my eyes locked on the backs of her stocking-clad legs and her swinging bottom through her tight skirt, she left me.

After that encounter there was only one thing I could do. With the photograph and her white cotton panties in my hand and with the memory of her spread thighs fresh in my mind, I went to the men’s restroom and locked myself in a toilet stall. Fortunately, the walls and door went right down to the floor, giving me all the privacy I could want.

I propped the picture on the tank. I dropped my trousers and briefs. My penis bounced out already mostly erect. Gazing at Patricia's naked thighs and bottom and that glimpse of her pussy, I fingered my penis to the peak of erection stiffness and pleasure sensitivity. I spread my legs and thrust my hips forward. I brushed Patricia's panties over my iron-hard penis shaft and over its big, soft, lust- and erection- swollen and sensitised head. I ran her panties between my spread legs, across my balls and anus and up and down my ass crack.

Then with my eyes locked on Patricia’s smooth bottom and spread thighs, I wrapped my hand round my straining penis shaft and masturbated. On the walls of the stall were stains from where I and other guys had spurted our semen before. This time, my cum had a different target. As I wanked, I held Patricia's panties just in front of my penis, brushing my cock head with a light touch just like a woman's lips, tongue or gentle fingers.

My eyes stayed locked on the picture. In my mind, my hand was Patricia's tight vagina squeezing and pumping my cock. I imagined the feel of those smooth, spread thighs against my hungry hands. It had been so long since I'd enjoyed a woman's thighs. I held back and edged, prolonging the exquisite masturbation pleasure. When I came, Patricia's panties twitched with the impact of my powerful spurts of semen. “Patricia!” I grunted as her naked body filled my mind. Finally, I stood there with Patricia’s semen-soaked panties in my hand and my still half-erect penis dripping a strand of semen onto the floor for the next guy to find.

I guess I have a panty fetish. I'd been masturbating over the panties my wife had left behind. Over the next days in my lonely bed I spurted what felt like bucket loads over Patricia's panties. But more than just her panties, I wanted Patricia. After months of abstinence, a woman was available. I picked up a bit more about Patricia. She'd been through a messy divorce like me, though she still wore her wedding ring. The craving grew and grew but I guess I was shy and, of course, as with every office encounter there was the fear of being discovered propositioning her or being caught in the act.

Then my chance came.

I'd gone to our office photocopier/printer. Because of the noise it made, it was in a room down a corridor from the main open-plan area. There was a fire door partway along so anyone approaching could be heard coming. I entered the room and there was Patricia. She was using the photocopier and had her back to me. She was in a white blouse showing the outline of bra straps, a tight grey skirt and black nylons. She glanced over her shoulder and saw it was me.

She instantly bent over with her bottom toward me. She spread her legs as wide as her tight skirt would allow. She looked at me over her shoulder and smiled. I saw hunger in her eyes. I couldn't resist.

My hand was instantly on her bottom, exploring her smooth, round curves and following the outline of her panties through the thin, taut cloth of her skirt. It had been ages since I'd so much as touched a woman. I wanted more.

“Play with the knickers I'm wearing now if you want,” Patricia said softly. She wiggled her bottom sensuously at me.

I lifted Patricia's skirt high above her bottom. Her panties were smooth black satin with a little white petal pattern. At the back, they were just a thin thong gusset nestling deep in the valley between rounded bum cheeks that gleamed smoothly under the lights just like that picture. As before, Patricia was in stockings, sheer black this time.

Released from the constraint of her skirt, Patricia spread her legs wide. I slid my fingers down along the gusset of her panties and under her between her spread legs. As the sides of my hands brushed her inside thigh tops, she moaned, quivered and strained her legs even wider. My exploring fingers found the bulge of her sex mound, then the outline of her love slit through the thin, smooth cloth. I caressed her bottom and thighs with my other hand while I let my fingers smoothly stroke her vagina lips through the thin satin to tell her I knew how a woman wanted to be touched. As I finger-pleasured her, I felt her panties moisten with her arousal juice.

My hands reluctantly slipped off her as she stood and turned. She stepped her high-heeled foot up onto a chair that happened to be there and smoothly lifted her skirt up her stockinged thigh to treat me to a full view of her panties. She nudged her hips toward me. I pulled the front of her panties down. Her naked cunt looked every bit as delicious as when she'd first shown it to me. I ran my fingers through her moist bush, explored the insides of her thighs and ran my hand right under her between her legs.

Then I couldn’t restrain myself. I guess like most men I'd fantasised about exposing my penis to a woman at work. I stepped back from her and unzipped and unclasped my trousers. My lust-swollen cockhead was already poking out above the waistband of my skimpy briefs. I pulled the front of my briefs down and let my erection bounce out and swing stiffly, sticking out in front of me. I thrust my erect penis toward Patricia.

“Wank me!” I grunted.

Patricia's hand was instantly on my cock with her fingers as if feeling it for stiffness and length. Her hand slid down to caress my balls and ruffle my thick bush of cock fur. She wrapped her thumb and forefinger round my shaft and I braced myself for exquisite pleasure.

But before she could start, we heard the fire door partway down the corridor open and someone approaching. Patricia stepped back from me. She smoothed her skirt down and I quickly stuffed my penis away. But it was all for the good. The photocopier room was hardly the place for a sexual encounter.

“There’s an empty office just before the fire door on the left,” Patricia whispered.

Then she headed out of the photocopier room moments before one of the micro-skirted eye candy arrived with a bundle of documents to scan. I made a mental note of how she smiled at me and wiggled her big breasts at me, but Patricia was waiting for me.

Fortunately, the office wasn't one of the glass-walled fish tank offices. Apart from its window several floors up it had good solid walls all round. Being lunchtime we had a good hour to play with. I entered to find Patricia standing, leaning back with her hands on a desk behind her with her legs spread as wide as her skirt allowed. She was breathing hard with her big bulging breasts rising and falling. She seemed as frantic as I was. She stood and leaned back against the desk.

“You want me nude, don't you?” Patricia said, swaying her hips a little and leaning back so her breasts thrust up and out.

It was a silly question. I carefully locked the office door. I unzipped her skirt first and let it drop. I unbuttoned her blouse and slipped it off her shoulders. It fell on the desk. Her black patterned bra matched her panties. She turned round for me to undo her bra and let it join her blouse on the desk.

Just in her panties and stockings, she bent over the desk with her bottom toward me. I pulled her panties down. She let them drop, kicked them aside and spread her legs wide. My exploring hand enjoyed her bottom. I slid my hand between her legs from behind to play with her pussy and lightly stroke her juice oiled vagina lips.

Just in her stockings and her high heels, she stood and turned to face me. She leaned back against the desk again to shove her pussy toward me and to swing her boobs up. She spread her legs as wide as she could get them.

I kissed her all over her breasts and licked her nipples. I had a good long feel of her cunt. I stroked her vagina lips till they were sopping with juice. I slipped my fingers between them to touch her clit. I kissed her all the way down her naked body till I was kissing her naked thighs above her stockings, then her vagina lips. I got down far enough to get my tongue right under her to lick her pussy. After months without sex, I had a woman's naked body to play with. I was like a boy with his first girl!

I stepped back from her, unzipped my trousers and dropped them and my briefs again. My penis was hard and erect and felt tight enough to snap with the anticipation of Patricia's body. I rammed my hips toward her and swung my stiff penis at her.

I'd asked her to wank me. I love a well-delivered hand job, especially with a naked woman against me and with my hands free to enjoy her naked body. But Patricia had other ideas. She grinned mischievously at me.

“Surely a big boy like you wants more than just a hand job. Wouldn't you rather have something you've always wanted your wife to do and never dared ask her?”

Patricia unbuttoned my shirt and slipped it off my shoulders behind me.

She started kissing me slowly down my front. Her hand eased my legs even wider, lightly fingered my balls and shaft, tickled me round my anus and on the inside tops of my thighs. She knew a man's most sexually sensitive spots.

As she worked her way down my body, she brushed her swinging breasts against the head of my by now almost vertical penis. My oozing pre-cum smeared over her nipples. She slid her breasts down either side of my penis, squeezing my stiff shaft gently between them. I ran my hands over her bare shoulders and through her hair. I'd forgotten how exciting the mere touch of naked female flesh against my hands could be. I was getting more and more frantic as her lips neared my cock. After ages of exquisite anticipation and sexual pleasure, finally she was there!

“You liked my knickers, didn't you?” she said.

She picked up the panties I'd taken off her and hung them on my unbending erect penis. I took them off and held them to play with as she sucked me off.

Then, crouching between my spread legs, she licked me luxuriously all over the big, soft, erection-sensitised, head of my penis. She tickled its little slit opening with the tip of her tongue and stroked my balls with her fingertips at the same time. She licked my shaft slowly up and down from my balls to its tip. Even in our best days, my wife had never done that for me. I shoved the head of my penis against her lips.

She looked up at me with one of those under-the-eyelashes looks. Then, with her lips slightly closed, she lowered them over my penis head. I grunted. Patricia knew how to make her lips feel like that moment my penis head eases open a woman's vagina as it enters. Then she slid her lips slowly over my penis head and over the ridge round its base. She paused there for a moment and rolled her tongue over my penis head. I could have taken any amount of that.

Then she slid her lips down my shaft, squeezing it with lips wetted with saliva. Looking down my body, meeting her eyes, and looking up at me, I saw her nose brush against my pubic hair. Then her head bobbed as her lips slid smoothly and rhythmically up and down my penis shaft, catching the base ridge of its head and brushing that sensitive spot under my penis head with her tongue. As she sucked me off, I ran her soft, smooth, silky panties through my hands, against my lips and sniffed the delicious aroma of her juices.

We took ages. We both knew how to hold back and how to make a sex partner wait. She would have known when my cum was rising from my grunts getting louder, the stiffening of my penis against her lips, my frantic clutching of her hair to pull her against me and of course that thrust of my crotch as I involuntarily tried to ram my cock as far down her throat as I could. In response she squeezed her lips tighter, sucked my cock head harder and slowed her rhythm down. My last thrust of my belly against her face when my cock jerked between her lips as I spurted pushed her backwards and she gripped my thighs for support.

She remained squatting between my spread legs for a while after I'd squirted my cum, flicking the head of my now half erect cock with her tongue and licking off the strand of semen dripping from my swinging penis before it dripped onto the office carpet.

“What do I owe you for that?” I asked as we pulled our clothes back on.

Patricia laughed, then looked thoughtfully at me for a moment.

“Didn't I tell you? There’s a special offer. If you’ve been a good boy and I like you, my first time with a new client comes free.”

With that, and a last fondle of my hand on her skirt-covered, Patricia opened the door and made her way down the corridor.

So that’s how it started between Patricia and me. Our first meeting had been impromptu and she hadn't had her usual supply of condoms with her. But over the weeks following, I enjoyed her tight vagina for real as we did lots of other things together I'd never dared ask my wife to do.

Then one day Patricia disappeared from the company. No one seemed to know why or where to. My frustration grew. I was back to my faithful right hand and Patricia's picture and panties among many others. I needed more. I needed a woman's body for real. I started to search the web for escort and massage services. The city seemed to be full of whores offering their services. That’s how one night I found her.

'Lady Patricia' was what she called herself on the cover page of her website. 'Private modelling and exotic massage for the discerning gentleman. See me in and out of the outfit of your choice. Your place or mine.'

There she was. Her cover picture showed her in that pose I’d first seen her in, on all fours nude on a bed. But this time she was looking over her shoulder and her face was in view. The hungry look in her eyes was enough to turn my penis to steel.

Underneath her picture was a button labelled 'Enter - if you dare!'

I dared, and what followed would certainly make another story.