Sophia’s Choice Pt. 04

Literotic asexstories – Sophia’s Choice Pt. 04 by Alice_Nicol

NINE

As it happened, Peter never got to meet Ulf, since, unbeknownst to Sophia, he’d made a last-minute arrangement with his friends to play golf on Saturday morning, based on the forecast for the weekend, which was for milder weather. He was terribly apologetic about this when her returned on Friday evening, and was amazed that Sophia took his oversight in such good part. He ascribed her good mood to the shelving that had been put up during the day, congratulating Sophia on finding someone who could work so skilfully – and for free!

For Ulf, on the other hand, his liaison with Sophia proved terminal to his relationship with Petsi. His big mistake – men always make them – was to dump his work clothes in the washing basket rather than wash them immediately. When Petsi got back from Northamptonshire on Sunday evening, could smell the scent almost as soon as she entered the utility room. As chance would have it, she had used the same perfume herself before she had the relationship with Maja, who didn’t approve of cosmetics, and had seen it in Sophia’s bathroom when she’d been doing the cleaning. She had sent Ulf packing that very night – feeling not lonely or lost when the deed had been done, but free and unburdened.

It was Peter who learned that Ulf was no longer on the scene when he chanced to be chatting with Petsi in Christmas week about her plans for the festival. When she told him that she was now single again, his heart did a cartwheel. What better way to get to know her better than by having her stay with them over the holiday period. He floated the idea with her and she seemed genuinely pleased to have been asked. He told her he’d run the idea past his wife, but didn’t envisage there’d be a problem. He knew that the children would be delighted to have their new best friend with them, as they opened their presents and generally had the time of their life.

And so it happened that Petsi shared the joy of Christmas with the Collins family, growing closer to the children in the process, as well as to their father. Their mother, on the other hand, was still a pain in the ass, making use of every opportunity to spend time with her, not above such tactics as ambushing her in the corridor when she could hear her coming, until it got to the stage that Petsi would walk barefooted to ensure that no trace of her footfall could be perceived by the lady of the house.

A couple of weeks passed. It was a cold, crisp Saturday morning and the sun was shining. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. The children – still on their school holidays – were spending the day and the night with friends, and Sophia had taken the train to Exeter to be with her mother, who had suffered a minor stroke. She was due back on Sunday evening, and might spend a couple more days in Devon if her mother’s condition didn’t improve. Peter performed a few household chores, such as fixing a dripping tap in the upstairs bathroom and attending to a window in the guest room which didn’t shut properly, while Petsi, dressed in an oversized woollen shirt and baggy military fatigue type trousers, worked through the list that Sophia had left for her before she departed.

Peter had a dinner that evening – a work thing he’d much rather not attend. To make matters worse, it was a black tie event – the sort of function he detested. He’d thought of crying off sick, but that seemed such a lame thing to do that he’d steeled himself to go ahead with it. He would leave at the earliest possible opportunity, making use of his wife’s absence from home to say he needed to relieve the babysitter.

Petsi made some lunch for Peter, which they ate together. She noticed that he wasn’t his normal self and he told her about the dinner he had to attend, when he’d much rather be at home. There was nothing particular in his voice or his manner to encourage her, but Petsi felt pleased nonetheless that he would prefer to be at home, and with her, than with his work colleagues.

Around six thirty that evening, after spending the afternoon in the garden until it got dark, Peter had a quick shower. He got his new dress shirt out of the wardrobe and fished his favourite pair of chain cufflinks out of the box where he kept his various accessories. After putting on a pair of boxers, he put the shirt on and started to fix the cufflinks in place. He found this difficult because the slits through which they were meant to go were tight and narrow and seemingly gummed up with starch. He heard Petsi moving about on the landing and called out to her.

When she came in, the first thing Peter noticed was that she had also changed. In place of the frumpy clothes she had been wearing, she had on a light cotton dress with a floral pattern. It was the sort of thing you wore in summer, Peter thought. But, then again, with the central heating on, temperatures indoors were hardly cold. She had also done something with her hair. Peter couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but it made her look more radiant than ever. (She had in fact put a wave in it and was wearing it in a Veronica Lake peekaboo style.)

‘Yes, Peter,’ she spoke softly, almost sultrily, as she walked up to him.

‘Um, yes, I was having a spot of trouble with these cufflinks. I wondered if you could help.’

‘Of course,’ she said, taking one cufflink out of his hand and raising his arm so she could better access his cuff.

‘Is it a new shirt?’ she asked him, so close he could smell the fragrance of her conditioner.

‘It is,’ responded Peter, painfully aware that, unbidden, his penis was swelling fast.

‘I need to get something sharp,’ said Petsi. ‘Do you have a pair of nail scissors?’

‘There are some in the bathroom,’ Peter replied with some difficulty to his au pair, who already knew where they were.

Peter knew that while she was off getting the scissors, he really ought to put his trousers on. Instead, he went to a drawer and pretended to pick out a bow tie. She returned quickly with the scissors and took his arm in her hand, raising it once more so she could pierce a hole in the slit. Having successfully dealt with one sleeve, she moved to the other – Peter this time raising his arm so she would have both hands free to do the necessary. She opened the slit and stood in front of him, still holding the scissors. Then, taking the cufflinks from Peter, she slotted them in.

‘Is there anything else I can do for you?’ she said seductively, her eyes looking up into his from under her peekaboo curl.

‘I don’t think so,’ he replied, without much conviction.

‘I am free and single again,’ she said, standing no more than a foot from him.

Petsi knew that Peter’s cock was rampant. She sensed it rather than saw it. But the reality was no less certain for that. She also knew he was ripe for the plucking, but she wanted to make him crazy for her. She knew he was a gentleman; she also knew that ultimately he was only a man, with uncontrollable urges and tiny reservoirs of self-control. He attempted to make conversation, even though his mind wasn’t on the job.

‘You and Ulf are no longer an item then?’ he said with forced breeziness.

‘He was fucking about,’ she replied, watching him carefully for his reaction to her profanity.

‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ he said, with his best attempt at sincerity.

‘He was fucking your wife!’

After dropping the bombshell, Petsi wondered if she had acted unwisely. Maybe he wouldn’t believe her. Maybe he would think she was provoking him into a revenge fuck.

‘That day when he built the shelves?’ asked Peter.

‘Yes. I’m sorry. I didn’t know she was planning anything. Otherwise, I would have done something.’

‘It’s you I feel sorry for. You’re in a foreign country. You had a companion; now you’ve lost him.’

‘I’m better off without him. He was probably fucking other women. He was so stupid or he just couldn’t give a damn – he left his work clothes lying about all weekend and I smelt your wife’s perfume on them when I got back from my aunt. He admitted everything.’

‘I see. Well, yes, then you are probably better off without him. My wife can be, you know, I think they call it a cougar. I guess I’ve grown used to it.’

‘She touches me sometimes when I’m alone in the house with her, or comes up behind me suddenly when I’m not expecting it. She knows I’m not interested.’

Here, as we have had cause to understand, Petsi was being a little less than honest, but the last thing she wanted to do now was plant ideas of her making out with his wife in Peter’s mind.

‘Look, if you feel you need to leave, then you must,’ said Peter. ‘There will be no trouble.’

‘But I don’t want to leave. I have grown too attached to the children. And to their father.’

Having made this declaration of how she felt, Petsi decided it was time to make her move. Standing on tiptoes, she kissed Peter on the lips. He didn’t kiss her back immediately, preferring to see what her next move would be. It was to take his cufflinks off.

‘Now we know they fit, we don’t need them any more, do we?’ she said with a coquettish air.

‘I suppose not,’ said her employer.

Once they were off, she started to unbutton his shirt. Peter winced as he felt her fingernails graze his skin as she worked her was down his torso. Presently, only the final button remained. It stood adjacent to his jutting cock. It would be difficult for Petsi to get his shirt fully unbuttoned without also touching his member. She didn’t try very hard to avoid it, moving her fingers deftly from button to cock as if she were crossing a stream and hopping from one stepping stone to another. Peter groaned, as her fingers probed his bulge and sought out his helmet. Petsi could feel the growing area of stickiness around his helmet and gently squeezed its tip to release more of his pre-cum.

Petsi undid the single button that stood sentinel at the front of Peter’s light blue boxers, reached in and with some difficulty extracted his penis, bending it against the grain and causing him to experience a sensation that veered between agony and ecstasy. Once it was free, it celebrated by jerking wildly, the motion only being stopped by the application of Petsi’s mouth, which engulfed it like a basking shark hunting for krill. For a second, Peter was in mortal terror that he was going to ejaculate into Petsi’s mouth. To his great relief, the moment passed and he was able to recover at least a modicum of his equilibrium and retain his dignity.