The Affair

A couple of years ago, I changed jobs. I was very pleased with the change and it was a big career opportunity for me. It gave me a whole new level of psychological energy and self esteem after a quite stressful and mentally unhealthy period in my previous job. My new job was as a manager in an organisation that I had been working with externally in my previous position. Therefore, already before I started, I knew many of the people in my new organisation – at least superficially – including many of the colleagues I was now going to work closely with.

One of my new close colleagues, Eliza, was a woman my age who had previously held the position I was now taking over, but who was now managing another unit in the same department. I had had some contact with her before and had the impression she was a bit grey, dry and boring and had been much more focused on technical aspects of the job than I thought was appropriate.

In the beginning, when I had just joined the organisation, I had some recurring conflicts with her. I found that she had too many opinions on how I did my job and I generally found that she was an obstacle in several areas where I wanted to make my mark on things. My staff, some of whom had also worked for her previously, equally harboured some not too hidden resentments against her, which was also feeding my general antipathy.

However, I gradually changed my opinion of her quite profoundly as time went by. I realised that she usually had very good points, when she suggested something else than I did. I also realised that she was very smart. And I understood that she was quite ambitious on behalf of her staff and the organisation and actually was trying to make good decisions. At some point I realised that she was actually also trying to help me in her odd ways and I decided that I wanted to learn as much as I could from her. Of course she also had flaws, including not paying much attention to other peoples’ feelings, which probably explained why my staff weren’t that enthused with her. But it also goes to show that the idiocy about first impressions lasting is pure nonsense.

On closer acquaintance she was not boring at all. Well, she was maybe also not bubbling. But she had her moments where I truly appreciated her dry sense of humour and sarcasm. And I began enjoying making her laugh. She had long blonde hair in a pony tail and wore very large glasses in the fashion of the time. She was a little bit chubby, but she was quite sexy. The glasses helped that, as well as the fact that she almost always wore high heels, cute dresses and pantyhose. I began to enjoy listening to her and I was probably gazing at her in meetings. I liked her body figure and I liked watching her talk.

As a middle aged manager, I was myself of course no particular prize regarding looks. With 43 years and a recent age-related-metabolism-change chubbiness of my own, a generous description would have been that I had a “dad body”. However, between the chubbiness, my hairyness including a full beard and thick, dark eyebrows and my short stature, I can’t exclude I had a certain bearish ruggedness that some women could find attractive in lack of better. Especially for those who also liked sprinkles of grey hair.

Eliza and I sort of developed a friendly competition to do best in the meetings among the managers in the department in terms of impact on decisions and the level of positive attention from the department head. Well at least I developed a friendly competition with her. She was far ahead of me to begin with, because of her experience in the organisation, but little by little, I felt more and more like I caught up with her to the point where I began feeling like a close second; Still clearly behind her, but ahead of each of the other among the handful of managers in the department. At least that was how I perceived things, but I can’t say that this was necessarily how the others perceived it. This progress – in my own opinion at least – I owed very much to the inspiration she gave me and what I was now learning from her.

I was enjoying her company more and more as a friend, I thought. I was not really sure whether she felt the same. But I sensed that she was in general opening up a bit. Maybe that had something to do with me, but it could easily be any number of other reasons. I was never the one to overestimate my own impact on others.

In any case, we began having regular coffee meetings with no agenda in particular and talked about both work and private matters. She was – as I – married and with two small kids. I sensed that she – as I – was experiencing the typical marriage rut at that point, where any sense of romance or relationship excitement had long ago been consumed by everyday tasks, wiping runny noses, and kids vrashing into the bedroom at night. Eliza and I usually met in her office, which was slightly more out of the way than mine and with an unobstructed view over the habour, which in those years was in the process being transformed from an industrial area into high-priced condos and shops.

Some time passed like this, without me realising that I was in fact developing romantic feelings for her. But then at some point, when she was busy with a project of her own, I didn’t see her for a couple of weeks, and then it hit me: I missed her. Like I would miss a crush back in the days before serious relationships and marriage. When I saw her again, it was with this new perspective, and I hardly knew how to behave. But we soon fell into the same easy-going pattern, joking and laughing. I may have been imagining this, but I sometimes got the impression that she too was slightly nervous around me, like I had become around her.

Then things started changing. At one point in one of our coffee meetings, her foot accidentally touched mine under the table. Instead of retracting it, she kept her foot resting on top of mine, while we continued to converse. We were never ones to hug or touch each other before, so this very small gesture seemed to hold some significance. It greatly excited me, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it afterwards. However, I was very careful not to overreact. This was a sensitive matter, the two of us being already married and not otherwise on the verge of separating or divorcing. But she repeated the foot game again, so I figured it could not have been accidental. It must have been a signal and a question, I convinced myself. I too had to signal back. I sat closer to her in our next coffee meetings – to her one side rather than across from her – and at one point, when she had her hand placed palm down on the table next to her coffee mug, I placed my hand next to hers, the two hands just touching. She didn’t remove it. I don’t know how I was managing to keep up the regular conversation. This was very exhilarating.

From there it was pretty clear what was going on. It didn’t take long before we kissed. This was in her office in another coffee meeting. It had to be quick as there was the risk of being caught or raising suspicion. She tasted sweet and smelled flowerly. It was a wonderful sensual kiss. What a surprising turn of events from a beginning like that. Again, it goes to show that those around us may hide an interesting inner world on their own despite whatever first impressions they make.

We actually didn’t speak about the new situation. We simply lived it and continued our conversations and cooperation on different projects as before. But we would instinctively switch from intellectual to physical mode when alone and done with the most urgent conversation topics, as if syncronised. But we only kissed and touched and didn’t at first do anything more. That would have required a lot more planning and a more explicit agreement on what we were actually doing. Besides the kissing and the cuddling – I lived for the way she would let her fingers slide from below my ear, across the back of my neck and down across my back – she would place her hand on the front of my pants, and I would gently cup her breasts on the outside of her dress. Her breasts felt so firm and round and warm. This was pure teenage joy relived. It was so sexy to make out with her like this.

But needless to say, the urge to move on pressed itself upon me at least. I was not unhappy in my marriage nor did I intend to expose my wife or children to the traumas of a divorce. But I also grew more and more fascinated with Eliza and more and more eager to get even closer to her.

“Where do we go from here,” I asked her in the middle of making out one late afternoon in her office.

She didn’t respond at first but kept on caressing the front of my pants while we were kissing.

“Well, I don’t know,” she finally said, stopping what she was doing to look me in the eyes. “What do you think?” It almost made me regret asking.

After some silence, she said, “The thing is – I don’t know how serious you are…” She probed my eyes deeper.

“I am not asking you to leave your wife. Not at all,” she added. “But still – is this a long term commitment for you?”

“Well, I…” I said, slightly trembling, “I don’t know what you mean. I find you very attractive, sexy, obviously, and I am also very attracted to you as a person. I consider you as a friend too, as I’m sure you know already. I think I want to find out where this leads.”

She kept gazing at me, but then said, “Let’s leave that question for later,” and we kissed some more.

Her stroking of my crotch went a bit more aggressive. She then unbuttoned and moved her hand inside on top of my boxers. I was as hard as ever and probably soaking through the fabric. She kept on stroking as we kept on kissing. Then she grabbed the band of my boxers and peeled them off, helping my hard cock out into the open. This she had only done once or twice before. She very slowly masturbated me while our faces were still locked in kissing. It was extremely sensual. At one point we stopped kissing, and she turned her gaze to her masturbation of me, which she kept on for a while. Then she stopped, before the end, leaving me to zip up unfulfilled.

We didn’t discuss further that afternoon.

Things took a surprising turn then. The next time we met, she asked if I ever had considered circumcision. This was a surprising question. That was not at all a normal practice here. It wasn’t at all that she didn’t like an uncut cock or that she was used to a circumcised one. I understood that her husband also was uncut and that they had never discussed it for him. But she was so curious to touch and feel a circumcised cock and she was very turned on by the thought that I might have it done, just for her. She almost made it sound like it would be proof of a genuine commitment. A nice, long, pink cock with its head permanently exposed. Just for her. She didn’t expect a response. I’m sure she also thought it was a very far-fetched idea.

I was taken aback at first, as you can imagine. We continued our relationship as before. No more, but also no less, which was indeed still something very substantial. But I must admit, little by little I also began imagining the pleasure of having a circumcised cock. After a short while, the thought just couldn’t leave my mind. And not just for the obvious short term reason that it seemed necessary in order to take my relationship with Eliza further. No, I began wanting it in its own right, because it turned me on, but also to show her that I genuinely wanted to commit to her. To commit my cock to her to this extreme degree. To give her this piece of me.

What seemed a completely crazy suggestion at first gradually became a serious plan. I needed to work out a plausible story to tell my wife. And I needed to research the medical side of things. And I wanted Eliza involved as well – to be part of deciding.

As for my wife, telling her the truth – a part of it of course – seemed the most convincing. That it turned me on to get a circumcision, to have a circumcised cock. That it was a growing desire. That I wanted to experiment with our sex life. Of course, this made the act less exclusively for Eliza, but somehow not less sincere. It needed some time to mature. So it had to take something like six months or so from the first mentioning, to the actual act of circumcision. This seemed to work. At first my wife was a bit surprised and puzzled. But after a couple of times mentioning it, I sensed that she found it a little arousing too. She also pictured, I could tell, the result. Maybe imagining exploring my cock with a permanently exposed head. This would work out.

In parallel, I also began exploring the medical side. A number of clinics offered the procedure. It would not be very intrusive or complicated and would only require local anesthesia and same-day surgery with no hospitalisation. There was a choice to be made on how much skin to remove – how “tight” a circumcision you wanted. I instinctively wanted it as tight as possible. It sounded sexy as Hell. But I also wanted to include Eliza in the decision – to decide how my cock would present itself to her. So I told her about my plans – that I was going to go through with it. For her. And for me. She seemed extremely excited. But I could sense that she was also trying hard not to get too carried away as long as nothing had actually happened yet. We discussed the tightness, and she was also instinctively drawn to have it done as tight as possible. Inevitably, we had to look at my cock to visualise the result. I was rock hard. And she was doing all the touching and moving around of the shaft and tigging back the foreskin while we were discussing the options. But we also concluded that to finally decide, we should discuss it with the clinic. We decided to go to a consultation together. This was also very arousing. I almost came in her hand. She left me unresolved – on purpose, I’m sure.

I scheduled an appointment at a clinic not far from the office that suited the both of us. It was in the late morning. Eliza and I met in the lobby at the clinic. We held hands like a teenage couple. After a short wait, we were called in. It was a female doctor. She seemed to assume Eliza was my wife, so we stuck with that fantasy. We discussed that the motive was primarily sexual. Although never mentioned on the websites – reasons were always stated as medical or “religious/cultural” – I guessed from the doctor’s reaction that the sexual motivation was in fact not unusual. She informed us of the pros and cons and tried to probe whether we had indeed thought this decision trough thoroughly. How long we had considered it etc. Now she had to look at my penis. Although the room temperature was on the cold side and the surroundings very clinical, it was difficult not harden a bit in anticipation. Even if exciting, an erection during a doctor’s appointment still felt a little embarrassing. However, the doctor didn’t seem to take particular note. We discussed the question of tightness and how “high” the circumcision should be, i.e. how close to the base of the cock the suture would be. There was awfully much handling of my cock in the process and I was now close to a full hard-on. The doctor smiled slightly at Eliza.

“Never mind,” the doctor said, “This is actually helpful to discuss the possible types of circumcision.” The doctor tugged and explained. In the end, she also judged that a high and tight cut would be feasible. Apparently that requires some length. Imagine my pride.

A date for the procedure was scheduled, and we thanked the doctor and left. I was left so horny and unfulfilled that I persuaded Eliza to finish me off in the restrooms at the clinic lobby. I was close to exploding in my pants, but I desperately needed to jerk off or to be jerked off. Once inside locked doors – it was a one-person restroom – she told me to strip completely. Instead of jerking me off, she kneeled and took me in her mouth. A spectacular first. She was still fully dressed. She was so good. Teasing balls and shaft and head equally with her fingers, lips and tongue. In the process, she kept tugging the foreskin down as much as possible, obviously visualising the future look of my cock. At last, I came, pulsating while in her mouth, and she swallowed it all. I felt so blissful. She left, and after composing myself, I dressed and left too, more sure than ever that it was the right decision.

The day of the surgery arrived. I went alone this time. Before going, I trimmed all my pubic hair, as instructed by the clinic. I did this at home in the late evening. It also gave me the opportunity to play with my cock with foreskin for the last time. It was not recommended to shave the pubic hair, but the trimmer did it pretty close as I went across all areas over and over. The vibration helped bringing me to full erection, pre-cum drops forming at the tip and beginning to drip down. I masturbated myself slowly and protracted but finally reached an intense orgasm as I imagined sliding my cut cock effortlessly into Eliza’s wet pussy as deep as I could and until our pubic bones met.

I prefer not to go into the details of the procedure. Nothing erotic about that. But it was done, very competently and professionally, and I went home. I had taken a couple of days off to deal with the hassle of bandaging, healing etc. There was no sex or masturbation allowed for 5-6 weeks, which seemed a major hurdle for someone masturbating as regularly as I did. I imagined having giant balls in the end. Off course it proved only a slight nuisance. The soreness and bandages made sure of that. What I did see of my new cut cock was pleasing. I think it looked very good and promising.

I went back to work after a couple of days but still had to be careful. Eliza and I didn’t meet up during healing, as you can imagine. But when I deemed the healing was done, I scheduled a meeting with her to show and tell. She was almost giddy with anticipation. As was I. We were in her office, late afternoon. For once, she locked the door. Then she kneeled in front of me as I was sitting, and began stroking the outside of my pants. I quickly became erect, a new sensation after the procedure as I had of course already discovered.

We kissed passionately for the first time in over five weeks. I had saved myself for five weeks, not giving in to the temptation to relieve the pressure, not even now that I was able to. I had also told my wife that I was not quite ready and added some weeks to the recommended period of abstinence. I was rock hard. Eliza unzipped me, reached inside and pulled out my now newly cut cock. It was so beautiful, if I were to say so myself. She seemed to agree. She studied it intensely.

“So soft and so hard,” she said as she let her fingers run up and down my cock and observing how the skin now only barely would touch the rim of the head even when she tugged upwards with determination. This was exactly the effect I had hoped for.

Pre-cum was already trickling down from the tip and she circled the head with her thumb to spread it out. I had kept my pubic hair trimmed ever since the procedure, and the night before I had also shaved closely over and over and moisturised for complete smoothness of cock and balls. That also pleased her very much.

But she did not help me out of my suspension this time. She just watched and played – for a fairly long time. She then told me she had made arrangements to borrow her friend’s apartment, close to the office. Her friend was living alone and would be out of town for a couple of days in two days. Almost unbearable – two more days of excruciating anticipation. And very hard not to think about it and do something about the ache in the meantime.

“Thank you,” she said as I left her office; “For this…” her finger made a circle in the air in my direction to indicate that she meant my crotch. Or perhaps my body in general.