Captain James Anderson, finger fucking me

"Anderson wants to see me," my husband said, putting his phone back, keeping his eyes on the road. A chill ran down my spine at those words. Captain James Anderson - the man who held my secret in his hands. In his enormous hands. "Oh!" - was all I managed to say. "Are you okay, Anna?" my husband asked, his brow creased in concern as he turned his gaze from the road to me. "You look really flushed". "I'm fine," I lied, managing a shaky smile as I tightened my grip on the leather car seat. I hoped he wouldn't notice the sweat forming on my forehead. "FBI sure knows how to pick bad time for their calls." - my husband said. We were all dressed up, heading to our friends party. But FBI calls always took priority. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the steering wheel, a habit he had when he was nervous. "He said I just need to pick up something. And we will be back on our way." - he said. He looked at me again - "Or we could return home if you don't feel good." My heart pounded in my chest as we neared the Federal Bureau of Investigation building. It was a place that represented my husband's dedication to his country but also this man there held secrets that could destroy our marriage. The memories of Captain Anderson's hands on my skin were fresh. Two indiscretions that I regretted, inexplicable errors of judgment. I still didn't know how I ended up being fucked by my husband's boss. Twice. We pulled into the parking lot and made our way into the intimidating structure. The air inside felt sterile and cold, matching the sleek marble floors and steel accents. The lobby bustled with agents rushing about, their expressions serious beneath their dark sunglasses. Mr.G guided me through the maze of hallways until we reached Anderson's office. I didn't have choice, I stepped inside after my husband. Anderson's eyes met mine across the room, his expression unreadable. "Mr.G," he greeted with a nod before his gaze lingered on me. "Anna." I swallowed hard, my mouth dry as a desert. My husband looked at me, "Anna, you don't look quite well.". I offered him a smile, hoping to quell his worry. Little did he know. Anderson fixed his gaze on my husband. "Mr.G, I need you to go with Ronald. Pick up classified documents from our undercover agent downtown." Mr.G furrowed his brow. "Now? But we were--" Anderson cut him off, a steely determination in his eyes. "It has to be done right now." "But Anna--" he raised his palm towards me "I'll make sure she's fine," Anderson said, his gaze flicking towards me. My heart pounded against my rib cage like a caged bird as I watched my husband reluctantly agree and leave the room. As soon as the door closed behind him, Anderson moved towards me. He was a large man, his body hardened from years of military service. His hair was peppered with grey, and his mustache added an air of stern authority to his already intimidating presence. "I don't know what you are doing." - I said - "but..." He cut me off, as if I had no say in it. "I don't have time to get in and out of my clothes," he said, his voice matter-of-fact. He took another step closer. "But let me explore your body again."  I couldn't believe the power this man had over me; his words disarming me so quickly. "Take that dress off," he commanded. "We have half an hour until your husband comes back." Why I was doing this? With trembling hands, I reached for the zipper at the back of my dress, pulling it down slowly as I watched Anderson's eyes darken with anticipation. Left in nothing but my white underwear and stockings, I felt vulnerable under Anderson's gaze. His eyes roamed over my body. His massive hands wrapped around my waist, squeezing my ass. I'm not a small woman, but he hoisted me into the air with a strength that belied his age. My legs instinctively clung to his torso, his crotch rubbing the thin fabric of my underwear. Behind, his fingers started squeezing harder, few of his fingers slipping under the panties, and spreading my pussy. I could feel the fire spreading through me, a fire that he had kindled with just a few touches. His mouth descended on mine, our lips meeting in a heated kiss. His tongue demanded entrance, and I granted it without hesitation. I clung to him tighter as the tips of his large fingers squeezed their way into me. His kisses moved down my neck, leaving a trail of fire on my skin. His teeth grazed over the sensitive skin at the junction of my neck and shoulder, drawing a gasp from me. He chuckled against my skin, the sound sending vibrations through my body. A moan left my lips. "Quiet," he whispered, his voice a low growl in my ear. His carried me to a plush couch that sat by the expansive windows in his office. He put me down on it. and with a swift motion, he tugged my panties down my legs, then discarding then carelessly on the floor. His gaze roved over my exposed pussy, a smirk playing on his lips. "Perfect, just as I remember it" he murmured . "Take your bra off and turn around." I did as told. "Raise your bottom," he commanded, his voice husky with desire. His words echoed in my ears as I assumed the position he wanted, my face buried in the plush fabric of the couch, my ass raised high in an invitation, my most intimate parts clearly shown to him, and to anyone that might happen to look our way from the opposite building. "Someone might see us," I stammered out, unable to keep the tremor out of my voice. "Don't worry," Anderson replied dismissively. But it was precisely that danger that heightened my arousal even more. My cheeks burned with humiliation, my body laid bare for Anderson to see. It was degrading, being exposed like this. But I couldn't deny the thrill that coursed through me, the anticipation that set my heart racing. His fingers slid over my wetness, spreading it with a satisfied hum. "You're already so wet," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. His words were an affirmation of the arousal that pooled between my legs. A gasp tore from my lips as his finger slid into my backhole. A rush of embarrassment washed over me at the realization of what he was doing, of another line he was crossing. But there was no room for guilt as Anderson's second finger joined the first. My moan echoed around the room, a raw sound of pleasure and surprise. The sensation was foreign yet incredibly arousing. "I told you to be quiet!", he said, his other hand came down on my wet pussy, a sharp slap that sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through me. I bit the fabric of the couch, trying to not let a sound. My breath hitched as a third finger found its way inside me. My grip on the couch tightened as Anderson set a steady rhythm, his fingers moving in and out of me, occasional slaps on my pussy pushing me closer to the edge, I could feel my climax building, a pressure that grew with each stroke of his fingers.  My body moved on its own accord, matching his rhythm. "Please," I gasped, my voice barely a whisper. "I need more." "You want my dick inside you?" "Yes!" Anderson shook his head. "There's no time." Instead, he pushed two fingers of his other hand into my wetness. The added sensation made me gasp, my back arching off the couch as pleasure coursed through me. It didn't take long. My body was already on the brink. My orgasm hit me like a tidal wave, washing over me in a rush of heat and pleasure. My body shook on the couch, James' name on my lips begging for more, as I rode out the intense waves. Anderson watched with satisfaction as I came undone beneath him. His hands left my body, coming down hard on my ass in a final, possessive slap. As I came down from the high, he stepped back, straightening his suit with an air of casual indifference. "Get dressed," he ordered, his gaze flicking towards the door. "Your husband will be back soon." With trembling hands, I reached for my discarded dress, pulling it back over my sweat-slicked skin. As I straightened up, Anderson approached me once again, and pushed my chin up to look at him. "Next time," he promised in a low voice that sent shivers down my spine. "I'll fuck you properly."