Passion

Jon fell backwards onto the bed. Amanda smiled as she stood over him. She fought hard to keep her breathing level as she ran a hand slowly up his leg. Her hand paused over the bulge in his crotch, framed nicely by the tight fit of his beige pants.


Amanda crawled onto the bed, her body hovering inches over Jon’s. She held herself there, allowing herself the luxury of admiring the man beneath her. He was effortlessly handsome; flint jawed and deeply tanned. He stood at least six foot tall and was in better shape than most men half his age. His full, dark hair was graying at the temples and laughter lines tugged at the corner of his eyes and wrinkled his forehead. None of these features detracted from his attractiveness in Amanda’s eyes. In fact, they only emphasized his air of distinguished handsomeness that she had fallen so hard for.


The gentle touch of Jon's breath was warm against her skin. The scent of coffee and natural sweat mixed pleasantly with his smokey aftershave. Amanda leaned in slowly, savoring the moment as she pressed her lips to Jon’s. It was a kiss she had spent countless nights fantasizing over. She pushed herself tightly against him, running a hand through his dark hair.


She ran her free hand down his body, relishing the feel of hard muscles as she reached his cock. Gentle rubbing over the fabric of Jon’s pants was enough to make him respond. She looked down at him, a wicked grin etched on her face.


It had taken so long for Amanda to reach this moment, she reminded herself not to rush. She wrapped his hand around hers. Jon's hand was strong and large enough to almost envelope Amanda’s. She could feel the callused skin courtesy of a life of real work brush roughly against her own.


Carefully, Amanda unclasped the large gold watch on Jon’s wrist. As she slipped it off, she caught the inscription engraved on the back of the expensive timepiece; ‘To my darling Husband, -’


Amanda threw the watch to the floor in disgust, not wanting to read the rest. She glared hard at Jon but he offered no reply. Angrily she removed his sweater for him. Doing so revealed a tanned body and a chest of coarse, dark hair. Amanda felt her smile slowly return.


Jon’s loafers and socks soon followed the sweater. As Amanda took a hold of his belt she heard the front door open and close.


“Jon? You home?”


It was his bitch wife. Cursing the tears of frustration suddenly welling in her eyes, Amanda turned back to Jon, risking the time to give him one last passionate kiss before running to her escape. As she lifted the bedroom window she stopped, suddenly remembering.


Amanda hurried back to the bed and lifted the chloroform soaked rag lying beside Jon’s unconscious body.


“See you soon,” she promised before rushing back to the window.