Flash of the Forbidden: My First Vision of Solange’s Body
Her office chair cradles me. Solange just left to change after her run. Door clicks shut next door. Heart thuds already. Deep breaths, like she taught. Focus on last session. The photo of Laure fades. Emptiness fills my head. No turning back now. This concentration pulls me under.
Sweat beads on my neck. What if memories flood wrong? Or nothing? Legs tense. Cock stirs faintly—traitor. Eyes shut tight. Visualize her voice, her calm face. Then it hits. Flash one: Solange bent over sink. Water splashes her cheeks. Hands braced. Ass thrusts back. Leggings hug every curve. Firm cheeks part slightly. Sweat darkens the fabric between. Pulse races. Unknown territory. My hand twitches to touch, but it’s mind only. Breath quickens. Fear spikes—wrong? Dirty? But desire surges. No wife memories, just this fresh hunger.
The Approach
Deeper I sink. No escape. Second flash explodes. She’s upright now. Mirror reflects. Hands gather hair into a ponytail. Body bare but for lingerie. White lace panties, sheer. Climb her calves—toned. Knees soft-padded. Thighs thick, muscled. Ass round, high. Brocade heart gleams gold above the waistband. Front view in mirror: small tits perk in matching bra. Nipples shadow through. Pubic shadow teases below. Real as touch. Cock hardens fully. Pre-cum wets my pants. Heart hammers chest. First time seeing a stranger so raw. Innocence cracks— this power awakens something feral.
The Instant
Eyes snap open. Reality slams back. Five minutes pass. Door opens. Solange enters, tailored now. Chic blouse, pants hide it all. But I know. Gaze drops to her crotch. Imagined lace burns in mind. She sits close. ‘Ready?’ Voice steady, mine shakes. Spill it. The visions. Her ass, panties detail. She stiffens. ‘Broderie dorée en forme de cœur?’ Shock widens eyes. ‘That’s exactly what I just put on.’ No peephole. Real. Perturbed flush on cheeks. Trust me, she says. But air thickens with tension. My cock throbs still.
Session drags. Work on photos. Useless. Her scent lingers—fresh shower. Every glance stirs flashes. End nears. ‘Monday next.’ I nod. Drive home buzzing. Hide from Laure. Wife’s body? Routine, dull. Solange? Electric unknown. Innocence gone. This peek opened doors—crude, visceral want. No more vanilla. Heart still races nights. Await her office. Next flash? Closer? Skin to fantasy.
