mixing business & pleasure . . .
|“Oh my god, where do you come up with this stuff?” she asked with a slightly embarrassed smile as I watched her read the last paragraph of my story.
We’d started out with some ordinary coffee room chit-chat, somehow gotten around to how she’d always wished she could write, and before I even knew I’d said it, I’d told her that I sometimes wrote erotic short stories. To my surprise, and unbelievable relief, her eyes lit up and she leaned forward and said, “Really?”
“Yah, sometimes. Y’know, I write real stuff too, but once in awhile . . .”
“You mean, like hard-core porn-magazine-letters stuff?” she interrupted.
I laughed a little, trying not to blush. “Yah, sometimes.”
A huge giddy smile crossed her face, curiosity lighting her light blue eyes. “You’ve got to let me read some.”
“No way!” I laughed again, stirring my coffee nervously, thoughts of office place harassment, general impropriety and, well, humiliation, flying through my mind. Some of the stuff I’d written was pretty fucking graphic, even more so than your typical porn-magazine letter. I knew she couldn’t look at me the same way after reading something of mine.
On the other hand, the thought of letting her read something, knowing it was mine, really turned me on. I’d always kinda had a thing for her. Not in a serious way, but still.
“C’mon, don’t be embarrassed, girls read that stuff too, ya know.” Something I already knew, but somehow enough to convince me.
She led me back to her cubicle, luckily located in a quiet corner of the office and I showed her the website where I’d posted my stories. She picked one out based on the title, which related to an office, and, both of us giggling like school kids in the back of the classroom, she started reading . . . and I watched her.
I can’t even tell you how hot it made me to watch her read my descriptions of hot wet sex happening in an office similar to the one we worked in together. My cock was instantly hard in my pants as I watched her expression change as she read on, watching her cross and re-cross her stockinged legs a time or two.
As she came to the end of the story, she turned in her chair and looked up at me, an awkward smile on her face and a light blush on her pale cheeks, “Where do you come up with this stuff?”
I laughed and shifted on my feet, trying to conceal the raging bulge in the crotch of my pants. “I don’t know.” I said. “Active imagination, I guess.”
She giggled and re-crossed her legs again. “Uh, yah!” she teased, “Real active!”
We both laughed, our laughs followed by an awkward silence as we looked at each other, both searching for something else to say.
“Well,” she managed, “I gotta get this report done before 5.”
“Yah, back to the grindstone.” I said stupidly.
I walked slowly away from her cube and, once out of her line of sight, made a b-line for the men’s room, thanked god in heaven that it was empty, barged into a stall and jacked myself off to the most intense orgasm I’d had in weeks, picturing her pretty face and her lovely curves in each of the stories I’d written, including the one I’d let her read.
As I walked out of the men’s room, cursing myself for an idiot and wondering how I’d ever even be able to make eye contact with her again, I spotted her coming out of the ladies room and quickly ducked behind a stack of file boxes. She was straightening her skirt and looked a little flushed, her hair slightly tousled, and I wondered if she’d had the same impulse that I’d just satisfied in the men’s room stall.
It wasn’t until a few weeks later that things, well, escalated.
It was an after-business-hours office party, one of many that required attendance between mid-November and the holiday, thrown by one of countless vendors to “thank us for our business,” or, more accurately, to prod us for more. This one was happening at the semi-posh tavern down the street from our offices, a place I normally avoided for the phony Irish atmosphere, the obnoxious plush seating and the $9 beers.
I hadn’t planned to see her there, hadn’t even really thought about running into her. In fact, since our exchange that day, our interaction had been surprisingly benign. We’d exchanged knowing, flirty smiles in the hallways for a few days, then gradually reverted back to our ordinary manners, though somewhat friendlier. For the most part, I’d almost forgotten that I’d given her a glimpse of something so private and intimate, a select few others had ever seen it. Almost.
I was trapped in a conversation with a lawyer I’d worked with some, a conversation that started out with a reasonably compelling discussion of the Yankees’ off-season strategy (keep A-Rod at any cost, dump Damon, beef up the bullpen, etc.) but somehow morphed into a bragging session relating how many defense verdicts he’d brought in for his other clients.
I caught her out of the corner of my eye, breaking away from what I imagined was an even more uncomfortable situation than my own, as her conversational assailant was not only badgering her with pitches and promises but standing awkwardly close and winking like he had a tic. I politely broke away from my lawyer friend, raising my empty bottle to signal I needed a refill and headed toward the bar.
She looked good. So good. Dressed professionally in a white blouse, the blazer presumably draped over the back of a chair somewhere, grey tight fitting business skirt, black stockings down to the deadly pointed black heels. As I approached from behind, watching as she leaned into the bar, cocktail in hand, I took in the gorgeous curve of her ass under the skirt, the outline of her bra under the thin material of her blouse and the perfect shape of her calves as she lifted one off the floor, letting her shoe dangle off her toes.
“You as miserable as I am?” I asked with a smile as I took a spot next to her at the bar.
She turned to face me, placing her free hand on her hip and gave me a warm smile. Then she downed what was left of her drink and practically slammed the glass down on the bar in front of me.
“Buy me a drink.” She demanded playfully, knowing, as I did, it was an open bar.
I laughed a little. “Glad to.” I said, raising my empty bottle to the passing barmaid and requesting another raspberry stoly, and a beer.
“Interesting conversation?” I teased, nodding back to the gentleman she’d broken away from, who, I realized, was still eying her greedily.
She made a face, then leaned closer to me as if to be heard over the noise, though it wasn’t particularly noisy, “If the fucker touched my arm one more time, I was gonna kick him in the balls.”
I winced playfully. “Aww, c’mon. You can’t blame the guy, the way you look tonight.”
Her jaw dropped in a mock-shocked expression, amusement lighting her eyes as she clasped a pretty white hand down on my shoulder and leaned in close. “Excuse me sir,” she taunted, “that’s sexual harassment.”
A couple things caused me to pause for a moment here. One, albeit a small one, was the enunciation of the phrase ‘sexual harassment’ which reflexively causes any white collar male to freeze in his steps, even if only for a moment. Also, I smelled the booze on her breath, sweet and warm, and realized she was a lot more drunk than she had appeared from a distance. Mainly though, it was the heavenly softness of her breast against my upper arm as she leaned into me that caused the room to suddenly go warm and my boxer-briefs to suddenly feel tight.
“No,” I managed after a moment, “that was a compliment. Besides, how d’you know I meant you looked ‘good’?” I covered, smiling flirtily.
She backed off a step, replacing her hand on her hip, sticking her chest out to me slightly and posing, “Shut up,” she said, “you know I look fucking hot. I know you’ve been checking me out.” She smiled; that inviting, drunk, flirty, playful smile every red-blooded male prays to come across every time he enters a bar, club, party, dentist’s office, supermarket, church . . . or just about any other place for that matter.
I turned to face her myself, placing my own hand on my hip in imitation, and let my eyes slowly tour down her body and back up until I met her eyes again, fixing mine with a sexy grin and a ‘fuck me’ stare.
“No comment.” I said and took a casual swig of my beer.
She laughed out loud and punched my arm. “Fuck you!” I laughed with her as I leaned forward on the bar again and she rested her arm over my shoulder, her tit pressed warmly against me again.
As the laughter started to fade and I rapidly considered the next move - hit another bar? offer to share a cab? walk her to . . .
My thoughts were interrupted by a cell phone on the bar which suddenly exploded in a muffled playback of some current pop trash tune. She picked it up and checked the caller ID. “Shit,” she mumbled, snapping the phone open and pressing it to her pretty ear. “Yah?” she spoke, seemingly trying to repress a tone of annoyance. “No, I told you I had this work thing tonight . . . just go without me, I’m . . . fuck, I can’t, I told you . . .” She pressed a finger into her other ear and walked away from the bar as she spoke into the phone. I cursed silently at the unknown caller as I watched her walk into a darkened corner of the place and I took another swig.
I waited at the bar a minute or two, maybe three or four, watching the barmaid pour drinks, and taking the occasional casual glance over my shoulder to find her agitatedly speaking into the small phone in the corner of the bar.
“Fuck.” I mumbled, taking my beer in hand and making my way toward the men’s room. The place had three or four tiny one-person unisex bathrooms. I found one unlocked and entered. I planted my beer on the sink and washed my hands as I wondered who the intrusive caller was. Probably the boyfriend. Probably telling her to get her ass home. Probably worried that she was out banging some guy from the office while he sits on the couch watching sportscenter. Probably . . .
“Fuck it.” I mumbled to myself as I shut the faucet and tore off a couple sheets of paper towel. Better off, I thought. Not a good idea to mess around at the office anyway. I tossed the paper towels away and was about to reclaim my beer when the door burst open, slamming my shoulder and sending me back up against the opposite wall of the tiny bathroom.
Stunned silent for a moment, I realized it was her as she slammed the door shut and locked it before turning to me with the sexiest stare I’ve ever encountered. It was all in her eyes. I’ve never desired, or been desired, as much or as badly as in that single fleeting moment and I’ve never been able to express anything as vividly as she did with that heartstopping glare.
She was on me a second later.
Her hot lips on mine, her hands sliding under my suit jacket around my back, pressing those perfect tits against my chest. I kissed back, my tongue finding hers as my hands slid down her sides, over her hips and down over her ass, pulling her tight to me, grinding my painfully hard cock into her as we kissed violently, my hands coming back up, grabbing the material of her blouse at her waist and pulling it free of her skirt as her hands slid down and gripped my ass hard, then came back out to quickly undo the buttons of her blouse, pulling it open to reveal the warm flesh of her breasts under the soft lace of her bra.
I pushed myself off the wall, wrapping one arm around her waist and roughly pulling one cup of her bra down, gripping her tit in my hand and greedily shoving it into my mouth a moment later, sucking the ripe pink bud into my mouth, letting my teeth clamp down on the hard nub as she gasped and her hands slid into my hair. “Oh god,” she moaned as my tongue traced wet circles around her nipple, “I fucking want you right now . . .”
I felt her hands firmly on my shoulders and she shoved me back against the wall, dropping to her knees in the same movement as her hands slid down to my belt and she quickly and viciously ripped my pants open. “I’ve been dreaming about this fucking cock for weeks,” she growled as she grabbed the waistband of my pants and underwear and ripped them down to my ankles, my solid cock springing free just in front of her pretty face.
I couldn’t believe how fucking hot I was for her. Feeling her hands on my body, and hearing her talk that way about my cock, when only as of a few weeks ago the most provocative conversation we’d had involved the impact of the sub-prime crisis on the insurance market.
I let out a deep growl as she gripped my aching hard prick in her pretty little white hand and shoved it into her warm, wet mouth. “Oh god,” I moaned as my hands slid into her soft hair and she sucked fiercely on my thick meat, her lips sliding up and down, working more of my pulsing cock into her face each time. “Ah fuck yessss,” I hissed.
She pulled my cock from her lips with a wet pop and glared up at me, breathless, “God, that fucking dick feels so good in my mouth,” then shoved it back in again, sucking harder now, slurping sounds emanating from her lips as she worked me like a pro. I pumped my hips, gently fucking her face as she took me deeper, my hands clenching into fists in her hair as the head of my cock hit the back of her throat, gagging herself of my raging dick, then pulling her face back and off again. She looked up at me again, gasping and pumping my spit-wet cock in her hand. I pulled her to her feet with my grip in her hair and kissed her hard as she continued to jack me off against her smooth white belly.
She broke off suddenly, breaking the kiss and releasing my cock. She bent over and braced herself with one hand on the sink. She reached back and deftly pulled her wool skirt up around her hips, showing me her perfect round ass, barely concealed by a white lace thong.
“Come and get some.” She taunted, clutching the sink with both hands as I moved closer, slowly stroking my aching dick. I let one hand slide over the cool white skin of her ass as I thumped my cock against her cheeks with the other, leaving warm streaks of pre-cum and her own saliva on her ass. “Ahh, yeah, that’s it, nasty motherfucker!” she growled, making my dick jump in my fist.
I slid two fingers under the back of her thong and brought them down, pulling the material from the crack of her sweet ass and pulling the soaked crotch of her panties aside, exposing the most luscious, and dripping wet, pink snatch I’d ever laid eyes on.
“Oh fuck,” I groaned as I squatted behind her, heart pounding, breath short, as I spread the cheeks of her ass to take in the full view, the tight pucker of her asshole, just above the heavenly pink flesh of her cunt. I moved in, shoving my hot tongue between the swollen lips of her pussy and gliding slowly up to the pink star of her asshole, flicking my tongue across it as I brought a hand up and buried two thick fingers in her dripping hole.
“Oh my god yessss!” she growled, teeth clenched in ecstasy, “That’s it, stick your fucking tongue in my ass!” My cock pulsed as she spit out the filthy plea. She reached back and lay a clean, sharp slap on her own ass as I alternated between her ass and her cunt. Taking her cue, I gave her another myself, slapping her ass hard and loud as I sucked her clit between my lips. “Oh holy fuck, I’m gonna cum on your fucking face!” she squealed.
I pulled away and climbed to my feet, my mouth dripping with her warm girl cream. I glared at her in our reflection in the mirror just above the sink as I teased her dripping hole from behind with the hot head of my prick, “No way honey, you’re gonna cum on my fucking cock.” I said as I rocked my hips forward, impaling her instantly on my throbbing meat, splitting her tight pussy open in one savage thrust, watching with interest as her face twisted in the most perfect picture of ecstasy and she let out a primal scream of pleasure.
With my cock buried to the balls in her wet heat, I reached forward and clasped a hand over her mouth. “Shut the fuck up,” I ordered, a playful smile on my lips, “the whole fucking place is gonna hear you.”
She angrily pulled my hand away from her mouth and brought it down around her throat. “Let them,” she answered breathlessly, “Don’t be a pussy, fuck me hard!” she said to me in the mirror.
Now it was my face that read sheer ecstasy. My hand closed gently around her throat, my other hand gripped firmly on the soft flesh of her hip, I reared back and let her have another, slamming my cock home so hard she lurched forward.
“Oh fuck yeah! That’s it! Fucking give it to me!”
And I did, holding her body in place as I rut into her deep and hard, giving her every last inch over and over again, feeling tiny spasms of mini-ogasms in her tight cunt as I fucked her like an animal in the wild.
“I read your story again,” she spoke hoarsely as I fucked her, “and then I read it again, sitting in front of my computer at home, playing with my pussy until I came all over my fingers . . .”
Holy fuck, she knew just how to make me wild. I released her throat and brought both hands to rest on her hips so I could really let her have it, gripping her tight under the bunched material of her skirt.
“But it wasn’t enough . . .” she continued, staring at me in the mirror as she watched me fuck her from behind, my balls bouncing violently off her clit as I gave her everything I had.
“I had to get my vibrator out . . .”
My grip on her hips tightening, fingers digging into her soft flesh . . .
“and fucked myself ‘till I came hard and wet . . .”
Watching my cock slip and slide in and out of her tight pink hole . . .
“pretending it was your cock fucking me . . .”
My hips slapping loudly against the smooth flesh of her ass . . .
“imagining it was my tits covered in your thick warm cum . . .”
Glaring at her in the mirror, skirt bunched around her hips as I slammed into her from behind, her blouse ripped open, one tit hanging free of her bra, her eyes locked on mine in the reflection . . .
“Oh fuck, I’m . . . Aaaaggh!!” I howled, burying my thick pulsing meat inside her as my orgasm tore through me like a storm, my fingers bruising her soft hips as my grip impossibly tightened on her sweet body, exploding inside her, feeling my cock spurt torrents of hot white seed deep in her cunt.
The pulsing heat of my exploding cock set off her own orgasm, her body lurching forward again with my final savage thrust. She bent her head down as her tight hot pussy exploded around my cock, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the sink for dear life, she didn’t make a sound, her breath stopped as she ground her cunt backward on my flesh pole and her orgasm ripped from her pussy up her spine like lightning.
“That’s it baby, cum all over that fucking cock for me.” I whispered breathlessly, letting one hand slide gently up into her hair, pulling her pretty face back up into the mirror, she let loose a scream that told the story as her heavenly heat spasmed around me, milking me for every last drop.
It passed as suddenly as it came and she put her head down again, breathing hard and fast, her chest heaving as I felt a warm mix of my own cum and her slick cunt juice spill from around my cock and drip down her thighs and off my balls onto the floor of the bathroom.
She suddenly stood upright and turned, flashing me that pretty smile, my still hard cock slipping easily from her freshly-fucked pussy. Before I could say a word, she slid her thumbs into the waistband of her damp, ruined lace panties and pulled them down and off. Holding them in her hand, she dropped to her knees, grabbing my still hard and fuck-wet cock and licking every last drop of our sex off it. With her tongue gliding over my slick cock, she dapped her panties against her still glistening cunt to mop up the last remnants of her own juices and, as I watched her, sighing and groaning in ecstasy, she stuffed the sodden thong into the pocket of my suit jacket, grinning evilly as she cleansed my heavy balls with her tongue, staring up at me with those pretty eyes all the while.
“Oh holy fuck,” I groaned, spent and exhausted, and couldn’t help leaning back against the wall as she lapped up every last drop, savoring the warm ecstasy of her tongue all over me.
Finally, she lifted herself to her feet, grinning wide as she stroked my softening dick in her hand, her skirt still bunched neatly around her waist, and pressed her body to mine as I let my hands fall gently on her hips.
“So,” she said softly, licking her lips, “think you’ll write a story ‘bout this?”
She laughed, and I laughed too.
“Yeah. I think you can count on it.”