Once apon a time on an office desk not so far away

It’s lunch time, I have my feet propped up on my desk and you have just interrupted me. I had been reading a dirty romance novel. My favourite.

The heroine has just seduced the hero in a rather well told piece of smutty story telling. I’m a little damp in a secrets girl’s place. And now YOU come knocking on my door asking a question that will require major re-routing of the blood back to the brain. Kill joy.

We haven’t talked much since the conference room incident but it’s far from forgotten. Ever since that day, each time catch a glimpse of you walking down the halls, I get a visceral flashback and I can feel you moving inside me again. My office is a dangerous place for you to be.

You watch me calmly; your blue eyes disconcertingly clear. I can’t read you at all.

“What are you reading?”

“Smutt. What do you want?” I hope you’ll say, you, and I’m distracted momentarily by a vision of you and me on my desk. When I begin to pay attention to you again, it becomes clear I have missed something. I chew on my lip while I contemplate my options. I could tell you I wasn’t listening, or I could fake it and go with what you probably said. The latter option seems the most prudent. The report we are working on for the investor meeting tops the list of likely things we would discuss. I had emailed you my presentation idea the day before and so I go with that.

“Did you like it?”

“Very much so!”

“Well, I was a little bold.”

“Bold is good. I like bold.”

“I worried you might think it too, ummm….. sexy?”

“Too sexy?” You are smiling at me like I’m missing something.

“Yes, too sexy for the investors.” You smile becomes a grin and I’m beginning to wonder if we are talking about the same thing. You walk around the desk and lean against it. Your hip bumps my calf. A zing of excitement wings its way across my skin. Suddenly I’m hyper aware of you, your presence, your smell. I’m aware what I’m wearing, my favourite casual brown skirt, it’s long and flowing, with strategic splits to allow glimpses of leg when I walk, and how it feels on my skin. And I’m aware of my relaxed position, with my feet up on my desk.

I’m tempted to take down my feet but I’m damned if I’ll give you the satisfaction of seeing me uncomfortable. As if on cue, my skirt slips revealing a long expanse of leg. I reach down to pull the fabric up around my legs.

You let me get settled, then with a half smile, tug the corner of my skirt causing the fabric to slide away again.

“You weren’t talking about the presentation I emailed you? Were you?”

Your eyes travel along my legs, up my body, before resting on my breasts.

“No.” You pick up one of my feet, placing it on the other side of you. You are now standing between my legs, resting on the desk. Your hands run up my legs, pushing the skirt away in front of them. I’m sure you must be able to see my underwear; my damp underwear.

“Ah. When did you know I hadn’t any idea what you were talking about?”

“I knew you weren’t listening to me right away. You asked what I wanted. I said, “You. I’m ready for the next chapter in our story” and you didn’t register anything at all.”

“Maybe I was playing it cool.” Cool?! It must be about a million degrees in here. My skin feels like it’s on fire. My cheeks are probably bright red but from lust, not embarrassment.

A raised eyebrow indicates you aren’t buying it either.

“Fine, I had a vision of you and me on the desk and I got distracted.” I wave my hand at the desk, hoping I sound vaguely coherent. My thoughts are refusing to me marshaled and I swear even though I’m giving off enough heat to melt a small polar ice cap, I can still feel the heat of your body between my legs.

“Take off your underwear. I’ll be right back.”

You carefully place my feet on the floor and cross the office to lock the door. I scoot up my hips, and slide off my undies. When you hold out your hand, I drop them in your palm. You pocket them and resume your position leaning against my desk. “Put your legs back up on the desk.”

For once, I feel self conscious but I can’t seem to find any small part of me that wants to say no, so I do as I’m asked. Thanking the powers that be that I shaved all the way up this morning, I rest my feet each side of you and let my knees fall open.

You smile. “Very nice.”

“Glad you approve.”

“Touch yourself. I want to watch you turn yourself on.”

I’m already so turned on we could have sex right now and I’d be ready, but the idea is appealing, so once again I do as I’m asked. Using two fingers of my right hand I gently start to tease my clitoris; rubbing in small circles.

Immediately, I feel it in my core. Sharp tugs of desire. I close my eyes, focusing on the feeling as it grows, swelling inside me, pushing aside everything else until only need remains. I can make myself come so quickly and efficiently this way, I have to remind myself to slow down. While I don’t imagine you’d complain if I made myself orgasm, I’d like to come with you inside me.

Using the edge of the desk, I unhook the strap of my shoe and let it fall to the floor. I run my foot between your legs, up to your crotch. With my toes, I trace the shape of your hardening dick.
And then I massage your balls with the ball of my foot. You separate your legs a little further, allowing my foot to slip between your legs and pressing on your ass. Shocked, your eyes snap open. I smirk. Like most men you find ass play shocking and yet you like it.

Whatever expression you see on my face, you take as a challenge, pushing my foot away you turn around and sweep all the stuff on my desk off to one side. Several items fall to the floor, causing a ruckus. It’s a bold and utterly thrilling move. My breath is caught in my throat, I try to listen to see if anyone outside heard the noise but I can’t hear a damn thing over the hammering of my heart.

When you turn back, I am already on my feet, pressed up against you. I’m fumbling with your belt and trying to pull my skirt up and kiss you all at the same time. The only thing I’m getting right is the kissing. It’s hot and urgent and demanding. I want you very much and I want you now.

You pick me up and I wrap my legs around your waist, turning around you drop me onto the desk unceremoniously. It hurts a little but that’s not always a bad thing. Besides, you have taken over undoing your own belt and pants and are doing a far more efficient job than I. Not only do you already have your pants undone but because you are standing so close to me, I could feel the purposeful movements of your hands on my inner thighs and it only added to my urgency.
I scoot closer, wrapping my legs around you again. I can feel the heat of your dick on my pussy.

“Fuck me!” I’m frustrated and getting grumpy. You push me back down on to the desk, lean over to kiss me and simultaneously drive into me. Instinctively, I tighten my legs around you, holding you fast.

“Like that?” We are both a little breathless. I’m wriggling on the desk, trying to get closer. I want more of you. I hold onto the edge of the desk so when you thrust into me again I don’t slide away. I want everything you have and more.

“No! Harder.”

You pull out and plunge back into me; hard and fast and desperate. Again and again. Each time you thrust I have to stifle a cry. I’m trying to remember there are people around, but the idea only turns me on even more.

“Hard enough?” You pant.

“No! I. Want. More.” Our eyes are locked, it’s a challenge. You pull open my shirt, yank my bra aside, and pinch my nipple. Not very gently either. I suck in my breath. I’m losing my center; losing my mind. I let it go, concentrating on the building of pressure inside me. It’s all I can do to hang on to the desk.

You replace your hand on my breast with your tongue. I arch my back, pushing more of my breast into your mouth. You suck hard and I do cry out. In response, you put your hand over my mouth. I feel my orgasm flower, growing, building.

“I’m going to come.” You tell me. With your hand still firmly clamped over my mouth, all I can do is nod. I clench my muscles around your dick, willing you deeper. You are fucking me relentlessly; driving so deep into me, I can feel you grind against my cervix. Each thrust builds another layer of intensity to the orgasm that’s still a fraction out of reach.

Then you come. You hold still, deep inside me and I feel each spasm of your dick as you empty yourself into me, I feel the heat of your cum, I hear the guttural sound you make when your orgasm hits, and it all pushes me over the edge. I come hard and fast. Heat exploding inside my core; engulfing me.

As the contractions of my orgasm fade, I begin to take stock. My office looks like a tornado blew through. There’s paperwork, pens and my desk lamp on the floor, and my keyboard is dangling from its wire. I’m soaked in sweat, and so are you. You are still hard inside my pussy and I want you to stay there all day, but I hear suspicious silence from outside the door. We need to move.

I let go of the desk, my fingers are stiff and sore from gripping so tightly.

“You have to go.” I say, although speaking is a little difficult because it requires thought and there isn’t enough oxygen in my brain to string more than a couple of words together.

“I know.” You pull out. I feel your cum dripping between my legs and wonder why I like that feeling so much. “We never have time to do this right. Next time we go slow.” You lean down and whisper in my ear. “Next time, I want to taste you.”

Next time! Already my heart rate is going back up. You obviously know this as while you get dressed you continue to tease me by spinning me the story of what will happen “next time”.
When you are gone. I clean up my desk, replacing the items swept onto the floor in our urgency. Urgency is fun and thrilling, but next time you promised to go slow and slow is good too. I get the sudden urge to taste myself on your lips and vow that next time is going to be very soon indeed.

Things you should not be thinking about your coworkers...

Once upon a time in a conference room not so far away......

It is an informal meeting, just the two of us, the day is drawing to close but the most recent sales figures need to be put into perspective for the investor meeting later this month. Sales figures are not high on my list of things I want to talk about on the Friday before a long weekend, but the big boss wants a draft explanation by Wednesday morning, so sales figures is what we are discussing.

We are talking, and while yes, I am concentrating on what you are saying, I’m also thinking about how good you look. How much more fun this discussion would be over a few beers at the local watering hole. And how your eyes sparkle when you are talking about something that interests you. Although, I do sometimes worry about you; it’s not natural for a man to get so excited about market share percentage and the global economic climate. All I really need from you is how you want the report to look. That’s my job, I’ll make it visually appealing and easy to read; you get to explain the ramifications of the numbers listed. That’s all I need from you, but it’s not all I want from you.

You talk with your hands. I enjoy watching the patterns they make in the air. You have long, slender fingers, which appear to be at once strong and delicate. They mark the rhythm of the conversation as a conductor measures the music of an orchestra. You are conducting your own conversation, I smile.

A thought crosses my mind. A thought involving those fingers playing through my hair, down my neck, across my breasts… This thought is followed very quickly by another. It occurs to me how easy it would be to stand up, walk the two steps separating us, slide my skirt up my thighs and straddle your lap. The chair you are sitting on is the perfect height, width, and if it weren’t for the damned fixed chair arms, I would be able to lower myself right onto your lap; to be able to feel the cool texture of your jeans on my inner thighs, the roughness of your zipper, and hopefully (if you hadn’t leapt up, horrified by my boldness and thrown me to the floor) a hardening mass inside your jeans.

In my fantasy, the chair arms are gone and you aren’t horrified; sure, you are shocked, your breath is caught in your throat and you are stunned into frozen immobility for a good ten or fifteen seconds, but then, as you release your breath you run your hands up my thighs and cup my ass. Those long, strong fingers dig into my flesh as you pull me closer.

I feel your hot breath on the skin exposed by the deep v-neck of on my dress. I tilt your face up and kiss you; a very soft kiss, no tongue, more of a brushing of my lips over yours. This is the first time we have ever kissed. I can smell and taste the mint of your recently disposed of gum.

Something shifts in your pants, I smile into your mouth. There is very little fabric, only your jeans and my thin lace panties, separating us. I can feel your erection very clearly pressing on my clitoris. And as little fabric as there is, it’s too much.

I want. I want you. I want your hands on my breasts, your dick deep inside me, your tongue in my mouth, your cum... I want it all. I stand up, do a little panty removing shimmy and drop them on the floor. You look past me to the glass wall of the conference room, I can almost see you calculate the lateness of the day, how many people are left in your department, the timing of the security guard’s rounds… you look back up at me and beckon, patting your lap. I grin.

Standing back astride you, I pull your shirt from the waistband of your jeans and unbutton them. You brush the back of your hand up the inside of my leg. When I feel you make contact with the exposed, hyper sensitive flesh between my legs, I suppress a shiver. Your fingers find my clitoris and oh, so gently you begin to tease me. I feel myself getting wet, it’s a good feeling; the beginning of a release I know is to follow, I hope it’s to follow!

I quickly unhook the buttons on your shirt, letting it fall to side exposing your chest and stomach. In my imagination grey and blond hair is sprinkled over your chest, thinning to almost nothing over your stomach but with a faint line disappearing into your pants. A treasure trail my friend calls it. I spread my hands across your chest, my little fingers brushing your nipples. I have no idea if you like this, but exploration is half the fun and I figure it’s my fantasy and so you’ll like whatever it is I want you to like. And you like this. Your breath shortens, and you close your eyes for just a second. When I slide my hand down your pants they snap back open. I snake my hand around your dick to your balls, stroking until they tighten in my hand.

You lift your hips and between us we work your jeans down enough to free your erection. I am not disappointed by your size. ;-) It seems you will fill me nicely. I wonder how you taste.

“May I?” I ask, waving a hand in the direction of your midsection.

“Please do.” You scoot a little further down in the seat. I kneel between your legs. You have lovely legs; strong, muscular, you must play bike ride or play soccer or something because they are very nicely defined. Face to face, or head to head, with your dick, I encircle the base of your dick in my hand. I can feel the heat of you on my lips; my breath caresses you.

Your eyes close and a sigh escapes your lips as I run my tongue from base to tip and when I take you into my mouth, your head falls back on the chair. You taste sweet, clean, good. I enjoy the slick heat of your hardness sliding past my tongue as I swallow more of you. Now it’s my turn to tease you and I do.

I’m acutely aware of the fact I have no underwear on. Every current of air moving between my legs heightens my awareness. Sometimes, I’ll wear no under wear to work, just so I can feel this freedom throughout the day. Now, though, I’m beginning to feel like I need something between my legs again and I’m pretty sure it’s you. I release you and kiss my way back up your stomach, making a detour to play with your nipples. They harden satisfactorily under my tongue. Your breath is coming faster now, and you make very gratifying noises when I touch you.

With me sitting astride you again we kiss once more, a long deep kiss, your tongue rolls over mine. Your hand is on my ass again, this time when you pull me closer, I feel the head of your dick press into me. I’m wet enough that I can slide right down your shaft. I do this slowly, relishing the feeling of being stretched, filled completely. I love feeling that first push into me, of me opening up around you, welcoming you in, taking you deep into my core. I hold for a second, adjusting to your size.

You push the sleeves of my dress down over my shoulder. You trace your fingers over the top of my breast. My bra is flimsy and easily pulled aside freeing my breasts, which spill into your hands, my nipples harden between your fingers. I close my eyes as you suck one nipple into your hot mouth. I arch my back offering you more and begin to rock my hips. The combined feeling of your dick moving inside me and your mouth and hands on my tits, makes my heart race and I’m sure my skin is hot to the touch. I feel like I am burning up. I want, I need, I must have. Pressure is building inside me.

“Is this working for you?” I just about manage to ask. I’m close to not caring if it’s working for you. It sure as hell is working for me and I figure if it isn’t working for you, after I come, we can do whatever it is you need to push you over the edge.

You nod and so I continue to rock my hips, sliding up and down your dick. When you are in deep, I do a circular motion with my hips, grinding down on to you. My insides are liquid; a warm liquid sexual arousal. I can smell my own excitement.

I find my clitoris and start to rub. You place your fingers on mine, following my movements and then push my hand away to take over. I return the favour by reaching around to massage your balls. A very pleasing groan comes from deep inside you. Your breath comes in short sharp pants, but I can’t imagine mine is any calmer. Your balls are tight and hard in my hand.
We kiss again. I’m close. The orgasm has been building quickly. The head of your dick is hitting something inside me that feels like it’s setting off a hundred tiny pleasure shocks. My happy spot. I rock a little harder and a little faster, I’m reaching for something; the oblivion that comes with a good orgasm.

“I’m going to come if you keep that up.”

“Good. So am I.” I’m at the peak; there is a momentary pause before the world falls away and my orgasm hits. I come hard and fast convulsing around your dick and you gasp, push up your hips, burying yourself as deep into me as is possible and let go too.

This is the fantasy I had while you were talking about your sales figures. I’m a little over-heated. The idea of having sex with you here in the conference room, of smelling and tasting of you for the rest of the day is very distracting. I hope I remember enough of what you said to create a decent report presentation. Maybe we will have to meet a few more times before I get it exactly as you want it, and maybe next time we meet, I’ll leave off my underwear…