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.