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…