Another long one at the office. They just keep throwing these projects at our department, of course, while demonstrating no regard whatsoever for the fact that time is a finite thing. It pays well, which somehow is just enough to keep us here despite the fact that the other branches clearly have no respect for the level of expertise we have in our fields. Resume building is hard work.
He comes in from his office and closes the door; despite the late hour, you never know when there's a perked ear waiting for dirt, and we do enjoy commiserating over the ineptitude of our coworkers. I embrace the chance for a moment to clear my head. Well, perhaps 'clearing my head' wouldn't be an appropriate term, as the sight of him doesn't exactly wipe my mind's eye …clean. But he's certainly a welcome distraction. The comfortable clothing he wears allows the physicality required for his work, and it drapes off of the lines of his body, suggesting lithe musculature. I find it difficult to not hold his gaze longer than appropriate.
Professionalism sucks. I may have had a ken for coworkers in the past, back when I worked in bars, turnover was high, and the average employee was hired at least partly due to level of attractiveness or physical fitness. Back when alcohol flowed freely after hours, and inhibitions were consequently diminished. But I worked my ass off to get out of that, here I am, and I'll be damned if I'm going to jeopardize that over getting laid.
But he's sitting down now in my office mate's vacated chair, and my, do I find myself wishing for a little wine. I always liked the sensous feel of a wine buzz. There's just something about it that makes my skin sing, that makes me enjoy the experience of my own body. As I recall the sensations, I curve my spine inward, feeling my vertebrae align, and imagine his hands running down either side as he pulls me to him. I look down and smirk slightly, drawing my knees up to my chest. He can't read my mind, this is harmless. And I honestly have no intentions of acting on these thoughts. Think away, girl, it's been too long.
We discuss theory and strategies on the surface, while I allow my inner thoughts to delve deeper into the realm of the unprofessional. He clearly appreciates the degree of insight and knowledge that I bring to the table, and this itself is more intoxicating than a double shot of any liquor. I imagine my fingers trailing down, and I catch his eye with a sideways glance. An eyebrow raises in return with an accompanying smirk, and I am jolted back to reality. Get it together. Shaking my head ever so slightly, I stand, make some remark as to the hour, and lean towards my monitor to turn it off.
A hand. On my back, there is a hand. His skilled fingertips press into the small of my back, resting on bare skin, sliding my sweater up, as my own hand freezes on the desk. My body immediately responds – my spine arches, eyes narrow, sharp intake of breath. I turn my head, and only allow myself to view him through the periphery. I can't move for some reason – I don't want him to continue, but I certainly don't want him to stop. This is so …wrong. His fingers slowly continue their travel, smoothly tracing my body, and return to curve up my side. I begin to stand, to say his name, to stop this, but his hands are gripping my shoulders as he lifts me to sit on the desk. In one movement, his left hand is entangled in my hair, pulling my head back, as his right moves between my knees. My own hands are on his chest, and they aren't fighting, they're feeling – he feels so warm. Firm. Real.
He pulls to me, tilts my head, and smells my neck, deeply breathing me in. His body is between my legs now, and I mold to him as my legs wrap around; I am wonderfully aware of my calves, of the arches of my ankles, as I feel him. His shoulders, his arms, his grip, his scent, I am blessedly awash in masculinity. I take his face in my hands, and meet his heavily-lidded gaze. Oh, my self control has never been stellar… well, I've gone this far. Kisses fall onto my chest as my fingers graze through his hair. I can feel him against me, hard, insistent. I cannot wait to see what he has for me.
My sweater is pulled down, my breasts exposed through the neckline. He leans back, admiring the view, and traces a finger down my sternum, smirking again. I move forward, off of the desk, to stand on my feet, and pull the shirt over and off of my head. I meet his eyes again as I shake my mass of curly hair free, move forward, push him up against the wall, and undo his pants.
This is my favorite part. Flattening my hand, palm towards his tensed stomach, I slowly slide my fingertips down, past the band of his boxers, into the soft, dense hair, until I finally feel the base of his cock. I wrap my fingers underneath, sliding forward to the tip, feeling his length, the thickness. His intake of breath sweetens the sensation as my thumb slides over the drop of precum I seek, and I glide it in a circular motion. He is going to taste so good. Has he ever wondered about whether I like to suck dick? I won't make him wonder much longer. He pulls my hand away and pushes me into my office chair. Maybe a little longer, I think, as he kneels and strips my pants off. He kisses my inner thighs as my legs drape themselves over his shoulders. His lips are as soft as I imagined them to be, so many times, and he begins slowly. His hands are holding my waist delicately but firmly as he works, and I can barely stand it, I'm so ready. I want him inside of me so very badly… but I can wait a little longer, still.
I pull him upwards, help him to stand, and come to my knees in front of him. His eyes are hazy, and I hold them with my own as I slide down his pants. He is rock hard, and his cock springs out as he holds onto a desk for support. I make sure my tongue is nice and wet, and, beginning at the base, I lick from the underside up to the tip, tasting his slippery precum as I finish. I do love the sound of the breathing while I do this – it's like a roadmap of the sensations experienced. I feel myself getting more and more aroused as I go, pushing his length down past my gag reflex, listening to him, and I almost come from this alone.
Suddenly, almost abruptly, he pulls me off of him. I love this as well, the knowing how crazed I can make him. We finally kiss, deeply and urgently, as he turns and leans me into the chair. I reach for his cock again, sliding him over myself, until it is slick. I grip him firmly, loving the weight of it, and slip the head over my clit, into my body.
That moment of penetration is my other favorite, of course. The feel of that ridge where the head meets the shaft, as it enters for the first time, almost like a 'pop.' It's just magic. My body rocks to meet his in rhythm, and he is hitting that magic angle that some men manage so much better than others. The chair becomes a bit awkward, though, so we take it to the floor, and he turns my back to him as we kneel. My back is against him as he holds my neck and runs his other hand down my front, down to my pussy, before bending me over onto all fours, my back arches again. One hand moves to my hair, pulling it towards him, as he pulls my hips backward and enters me even more firmly than before. The heat between us builds as the heat within my body does as well. We fall into a steady rhythm, and his fingers deftly attend to me as we go. I'm very close, and ask him to keep going. He continues, I tighten, dripping wetness and crying out almost desperately as I lower my shoulders right down to the floor, breath heaving. I allow him to roll me onto my back, and wrap my still-quaking legs around him once more. There's that penetration again, oh god, he's so fucking hard and thick, his brows are so tight, he tastes so goddamn good, I'm biting his shoulder, there's that spot, I just want to be within and around and everywhere and here we go again, and he's coming, I feel it filling me up, spurts of heat and warmth, he's sweaty and his lips are on my neck and the sounds that men make at times such as these are so addictively dear and perfectly everything.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/2pv4en/resume_building_mf