In the city streets sensation was easy to come by and hard to make last. Easy givings were often misgivings to never hold again. The hard edges and the soft corners. The sad look in the eyes of people. The fear of walking alone at night. In the city, sensation was everywhere and yet nowhere together. It beat in the walls of the dance clubs and longed for in the hearts of the lonely.
Even something as simple as smoking a cigarette was some sort of feeling, and a man was standing outside an office building in the night, pulling and breathing out sensation. He kept to himself from the people around him and drew his arms together just the same. In the high of a Saturday night, people walked the sidewalks and crossed the street, cars buzzed past with the windows down blasting the latest song over the radio. Madonna was everywhere, holding the world by the throat. No matter where you went, the sensual sensation of her voice poured from the windows of homes and from the radios of passing cars and walking people.
Such a song came and went in a moment and the man tossed the burning end of his cigarette out into the gutter. The cool air of the city night was an easy break. He pushed back in the metal door and walked through the stuffy carpet hallway. The elevator took him back up to the seventeenth floor. The panelled wood walls and red carpet were a shorthand familiar. He walked back inside the office. Only a few lights were on, compared to the hustle of the day, and he sat down at his typist desk.
“Got your fix?”
He looked back over. Another writer was up with him in the night hours. Sandra was a beauty and a damn good journalist. Both of them were behind on their stories for the Monday print. It had been a late night going in and was turning into a late night going out.
“Yeah.” He said casually, pulling up to the typewriter and resuming with renewed force back where he’d left. The sweet sensation of the night air had cleared his head. A shooting had led to argumentative legislature. It was a drag to write about without sounding like.a history book. Really, that’s where the story belonged.
“I’m going nowhere fast with this still. What about you?” He asked, putting his head in one hand.
“I’m not getting anywhere if you keep taking a smoke break and asking me about it.” Sandra said with a little air in her voice. They’d worked together for a while. He could tell when she was messing with him. She was a little blonde cutlet and he had always felt a sensation when they worked together, or just shared days at the office.
Out the window, the skyscrapers blinked and shone in the city lights.
“Don’t you think we should be out there, you know, living our lives?” He asked. This article was going nowhere fast. Sandra paused for a minute, her typewriter finally coming to a silent stop.
“Well, James, no. I think our lives are going on in here.” She said, and the typing resumed. “But rest assured, your life will go on out there if you don’t have that story on Dan’s desk in the morning.”
She was right. But it was getting so hard to write. He did what he thought would right it by trying to take another swing at it. Another hour went right on by and he eventually leaned back. The pack of cigarettes felt heavy in his shirt pocket.
“I feel like we’re going to be here all night.” James stood up and walked around to her desk. “Why is yours taking so long?” He asked, leaning on the steel and formica desk.
Sandra looked up at him. She had sharp blue eyes that seemed to tap right into his soul.
“Mine,” she said kind of defensively, “is taking so long because I want to make sure it’s right.” Sandra looked back to her typewriter. James could see she had a whole stack of copy pages regarding the story. “Africa is experiencing a lot of food and water shortages under Apartheid. It’s a difficult angle.” Her concern was heartfelt, and only showed by how she was still working on the story at half past midnight.
“Yours is taking so long because it’s terminally boring.” She said, looking back up at him with a wry smile. He crossed his arms and looked away in a huff.
“Yeah, it is pretty boring.” He said, taking out the pack of cigarettes and tapping it on the bottom in preparation.
“Are you really going to take another smoke break? You’ll never get anything done.” She said, giving him a disapproving look. James could only shrug.
“If I don’t blow off some steam, I’ll never finish.” He said, still looking idly out the window. He almost jumped, but his heart rate still spiked, as he felt an unexpected hand on the inside of his thigh.
“Ohh, tense are we?” She said, still looking up at him as he looked back down on her. Her nimble fingers were curled around the inside of his leg and held there. “You could blow off some steam and not go mingle with the citizens of the streets.”
Sandra slid her hand up his thigh and grabbed his crotch with her palm, giving his package a firm squeeze. James was frozen, his heart audibly beating hard in his chest. His eyes worked down Sandra’s prim white shirt, gears switched to trying to get a glance to her breasts. Her eyes trailed him, and she unbuttoned the top two little white buttons. Her cream bra was visible, along with a salacious curve of her chest.
His tools started to grow more firm and full in the cup of her hand, and she squeezed him again.
“What do you say, James? Skip your smoke break for once?”
He shifted off her desk and met her in a kiss, as she stood up out of her chair to meet him. Their sensations mixed as Sandra pressed her firm body on his, the frame of the young woman a welcome and erotic pressure. He wrapped her up in his arms as her tongue slipped between his lips.
One of her fingers hooked the collar of his shirt and push-pulled, bringing the two of them to the floor with Sandra on top. His hands trailed and found one on her skirt, squeezing a little futilely. The pencil skirt was a bit thick, and as they kissed James felt for the zipper. Her lips were heavenly soft and the inside of her mouth tasted like sweet saccharine. He knew she had a penchant for little life-saver candies, and a few wrappers were empty on her desk this night.
He guided the copper zipper down her skirt as she put a hand on his hip and pushed up, letting it slide down her legs. Sandra replaced her body, now a little more bare, on his thin black slacks. She could feel his hard pressure and it made her want him more. Now they were getting somewhere. She broke this kiss with a breath of life and pulled her head up.
“We can’t tell anyone.”
“I won’t.”
Laying on the floor, she sat up on him and freed his leather belt, zipped his pants, and with a little adjustment, got them off entirely. James watched, his racing heart now a steady and sonorous beat. Sandra pulled his underwear down and sunk herself. Her tender lips, swollen from being pressed against his, kissed James’ dick by the head a few times. He let his head down from watching to let the sensation wash over him. She lovingly licked him before taking the top in her mouth. The rough edges of her palate against the coarseness of her tongue made him swell thicker, and Sandra got to work sucking his cock on the carpet floor.
After what felt like an eternity, she broke with a wet smack and climbed up hastily. Her face was flushed red and her hair was a little astray in blonde strands.
“I need you.” She said, quietly and rushed, as she pulled off her pantyhose and slipped off her cream panties, slinging them aside. James was in disbelief as she took his throbbing wet dick and guided it, slipping her very hot vagina over it entirely. The sensation was incredible as she took him in, the woman gasping as he filled her up with his thick dick. James placed one hand on her bare hips, feeling her smooth skin, and another slipped into her white shirt.
She slid up and worked down as he squeezed her firm breasts. The young woman fucked him with a steady pulse, and he returned the motion by bucking up his hips to clap her cheeks with his thighs. This was heaven.
James sat up after more than a few moments, and kissed her quickly, pushing Sandra’s crotch deep and down on himself. They fucked in tight coitus, pulsing and groaning as both of them pleased each other. They closed their eyes. True pleasure was electric to their touch. Sandra squeezed her eyes and bit his lip, breaking their sweet kiss. She squealed in a way he’d never heard her make noise before, pumping and slapping his cock inside her. Everything grew hotter and wetter as she came on him, collapsing in his big arms as a frail flower, still taking dick.
He got up with her, removing himself for a moment, and had her stand the best she could. James bent her over the desk where she could rest her body, and mounted up behind her. Sandra’s little white ass was visually captivating, as he felt a ravenous sensation to fuck her. He grabbed his wet and tingling cock to guide it in, rubbing the bristling head on her soaking vagina, before slipping it in. She groaned and gripped the edge of the desk, lost in ecstacy.
A slave to love, he grabbed her hips and began to really pound her, burying his penis all the way to the back hilt. James fucked her with each a loud slap on her firm butt. He could feel the heat building in his chest, and began to thrust his hips hard so he could bury it further.
“Come!” She cried, mouth agape in pleasure. Sweat was slick on both of them as he squeezed her ass. He needed to fuck her more. He did fuck her more. Against the light of the skyscrapers, James pounded his journalistic partner with his dick, both of them grunting and growling with carnal pleasure.
In a quick, speeding up series of thrusts, James came hard in her, bucking his hot seed deep inside. She could feel him swell and release, as he held still inside for the final few spurts of semen inside her. Slowly, he pulled out and collapsed on the chair.
She followed suit. James and Sandra laid with each other. They kissed slowly, the hot sweat between them cooling off quickly. Out of breath, out of energy.
Sandra broke the kiss.
“Are you going to finish your story?”
James thought about it, fingers trailing down her slick body.
“I might need another night.”
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/crxnv2/slave_to_love_mf