[Str8] [MDom] [Long] My Office Crush

I started wearing thigh-highs to work after learning that he liked them. Some of the other guys in the office were ragging on him about it one Friday evening when everyone in the office had gone out for drinks. Not that this mattered – it was unlikely that he would see them anytime soon. We were friendly, but not that friendly. We lived on the “coworkers” plane, which was a far cry away from the plane where you saw each other’s undergarments.

Our office dress code was fairly casual. The men wore chinos and dark jeans, and the women could typically get away with wearing their “good” leggings and longer blouses. I, however, wore floaty skirts and dresses so that I could feel the tops of the thigh-highs rubbing together between my legs. Of course, since it was an office, no one knew that I was wearing them – they just looked like regular stockings. There was no line running up the back of them, and they certainly weren’t fishnets. It was my own little secret fantasy: that, maybe, one day, my skirt would blow up in a strong wind and he would see them clinging to the skin of my thighs.

He had a presence in the office. Everyone liked him. He was affable, quick with a smile, and helpful. It was hard to not notice him, despite my best efforts to do so. Watching him work was also a thing of fantasy: he’d sit behind his computer, pencil tucked into his hair, biting his lip as he typed code into the computer in front of him. If he came across a particularly difficult problem, he’d bite his lip or the aforementioned pencil. More than once, I needed to take a bathroom break after watching him work through an issue before a deadline for a high-profile client. In the confines of a bathroom stall, I would flip up my skirt, lean against the wall, and imagine his lips doing the same motions in a different setting. I had it bad, but I was able to control myself… Most of the time, at least.

Occasionally, if I were feeling particularly weak, I would find ways to bump up against him as we made coffee in the break room. Small things. I would bend over a bit too far while picking something up, making my skirts rise up on my legs indecently or giving him a clear shot down my top. I didn’t know if he noticed any of this (he certainly gave no indication that he had), but the idea that any of this was teasing him was exhilarating to me.

Mind you, I didn’t do any of this often. The last thing I needed was to be seen as a cat in heat by other people – preening and rubbing up against the men of the office. For the most part, I was content to have small moments every once in a while. Once I got home, it was a different story entirely. On a nightly basis, I would lie in bed and imagine him doing absolutely filthy things to me.

There were some days where I wanted to go in to work the next day and apologize to him for making him into such an absolute asshole. In my fantasyland, he would make me beg for something that he was taking from me. He would do it while grabbing my throat and ripping my clothes. Sometimes, I needed a day or two before I could interact with him like a normal person again. I wouldn’t be able to look at his fingers without thinking about them twisting my nipples or being forced to lick them clean after he fingered me. The man in my fantasies would look down his nose at me impassively as I begged him to let me suck him off. He was harsh and cruel. It was a far cry from the real man in the office who apologized profusely for accidentally breaking my favorite coffee mug.

I’m not sure how I turned him into this person in my head.

Maybe I liked how depraved it was: this lovely man calling me a whore as he fucked me from behind, my hair wrapped around his hand as he pulled on it.

I sighed as I leaned my head back against my chair, resting my palms against the desk space in front of my keyboard. I would never be able to get anything done if I kept thinking about things like that. As it stood, I was already working late. Everyone else had cleared out over an hour before, but I needed to finish a proposal for this client.

I looked around the open floor plan, and my eyes fell on his desk and the chair that was tucked neatly under it. He was one of the last people to leave, waving at me sympathetically as he walked out of the door. I crossed and uncrossed my legs restlessly, the lace tops of my thigh-highs soft against my thighs and reminding me of their presence. I ran my fingers along them slowly, relishing in the feel of my fingertips sliding along my legs.

I imagined him sitting behind his chair, watching me as I ran my fingers higher up on my thighs. I shivered as my finger crossed from the lace onto my skin, groaning quietly at the barely-there pressure of my finger.

I bit my lip as I looked around again, remembering where I was. Could I do this sitting behind my desk? There was a minimal risk of getting caught – there was no chance of the cleaning crew coming in this early, and no one was coming back to get anything at this point. How hard would it be to sit here tomorrow morning, knowing that I sat here tonight and buried my fingers in my pussy?

Fuck it – that was a problem for future-me.

I leaned back in my chair and continued my torturous touching. I imagined his eyes following my fingers, a small smirk on his face. I leaned my head back again and allowed reality to slip away. In my fantasy, he walked closer to my desk, pulling my chair back a bit so that he could lean against my desk. He crossed his arm and raised an eyebrow at me.

“Pull up your skirt,” he commanded. I complied, inching it up as I watched his eyes follow the hemline. I hooked one leg over the arm of my chair, giving him a better view. He made a noise in his throat as he saw my panties, a damp spot already forming on my panties.

“Touch yourself,” he said, staring down at the damp spot intently. I moaned gratefully, immediately going to put my hand into my panties. He crossed his arms and shook his head. “Not underneath. You haven’t earned that yet.”

I took a shuddering breath. I resisted the urge to pout as I ran my fingers over the fabric, biting my lip to hold back another moan. My nipples pushed against my thin bra, making indents in my shirt. He reached forward lazily, running a finger over the bump. I bucked my hips forward, closing my eyes in frustration.

“Please,” I begged breathlessly. “Please, let me touch myself.”

He looked at me from head to toe slowly. “No.”

I pressed my fingers against my panties desperately, thrusting and grinding against them, trying to get the friction that I desperately needed to come. “Please! I need to fucking come.”

Next thing I knew, his one hand was gripping my jaw as the other pinned my wrist to the other armrest. He leaned forward, his face close to mine. “What did you just say?”

I stuttered and stumbled, still grinding my hips into the chair. “I need to – you should – please.”

The hand holding my wrist moved into my underwear, and he slid one finger inside of me. “You’re always so fucking wet. You love it when I control you. Are you a slut like this for anyone else? Begging them to let you touch your tight pussy?”

It was something about being called a slut. It was exactly what I needed from him. I rocked my hips against his hand, as I moaned, “No. No one else, just you.”

He moved his finger to circle my clit, and I arched up into him. My hips rolled against his finger, my head hanging back, eyes closing as I whimpered. I felt his breath against my cheek as he told me to ask him nicely.

“I’m so close. Please let me. Please. I’ll do anything – I’m so close.”

He tweaked my clothed nipple hard and nodded his approval, “Fine. Use my finger to get yourself off like the dirty little whore that you are.”

I nearly screamed as I gyrated and ground my hips against his finger as he told me all of the things he planned to do to me later. Promises flowed over me. He told me how he was going to fuck my face before he fucked me: he would tie my hands behind my back, put me on my knees, and gag me with his cock. Then, after he fucked me, he would let me clean his cock with my tongue.

My entire body tensed as I came, ripples flowing over my body as I released all of the tension. My thighs were covered in wetness, and I blinked as I came back into reality.

I tried to pull myself out of my chair, but my legs felt like jelly. I sighed and took my hand out of my panties, feeling the cold air against my wet fingers. I put my skirt back into place, looking around the room again. It was still empty, and it was just as silent as before. I looked at his desk again as I licked my finger clean.

I looked at the computer and emailed myself the necessary files. I needed to go home.

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This is my first post here, so I apologize if I’ve done something incorrectly!

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/el4ap9/str8_mdom_long_my_office_crush