I tried to steady my breath as my finger hovered over the small phone icon on the screen.
He had just texted telling me that he couldn’t wait until Friday to see me again, and that I should wear something that I didn’t mind having torn off. A few weeks had passed and we developed a bit of a routine: I went to his place on Friday nights after work, we had our own private happy hour(s), and I left. Generally, when I left, it was in a post-orgasmic bliss with marks to remind me that he liked it just as rough as I did.
I nervously pressed the button, and he picked up on the first ring.
“Answering a text with a phone call? Isn’t that against a rule?” I could hear the smile in his voice: I imagined the small smirk playing on his lips as I rolled my eyes.
“Well, you said you couldn’t wait. I am simply being… helpful.”
“Oh?” he said. I heard the sound of shifting on the other line as he adjusted his position. “Helpful, hmm? How do you suppose that you could be ‘helpful’?”
I bit my lip gently, trying to hold back a giggle. “Oh, I don’t know. Here I am, trying to offer up my services to help quell your undying need to fuck me, and there you are, assuming that I can’t help!”
He laughed, “’Undying need to fuck you’? Am I that transparent? Should I be more coy?”
I laughed along with him, switching the phone to speakerphone, setting it down on my bedside table. I paused for a second for dramatic effect before sighing, “Well, if you don’t need my services…”
“No! No, I didn’t say that. How do you propose I ‘use you’ tonight?”
I closed my eyes briefly, images flashing into my mind of just how he could “use me” any way that he wanted to. I let his question linger, getting comfortable as I settled into the bed. When I spoke, my voice had just a hint of hoarseness to it: “However you want.”
I heard him let out a quiet “damn,” which was followed by the sounds of more shuffling. I rested my hands on my stomach, a small smile on my face as I heard him getting settled. When he spoke again, his voice had shifted slightly. He was moving into a different mode, and I felt myself drift into the same space. Immediately, I felt the overwhelming desire to be on my knees. “Where are your hands?”
“On my stomach. Where would you like them to be?”
I relaxed as he told me what to do. Initially, I was only allowed to play with my nipples through my shirt, but he eventually allowed me to touch myself underneath.
I let out sighs and whimpers as I pinched and rolled them between my fingers, arching my back into my hands. I imagined they were his hands, moving over my body slowly, teasing me. Hearing his heavier breathing spurred me on, and I let out a moan.
“I wish I could see you touching those beautiful tits,” he said. “Tell me what you’re feeling.”
“I need to touch myself,” I breathed, my voice sounding desperate as I continued teasing myself. “My clit is throbbing, and I need you inside of me.”
“Where do you want me?”
I shut my eyes tightly, letting out a small sound of frustration. “In my mouth. I want you to face-fuck me while you finger me.”
“Rub your clit for me,” he commanded, his voice harsh.
I thanked him as one hand flew into my panties. I slid my fingers, feeling how slippery my pussy was, as I spread my legs wide on the sheets. I arched into the hand that was still rubbing my nipple, moaning, “I’m so wet thinking about sucking your cock.”
His breathing got heavier, and it took him a moment to respond. “Is that what you think about when you are trying to come?”
I imagined all of the times I came to the same image: his cock would be deep in my throat as he told me what a good little slut I was. He’d pull out, and jerk himself off onto my face as I begged for it. So, yes, that was what I got off to. My oral fixation knew no bounds. In response to his question, I moaned loudly as I lost focus. The feeling of my orgasm was building – I was getting louder and my body was moving more uncontrollably.
“Answer my question.” His command caught me off guard, fueling the fire that was already building.
“Yes! When I’m alone at night, rubbing my clit, I think about you fucking my throat before you cum all over my face.” I moaned his name and was pushed over the edge by the thought. I arched and made my breathy sounds as I hyper-focused on his moans and heavy breathing.
As I heard him start to come, I imagined him lying in bed, cum falling in droplets onto his stomach. As the last waves of my orgasm rolled over me, I imagined leaning over him and licking them away.
When we finished, he let out a long breath. “God damn.”
I laughed, “Did that feel ‘helpful’?”
“It was informative,” he said mildly, and I could hear him yawn as he stretched.
“Seems like nit-picking, but alright,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I’ll see you on Friday?”
“Yeah. Remember what I said about the clothes.”
“Yes, I’ll remember that you want to ruin my personal property. I’ll bill you for it afterwards. Goodnight.”
He laughed and hung up.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/epvoak/my_office_crush_35_can_stand_alone_mf
Some dude named ED is going to stuff you on thanksgiving?