The boardroom is still crowded when you arrive, my team trickling out in ones and twos as they make their way back to their offices before heading home for the day. It’s been a long day and I’m certain they’ll all be glad to be able to turn their laptops off, grab their coats and walk out into the early evening sunshine. One brunette, quietly slipping through the fire exit and waiting silently at the end of the corridor is easy for them to miss, wrapped up as they are in the calls and clinic appointments of the day. The evening team huddle is supposed to reduce the take-home stress that we’re all feeling at the minute – but it’s pretty ineffectual.
Turning some of the strip lights off to reduce the glare on the off-white walls, I don’t hear you enter the room and step up behind me. As a result, I nearly leap out of my skin when your hands cover my eyes, asking me to “Guess whoooo?!” with a cheerful lilt to your voice.
“Jesusfuck! You scared me shitless lass!” My heart exits my throat, settling back where it belongs. I knew to expect you, but still, the cat-like approach so soon after my colleagues have filed out, was just a little *too* surprising. “Did anyone see you?”
“Hah, no. Chill, no-one will know you’ve got a hot date. Wouldn’t want the team to know you’re human, eh?”
“It’s not that, I just…” I start, before realising I don’t have to take the bait. “Anyway, you alright hanging on while I just wrap up a few things?”
Your eyes sparkle. “Wait? Oh hun, I wasn’t planning on waiting for anything…” Your voice started sing-song, and ended in a low timbre that touches a nerve inside me, grabs it and shakes it until my brain pay attention. It’s either that, or the way you lean forward up onto your toes and breathe the line into the nape of my neck that does it. Either way, I’m suddenly aware of just how close you’re stood to me and just how hot the room is. Weirdly, a few minutes earlier I’d been thinking of throwing my jacket back on but suddenly that doesn’t seem necessary in the slightest.
I take a look at you. The still-sparkling eyes are open wide, your pupils large in the lower light level. Your grin is impish, infectious and wide, and your outfit is stunning – a simple sundress, light and flowing yet somehow it’s tucking into the curves of your body well enough to emphasise them. It looks comfortable, stylish and more cute than sexy – yet it somehow matches the oozing sensuality you squeezed into your voice in a way that screams an invitation.
I accept it and step forward to kiss you. It’s not our first kiss – that was a few days earlier, shortly after your arrival – but this is deep, slow and full of longing – and lasts for ages. Whether it’s the kiss, the exhaustion from the day at work or the way you spoke to me I’m not sure, but I melt into your arms and squeeze you back tightly with mine. The height difference between us being what it is, my hands come to rest in the small of your back, just either side of your hips. The fabric of your dress is thin, light, and offers no real resistance between us – I can feel the warmth of your body both with my hands and with my chest, the lightweight shirt I’m wearing not much of a barrier to it either.
I can feel your chest press against me, a soft inhalation. “Are you sniffing me?!” I ask in faux indignation “You pervert!”
You look up, at me, eyes wide and brush your hair back behind an ear. “So what if I am? You know I love that aftershave – and anyway, that’s the least naughty thing about me right now!”
“Oh? Explain?”
You don’t reply verbally, but now your grin doesn’t have an air of anything innocent about it at all as you unwrap your arms from around my chest and lay your hands over mine where they still rest in your lumbar curve. Slowly, you guide them down the few inches to the top of your butt, then lower still so I’m cupping you with both hands. My brain’s racing, trying to work out if I’ve heard enough doors closing and tired farewells echoing down the corridor to suggest that everyone else has left the building. Being caught mid-grope isn’t a good look for a clinical lead – but the distraction means I don’t fully grasp your meaning even as I, slightly reflexively, tense the grasp of my hands to give you a light squeeze.
“I thought nurses were meant to be observant? Do you not notice anything?” There’s a tinge of surprise to your voice.
“Uh, your bum is… even… nicer… than it was in the shower this morning?”
You laugh – “Pillock!” – and again steer me, just a single hand this time, first to your side and then lower, the dress soft as our hands smooth it flat against your hip, then the top of your thigh, mid-thigh. It’s slightly awkward – I have to lean down a little to accommodate the distance as we reach the hemline of your dress and you flick it over our hands, press my palm against the outside of your leg and grasp my wrist. Still steering me, you guide me back up, the dress folding onto my arm as we climb back up your thigh.
The absence is most noticeable as you push my hand back to its starting position; the contrast between left and right, the hand still resting on you over your dress feels soft cotton, the light weave of the fabric warmed by my hand. My right hand feels the soft, lightly-downed skin of your ass – bare, cooled by the breeze that’s been able to flow over it as you walk.
I suspect my face shows the realisation hit me, as you laugh again. “*Now* you’ve got it!”
“Uh-huh!” I squeeze my right hand, feeling the way your butt tenses in response. “Certainly have! This is a pleasa…” You cut me off with a kiss. It’s as the last; we momentarily lose ourselves in it, lips and tongues and bodies together, merging and melting, but this time there’s a new energy, an urgency, and I can feel goosebumps start to rise under my hand then under both hands as I slide my left hand down to the bottom of your dress and return it, pulling you close against me. There’s a light moan from you as you shift against my body and I can feel the way you press yourself close to me – the same way you had the previous night as we staggered back to your hotel. The tiredness, the workday, evaporate from me and I kiss you back, more pressingly than before.
My hands knead and grasp you a little tighter; the response is immediate – another moan, another wriggle of your body against mine. The need is infectious, and my hands start to roam beneath the dress – cupping your butt, holding your hips; thumbs, fingers all stroking as they flow around you. I hold you by your hips, my thumbs circle the dipping, curving, sweeping lines that run from your waist to your mound, but you’re not willing to wait and push yourself against my wrist and grinding slightly; your close-trimmed hair is almost soft, but it’s the heat that catches my attention – it’s like you’re burning up.
I accept the cue and allow my wrist to roll slightly, offering the edge of my hand to you. It nestles against you, a firm line in a soft crease, a searing fold of warmth and wetness that envelopes the base of my thumb and wrist as I sweep my other hand back to your ass and squeeze you again, shoving you closer still against me. You wriggle in response, a little rocking thrust that grinds you against my hand. I again give you a little shove, and the wriggle this time is longer, more pressing – wetter and warmer.
Thoughts of the inadvisability of what we’re doing are falling into insignificance, but I’ve enough presence of mind to notice the open door, and reluctantly tear myself from you for a moment to kick it closed, just for safety’s sake. The closer slams it shut with a thud, and the slight sigh at the loss of my hand to rub against that you make is muffled by it. I can feel the loss too – I want you, so fucking much – and, the act of reasserting myself over the room reminds me that I can assert some control over our play, too.
I step back close to you and we kiss again as I take your hands and as we come up for air from the kiss, I walk you backwards a few steps until you’re stood against the large conference desk that dominates the centre of the room. “Let me lead” I whisper into your ear, and as you give a little “uh-huh?” In reply, I steer you by the hips to turn you to face the opposite wall. Again my arms wrap around you, my body pressed close to your back and I’m in no doubt that you can feel the bulge at the front of my jeans. I’m also sure that you notice the way that same bulge involuntarily twitches slightly in response to the discovery – with hindsight, one that should have been obvious – that your lingerie today is a matching set with nothing between your breasts and the sundress either. This discovery is made as I reach up and cup your breasts with both hands, gently stroking and rubbing them through the cotton covering them while I begin to nuzzle the nape of your neck.
As expected, this elicits a low moan from you and judging by the way you lean forwards onto the desk, possibly a slight weakening of the knees as well. I trail the kisses down the back of your neck, stopping periodically to nibble lightly at your shoulders, brushing your hair from them with a fingertip to expose each spot in turn. Your shoulders are strong, tense from supporting some of your weight through your arms and I trace the outline of your shoulder-blades and the muscle groups with my lips. Normally I’d linger, but there’s no sense or ability to wait and my lips move on, rolling down your back, alternating across each side of your spine until I reach the top of your dress where it rests low-cut across you. Skipping over the material I lift the dress, rucking the skirted section up onto your upper back and begin to kiss the newly-exposed skin at the base of your back, your hips. Your ass is glorious – a rounded, curved treat that I can’t help but stare at as it almost glows in the fading daylight streaming through the boardroom window. I drop onto one knee, my face at the perfect height to plant a warm wet kiss on each buttock – then there’s a loud clap as I can’t resist giving you a firm whack on your right cheek with the palm of my hand.
You yelp, and I’m about to apologise when you follow the surprised exhortation with a deep purr of pleasure and I see you take a few small steps to adjust, spreading your weight and leaning forwards further over the table. It’s a surprise, but not unwelcome and I test the waters again with another, slightly lighter smack on the same cheek which is met with only a sharp intake of breath this time rather than the yelp but the same visceral purr follows it. I rest my hand on the ass cheek I’ve just spanked, and stroke it lightly while kissing the other – and recalling the fire that had been burning between your thighs a few moments earlier, begin to slide my other hand up the inside of your left leg. Your skin is marble-pale in the dimming light, but I can feel the way it goosebumps and responds to my touch, anticipating the imminent return of my fingers to your most intimate place.
The moan you give as my fingertips brush between your soft outer lips validates my decision to multitask, and even as the hand resting on your arse lifts in advance of delivering another smack, I can feel you push yourself down onto my hand slightly, the neediness palpable. I don’t deny you, can’t, wouldn’t – and as soon as you’ve groan from the smack subside, I gently begin to rub my fingers up and down between your labia, allowing them to brush the swollen bud of your clit as they push forwards, and spreading you slightly as they glide back. I see it all and lean forwards to taste you from my fingers but change my mind and instead, sink my face between your thighs, my tongue parting you and lapping over your lips and clit. You taste of the beach; warm sun and salty sea, and I headily consume your scent and juices as my hands cup your buttocks, spreading you, opening you for me to press closer so my tongue can envelope your clit with each broad brushing kiss. It occasionally parts you more, enters you and I feel you tense and squeeze in a way that reminds me of the spasming clenching way you’d climaxed on my cock at 2am that morning.
My hands continue to play with your buttocks, alternating between light circular strokes and firmer, harder grabbing and kneading, switching between the edge of perception and the edge of pain respectively. Your moans are gaining volume and get louder still when I slide first one and then two fingers into your pussy, beckoning and curling them against the inner body of your clit, echoing the rolling, flickering motion of my tongue on the outside. It’s hard to limit myself to that though and as your moaning begins to crescendo my hand begins to rhythmically pump back and forwards into you, until you’re gasping for breath and it’s my name, over and over as you climax there on the desk.
“Fuck” you manage to get out as I continue with slower, less urgent rubbing of my fingers and tongue, “Just, fuck, fucking do me, I need it, now, please, just fuck me!”
I stay silent as I stand, slightly unsteadily until I’ve stretched and hurriedly unbutton first the fly of my jeans and then the boxers beneath. My cock requires little encouragement and springs out as soon as my hands have undone the final button of the flimsy confinement. It – I – can remember how well we fit together, how perfectly our bodies work in unison, and I want you, all of you, again.
I remember to take in the sight briefly – your dress hocked up around your waist, your hair hanging low in a curtain around your head and your shoulders heaving with your still-heavy breathing. The slight handprint on your right buttock, the way your ass and thighs frame the glistening fold of your pussy, slick and still twitching in a post-climatic spasm.
A spasm I can feel still echoing through you as the tip of my cock glides into you, meeting not exactly resistance but a slight pressure as your body parts to take me in but continues to quiver. I’m hyperaware of how tight, how all-encompassing you feel and I can hear myself give a deep, low moan of my own as I sink myself deep into you. I can feel too the squishing of your ass between my hips and the desk, the cool wet trickle of your cum that’s run down your leg and now rubs off on mine as I press myself against you.
I grasp your shoulders, holding you with both hands and my cock, pinning you to the desk, and pause until I can feel your body adjust to my presence inside you. My fingers massage, both holding and rubbing, slick with your juices, before gripping rather than holding you and you’re still, held, pinned and prone and soaking and I can anticipate your next word and I’m not wrong – I’ve barely even thought that thought before you’re repeating your instruction; “FUCK, you tease!”
I begin to grind my hips against you, working my cock within you from left to right, yo and down, but all the while still pressed deep inside you. You can feel the pressure ease momentarily as I pull back, looking down, I can see the head of my cock nearly entirely leave you, barely the tip still inside and your immediate sighing moan makes it clear that it’s intolerable…
…but it’s back, hard and fast and your ass shakes as my hips slam against it, first once, then twice, a third time as I thrust into you; the hands on your shoulders push and pull you each way and that. First you’re squeezed flat against the cold wood of the table, breasts squished, your face low above the smooth varnished surface as I push myself back out from you, then the next moment you’re lifted, pulled up and away slightly as my arms use your body for leverage as I fuck back into you. It’s hard, deep, hungry sex, fulfilling and greedy and *ours*. The room is filled with the wet smacking of our bodies as we meet, the deep grunts of sexual effort from me, the breathy moans and whimpers of your body responding to the railing it’s taking; it’s a filthy cacophony of lust that I can’t help but be overwhelmed by – the sound, the sight of you spreadeagled in front of me and taking thrust after thrust after thrust keeps driving me on, hard and fast, again and again until I’m there, moments ahead of you in my climax, one hand wrapping itself in your hair and lifting your head back while the other seizes your hip and pulls you back onto me as I feel my balls clench up into my body and my cock thickening, gushing into you and you moan, low and animalistic, your own climax washing over your body in a maelstrom of sensation.
I collapse forwards onto you, covering your body with mine, our clothing in disarray and my cock still inside you, and feel us both shiver slightly in the cool darkness that’s descended as we’ve had our fill of each other. We lie there briefly, in the dark boardroom on the table splashed with our cum, and we swear to each other that it’s a night we’ll never forget.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/g9xn7a/the_boardroom_mf