The Pleasure of Anticipation

[Str8]

Every lover in my past has taught me something.

In the same way I can chart my life with songs, musicians and bands, I chart my sexual journey in lessons learned from lovers.

Adam was my first teacher.

I was young. Only 21, just out of college and in my first job. My boss, Ben, was about 10 years older than me. He was a handsome, blond-haired, blue-eyed, 6’2” Ivy Leaguer who started his own company with his father’s money. His chiseled frame made me suspect he had been a rower or a swimmer in college. I was his first employee, something he mentioned every time he introduced me. Every time, except with Adam.

Ben had talked about Adam on my first day working for him. It was a Friday. I was sitting on sleeper sofa in his oversized corner office, trying not to reveal that I had no panties under my short skirt. My red satin garter belt, black stockings, and red bra were all new from Victoria’s Secret. Some women might celebrate a new job with a pair shoes or a purse. I bought lingerie.

My red panties were in my purse. They came off earlier in the bathroom when the full-length mirror revealed the panty lines I missed getting dressed that morning.

I hadn’t anticipated the sofa cushions that would position me perfectly to flash Ben every time I changed position, something I did several times. Of course, I had no idea he was repeatedly getting the Sharon Stone treatment. He wouldn’t reveal that to me until almost a year later when we were both on the sofa. So, that first morning, I mistook his staring for deep thought, especially, when he said he wanted me to meet his mentor, Adam.

“I think you could learn a lot from him.”

If this were a movie, that statement would be the pivotal moment of foreshadow. To say I learned a lot from Adam is an understatement.

Ben and Adam were both members of the same private club downtown. They met a few years ago and started meeting for lunch every second and fourth Thursday of the month.

Ben introduced me to Adam two weeks later, on the fourth Thursday of April. I had arrived late that day after a doctor appointment. Ben was at his lunch, thankfully. An unexpected rain shower soaked through my pink silk blouse. It clung to my wet skin and emphasized the fullness of my breasts. With no jacket or extra clothes, I resigned myself to hiding the large computer monitor on my desk until my blouse dried. It was only Ben and me in the office anyway.

I heard Ben talking before they came around the corner. He was unusually animated and speaking quickly like he was excited. The man sauntering next to him was taller than Ben and equally fit. He had a full head of thick, dark, wavy hair and hazel eyes that locked with mine as soon as he saw me. He was nodding to whatever Ben was saying, but his focused was on me.

They stopped at my desk outside of Ben’s office, on the other side of the monitor. And then he came around the side of the desk. His eyes left mine long enough to take in the silhouette of my bra, my large breasts, and the faint color of my nipples, still cold from the rain soaking.

He smiled slyly, placed his large hands on my desk to brace himself, and leaned in until he was a few inches away from me. The assumed closeness made me incredibly uncomfortable and equally turned on. I tried to subtly back away, but my chair was already up against the wall. I don’t know if I was blushing, smiling, or just stunned, but I felt a flush from the curve of my lower back whoosh up and around to my chest and neck. This man was much older than me – probably closer to my father’s age than Ben’s.

“Adam, this is Katherine.”

With anyone else, I would have said, “hello,” shake their hand and make conversation. But I was mesmerized, and he just looked at me like he was still hungry. Ben chuckled and walked into his office, shutting the door.

“It’s Katherine? Or is it Kat? Maybe even Kitty,” he purred.

That voice… I can still hear it in my head. It had a deep gravel, almost like a lion’s roar. I could have listened to him read or say anything.

He was clearly flirting with me. I blushed.

At the time, I had only been with one man. A boy, really. My first boyfriend and first sexual experience. It was passionate, wild, and it exposed a desire to be sexually bold and adventurous. I just hadn’t had the opportunity yet.

I wanted Adam to touch me. My nipples hardened and looked like ripe, red strawberries under my wet blouse.

“I think I’m going to call you Kat.”

I nodded obediently, already assuming the role he designed for me.

Adam’s gaze turned to my protruding nipples. He shifted his weight like he was going to close the distance between us when Ben abruptly opened his office door. Adam slowly stood up and nodded at Ben as if to signal ‘yes.’ And then looked at me like no man had ever looked at me. If I wasn’t sitting down, I would have fallen down, it was so intoxicating. When had drunk his fill of me, he turned and walked out.

The rest of the afternoon was a total waste. I couldn’t focus on anything other than replaying what had happened and imagining what could have happened if he had put his hands on me.

Over the next three months, I looked forward to the second and fourth Thursdays. I made sure to wear my favorite bras and garters. I wondered each time if this was the day it would happen.

Adam always came back with Ben. He always teased me in some new way, his lips almost kissing the back of my neck, his body leaning over mine to show me something on my computer. And every time my nipples got hard, he looked in my eyes in that same way that took my breath away. He was building my desire while slowly training my patience. The anticipation between his visits was tortured bliss.

In August, Ben asked me to “apartment-sit” while he went away for the weekend. He was expecting a furniture delivery on that Saturday or Sunday, so could I stay at his place and answer the phone to coordinate. It seemed like an odd request for an employee, but I lived in a small studio apartment and he had a two-story penthouse. It was an easy ‘yes.’

Taking the small private elevator up to the penthouse that Friday evening, I was mentally cataloging everything I planned to do over the weekend. Read a new book, catch up on a little work, and sleep.

The elevator opened to Ben’s apartment, and it was absolutely beautiful. Modern furniture, elaborate light fixtures and a near-floor to ceiling window wall. This was better than I could have imagined.

A spiral staircase with white railing led up to the bedroom. I was a little apprehensive about sleeping in Ben’s bed, but he assured me his ‘service’ would come and clean everything after I left. Half of the bedroom was like a floating platform suspended in air. A king platform bed with bright white bedding and a simple nightstand served as the centerpiece. The bathroom and walk-in closet could have been photographed for an interior design magazine.

I noticed a red envelope on the bed and picked it up. Handwritten on the front was *Kitty* *Kat*. A wave rushed through my body.

The note was simple; yet another tease: *Enough foreplay. You know what I want.*

Adam clearly knew where I was going to be, but what did that mean? I had no way to contact him, no idea where he lived. Was this just more of the same flirting game?

After dinner, I was lying on the bed in my panties and an off-the-shoulder, black Flashdance top, looking at his note again and imagining him sitting on the side of the bed. This time, taking what he wanted.

My hand naturally moved across my top, grazing my nipples before pulling it over my head. With both hands, I reached down and pushed my panties off.

I put two fingers in my mouth, soaking them with saliva before using them to trace the softness between my legs. Drawing circle upon circle, my rosebud of a clit became a glistening pink pearl, begging to be savored. My hips rocked slowly, subtlety, offering myself to the thought of him. My nipples throbbed and pulled tight and hard into long nubs for suckling.

One hand was alternating between teasing my engorged clit and stroking my swelling g-spot. The other hand tended to my nipples – flicking, circling, pulling, twisting. Over and over, until the juice dripping out of me formed a pool on the bright white bedsheet.

I imagined Adam on me, owning me, controlling me, pleasuring me for at least an hour. I was draped naked over the edge of ecstasy, repeatedly denying myself – imagining it was him as my wicked master. My desire was palpable. I was heat and fire.

The phone ringing shook me into the present. B had instructed me to answer any calls that came in, so I reached over to the nightstand and picked up the receiver with my slippery fingers.

That fucking voice.

“How long have you been teasing yourself?”

I quickly sat up and looked around. Could he see me? How did he know?

“You are so close, aren’t you,” he whispered in a purring growl.

I was panting and I knew he could hear it.

“Are you going to give me what I want?”

I wanted to say yes, to tell him to come over, but I was beyond speaking.

Suddenly, a dial tone. He had hung up.

I slammed the receiver, frustrated. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think. My hands found my taut nipples and soaking wet slit again. I *was* so close. I was bound to the bed without restraints — his prisoner, waiting, wondering, desperate. It was as if I needed him to tell me I could cum.

When the elevator doors opened, I held my breath. Please let it be him. Please.

“Adam?!”

I found my voice for a moment. I knew it was him.

“Adam, please!!”

With every slow shaking step on the winding stairs. my anticipation hit an unimaginable new high. I saw him and began to sob. He had stripped off his clothing downstairs and was holding his cock.

“Shhhhhhhh. Don’t cry, Kitty Kat.”

That look in his eyes. Mine were wide and begging.

“You’re such a good girl.”

He was so calm, so confident – the perfect Dom.

He made his way around the bed and stood perpendicular to me, still holding my eyes captive. Standing right over my face, he slowly stroked his long, thick shaft close to my mouth. I turned toward him and stuck out my tongue to lick the shiny precum off his thick mushroom head, but he pulled away. My desperate hunger wasn’t enough for him. He wanted me on the brink of madness.

Still tending his cock, he put two fingers and his thumb in his mouth, sucking on them loudly while I watched whimpering, prone, and helpless. His eyes shifted to my nipples.

*(Enough foreplay. You know what I want.)*

I arched my back, pressing them toward him. Once ripe strawberries, they were now tall, red gumdrops still moist from my playing.

He closed his fingers in a firm vice around the rock hard peak of my right nipple, pulling me over the edge.

I let out a long, deep moan. My hips rocked violently. Pleasure seizures rippled through my body. I have no idea for how long, but he was smiling slyly at me when the room stopped spinning.

He leaned over to kiss the nipple he had just claimed. He kissed me passionately on my mouth. And then pulled back to catch my eyes again.

“That’s one.”

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/kuv5y5/the_pleasure_of_anticipation