It was lunch time, and so it was just the two of us: she was across the room at her desk, I was at mine. A glance out of the corner of my eye showed me what I wanted to see: Jeannette was staring at me with those beautiful blue eyes that I refused to resist. She had a smirk on her face that did nothing to hide her intentions, but there was something about her expression that had a twist to it. I turned my chair to face her, and saw she had already turned her chair to face mine. She was wearing a denim skirt, a small white blouse, and she had kicked off the heels she had come to work with. I stared at her creamy legs, imagining the aroma of her womanhood baking between them.
Wordlessly, she lifted her leg to rest on the edge of her chair, forcing it up her skirt past her waist – and revealing a total absence of panties. She was shaven – as I knew, having discussed this many times before. She had a beautiful, swollen clitoral hood that accented her pussy and drove me absolutely nuts. My cock was solid in an instant. She took a breath, lifted up her head, and placed her finger on the top of her clitoris, tracing small circles around it.
“I’m so wet already,” she said rather matter-of-factly, as if I had asked her – which I might as well have. Just looking at each other turned us on: we talked about sex every opportunity we had, discussing what we liked to do to our lovers, what we liked to have done to ourselves. I had told her how much I liked watching women masturbate, and here she was obliging me at the first opportunity.
She slowly inserted her finger into herself, exhaling deeply with that moan – oh, that moan – the moan I’ve lived my life to hear, and no matter how much I hear it I always want to hear it again. Deep, slow, and sensual, the moan that women make as their love canal gets its first taste of being filled.
I opened my zipper and dropped my shorts, showing her my rock-hard cock, standing straight up. She looked over and moaned again, pumping her finger in an out of herself, her breathing getting faster and faster, watching my hand stroke my shaft in time with her own hand’s rhythm. Her moans got deeper, her mouth opened wider, her eyes closed…. My phone was ringing.
“Shit!” I said, and took the call, my cock still sprung up. As I greeted my caller, Jeannette got up and walked over to me. My eyes must have been like saucers and my voice, I hoped to god, didn’t give anything away to the person on the other line as I spoke the standard greeting.
Jeannette got on her knees, took my cock into her hand, and wrapped her lips around my head. My brain had evaporated and my balls were going insane – thank the lord the caller was my friend Cliff. Cliff asked me what I was doing.
“Um… well, to be honest, right now I’m getting my dick sucked by a co-worker.” That just turned Jeannette on more. She went to work on my dick, pumping it with her hand, kissing its head, taking it down her throat. Her other hand caressed my balls, hands so soft and gentle, driving me off to the edge.
Cliff laughed, “Say hello to Jeannette for me. I knew this was going to happen sooner or later.”
I hung up and grabbed onto the sides of my chair as she matched the pulsing rhythm of my cock, her own breathing now a muffled squeal. We were both rocking in ecstasy, and I felt the inevitable tidal wave of my orgasm approaching quickly. She knew. She locked rhythm with my hips, and I exploded into her mouth, coming what felt likes buckets full of my load into her throat, and she drank it all, inducing as much of it as possible, sucking me until the last drop had been extracted. I was empty; spent.
She smiled, licking her lips. “Minty,” she said. I offered my services to reciprocate on her chair, but she gave a quick shake of the head. “That’s OK. I came just from doing that to you.”
I’ll get her back some other time. A lot.
