The greeting

Written by Damian (July 2000)

He returned from an out of town meeting, having thought about her the entire trip back, and instead of checking into his office, he walked into hers.
He closed and locked her door, walked behind her desk, turned her swivel chair toward him and knelt before her, burying his head between her firm though unrestrained breasts.
He put his arms around her, holding her tightly, while she cut off the phone conversation she was having, and breathedly said to him, "Well, hello."

He kissed her neck, each successive kiss a half inch further toward her spine, each kiss melting her and further exciting him.
At the junction of her hairline and spine he reversed his path, going back to her mouth, their tongues interlacing hungrily. Her next move was one that so endeared her to him, she unbuttoned the first two buttons of her white business blouse, allowing him to see, and eventually to lick her perfect nipples, now so soft and small, soon to be erect and engorged.

His hands reached under the mini skirt that she wore, running his fingers along the inside of her bare thighs until he found the edge of her panties, already wet with the desire that he so appreciated.
His fingers soon found her clitoris, slowly and gently encircling the point as her breathing pattern changed to gasps as she could feel old and favorite sensations pierce her body. He moved so he could suck her nipples, while using his hands to slip her panties over her hips. She rose out of her chair just high enough so he could take the panties off, and she spread her legs, allowing him the further access she knew he would use to her great advantage.

She let out a long soft moan as his tongue made its first contact with her clitoris. But then the phone rang, startling them both back into reality. He backed off, sitting on the floor before her; she caught her breath, gave him a beautiful smile with a twinkle of her blue eyes, took another deep breath and picked up the phone,

"Hello?, Okay, what line?"

She looked down at him as he sat on the office floor, "It's Bill, this should only take a second, please stay."

His first reaction was to leave the room, feeling like they had been caught in the act, but as he watched her compose herself, perched in her chair above him, blouse undone, skirt at pubic hair length, about to attempt a casual chat with her husband while she teetered on the brink of an orgasm, he stayed, if only to see how she could pull this off.

Then, as soon as the conversation started, he wanted more, so he moved closer, kissing her knees, then her thighs.
Soon he was brushing his face against her pubic hair, then licking her pussy, eventually focusing in on her clitoris. When he reached the right spot she let out an audible gasp and quickly said into the phones speaker, "Nothing", and she covered her mouth with her hand to smother the sounds that she could not control, the sounds that she needed to emit. He was surprised that she did not push him away. Instead, she tilted her hips slightly, giving him a better angle to her, and her legs separated so his tongue could have better range over her clitoris as her pussy tremored in anticipation of what was to come.
He reached for her nipple with his left hand, rolling it gently in his fingers.

"Okay..... Yes..... We'll do that..... Okay..... No, I don't think so....Yes.....Well we'll see....Maybe....Yes.... Okay, see you later..... Yep..... Bye." She hung up the phone, leaned back and said,

"I could kill you," she said, while spreading her legs a little more and almost immediately exploding into an orgasm the intensity of which she could hardly believe. She had almost come twice while she was on the phone, each time fighting it back because she knew she could not explain those sounds to her husband. She also knew that there was little more she could do to demonstrate her contempt for him.

A few months before, her husband had told her that he would like to watch her with another man. When she mentioned this to the other man, he called him an ass hole and told her they should videotape one of their encounters.

In his version, when her husband made such a ridiculous suggestion, she would simply retrieve the tape, hand it to him and say, "Here, have a great time," and walk out the door forever. She only wished it could be so simple. But here she was, chatting amiably with her husband while her lover was on his knees in front of her, his head buried in her pussy, sending her ever closer to the kind of orgasm that her husband had never seen nor would ever see.

As she came, she muffled her screams in his shoulder so that the whole office was not sure of what she figured they already suspected was taking place. Her gasps fell harmlessly on his ears, confirming the sensations that he could feel racing through her body, emphasizing her loss of control, verifying his success.

He continued to lick her, forcing as many of the aftershocks as she could muster, until she collapsed back away from him in sweaty exhaustion. When he was sure he could get no more he pulled her mouth to his, kissing her deeply, giving her a taste of the sweet juices that lubricated her orgasms, that signaled her desires.

She kissed him deeply, wanting to take him now, but he declined, telling her that he wanted her completely, in the slow interconnection that they had so enjoyed so many times before. The thought of that alone almost sent her into another orgasm. Of course, had she asked again, or demanded, he would have taken her, as he so wanted to do. He refrained because he did not want her to think that he was taking advantage of her.

But he wanted her. He wanted to drive his cock between her legs, taking her as deeply as he could. He wanted to see her come again, writhing in the kind of orgasm she told him she only experienced with him. She wanted exactly that, but she thought he was worried about how it looked to those in the adjoining offices. He didn't care in the least about appearances, he only cared about her, and in his judgment she would feel better about their encounter if he didn't take her here at this moment. It would be an opportunity lost to them.

There had been many times that he had taken her here, he hoped there would be more. But now was not one. Besides, his orgasm was really not that important to him. He had received what he wanted most from her.
It was all he needed for now. She steadied herself in her chair, caught her breath and tried to rearrange her clothes while he watched each of her movements, captured by her grace in an awkward situation. He watched her legs, as she slipped her panties over their trim length, watched her wiggle as she pulled them over her ass.

"I can't believe you let me do that," he said to her.

There was something to be said for the kind of disrespect such an act indicated. It was something of a pay back for real or imagined sins of the partner, a graphic illustration of her response to being taken for granted, for being used but not rewarded.
He knew she used him for that purpose.
He liked it.