I walk to my office door and I scan the floor. She is there, hiding in her cubicle. Amazing how she senses me because she is now studiously avoiding my stare. But she looks up. She always does.
She walks into my office like a naughty girl caught cheating on her exam. The other women ignore her. They know me. They know her.
She is encased in a tight blue skirt. It goes halfway to her knee – and no more. The white blouse is a nice touch. Tight. Almost popping the buttons. The glasses and her long blonde hair up in a bun make it almost pornographic. The heels then push it over into full on male fantasy.
I close the door. I do not say a word.
I tried.
I tried working off this need at the gym. I pushed myself but I can only do so much.
Sure, that Asian girl smiled at me. She always does. But she is not what I want right now. Maybe some day, but not today.
She pouts as she sits on the couch. Not a chair. She knows where we will end up. Go straight there.
She crosses her legs and I am fully on fire. I loosen my tie. I catch a glance of myself in the window. I am fit as fuck and we both know it. I am confident as hell and I cannot hide it. And I need her so much right now.
She says it is not fair. She has work to do. But her eyes are on my now bulging pants.
“Yes, you do,” I tell her. “It is right here.”
And I stroke.
She complains that I cum twice a day with her. She never knew a man – especially a 52 year old man – with the sex drive like that.
I could tell her to just shut and take care of me. I could laugh at her. I do neither. I just sit down and she leans back, allowing me full access to her round breasts. Frilly black lace bra. She knows how much I like this one. She knows everything about me.
She is 38. She is beautiful. She is slightly curvaceous and all woman. Pale, almost milky skin. I see the marks I left yesterday are still there as I unbutton her blouse.
She complains. She says I just use her. She knows I take advantage of her desperation and loneliness and need to be touched. She cannot stand the idea of me with any other woman, so when I told her she would have to make me cum every time I got aroused, she agreed.
She never thought it would happen this way. I knew she had an office crush on me. Lots of women do. Only because I never hit on any woman there. They know me as the safe flirty guy. Senior (VP, Global Public Relations). In shape. Well dressed. Not a threat.
But there is something that snapped. I got tired of turning down women. I got tired of saying no.
And then Aella came into my office and my life.
She transferred from a regional to corporate office. She is in way over her head. How she got this position is anyone’s guess. I never interviewed her and when marketing department merged into PR, she was mine.
Divorced. Twice. One daughter (at college and with little desire to visit the woman paying her bills). Sad, possibly depressed.
Why she decided to pour her guts to me that rainy Wednesday morning, I cannot say. I just listened to her tales of woe. They were long and detailed.
Maybe I should not have asked if it was ok to hug her. Maybe I should have given her a tissue rather than an intense, ever-lasting embrace.
When she felt my cock harden and she nestled her head into my chest, I should have asked her to leave. Instead, I locked the office door. And now she is mine.
She told me it was a mistake after that first encounter. She promised herself she would not do this again, whatever “this” is.
But she kept coming back, even when I said we could not have full intercourse because I could not chance her getting pregnant.
Her hands and mouth. My hands and mouth.
Her breasts and my body.
She always complains. She always makes it seem as if I am coercing her, until we are together. Then, she cannot beg me enough to stay with her, to hold her.
She will ask:
“Was it good?”
“Did I suck it well?”
“Do you like my hand jobs?”
“Can you leave another mark on her tit/thigh/leg?”
Her fantasies are far-ranging. She talks dirty as soon as we make contact. She is a fount of sex. And gossip. She tells me all the dirty secrets of the women in the office. It makes me want her more.
She whispers when we play. No one can hear us. She values her job. She knows I also protected her from two rounds of layoffs in our new Covid world.
Sorry, Mike; sorry newly married Erica. Aella gets precedence.
I want to cum on her belly. It is so beautiful. The curves make me want to cum immediately.
Kissing her bellybutton makes her almost scream. I lick it. She grabs my head and holds on for dear life. No man has ever done that, she always says. No man cares for me like you.
I usually let her swallow my load because she asks. She does not want to clean up and she tells me it gives her some ownership over me.
“I hate you,” she says. “I hate that you make me cum so quickly. I hate that I swallow so eagerly. I hate that you call me a slut. I hate that I enjoy it.”
Sometimes she says all these things. Other times, she just looks at me with hatred in her eyes.
She tells me too much. She says her daughter told her to break it off with me. She says her daughter thinks I am using her and should report me.
Her daughter invited me to link on LinkedIn. She saw I have no other social media. Her photos are ridiculously sexy. She opened her account that same day. I only realized it was she because she looks exactly like her mother must have looked 20 years ago (different last name).
I turned down her request and did not tell Aella. For now.
But I downloaded her photos and looked at them before I called in her mother. She has no idea that one of the reasons I need to cum is because her daughter rocks tight skirts even more than her mom.
When she is sucking me, I tell her I own her and she sucks more. I tell her she’s my whore and she lightly moans.
I can just make out the forms of the women in the office through the frosted glass. They cannot see inside. Our senior execs knew what they were doing when they put in new doors.
The Asian girl from the gym – what’s her name? Peri? Yes, that’s it. Peri. I hear her laugh too loudly at a joke by some random guy. She is a flirt. She is hot. She makes me grab Aella’s hair and tell her I need to cum.
Aella sticks a finger in her pussy. I didn’t even get to her. Too much arousal. Just want to cum and she is mine to make it happen.
She calls me a bastard sometimes after I cum. Not the first to do that.
“I hope you enjoyed that,” she says.
“We both did,” I say, zipping up.
She stares at me and tries to hide the smile. I make her laugh a lot when we are not doing this. It makes me happy to see her smile.
The camera is on. She does not know it but I record every third session, just so she cannot accuse me of forcing her.
Sure, I can get in trouble. But I know about a lot going on here. And she needs me. She told me so.
Still, you can never be too sure.
She stands up and straightens out. She is about to leave when I grab her from behind and pull her back to me. I kiss her neck. She purrs like a kitten.
“Why do you do this to me?” she asks. “Why can’t you leave me alone? I never should have allowed this to happen.”
“You need me,” I say. “If you wants me to stop, I will. And I will never touch you again. I’ll find another.”
I look out the frosted glass and my eyes try to imagine Peri in focus.
Aella turns around and hugs me, her face, once more, in my chest. She mumbles and I tell her to repeat it.
“Never say that,” she says. “You can’t say that again, even if you mean it. Don’t ever say that again. No other woman can have you. Please.”
I kiss her forehead and smile. I sit in my chair and she walks out. She composed herself for a full minute before striding out.
“Don’t ever say that again.”
That was her text a minute later. She will send a dozen photos before the end of the day and a text about the new girl badmouthing an admin for not having her name spelled right on her cubicle.
“No panties tomorrow,” I text back. “Or else.”
She texts back a furious emoji and a kiss with a heart.
We will do this again tomorrow. She needs it. And so do I.