Digressions Into Erotica

or four cups of coffee later, I’m willing to admit that. I’m willing to make amends.

I slip through the barely open door and see you pause, listening. I hold my breath until you continue with what you were doing, and slink up behind you to place my hands on your shoulders. In your reflection in the monitor, I can see the gleam in your eyes as you purposely ignore my advances. You knew I was coming the whole time. Bet you didn’t know I’d be naked, though.

I lean into you, “bookending” your head with my breasts, and moan softly before I whisper in your ear. I’m sorry, babe. You were right-I was being stubborn. Forgiveme?

You manage somehow to keep a stern face and, with the tiniest shake of your head, let me know that it’s going to take waaaaaaay more than that. I smile and whisper. I lovea challenge.

I pull your chair back, circle around, and swing my leg over to straddle your lap. You allow me just close enough for your mustache to tickle my upper lip, then turn your head from me. Still not good enough, hmmm?

I press in anyway, and kiss your neck just above the collar. I lay a trail along the line of your throat until I reach the top button of your shirt. As I unbutton, I nuzzle exposed flesh, nipping on occasion, tweaking and flicking at your nipples on my way down.

I slide from your lap, down your shins, and wedge myself between your legs. Under your desk, I grasp your thighs and pull you closer. I hear your fingers back at the keyboard, and chuckle at your tenacity. You enjoy a challenge just as much as I. It’s one of the reasons I love you so.

I can tell my actions are having an effect on you, dear man. I see you twitch, shift, and strain against the confines of your trousers. I focus on the object of my desire, and reach out to trace its outline against the weave of the fabric. I run my fingernails along the length, and it grows more rigid, and delightfully large.

Well, that settles it. I simply must have you. I fumble with the various fastenings of your pants and grasp frantically, greedy to have it in my hands and in my mouth. After a bit of wrestling and an apology for being so rough-along with the promise of no extra charge- wink-it springs free and proud.

Oh, and should be proud, standing at attention like the brave soldier. I salute him smartly and giggle.

You can’t resist, and lean over to take a peek at my activities. The combination of your unyielding expression and twinkling eyes almost has me rolling on the floor with glee, but I manage to maintain my composure and give you the most innocent look I can muster: big green eyes with HUGE question marks, and an angelic visage.

Will you take the bait? Will I win? I hope you stop glaring at me soon, so I can go back to playing happily in my little wonderland beneath your desk.

You raise an eyebrow, and I nearly wet myself. I do shudder visibly. Smug that you’ve won this battle, you return to your work.

Ah, but you haven’t won the war, as they say, and I could be sandbagging, just to allow you enough confidence to bring you down hard. The bigger they are, the harder they fall, and all that.

Left to my own devices, I cock my head (no pun intended), scrutinize your seething python and giggle because I referred to it so. I contemplate what I should do first, and hum happily to myself, noting the way your prick is so terribly extended.

A shiver runs through me, from my head to my curling toes. I reach down and absently stroke my labia, feel my silky wetness, rub it between thumb and forefinger. At the same time, I notice how much your penis reminds me of one of those punching clowns. You know the ones-inflated, weighted, rounded at the bottom so you can punch them in the face and they just swing down and back up.

I snigger and extend a finger, prodding it. Sure enough, it sways and springs back into position, swinging like a metronome before it settles against your belly.

The purple head beckons me, and I can feel the saliva gathering in the corners of my mouth. Waste not, want not, I always say. No sense letting all that good lubrication slide uselessly down my throat.

No cursory licks, no stroking, no hands. Just a wide, wet kiss on the head, and I slurp it right into my mouth. Using my lips like a mountain climber’s hands, I flex, grip, and pull while sucking vigorously, over and over until my nose meets your sable curlies.

Mmmmmm…I taste your musk, spiced with sweat from the day’s work.

I rest there for a moment and experiment with my tongue, pull back slowly and inhale deeply through my nose. As I roll your glans on my tongue, and ponder whether I should devour you or savor you, you decide for me, placing your hand on my head and rolling back your chair.

Your cock pops out of my mouth with a wet slurpy noise, and I bite my lower lip in anticipation of the tongue-lashing (again, no pun intended) I’m about to receive. I turn my downcast gaze up to you and look as adorable as possible.

You’re contemplating me, that’s for sure. But your smoldering eyes and sensual smile melt me where I sit.

“Come here, you,” you purr, your hand out to me. I take it and rise to my feet. My legs are like rubber bands, they’re trembling so. You pull me onto your lap and kiss my temple. “What am I going to do with you, dear girl? Hmmmm?” I smile and shrug. “Anything you want?”

You growl and pull my legs around you. I lock my fingers behind your neck and my ankles at the back of your chair. You reach down between us and slide a finger inside me. I tremble and clench around it, and an unexpected moan rumbles the back of my throat. I lean back as far as I’m able without pulling too badly on your neck. Your finger slips out, and you angle your cock into me. I lean forward and down, feeling it sink, slowly and splendidly to the hilt. With a finesse gleaned from years of familiarity, my vagina swallows your full length, hungrily clutching to your girth. A perfect fit.

There’s something about the sensation of wet pubic hair against sensitive skin-a damp, cold, springy cushion between my heat and yours. I grind my hips into your belly, feel the arms of the chair cutting into the undersides of my knees. I grip harder with my legs, and sway and rock, eyes closed, your arms wrapped around my hips, and hands cupping my ass.

The chair creaks in time to our rocking and fumbling.

“I’m afraid, my darling,” you manage between gasps, “that this will have to be short and sweet.”

I don’t bother responding. I’m too busy savoring our coupling. I feel you trembling and angling your thrusts, with each nearly withdrawing completely. The head of your cock hits the upper wall of my vagina and rides against it, all the way to my belly button.

Your body tenses, and your buttocks clench and rise from the seat. You cram yourself into me, jerking your hips, straining toward the finale. I’m quaking as well, my thrusts violent and intense.

We make such a wonderful mess together, you and I. So deliciously squishy. I bounce and smile, and giggle and sigh, and ride you until I can’t stand the goodness of it any longer and I have to let some of it go. It starts as keens, the ‘E’ sound over and over.

You, in my ear-a man never sounds as vulnerable as when he climaxes. The twang of power shoots through me and sweetens the deal. We clutch each other, your head nestled between my breasts and beneath my chin.

“So?” I gasp as I struggle to regain my breath. “Forgive me?” You huff a couple times, and then lean back and push me off your lap with a grin. “I’ll think about it.” You smack my ass and roll your chair back up to your desk and wiggle the mouse to restart your session.

“I’m off to the shower, then.” I hug you from behind and kiss the top of your head.

Just past the doorway, I stop and wait for you to join me.

Because I win. That’s why.

What Then?

Meeting on the Internet, getting to know each other, exchanging pictures, enjoyingeach other’s company? What happens after that?

So, we meet in a bar, you and me. After all this time talking about it. That’s the easy part. And we’ll maybe order a pitcher and find a table in the back…maybe a booth. I’ll be blushing like crazy and looking at my hands a lot.