Then the door opened.
Reginald Harris walked in, grinning.
He closed the door behind him.
Oh-oh! she thought.
Realizing that she had not picked up the phone, and not wanting him to get suspicious, she said, 'The line was busy. I'll try again in a few minutes… then I'll be right out.'
'Why hurry?' he said.
He crossed the room and stood before her. He put his hand on her tit and her stiff nipple branded his palm as he squeezed.
'I'd better try again…' she said, reaching for the telephone.
'What's the hurry?' Harris whispered. His other hand touched bet thigh. She was perched on the edge of the desk and her skirt had ridden up her thighs. He began to caress the inside of her knee, then moved higher. His fingers touched the naked flesh above the top of her stocking. She took a deep breath. She didn't know if she should grab his wrist and pull his hand away and, if she did, whether she should do it teasingly or angrily. The situation was foreign to the girl. She was confused.
Maybe he would not try to go any further…
He was kneading her upper thigh but he had not attempted to touch her cunt yet. There was nothing much wrong with letting him stroke her leg, was there?
Leaning in, he kissed her on the lips.
It started out as a chaste kiss, his lips together. She didn't object. But then his lips parted and he began to run his tongue across her mouth. She was tempted to twist away. Then she thought that perhaps she had better let him kiss her. She had some idea that if he was busy with her mouth, he would forget about her crotch.
His tongue forced its way into her mouth.
She was stiff for a moment. Then she started to kiss him back and their lips ground together. He was panting. His teeth felt hard through his lips as he jammed against her and his tongue was squirming around. After a moment, she began to suck on it and her own tongue curled against it. It was only a French kiss – it could happen to anyone. It wasn't really naughty…
She kept her hands an the edge of the desk.
But then he took her wrists and drew her arms up and pulled them around his neck. When he released them, they stayed where they were. She felt as if she were made out of pliable putty or pipe cleaners – that he could position her as he chose and that she would retain that shape.
The way he was kissing her was making her awfully hot, awfully excited. When he withdrew his tongue, her own tongue followed as if glued to it. She pushed it into his mouth and he began to suck on it.
'Oh, we mustn't…' she whispered.
He ignored her.
His hand slipped down the front of her dress and cupped her bare tit. He stroked and caressed it. Her nipple felt like it was going to explode.
'Please, don't… it isn't right…'
'Shhhhh…'
'My husband…'
'… will never know…'
'Oh! Oh dear!'
Jayne felt as if she were a teenage girl again, getting felt up when she was still a virgin. Plenty of boys had done tat to her… it couldn't be so very wicked.
And it felt so good! Tremors of desire were rushing through her body, running from her tender, aroused nipples and darting down into her belly and groin.
Her tongue, as he sucked on it, felt as sexually sensitive as her nipples – or her clit.
His hand was still on that soft patch of naked thigh just above her stocking. Now he very gently pushed her thighs apart and cupped her cunt in his palm. He didn't stroke or caress, at first. He just held that hot, juicy snatch in his hand, almost possessively.
Jayne whimpered.
He had pushed her dress up to her hips. She was sitting on the very edge of the desk, her lush thighs parted, his hand clamped between them. Then he began to massage her cunt. Using the palm of his hand, he rubbed her up and down through the wet, silken crotchband of her panties.
She was embarrassed at how juicy her pussy had become, at how soaked her panties were. She knew he could feel the heat of her twat, seeping through the silk.
His hand moved away.
Jayne felt a surge of relief – and at the same time, a surge of regret.
But he hadn't stopped.
He slipped his fingers under the elastic band of her panties and cupped her again, holding her naked flesh now. His hand moved up and down. Her clit was throbbing against his palm and against his fingers.
'You're beautiful,' he whispered, speaking the wards right into her mouth.
'Please, I don't want to…'
'Let me make you come.'
Jayne hesitated.
'Please, baby… let me make your pussy cream…'
Her eyelashes fluttered demurely. 'Just… like this?' she panted.
'Ummmm.'
His hand rubbed her steaming cunt.
'With just your hand?'
'If you like…'
'I… I won't let you fuck me. I couldn't do that… I'd like to, but I couldn't. But if you want to finger fuck me, I guess it's all right.'
Harris grinned. His white teeth gleamed in the indirect glow from the window. His hand moved tenderly. Jayne was trembling and vibrating wildly.
What a nice man he is, she thought… he just wants to give me pleasure. He isn't trying to fuck me.
'Oh, yes! Make me come!' she gasped.
His lips met hers again and as they kissed and swapped tongues his fingertips traced along her cunt lips, rolled her clit then began to push into her hole. He began using both hands on her foaming pussy. He rubbed her clit with one hand while he push – pulled three fingers in and out of her crack with the other.
Her ass squirmed on the desk. Her thighs parted wide, closed over his caressing hand, parted wide again. She was rubbing her belly and cunt against his forearm. Her tongue darted into his mouth. Cunt juice ran from her pussy as he fingered it, trickling down into the crack of her ass.
He whispered, 'I've lusted for you since the first moment I saw you…'
'Ahhh,' she sighed.
She was going to cream very soon.
'I want to fuck you. I want to fuck your cunt and I want to fuck your sweet mouth.'
'No… no…'
'…and I want to suck you off and…'
'Ooooh…'
She was coming.
Harris lowered his head, gazing down at her cunt as she creamed. He was still using both hands to rub her off, concentrating totally on the act. His stiff fingers pushed in and out of her hole and he rolled her clit steadily. The cunt juice gushed out of her, soaking his hands and dripping over the edge of the desk.
He sighed, taking pleasure in giving pleasure.
Jayne pumped her crotch against him and whimpered as the thrill swept through her, consuming her. If he had wanted to plow his prick into her at that instant, she could no more have stopped him than she could have flown out the window. But his cock was in his pants. He was rubbing her off and, for the moment, at least, seemed perfectly content to do so.
