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I sat behind my office desk, undecided.
In my desk drawer were a pair of lacy, emerald-green panties.
Or at least, I assumed they were from Giana – after all, after we’d talked about how much her pictures had excited me, and how hard talking with her had gotten me, she’d risen from her chair, excused herself to the ladies’ restroom, and returned to give those to me before she’d gone back to her office.
They were in my desk drawer for two reasons. First, I couldn’t very well leave them on top of the desk while I pondered what to do next; while I was pretty sure they didn’t have her name in them, or something, I was pretty sure that I didn’t want to explain to anyone – whether part of my IT cadre or not – precisely WHY I had a pair of panties on my desk. Granted, my IT cadre was quite familiar with my myriad official and unofficial hijinx over the years, and I’d certainly covered for their idiosyncrasies over the years – how many other bosses did you know who accepted “I didn’t get to recover my body from the Plane of Hate until 4AM this morning” as a valid excuse for an employee being four hours late to work?
But this was something a little more significant, and not only did I not want to answer any questions, I didn’t want to answer why I didn’t want to answer. They’d seen my girlfriends before, and were aware that I had about as many inhibitions as a wolf in season, but I’d never given them any details, especially about someone who worked at the same company they did – in short, aside from being a “gentlemen who doesn’t tell”, I didn’t even want to be a gentlemen who refused to answer the question!
The second reason was that my desk-drawer was lockable. I may be paranoid about security, but even paranoids have enemies…
In any case, I was pondering the decision – not whether or not I was going to soon close my door and stroke my cock until the pleasure became too much, and my semen came forth like a geyser (well, a really small geyser…), that was a given, but in what way to best use her gift while I masturbated.
You see, right now, the panties were damp. Giana had obviously enjoyed our talk as much as I had, and while she was blushing, she was also quite taken with the idea of being the object of my lustful fantasies… When she’d left the panties with me, I’d taken them into the men’s bathroom and – in the relative privacy of a locked stall – examined them, holding them against my face, letting the scent of her arousal inflame my senses for a moment before returning to my office, and its lockable door.
The silk of the material was soft, and they were full-cut, not the thongs so fashionable these days, with the lacy front panel forming a V-shape at the front.. The material which once pressed against her delectable ass would feel like heaven against the soft skin of my cock, and I could imagine the sensation if I were to run it up and down my shaft, swirling it over my purple cock-head.
Or I could use three fingertips to stroke the shaft while I nuzzled the panties with my other hand, letting the scent – and eventually, the lingering taste – of her pussy drive me into a frenzy.
If I used the panties on my shaft, I’d end up mixing my cum with her pussy honey, which was a delightful thought. If I ran them across my face while stroking, I’d likely not cum on them, and be able to preserve the condition. How long would they remain fragrant? How many fantasies of kneeling between her thighs and gently licking and sucking her to orgasm would I be able to indulge with her actual scent and taste?
Eventually, I’d need to wash them, and return them – even if she told me to keep them thereafter. It wasn’t so much implied that I needed to actually give them back, but it was much more courteous and considerate to consider them a loan, rather than a permanent grant. Of course, the odds were overwhelming that she wouldn’t expect them back – but that just made the return of them more appropriate. Most people are no better than they are required to be, and I prided myself on being more courteous and considerate than was required.
I rose from my desk, and crossed over to my open door. I leaned out, and announced “Take a message if anyone comes around, will you?” to my crew; they had long-standing orders that if someone came around when my door was closed to take a message, and if it was important to tell the person that they’d page me – but still not let them through the door. The door was sacrosanct.
The door closed, and I barely registered the double-click of the door latch and the second lock engaging as I retreated to my chair. A key flashed in the darkness, catching the light of the monitor as I unlocked the door, and took out her panties. My trousers unbuckled – seemingly by themselves – and hit the floor. I had been wearing black satin boxers, and I reclined, my cock still within their confines.
I closed my eyes, the better to visualize Giana as she’d been at the cafe – her white blouse, her gray slacks… with my left hand I started stroking my cock shaft through the bursa escort boxers, and with my right I brought her panties to my cheek, enjoying the silken sensation. I imagined her getting dressed in the morning, selecting her lingerie with care – fantasy Giana had a matching bra, of course – and dressing slowly, a strip-tease in reverse while her husband watched. I imagined him coming up behind her out of bed, pressing his cock against her ass while his hands pulled at her nipples through the bra, and her smilingly shooing him away as she continued to get dressed.
My hand guided my cock out of the front slot of the boxers as I brought the panel of the panties closer to my nose. Fingers hit bare, erect flesh as I breathed in the scent of her arousal… I imagined her in the cafe restroom, slipping off her pants and running her palm against her silk-covered mound, making sure that her cream was well-represented. I imagined her fingers pulling the panties down and off her ankles, and her pausing a second to touch herself intimately, her own eyes clothed as she imagined what I’d do with them… and then dressing again.
My cock twitched with pleasure as I lingered on this image, her scent sending a string of wildfire up and down my spine. I imagined her down at her office, the material of her gray pants against her naked ass… did she shave down there? Was the material of her pants directly against her pussy? Was she still wet, thinking of me up here, knowing to what use I’d be putting her gift?
I could feel the sap of my body begin to build towards explosion, fueled by the scent of her pussy in my nostrils… and added a little more fuel my lightly touching the damp fabric with my tongue. My cock twitched almost angrily at being denied the sensation granted my tongue, and I savored the light taste of her… pleasantly musky, and a little sweet, like a thick honey.
Instead of downstairs in her office, I imagined her sitting on the other side of my office, watching me stroke myself. This first time, I suspected she’d be too shy to join in, but I imagined the shallowness of her breath, and the erectness of her nipples (God bless the picture, I knew precisely what to imagine, those perfect, soft globes and the darker nipples…), and her lips slightly parted as she watched. She’d be torn between touching herself, and being too shy – and that dichotomy increased the appeal of having her watch.
Did I mention I thoroughly enjoy teasing? I wasn’t sure if it came from my passion for oral sex, or if my love of oral sex came from my passion for teasing, for driving my lovers insane with pleasure, with bringing them almost to the peak and backing off slightly, holding them there, until they were likely to kill me with the force of their final, eventual orgasm… but I didn’t put much thought into it – who knows, if I over-analyzed it, it might diminish…
As I came closer and closer to my own orgasm, I imagined telling her how close I was… I imagined her leaning forward to watch, and me telling her that I wasn’t going to cum until she unbuttoned her blouse and showed me her lingerie-clad breasts….she unbuttoned her blouse slowly, tantalizingly, pulling the material part to form a V-shape, moving the shirt to the outside of her bra so that they framed her breasts perfectly… in my fantasy, she cupped them with her hands, tweaking her nipples underneath the fabric, commanding me to cum…
…and fantasy and reality merged as both of me came at the same time… not one of those quick cums, but one of those nice, drawn-out orgasms, my fingers gently encouraging the spasms and contractions of my body.
Of course, the fantasy me was better off – he didn’t have to clean up afterwards…
Much of the rest of the day at Findem! passed in something of a post-orgasmic haze, and it was pleasant that nothing pressing required me to snap out of it. I mean, I would have… but it was nice that I didn’t have to. Much of the rest of the day at Findem! passed in something of a post-orgasmic haze, and it was pleasant that nothing pressing required me to snap out of it. I mean, I would have… but it was nice that I didn’t have to.
As the day came to a close, I was checking my personal email – like most of the geek community, I have three or four accounts I used for various things – and notices a message from “SabrinaWitch” from a yahoo account, with the title line of “Thanks For The Memory”.
I sighed. The annoying part of spam – which this obviously was – was that it was constantly finding ways around spam-filters. Not that this was a particularly tricky thing to do, since whitelists and blacklists are only as effective as they are current. I opened the email, glancing at the message as I sought the header… and stopped.
Either this spammer was the most highly-targeting marketer in the world, or this was – contrary to my first impression – directed personally at me. It read:
Thank you for the coffee meeting today – I appreciated your feelings, and hope my little “gift” will come in useful later tonight.
-Sabrina bursa escort bayan The Witch (sabinawitch on Yahoo IM)
Apparently Giana had learned something from our meeting about traceability – short of invading Yahoo, there was no way to trace this back to her. Good for her! I felt inordinately proud, especially considering I’d done nothing more that raise her awareness of the issue.
I quickly added her yahoo address to my Trillian list; Trillain was convenient for dealing with all of the major IM networks with one app, and more to the point – the sessions were encrypted.
Maybe I go overboard with security, but as the saying goes – “Even Paranoids Have Enemies!”
The address lit up right away, showing that she was active. I sent the first message.
“Thank you fro the email. The gift has already been useful. My office locks – I have valuable assets here, after all!”
A moment passed, and she replied. “Shame I missed it. I bet you have all kinds of things locked away in there”. I smiled She continued “I wish mine did, just thinking about you using it has kept me squirming in my chair all day. Shame I missed it.”
I sat there, staring at the screen, marveling at her boldness, thanking the anonymous Ghods of the Internet for the phenomena that makes people who are normally shy and reticent more out-spoken through email and instant messaging.
“Oh? Maybe next time… after all, my office does lock…” I typed, grinning. The odds of her calling my bluff were virtually nil, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t tease her with the idea.
“When is the next time? I’d love to watch, as long as we understand ‘No Touching’ ” she replied.
I liked this woman. She had a way of defying my expectations and making my jaw hit the floor. I sat there for a few minutes, trying to think this out, and how to reply. I knew that my wife wouldn’t mind – in fact, she’d encourage me to move forward. She was a regular minx, and our relationship had long since passed the point where either of us were harmfully jealous (envy that someone else had gotten to play, yes – but not jealous). I knew Giana was married, but I didn’t know what kind of a relationship she had with her husband – but then again, that wasn’t really any of my business. Really, her watching me was in essence no different than her watching a stripper, or one of those interactive model DVDs on the market – except that I was in person.
Did I want to put on a show for her?
My cock had already voted – it was as hard as Chinese algebra, and ready to go.
While I was thinking all of this through, another text message arrived.
OK. Now we all know that, past the third grade, that taunt shouldn’t work. Anyone over the age of eight or so can see that ploy for what it so obviously is.
“No”, I replied. “Just making arrangements to work late. You DID want to see it tonight, didn’t you?”
Worst of all is when you know better, but that ploy still works.
Now it was my turn to suffer an interminable wait. Giana was smart, and no doubt running through the same mental gymnastics I had – I just hope she stuck the landing.
“Tonight would be nice. What time?” she finally replied.
“7pm” I replied immediately. Usually everyone was gone by 6pm, and even the stragglers who could were long gone.
“Perfect. I’ll come up there then” she replied, and signed off.
It was currently 4.30 in the afternoon. No longer was I in a languid, satisfied mood; now I was effectively brain-dead, with anticipation and nervousness twin horses in a neck-and-neck race.
At 5.00 pm I shut my office door, and pretended to work.
At 6.58 pm there was a knock at my door.
I opened the door, and Giana entered my office. My office has two comfortable chairs in front of the desk, and she dragged one to the far corner, to give herself a good view.
“Take off your clothes for me, Seth” she said in a deep, seductive voice.
It sent a shiver down my spine in anticipation. She had turned sideways on the couch to face me, and was running her hand through her hair. Her legs remained demurely crossed, and she laid her other hand on her thigh. Her foot bobbed up and down slowly, the only indication that she was not completely relaxed and confident about what she was doing.
I then faced my second decision of the evening. I felt kind of silly standing there, about to strip down. Also, I didn’t know how sexy I could make it. Should I act like a Chippendale’s dancer or something? I’ve never given much thought to the way I take off my clothes. I could have just asked Giana to put a blindfold , but that was just silly… and I was starting to get into the situation. I wanted to look sexy for her. So sexy, in fact, that she would strip down for me too, and we’d enjoy each other’s bodies. By way of showing her my decision, I stepped out of my shoes and kicked them aside as I looked in her eyes. Giana smiled, knowing that I had decided to go along with the game.
I tugged slowly on my shirt until it came untucked from escort bursa my pants. As I slipped it up my torso, I stroked my stomach and sides with my hands. As a tease, I let it slide back down and cover me before lifting it again. I continued stroking my stomach and chest with my fingertips as I lifted the shirt, finally pulling it over my head and off. I stood for a moment posing, arms dangling at my side.
I placed my left hand on my pants buckle then, just letting it sit there. With my right hand, I started at my thigh and slowly moved it up towards the buckle. Sliding it along my inner thigh, I cupped my balls in my hand through the denim of my jeans. Giana’s eyes were intently watching my right hand, and she let out a small sigh and smiled as I squeezed my balls. When I didn’t make any further move to unbuckle my pants for a moment, she looked up at me.
“Tease,” she said.
“No, a tease doesn’t put out. You won’t have that problem with me.”
I slowly then moved my right hand up the length of my zipper, sliding over my hardening cock. I couldn’t tell whether Giana could see the outline of it through my jeans; it was only half-hard. But I slowly squeezed my cock through the fabric and slid my hand up and down a couple of times. Then I moved up and unsnapped my pants. I slid the fingers of my right hand down and under the waistband of my underwear, and started to squeeze and stroke my cock for her. By that time, her eyes were absolutely blazing as she watched, enraptured. She was squeezing her thigh with her hand, but had still made no move to undress or to touch herself. However, I thought she was weakening.
“You’re pretty good at this. Have you been practicing in front of your mirror at home?” she said, smiling.
I slowly unzipped my pants. By now she could see the whiteness of my briefs, and, I was sure, the outline of my cock. It still wasn’t all that hard. I was putting so much concentration into the stripping that I’d stopped thinking about her naked. I turned sideways to her, and slowly began to take the pants off, sliding them down my legs. As I slid the jeans off my legs, I pulled the socks off as well. Then I turned to face her again.
“Are you ready for the grand unveiling?”
“Yes, I want to see.”
Holding up the right side of my briefs, I began to slide the left side down, exposing my inner thigh and just a hint of my light blonde pubic hair. As I was about to expose part of my cock and balls, I stopped and slid them back up. I repeated the same motions with the other side, again stopping just short of exposing anything other than the sparse hair. Then I slid my left hand into my shorts, reaching down the length of my cock to stroke my balls.
I turned around, so that now my ass was facing her. Looking back over my shoulder, I began to slip the underwear down the length of my body, exposing my ass to her hungry gaze. I held my legs slightly apart as I bent at the waist and slid the shorts down to my ankles. When I got to the bottom, I turned to look at her. I wondered if she could see my swollen balls hanging down between my legs from that angle. They felt large and full, ready to burst, although my cock was still only partially hard. I allowed her the full view of my ass from that position for a few seconds before lifting one foot and then the other and removing the shorts.
On a lark I then went down on my knees, still facing away from her. I spread my legs wide apart and lay my shoulders down to the carpet. My ass was then sticking up in the air, exposed to her, and I knew then that she could see my balls hanging low and full. My cock was exposed at that angle as well, hanging down as it still was, as was my brown puckered hole. I found the idea of it very exciting, and I lay there under her gaze in that way for a few moments.
“Let me see your cock, Seth.”
I stood up slowly, back still turned to her. I ran my hands around to my ass and kneaded the cheeks. I then gave my left cheek a hard slap that made a loud flesh-on-flesh sound that seemed to echo through the empty house. Slowly, then, finally, I turned to face her and let her see all of me. As I looked at her, I noticed her eyes were closed to mere slits, and she was looking at my cock.
“Ooh, you’re cock is soft. I like that. Will you make it hard for me?”
“I know I’d get hard if you’d take your clothes off, too.”
“It doesn’t look like you need my help,” she said, staring down at my crotch. Then her eyes met mine, and she smiled her knowing smile again. Sure enough, even though I had yet to touch myself after the strip tease, my cock was already half erect. She was getting me hard just by looking at me and talking. “Come on, Seth, touch yourself. Get yourself hard for me.”
I was momentarily embarrassed by her unashamed and hungry stare, and very aware that I was standing in front of her totally naked while she sat there fully clothed and in control of the situation. My first instinct was to cover up. But then I realized that she wanted to watch me, and that she was going to be turned on by it. I wondered if she was getting wet as I stood in front of her only a few feet away. The thought made my cock jump a little and get harder, and a low moan escaped from her lips. I dropped my inhibitions and started to go with the flow.
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