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| Blogs > CookiesNMischief > Hands in the Cookie Jar |
Story: Raw
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Story: Raw She never liked giving in, or out to anything or anyone. But at this particular moment, her very control of bodily functions quivered so precariously toward a glorious end, her knuckles burned bone white. So, this professional woman in her 40’s sat rigidly in her chair waiting for it to come. Despite the relatively cool confines of her office, her body radiated a scorching heat enough so that a balmy mix of sweat and the runoff of her make up painted her face into a brilliant blend of earth tones; the long ends of her perspiration slid down her back turning the threads of her executive attire into a sponge. The heat rose further still to the top of her head where her once stylish blonde hair wilted against the pressure; the<b> beads </font></b>of sweat, like glue to paper, plastered strands of her hair against her forehead. Her labored breathing quickened into pace and orchestrated the rest of her less than stoic composure. What was left of her demeanor were merely broken pieces: unbuttoned parts of her dress and legs spread like a compass so far out that any remnants of prim and proper that once stood tall daily against vicious stockholders and CEOs was now just an afterthought. Now with her power struggle slipping, she accepted the inevitable and replaced her being with the thrill of the moment, illustrated so aggressively by her left hand tightened like a locking vice upon her desk. The other hand slid underneath her skirt, and she closed her eyes to ride the wave. And then bam! She felt each agonizing delicious twitch rise from her loins and push hard against her soul. With her thrown back in affect, she rounded her mouth and vocalized a moan. Soon, the electrical pulses in her mind jolted, and her flushed state of mind soon passed the point of no return as the shock rode fast down to the ends of her toes. Gritting through her teeth huffing and puffing, she looked down wide-eyed to the depravity of it all. Below her, underneath the mahogany tones of her dark desk licked the culprit in action. He had her succumb to his oral wishes, and rightly so. No one in their right mind would ever think or suspect that the go-fer on the bottom of the company ladder would turn the prominent boss lady into a submissive for the lickety splits of a college grad. He fancied this, and the exquisite taste of the experience; to him, it brought him instant short term pleasure, and a memorable impression long enough to heighten his senses - and like an addict, he craved the sensual fix, basking almost arrogantly in the moment the pleasure his passionate precise and efficient tongue brought to the writhing older woman. She allowed herself to dip close to the edge just as he flicked his tongue once over again on her clit. He looked up at her steamy box and admired his wonderful mess. Yes, he thought, if his just rewards meant braving the perils of locking legs, clawing death-grips, and suffocating experiences, then the expedition of sex also meant tasting the never ending faucet drip of a woman’s flow - by all means he was simply, the man of action. “Again,“ she insisted, and for once she took charge long enough to guide his head back to work. He obliged with his own whipping array of fixations and staccato suckling and mouthing moves that had her pussy pulsing into coming over that talented tongue of his. He smiled as she clutched his head tight - sure, he barely had time to stop to really enjoy the succulent mix of sweet and sour off the sides of his mouth. However, he paused long enough for his lips to strum another climax out from the deep end of her throat. Whether tomorrow or the day after that, this duet of giving and receiving should end, he cared not. For now, he took it all in comfortable, but determined stride. He dived bottom aggressively toward her exposed crotch the temple in which he honored, and stretched her pussy like tent flaps parted. She leaned forward arching her back as he pushed the buttons of her sensitive treasure of a nub into overdrive. Her legs involuntarily spread again, causing her soaked slit to bubble treat after wet treat up from the opening. Even this was already much too much for even her to bare - with a second, third and even fourth push, she rushed up and flooded his open mouth with the flavor of a juicy rush. Licking his fingers, and smiling, he knew she always tasted better raw. |
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