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Office Dynamics  

PrettyLuckyGuy 50M
3 posts
4/19/2018 4:05 pm
Office Dynamics


My friend recommended that I consider posting this piece of erotic fiction I wrote on a challenge -- I was connecting with someone on CL (virtually only) and she challenged me to tell the story of an erotic encounter between us. She was younger, and so this is what I came up with.

I hope you enjoy it!

I it Office Dynamics.

I wonder if you know how much of my work day I watch you. Drink you in. We’re busy in this division, and I don’t really have time to stare at a junior colleague. But since you were assigned to my team a year ago, and our offices are across from each other, I only have to turn my head to pull myself out of next year’s projections and watch you bury yourself in work, your brow furrowing as you concentrate. When you hike your foot onto the chair, sitting half Indian-style, your skirt rides up some. I can’t get any work done.

I wonder what you think of me. I know you like me. But just as a boss? You laugh at my jokes – really, really laugh at my jokes. Every else is just humoring me. How is it that you actually think funny?

I’ve got to get my mind on my work. And off you.

Even though I want to be on you.

You’re turning me into an pervert.
***************
I’ve always been really good at maintaining workplace boundaries. appropriate, an HR manager’s dream. I firmly believe in the HR adage, that “the screwing you’ll get, isn’t worth the screwing you’ll get.” Why complicate your job? You have to go there every day.

Either there is something different about you, or when you showed up, there was something different about me. Maybe it was me. Here I am, early forties, mid-life crisis hitting me hard. Wife. . Mortagage. Commute from the suburbs. And you get added to my team, and smitten like a middle school boy gaping at<b> cleavage </font></b>for the first time.

You make me feel young. I heard you say that you were 24. Of course you are. Twenty-four. Jesus. Your skin is smooth, your voice sweet. Your laughter at my jokes is like water. And you are smart. We’ve had young team members added to our team before, and most of them take a long time to catch up. You could’ve been running our team after 6 months. I stay on my game around you, trying to impress you with my skills. You humor me, but we both know that you’re smarter. That opportunities will open for you, that you’ll rocket ahead, take over the company, then the world.

Women today can take the world over. I know you can. You don’t know it yet, but it’s your world now. I know it though. I know it when I meet a woman like you, who at 24 could be my equal here. At 30 you could be my boss.

not threatened by you. You make me smile. Your confidence, your easiness with our team process, with me. You don’t know how much I celebrate you. I keep my game face on, try to treat everyone equally, but you’re my favorite.

I think you know it. You stop by my office to tease me, laugh at me for my outdated slang. You giggle when I can’t remember how to add a contact on my iPhone. You get me coffee one day, but remind me, “This doesn’t make me your bitch,” as you fully pat my shoulder.

I laugh. “Of course not,” I say. But my cock stiffens. I wish you were my bitch.
************
not sure if the vibe between us is real, or just in my head. Are you different? Or am I? I don’t want to get . You seem eternally young. I have a wife, , a grocery list, and Little League games on the weekend. You have a boyfriend, an apartment, and your weekend plans involve parties and brunch. Do I want what you have? Or do I want you?

When we leave at the end of the day, when we say goodnight in the elevator, I imagine that walking out with you. As I trudge to the train, in my mind we are walking into a bar together. As arriving to the station in my neighborhood, imagining us three drinks in, flirting and touching each other. By the time eating dinner and listening to my fight, we would be heading back to your place. Netflix and chill? Is that what the do these days? I don’t know. But it sounds like something I want to do with you.

So maybe it is just me. Maybe your youth and beauty has just brought out my midlife crisis. Maybe it’s time to stop creeping on you and force my mind back to my work.

But then why are you so goddamned nice to me? Why do you touch my shoulders and arms so much? Why do you smile like you are actually glad to see me every morning? Why do you always tease me about my ridiculous fashion sense, and promise to take me shopping so I’ll look “like a real boss?”
Stop it, I tell myself. This is just stupid wishful thinking. She’s 24. Leave it alone.
*************
“Anything you want.” You say that to me, at least once a day. Jesus Christ, do you know what it does to me? You could say ‘of course.’ Or ‘yes.’ Or ‘right away.’ But you say ‘anything you want.’ Like you want me fantasizing about you. Do you like torturing me?

“ going to next quarter’s projections reconciled by the end of the day so we can get them ready for the executive meeting.” hovering in the doorway to your office, leaning on the doorjam.

“Anything you want,” you say, sitting primly in your chair, ankles crossed, impertinent smile on your face. My heart thrills, again. It’s the smile that gets to me.

Anything you want. Someday going to take you up on that offer. I’ll take what I want. In my fantasies, I think that’s what you’re trying to say.

“Listen, I might you to stay late tonight. I think we’ve got a fair amount more to do on this reconciliation.”

No arguments. “Anything you want.”
**********
The office is quiet after hours. Good to your word, you did stay late. It’s just you and me, and the cleaning lady. She shuffles around as we work.

“I think we’re almost done,” I say. “ sorry I kept you. I know it’s frustrating.”

“I don’t mind,” you answer with a cryptic smile. “I wanted to get this done, and it’s nice and quiet working late here with you.” You always make my heart thrill and my cock swell a little bit.

“Okay, good to know. I’ll have to keep you as my after hours hostage more often.”

“Sure, no problem,” you say. “As long as you know –“

“Yeah?”

“That doesn’t make me your bitch.”

I smile.

********

It’s getting late. We should go home. You have been working for me, concentrating fiercely as you move figures from spreadsheet to spreadsheet. Your work is singular in focus. You have been working. I have been watching, you in particular. You know that I am. You look up, several times, and I don’t break my gaze. I don’t look furtively around. Your eyes lock on to mine, and you smile at me. Every time. You know? Do you know? I think you know.

“Can you come in here? I think I figured out why the projections are messed up.” I step into your office. “Here, look. You have to follow this column all the way down.” I lean over you from behind, staring at an Excel spreadsheet. Your scent is intoxicating, warm and drifting up to me. My chest grazes lightly against your right shoulder.

Don’t look down. Look at the spreadsheet. Do not look down.

I look down.

Your hair is up. Your neck is bare, inviting, and the line of your neck travels down and points the way directly into your<b> cleavage. </font></b>From my vantage point, I can stare down into the shadows between your perfect breasts.

“You see the problem?” My mind doesn’t work. I see a problem. I don’t see the problem you are thinking of. How can I not touch you?

“Um, I – yes,” I lie, glancing briefly at the screen, then back to your breasts.

“They aren’t the same.” Wait? The columns? Your breasts? What aren’t the same? I want to touch you, see if they are the same.

“They are not summing correctly, pulling from the appropriate revenue streams, so I will . . .” You trail off. You stop, because you and I both notice, the tips of the fingers of my left hand are lightly grazing the side of your perfect neck, and skimming across your collar bone. Your skin is warm and smooth. I am quiet, you are silent. My fingers move slowly off your collar bone, sensuously, moving downward, until the pads of my fingers are just broaching the slope of your breasts.

You try again, ignoring me. “We have to get these to reconcile . . . This quarter and that quarter. Have to draw together.” My fingers drift even lower. You let me. You breathe in deeply, your breasts raising to meet my fingers. I am touching your thin silken brassiere. I feel your hardened nipple.

You press back into me, your scent even stronger. Your shoulder presses into my chest. The side of your head against me. I cup your breast, and lightly graze along your nipple. You shudder and sigh.

“I . . . shouldn’t . . . “ I say, not removing my hand. You turn your head, seated while I stand, and take in my cock, bulging in my pants. You put your hand up to it, stroking my length, pinching and gripping through my pants.

“You owe me now,” you say. You work my zipper, my hand in your shirt, yours in my pants. You take me out. I look ridiculous, fully dressed with my cock out. You look gorgeous. “I’ve been thinking about this,” you say, as you lean forward and kiss the tip of my penis, then lick, then kiss again. You take my head into your mouth, looking me in the eye as you suck. What is happening?

in ecstasy. You are so good, you are bold and in charge. I am afraid to say anything, I do not want to break the spell as my cock slides in and out of your lips. I want to cum, but I hold out. You suck me for a few minutes, and I grow impatient. I stand you up, pull you close, my cock flopping between us, and kiss you fiercely on the mouth. Our tongues dance , you are intoxicating me.

“I’ve got to fuck you.”

“Anything you want,” you whisper in an excited huff. I bend you over the desk, pull your skirt to the side, and plunge my cock past the leg of your panties into your wet slit. I find your pussy and begin testing your depth. You moan, low and sexy. Soon, I am in you to the hilt.

I know I won’t last. You are silken, and hot and wet for me. I begin to thrust madly into you, to mark you as mine, to claim you as mine. You moan again, pushing your hips back to meet me on each thrust.
“Take me. Fuck me. Go. “ I fuck you, my cum already rising.

“ going to cum.”

“Do it. Cum in me.” I know it shouldn’t, I know I should pull out, but it’s too intense. I begin to spurt long and hot inside you, thrusting hard with each spasm.

Time stops. We rest, sweating, you still bent over the desk, my cock embedded inside you.

We are both stunned that this has happened. I make it awkward.

“ Sorry, I uh . . . “

“Stop. It’s okay. Pull out slowly, and hand me those tissues.”

I hand you some tissues, and wipe myself down as you straighten yourself too.

“I came fast. Too fast. Let me help you.”

“No. Tonight was about you. Next time -- well, let’s just say you really owe me.”

Next time?

I watch as you gather your things.

“I’ll finish the projections tomorrow morning, okay?” you ask.

“Anything you want.”

What the hell do I do with you now?

sexym976 53F
25 posts
4/19/2018 5:42 pm

Nice! Definitely want to see the how this story progresses.


sweet_VM 65F
81699 posts
4/19/2018 6:59 pm

Great story please do continue hugs V

Become a blog watcher sweet_vm


PrettyLuckyGuy 50M

4/20/2018 4:27 pm

Thanks for the encouragement!


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