The Office

I'm scared to post this. It's unedited but I enjoy this story so I hope you will too. It's for adults so if you're not one don't read it. I told someone I was in a mood and this is the result. Hope you like it.





The Office

I’m sitting in a black swivel chair staring at a blank computer screen. My fingers run idly over the keyboard, absently tick-tick-ticking away. There is a lull in the activity at our little office. The action has slowed, stilled and finally stopped. It’s late in the day and the two of us are alone now. It’s not quite closing time but its close enough that I can start looking forward to being home with a glass of wine, which I desperately need. I feel wound up inside, tight, feeling a vague sense of danger, the kind that comes out of nowhere, the kind that you may or may not expect. I feel as if I have been standing at attention all day waiting on my commanding officer to yell “At Ease!”

This room is so cold. I blow on my hands, hoping to warm them up. My nipples respond to the frigid air, firming up into tight buds that are vaguely uncomfortable. I focus on the tendrils of pleasure /pain that come from my nipples. It’s only mildly distracting. Nothing is strong enough to make me forget that he is there, just a few steps away.

Damn it’s really cold in here! My fingers, my feet, my bare arms, are cool. My bare legs, protected from the coolness by my desk, are comfortable. I place my hands close to my inner thigh hoping to warm them. I rub my fingers over the lushness of my thighs. My thighs are so, so soft. The sensation of opposites, the cold fingers over the warm thighs, is arousing. My hands sink further into the softness of my thighs. They are supple, so pliable like bread dough. I move my hands closer to the heat between my legs, up up up by slow degrees. I’m not so cold anymore but I still feel the tension, tight and high strung. I know that I want to have an orgasm. I need to have an orgasm.



I could move my hands up further up my skirt. Touch myself just enough and make myself cum. He would never know. My body is hidden behind my desk. He can’t see me. I just want to feel normal again, to remove this tension. If I touch myself just there, just right, I could make myself orgasm. A few more inches upward and I am closer. It’s warmer up here. Wetter too. I take three deep breaths. I rub myself through my panties. Sparks burst forth. Already I feel myself slipping, floating. My heartbeat accelerates. Am I brave enough to do this? He may not be able to see me. But what if he can smell me? The smell of sex is distinctive, and it lingers. He will smell my cum. I make a decision to just lightly touch my clit, just tease myself enough that when I get home, fuck it, when I get in my car, any place private, I can get off.

My fist is completely up my skirt, brushing the moist center of my panties, when my boss walks out. I freeze and plaster a bright, professional smile on my face. I am afraid that he knows, that he has watched me from his office door and he knows what I’m here trying to do. “I’m on my way to the bank. I’ll be back in a while”. He breezes out the door. He is, as usual, oblivious to me, to anything concerning me. I am nothing but the help as far as he is concerned. I want him to notice me, I want to fuck him. This thought almost dims my arousal, almost.

It’s after 3 pm. No one comes in this late. And it’s raining. I unbutton the first three buttons of my shirts, exposing my lacy black bra and the tops of my breasts. I have warmed up considerably. I decide to continue. Things are private now. He has gone and taken the rest of my inhibitions with him. If I were honest with myself I would admit that he is the source of this frustration. He is my tension and my arousal. Maybe when I finally slide my fingers inside myself I’ll close my eyes and imagine his face. But for now he is gone and he has taken my inhibitions with him.
I pull my bra down, exposing one chocolate nipple to the kiss of the cool air. There, I think, that feels good. All of a sudden I am impatient, combustible, explosive. I move my hand back up my skirt. He could be back soon. I touch the front of my wet panties. I hook two fingers around the back of my panties and pull them to the side, exposing my clit and my cum to the air. My fingers slide between my lips. They glide through the wetness, slippery and slick. I use my thumb to rub my clit round and round. I slide three fingers inside me. Oh God! This is just what I needed. It feels so good. I close my eyes, the better to savor the sensation. I know just how much pressure I need, how deep I need to go, how fast I need to rub. I move my hips to the rhythm I set.

My chest tightens up. My heart beats faster. My breathing changes, catches in my throat. I feel my pussy pull, as elemental as gravity. The wetness slurps loudly. My pussy is talking to me and I can hear it. My mouth opens, preparing the sounds. My God, I feel it! I feel you. My walls suck my streaming fingers in, wrap around them, imprisoning me inside. The waves break and it is beyond bliss. When I come it is powerful. My orgasm has rendered me speechless. I am unable to make any sound.
It takes me a few moments to drift back. I am boneless, nearly liquid, completely satiated. My tension, my frustration has been obliterated by an ancient power, a stronger energy. Slowly I remember my surroundings. I fix my bra and button my shirt. I adjust my skirt. My face is composed, serene, politely distant. My orgasm has restored me.

When he walks through the door minutes later I flash my bright, professional receptionist’s smile. Everything looks exactly the same as when he left. “I got back quicker than I expected” he says, as he breezes back through the door. Halfway into his office he stops and turns back toward me. He cocks his head to the side. I see him subtly sniff the air. I watch his face change, reassessing the situation, feeling the energy. He walks back into his office. A few seconds later he peeks his head around the corner. “You look different today”, he says. I smile as he disappears around the back into his office. For once he is not oblivious.

The end

Peaches

The Peach as a Sexual Experience
I love peaches....no, love is too mild a word... I ADORE peaches. Every summer, when the time is right, I stalk the stalls at the farmer's market waiting on the ripest peaches to be rolled out. Around the month of May the anticipation has become almost palpable and I can't wait until June to get my hands on my favorite juicy fruits.





Foreplay
In sexual terms foreplay can refer to any action that gets the sexual fires started. Touch is definitely one of those. Touching a peach is everything when it comes to picking the right one. I pick up the peach and rub it, gently, to see how plush it is. I take the peach firmly in the palm of my hand and run my fingers around the globe, pressing very, very gently, to see if the peach has any "give" to it. The juiciest peaches are slightly soft, exceptionally ripe. If it feels right in your hands then you just know when you bite into it that you will feel the juice burst out onto your tongue. Another key trait to look for is the color. Darker peaches are usually more ripe and therefore are sweeter and juicier than ones with more of a blush on it. After I've picked my peach, and when all the rubbing, smelling and groping are done, I head home, near to bursting with all that juicy goodness waiting to be savored.




IntercourseHere's a definition for you:
Intercourse \In"ter*course\, n.1. A commingling; intimate connection or dealings between persons or nations, interchange of thought and feeling; association; communion. [1913 Webster]

So I've picked my peach. I'm home alone and waiting on just the right moment to bite into my peach. My anticipation could not be stronger. I'm thinking of all the possibilities. See, every peach is different. Some can be really really juicy but not all that sweet. Others can be really really sweet but not all that juicy. You're always hoping that you find that one peach, that one in a million peach, that is both. Once, when I was still a young teenager my mom, my sister and I were on a trip back home after visiting relatives. There was a roadside fruit stand and my mom, on impulse, pulled over and bought some peaches. They were so lovely! As soon as my mom paid the man for the peaches I grabbed the biggest one and in a fit of impatience that only the young can fully appreciate I bit into the peach. God it was heavenly! I used my mouth and my tongue to bite down into the flesh and then suck, suck all the nectar into my mouth. It was divine! There was just the right amount of sweetness on my tongue. The peach was so full that the juices ran down my arm. I'm telling you, that peach was beyond delicious....and I'm hoping the one I'm about to eat is nearly as good.




I grab my chosen peach, forcefully, gently, longingly, and I put it up to my lips. I take a moment to smell the sweet, tart, tangy smell of the peach. My heart beats a little faster, my senses sharpen, my mouth waters. I relish the feel of its fuzz against my lips....Then, because I cannot bear to wait another minute, I bite into the flesh. Juices flood over, into my mouth, down my arm and past that part of my brain that distinguishes the act of intercourse with someone from the act of intercourse with something, namely this peach. I am reminded of how hard it has been these past few months to be without my beloved summer peaches. I am reminded of why I love being a southern girl who is in love with southern peaches. I am reminded that I am in love again...with a peach....

To everything there is a season and your season, dear peach, has come back around. Thank goodness for that! Gracious, baby, how I've missed you!