A stand-alone story following others in the series. Please enjoy!
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As we finished our breakfast, we discussed the day to come. I hoped to finish editing another chapter. He had his quarterly videoconference scheduled with his cabal of lawyers and money managers. Necessary but boring; my head imploded whenever he tried to explain it all to me.
"Swim after lunch?" I asked.
"Unless it's raining," he smiled. It never rained at that time of year. We barely saw clouds once a week and the temperature never varied three degrees from 28.
"I ironed your shirt," I said, raising both our grins at the image of me as a dutiful housewife.
"Thanks," he said. "Wouldn't do to have them see me as I really live." Meaning, of course, in our usual state of dress, which was essentially barefoot all over. He'd be running his videoconference wearing only a shirt and shorts.
I left the dishes in the sink and headed for my office. I was soon happily surprised at my progress; maybe the renowned author had bothered to look up the word 'grammar'. His footnotes matched. And his sentences made sense. Amazing, I thought cynically. Maybe he'd hired an assistant, one who knew the English language.
Pay her more!
I thought.
I wound up finishing the chapter well ahead of my initial estimates. Very pleased with myself, I sat on the veranda and looked at the surf for a while, then went into the kitchen and put the kettle on. Making a tea, I headed for his lab, with a small stop in our bedroom. He wasn't keen on my being present during his meetings, claiming my boobs were too distracting when business was being done. He would generally make an exception for my bringing him a drink, however, provided that I was absolutely quiet and put the cup down off-camera where I and it wouldn't be seen. Something about commercial confidentiality... Meh - like I cared or would tell.
I opened the door quietly and stepped inside. A voice from one of the monitors on his desk was talking in German. My German was rusty, but I could follow some of it, something about proposed patent regulation changes in the European Union. From the look on my man's face, it was clear he'd been listening to this for too long.
I'd never seen any of his people; going around to his side of the screens would put me on camera. I had visions of what they looked like, though. The one speaking sounded like he had five chins.
"Look, Hans," my lover said, "can we or can we not sort this out by the time we've promised the Beta version?"
The voice launched into another oration. Never trust someone who answers a simple question with a prepared statement, I thought.
He looked frustrated. I put the tea down on one corner of his desk. In doing so, I brushed a piece of paper off. I knelt down to pick it up. Framed under the desk were his feet and calves - and his shorts, kicked off and lying on the ground. I looked further in and could make out his flaccid manhood hanging between his thighs.
Perv.
But a fun perv. I loved him.
OK. Never miss an opportunity, girl.
I quietly pulled a chair to in front of his desk and sat down, legs wide apart. A couple of metres away, he had a perfect view. I fondled my breasts, running hands over them, cupping them like fingered bras, sliding them slowly over my nipples. I looked up; he was pointedly staring at the monitors on his desk.
Toad! Ignore me, will you?
Spreading my legs wide, I began massaging my pussy with three fingers. My middle finger dipped into my vagina each time they passed over, lingered. I could feel my own response building. My fingertips were wet and my nipples stiff.
I glanced up to see that he's hunched over so as not to be able to be distracted by me over the screens.
Would you, then!
It was time to show him who was boss around here. I slid under the desk. His hand came down and his fingers flicked towards me -
Go away!
I grasped his fingers, leaned towards his hand and slowly licked from his fingertips to his wrist. He tried to pull his hand back, but I clung to it. He was stronger, but I was pretty sure he didn't want to stage a wrestling match with a stark-naked woman in front of Hans, let alone all the other suits presumably on the circuit. And, no doubt, recording.
I separated his fingers and proceeded to lick and suckle his middle finger, inhaling it all the way down to the third knuckle, rolling my tongue around it on the way out.
He twisted loose and grabbed my wrist, pushing me back. I grabbed his package and squeezed. The pushing stopped. I rubbed my fingertips gently over his bare pubis and inner thighs, followed by lightly scratching the same areas with my fingernails. I traced the same path with my tongue.
He coughed, spoke above the desk. "Herr Horst, what progress have you made?"
An elderly, plummy voice started mumbling something about Brussels and excise reciprocity. Deadly. German made it worse.
Time for some real stimulation.
I shifted my grip on his man-bits. Holding the head of his penis, I stretched it down towards his knees. With the fingernails of my other hand, I lightly tickled behind his scrotum. His penis got a little fuller and I could feel his thighs tense, but his voice continued above the desk. "No. I don't want to talk to them myself. You have the authority."
I had picked up a toy in our bedroom, the eagle flight feather he had found in Canada. I took it from behind my ear and started to tickle his inner thighs with it, eventually moving the strokes to his bait-and-tackle. He squirmed a little. The feather was stiff enough to provide pressure but soft enough to stimulate well. An aunt once told me that a man has enough blood in his system to run either his brain or his willy, not both; I was successfully rerouting blood away from his brain. I dragged the feather around and around his head.
His cock rapidly grew erect. I made a brush from the ends of my hair and used it to stroke his cock and balls for a minute, then ran my fingernails along its length. It jerked beneath them. I pulled it away from his abdomen and rolled it between two stiff palms. His feet came up on their toes. My hands rolled up and down his shaft, faster and faster. His abs were rippling.
Changing course, I began licking his swollen organ slowly from base to head with the tip of my tongue. It pulsed under my hand. I tickled my way up the underside with my tongue-tip, then with broader tongue strokes licked up one side, then the other.
I started going faster, stroking with the full width of my tongue. He tried to push me away - most unusual for him, but considering the number of zeroes being discussed, perhaps understandable. No matter; I squeezed his balls, medium-hard, to make my point - he could close down the meeting or go with, as it were, the flow.
"Frau Advocat Wester," he said, his voice now a touch strained, "your recommendation, please."
A woman's voice, high and birdlike, began to reply. I always pictured her as looking like Tweety Bird. I began pumping his shaft, sucking on his head and flicking my tongue-tip over his slit. My other hand continued to fondle his scrotum. He shifted in his chair. He began to breath faster. The light was dim under his desk, but I could see his cock become darker. It throbbed in my hand. I nibbled gently on his shaft with my teeth and smiled as he shifted position in his chair over and over.
Pumping him, I shifted to sucking on his balls. One at a time, I brought them into my mouth and swirled them gently around against still teeth. Backing away, I could see his head swell still more, like a purple mushroom. How do men stand that? It looked like it was ready to explode.
