I'm at work, it's after hours. You call and say you're bored and need to get out of the house. "Can I come up there?" you ask. Of course. Fifteen minutes later, you walk in. The place is dark but you see my desk in the corner is all lit up. I've been working feverishly until now. I stop and watch you saunter over. Still in your work clothes: a smart business suit/skirt combo that would definitely draw stares in normal circles. Your skirt is mid-thigh but, due to the length of your legs, looks much shorter. You pause and pretend to look out the window, shifting your weight back and forth from left to right. You're actually just flexing your calves because you know you turn me on in high heels.
Very casually, you stroll over and drop a small bundle of fabric on my desk. I pick them up and smile as they unfurl in my hand. Your small panties. "I had to take them off on the way over," you say, "My little pussy was too hot." I lift them to my nose and breathe in your scent. The scent I go to sleep and wake up with. The scent that drives me.
You lean forward on your elbows and look deep into my eyes. "Almost done with work? Do I need to leave you alone for a little while?" you ask. No, done now. The break in your jacket is gaping obscenely and your full breasts are threatening to breech their confines. I see nary a strip of silken undergarments there. Must have been too hot for that, too.
You casually reach across and lightly fondle me through my dress pants. My cock stirs instantly. Gripping its hardness, you ask, "Is that for me?" Coming around the desk, you push me back in my chair, pull your skirt up and lean back against the cool laminate. Your pussy's glistening in the glare of the table lamp. My mouth is watering so I close the distance between us. Your legs are spread and you're giving me complete access to your special place. I finally get close enough to lightly swipe my tongue up the length of your delicious flower. When I get to your clit, I pause there and make a small circle around the nub, never actually making contact. Your lips plump and open. I slip a finger inside and am met with that magic wetness. You're hotter inside and so lubed that a second finger is need for friction. You arch back and thrust your hips to meet my hand. I lean back in and, this time, aim directly for your hardening button. I take it between my teeth and lightly bite. I use my tongue to coax it out from its hood. It's hard as stone and your delicious juices are covering my hand.