A Hard Boss Is Good to Find

He lived with his girlfriend. I had a boyfriend. But when we were alone in the office, it was killing me to keep my hands off him.

One day, he came in and closed the door. I turned from the layout desk because I heard: first, the door close, and second, the decisive click of the lock. Josh was leaning back, both hands still on the doorknob. He was staring at my breasts thoughtfully.

There was a reason we always left the door open to the hallway when we worked: Lust.

So it was very good news that he had closed the door. Better still, that he had locked it.

We had been teasing each other for almost eight weeks now, ever since he'd hired me to put together The Austin Guide for Students.

I'd wanted him the moment I met him... because he was tall, because he was smart, and because he was proportioned just right. He was 6'3", with slender, almost delicate fingers. I knew he had a lovely, strong cock between those long legs of his. And from his unabashed, sexually-charged response to me, it was obvious that he knew exactly what to do with it.

My pulse increased. I put down the Exacto-knife with suddenly shaky fingers.

---------------------

Two months earlier, the job interview had been brief.

"Can you paste up?" he asked.

I unzipped my portfolio, spread it open so it was right side up to me. He had to get up from behind the desk to stand next to me while I paged through the examples.

"Can you design ads?" he asked.

I turned the page, and showed him my ads. "I designed them. After I sold them. I designed the ads, I specced them, I typeset them. I can do it all."

"You can do it all," he said. Looking up at him, I became enchanted with his lips. They were full, sweet, and... athletic. I wanted them on my pink nipples, massaging, kissing, sucking.

I thought about how the tip of his tongue would circle my nipple tentatively as he closed those full lips around it. I knew he would suck hard suddenly, so I would make a little yelp of desire. I could imagine his thumb and forefinger gently squeezing my other nipple, pinching just barely as it became harder. I wanted him to keep slowly rolling my hard, sensitive nipple between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing a little more, relaxing for a second, then pinching harder still.

"You do it all... well?" he asked.

I had taken a quick breath during my little daydream. When he started the question, I made myself look up at him. By the time he finished it, he was looking at my lips. I enjoyed watching him as he considered taking my mouth.

I wanted to drop my head back slightly, step into his chest and feel his tongue pushing past my teeth. Instead, I sighed. I took a half step away from him, and looked down at the portfolio.

"Even write the copy and everything?" he wanted to know. I turned toward him.

"You will not believe what I can do..." I said, narrowing my eyes a little and lifting my eyebrows the slightest bit. "...and you will not believe how well I can do it."

We were matched in the flirting department. It was his move. He turned so we were facing each other, inches apart.

There are those men who really like women. They like the way we smell, how we giggle, how our hips move when we dance. They like our softness and our delicate eyelashes. They love watching our lips and our tongues when we eat ice cream cones on really hot days.

There are those men who love the pursuit, the sly winning-over, the capture, the capitulation, the final and ultimate possession. I love it when their eyes linger on my lips, or when they can't stop looking at my breasts. But I get a little testy when they pursue for too long. I really like the fucking. Games of pursuit and capture can take up way too much time.

"Hire me now," I said. "Have me later."

"Jesus!" he said, looking away. "Jesus. Okay. You're hired. That's your desk. Go to HR now. No, wait... take some old copies of the Guide to look at. Come in tomorrow around 11. And Sarah, can you put your hair up into one of those high, sexy ponytails?"

"Like this?" I put down my portfolio and, standing in front of him, used both hands to gather and lift my long, dark hair into a ponytail. As I raised my arms, my blouse pulled tight across my breasts. I looked down and was pleased to see that my nipples were already hard and obvious through my bra and my blouse.

Josh was staring at them. He was smiling.

"Touch them," I said. "Please."

He said nothing, simply ran his fingers across my nipples, then used both hands to cup and squeeze my breasts. He rubbed his hands in little circles, intensifying the pressure, then backing off, then intensifying it again. I bit my bottom lip lightly, a habit I have when I am beginning to get aroused. I was delighted to find out that I was right about him. He wasn't just grabbing my breasts because I offered them. He was lightly massaging my tits and admiring them. While he was pleasuring himself by running his hands over my breasts, he was making sure that I was getting just as much out of it as he was.

"That's really nice," I said. "But I'm going to have to get going."

He put his hands on my waist. I let my hair drop, shaking my head a little to keep it out of my eyes. Josh didn't move his hands, so I gave him a look.

"Oh, you're a pouter," he said, putting his forefinger on my lips. I relaxed my mouth slightly. He pushed his finger in. I sucked on it while he moved it the least little bit in and out.

Good sex is such fun. The promise of good sex can be just as much fun. Although I didn't want this foreplay to stop, I moved back, fussed at tucking my blouse in, and picked up the portfolio.

"Ok, then," he said. "See you tomorrow. And when you are talking to HR, you should be thinking about how it will feel when the tip of my tongue is very lightly scraping across your right nipple."

After my first week of work, we celebrated by going to happy hour on Friday.

"What would you do if I put my foot in your crotch?" he asked.

"Just make sure to take your loafer off first," I said. We were facing each other across the table. I shifted my ass on the bench, moving around so my thighs were farther apart.

"You are so bad," he said. "Did you know I have a girlfriend?"

I looked around the bar.

"Is she here?" I asked, a little concerned. The girlfriend of a man who so obviously loved flirting could be hyper-vigilant, aggressive, even downright dangerous.

He put his sock-covered foot under my long, hippie skirt and kissed my ankle briefly with his toes. Then he moved them slowly up to the back of my knee. As they pulsed against that ticklish soft skin, I straightened my leg just a little. It felt like there was a direct electrical connection from the back of my knee to my clit. When he moved his toes slowly from side to side, it was as though he was moving them across the delicate skin of my labia.

I tried to stare him down but couldn't because I was distracted by the sparklers going off in my cunt. Then I tried to look nonchalant. I thought about trying to break the spell of his seduction. I thought I might counter his move, run my toes up the inside of his leg, but the truth was that I didn't want to move.

I was lost to his touch. All I wanted to do was let him know I wanted more. So I licked my lips, and tilted my head back. I bent both knees just a tad more. I opened my legs just a little wider, and lifted them the slightest fraction of an inch off the bench.

He started to push his foot between my legs toward my crotch. I closed my eyes to better concentrate on the erotic sensations on my inner thighs.

"Look at me," he said. I opened my eyes, but didn't want to look right at him. I gazed instead at the shoulder seam of his button-down shirt, not really seeing anything. I was loving the arousal, focusing on my mounting excitement as his foot slowly moved along my inner thigh toward my sweet, suddenly wet crotch. With those long, long legs it would not be a problem for his toes to reach my clit.

I hoped he could see the sweat between my breasts.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked. I finally made myself meet his eyes. I slumped down slightly on the bench, twisting my hips the littlest bit so my engorged clit pushed against his big toe. I wanted him to keep teasing me.

"Do you want me to tell you where your big toe is?" I asked him, delighted that I could move my hips in tiny circles and produce some intensely good sensations.

"Your sock might be too thick for you to tell," I continued. "But there is a whole lot of wetness going on down there."

"Hey, Sarah!"

My boyfriend was coming toward the table, holding two bottles of PBR. I was totally startled. I sat up quickly, and pushed my butt against the back of the booth, withdrawing from contact with Josh's foot. I was so obviously rattled that Josh caught on. Before Jimmy reached the table, he had his foot stuffed neatly back into his loafer.

"I didn't know you'd be here," said Jimmy. I moved over to let him sit down.

"Well, in that case, who's the other bottle for?" I asked as I took it from him. I introduced Josh to Jimmy, Jimmy to Josh.

"Josh's my new boss I told you about."

They leaned forward, shook hands. As they settled back, I finished the first bottle, traded it to Jimmy for his full one, tipped my head back and drank most of the second one before taking a breath.

"Damn," I said as the two men watched each other. "Let's go dance, Jimmy."

Jimmy took the bottle from me, finished what little was left in it, and set it down without taking his eyes off Josh. I scooted along the bench. Jimmy reached toward me, grabbed my hand, hard, and pulled me to my feet.

"See you Monday," I said over my shoulder as Jimmy led me toward the dance floor. I made him stop where I knew Josh could see us. It was a slow bluesy song. As I moved closer to Jimmy, I pulled his hands down along my back to my ass. It turned me on to know that Josh was watching me grind against my boyfriend's crotch. I made sure he had a good view of Jimmy's hands as they groped my ass.

If Josh was the kind of flirt I was sure he was, he would be slouching back in the booth and toying with his drink while he stared bemusedly at my back. He would be imagining that those were his hands on my ass. And he would know absolutely that I could feel his hands as they touched me.

I pretended I was dancing for him. Then I pretended I was dancing with him... that he was pulling my skirt up in the back, little by little, until it was all bunched up. I imagined him pushing under the elastic of my panties, his fingertips brushing my ass.

I shivered, thinking about how he would lean over me a little more, grab my ass cheeks full on with both hands, pulling them up and spreading them just the least little bit. Luxuriating in that thought made my mouth open... made me arch my back and push my crotch against Jimmy's.

"You're a little fuckie bunny right now," said Jimmy. "We should do this more often."

"I'm really excited to see you today," I said.

I liked the new job. There were lots of different things to do. There were lots of different ways to tease Josh. When he stood too close to me, I didn't shift to re-establish a polite distance. Instead, I leaned into him without saying anything. When I got close like that, he would shift slightly, turning incrementally toward me. I could feel his cock twitch... interested, alert, hungry. My pussy would answer with a sudden fullness between my legs.

His presence electrified me, I don't know why. Whenever I saw him, I felt what can only be called a pussy-twinge, kind of like tasting vinegar. There's the initial touching of your tongue to the vinegar, then there's a tang and your whole tongue becomes alive, and then you salivate. These instantaneous internal twinges could be so strong that I had to, a couple of times, reach out for the nearest table or piece of large furniture for support. Sometimes all I could do was close my eyes, bite my bottom lip and breathe slowly.

"Josh," I called him over after we'd worked together for a few weeks. "Come here and let me know what you think of this."

I was facing the layout table, holding onto the edge with both hands. He pretended to make some notes at his desk, then came over and stood next to me. His hands were on his hips. He leaned back, putting his weight on his heels. Then, bouncing a little, he rested his crotch lightly against the back of my hand.

We stared intently at the page I was working on. I turned my hand over and kneaded his prick ever so gently.

"Is there a problem I'm looking at?" He finally asked softly.

"Oh, no," I said, fondling him brazenly. "Everything seems to be just fine."

He grunted and was suddenly standing behind me with his large hands on my waist. He pulled me back hard against his crotch.

"I want you," he said simply.

Then he pinned my arms to my sides by wrapping his arms around me, one directly under my breasts, the other above. He was squeezing tightly, and pressing into my back with his now-hard cock. Even with the air conditioning on, there was sweat on my shirt.

We were both breathing raggedly.

"Fuck me," I said.

He put a hand over my mouth. I licked his palm. He shuddered, then pushed the side of his hand between my teeth. I bit him softly. I was writhing in delight. He moved his lower arm up until it was touching my nipples. Then he started to move it back and forth, as if he was playing a great living violin. The sensation was unbelievably intense. And oh, so supremely pleasurable. It was my turn to shudder deliciously.

Someone was whistling happy show tunes. It was his girlfriend, coming down the hall to pick him up for lunch. I never knew if she really was that damned happy, or if she was giving him enough time to pat himself down, shake it off, and slow his pulse.

He quickly released me. I stood staring at the table.

He said, "Put your head down. Pretend you're taking a nap or something."

Two days later, he came to work wearing only a pair of green cotton gym shorts. So much skin exposed. I was distracted. I wanted to play with his chest hairs. I needed to kiss his back. I wanted to stroke his stomach and his abs, run my hands up and down his lovely thighs. When I thought he wasn't looking, I was gazing at his upper arms.

He knew I was entranced, because I had stopped whatever work I had been trying to do and was sitting on my work stool, my hand over my mouth, staring at him. He may have guessed that I was imagining what it would be like to explore all that skin with my tongue and my lips. Slowly. Tenderly. Exploring.

Josh stood and stretched. Then he paused, looking concerned, as if he should come up with a good reason for getting up. Was he going to get a drink of water or a new pen? Or make sure the waxer was turned on?

He still seemed to be casting about for a good reason for coming to see me when he reached me three short steps later. Giving up, he grinned sheepishly, said nothing and simply stood in front of me. I reached out and ran my hands up and down his arms slowly. I liked how he had more hair on his forearms, less on the upper arms.

I rubbed his chest, moving my palms so his nipples kissed first the heart lines on both my palms, then the love lines. From there, I stroked lower and lower until I touched the elastic waist of his shorts. I took a deep breath and tickled the hair at the top of his pubic patch.

"Oh," he said. "Ooooh. Yes."

I turned him around gently and slowly ran my hands over his back, using my fingertips to make little circles. I moved closer to trace his shoulder blades with little angel licking kisses, up and down. He leaned back, sighing. I put my arms around his naked chest.

When I felt how warm his skin was against my inner arms, I was transported. I wanted more of his skin on mine. I wanted to press my naked breasts, my stomach against his back. I wanted full body skin contact.

But I kept my clothes on. I just kissed his neck, then ran my tongue down along his spine to the top of his shorts, where I nipped at the small of his back with little devil bites. I bit and sucked just enough to leave a gallery of barely bruised baby hickies.

I let my fingers steal inside the front of his shorts to touch his hidden shaft. I touched it and tapped it and stroked it until he groaned. His prick grew stiffer and longer until it finally peeked out from under his shorts.

I made sure I got pre-cum all over my fingers.

Then I made him suffer as I licked it off. I was delicate, cleaning one finger at time. Any man knows the look on my face as I licked, lovingly, each fingertip. Then I sucked and licked from the fingertip down to the first knuckle. Then I licked and sucked down to the second knuckle. I finally slipped each finger all the way into my mouth. Then I closed my eyes and swallowed.

I would go the ladies' room and come back without my bra. Josh would get up from his desk to critique the layout, placing his hand on the layout table to point out a problem. I would move closer to see what he was pointing at, closer and closer, until my breast was lightly kissing, barely touching his hand. And then he would turn his hand over to cup my breast, pull at it, stroke with his fingers.

One day during our third week of working together, I wore a T-shirt that was white, very thin, and very tight across my tits. I went out to get a Coke, slipped into the ladies' room, stuffing my bra into my big purse before I returned. Instead of stroking my breast through the material as he had done before, Josh ran his hand up inside my shirt, fondling my naked breast, catching my nipple between two fingers. I had been desiring the feel of his fingers directly on my skin for so long that when he touched me like that, it surprised me into orgasm.

He was behind me instantly, pushing me facedown onto the layout table, shoving my legs apart, and pressing his cock against my asscheeks. He was still clenching my breast as he humped against my ass like a horny dog, coming almost immediately with a strangled "oooof!" His relaxed body weight crushed me against the table while he rested, panting. I could feel his heart beating like crazy against my spine. After a few more deep breaths, he pulled his hand out of my shirt and went back to his desk.

"I can smell you from here," he said finally.

"And I smell damned good," I said.

"That you do," he agreed.

Josh liked to stand behind me when I was bent over the layout table, working. We both knew he couldn't be supervising; he couldn't see a damn thing I was doing. I liked having him so aroused and so close. I liked the way his sexual heat would warm my back. Sometimes I would straighten up to stand with my eyes closed, swaying slightly from side to side. The first few times I did that, he stood quietly without moving until I returned to my work. Then he meekly returned to his desk.

Somewhere around the fourth week, he placed his hands on my waist as I swayed. He stepped closer, pulling me to his chest, wrapping his arms around my stomach. We swayed sweetly back and forth until a gunshot rush of excitement shot through my cunt, making me groan. He slid one of his hands immediately between my legs, prodding my pulsating clit. I felt like a mare in heat, wet and frantic. I moved my feet farther apart, opening my legs for him. I leaned forward and lifted my ass up. He put a hand on my lower back so I wouldn't move, then stroked my high ponytail a few times before wrapping it around his other hand. He pulled on it a little. He started breathing faster.

"I want to ride you from behind like a whore," he said, pulling harder, forcing my head back and my tits out. "I really wish you were naked right now. Your tits would look so great."

My intense quiet cry of submission and desire and fear and yearning surprised us both.