You, darling lover, work from your home in a bright, sunny office space. Meetings consume most of your day and you've often expressed to me how utterly boring and endless your weekdays seem.
Let's just say I decide one day to drop in, just to say hi and maybe to entertain you. No one ever locks the back garage door, so I let myself in and walk through the familiar house to the room that serves as your office.
I pop my head around the door, see that you're occupied and come to stand in front of your desk, out of sight of your camera. Devilish smile on my face.
You're in your chair, chatting away with your fellow employees, discussing marketing trends or whatever nonsense passes for business these days.
You pause, look up at me with astonished eyes and I can see your brain racing, wondering what I'm doing here while you're stuck behind the desk working.
Off comes my grey t-shirt, over my head and dropped on the floor. Long blonde hair hangs down, covering most of my purple bra. Your eyes dart between the conversation and me, wondering how far I'll go. Briefly, a smile crosses your lips, a wry grin because you KNOW me so well, you know I won't stop until both of us are breathless with arousal.
Bra off next, onto the floor as well. Your face starts to get red, losing concentration, torn between paying attention to work and the strip-tease I've begun.
Fingers on the button of my jeans, taunting you - will I take those off too? I cant my hips, eyes alight as I see you struggle to keep yours on the screen.
Tapping my fingers on my jeans as I watch you, watching me. Work calls, your attention shifts. I unbutton and slide the zipper down. And wait, because I know you saw me.
When your eyes shift back momentarily, I slide them down over my hips, to crumple at my feet.
Shorts stay on, fingers on the waistband but I've moved closer to you, just on the other side of your desk, leaning forward provocatively, breasts just out of your reach. You're deliberately not looking at the soft flesh so close, yet aching to reach out and touch me. I can see the consternation in the furrow between your eyes.
Someone asks you a question and your attention shitfs to the screen, pondering how to answer and not look to see if I'm sliding the shorts off too.
Instead, mischievous smile on my face, I drop down and crawl under your desk. Today you have jeans on, which is good because I want you to feel my fingers on the button and hear YOUR zipper slide down. You're fucking hard already, and I haven't even touched you yet.
You risk a look down but won't make eye contact with me because I'm laughing softly as you squirm. My mouth is right up against your cock, still trapped under fabric. You want so desperately to reach down and pull your pants off, or demand that I do.
To tell me, voice tight, to just 'fucking get them off, RIGHT NOW!'
I can see it in your face, lips together, a frown forming. Visible to anyone you're talking to up there.
I trace the outline of you with my mouth, intentionally teasing you, because right now, you have no power over anything I do.
None.
Jeans on, jeans off, my choice. Cock fruitlessly straining to be free......or actually free, and in my warm and wet mouth.
Taking some pity on you, I undo the button. The hope you feel is apparent in your posture as you shift, and reach down, trying to unzip your own pants, since I'm taking too long.
My teeth gently rake your fingers, reminding you that I'm in charge now. Go back to your meeting darlin'. Pretend to pay attention to whatever it is that someone there has been talking about for HOURS now.
None of it makes sense to you anymore and godforbid someone asks you a question. You've lost the entire train and your brain is focused only on my hand, stroking you though the fabric.
I'm taking immense pleasure in your discomfort, and I know I'll have to pay for that at some point, but for now, I greatly enjoy the torment your body is experiencing.
Then your zipper, snicking down, inch by agonizing inch. You shift in your seat, lifting your hips a few inches, my hands pulling the cotton material out from under you and down.
Commando? I'd never have guessed!
Your jeans puddle at your feet and you shuffle them, trapped. I won't help you shed the denim; I prefer you exactly as you are..
Sitting back on my heels, I study you, the parts of you I can see. Your button-down shirt hangs low, keeping the upper part of you decent. I giggle softly, wondering what your co-workers would think about you, naked from the waist down, cock erect, voice tight when you do offer a word here or there in the conversation.
Can any one of them imagine that I am here, your cock inches from being in my mouth? Are any of them in a similar situation?
A lover between Mrs. Green's thighs as she suffuses red from the arousal; but mentions that her furnace is not working correctly, attempting misdirection on everyone watching their screens.
Mr. Smith watches his young female neighbor work in her garden though his window, wondering if he can convince her to join him in the pool later. Cock hard as he strokes it surreptitiously, eyeing her lithe body.