Entrapped

We all knew Janet Shaw.

She was the wife of our boss, and was hard to miss. Even if she didn't drop by the office all that often.

Janet Shaw was tall, elegant, exotic, smart, funny, and very, very beautiful. Sexy, too. Her parents were from China, so she had those dark almond eyes, that soft pale skin, that long fine black hair. Growing up on an Ohio diet, she was large and healthy.

An odd fit for Andrew Shaw, a short fireplug of a man. He shaved his head and wore glasses and a thick blond vandyke beard. He usually wore gray three-piece suits at the office.

I was just a tall skinny kid intern. With less expensive glasses. And a much more scruffy beard. (This was a long time ago.)

"Tell Andrew I'm here, please, and that I'll be ready to go in ten minutes," Janet said as she swept into the office. We knew that the Shaws were going to a black tie party that evening. Andrew had been putting on more bits of his tuxedo outfit all afternoon.

Slow motion changing clothes.

Nevertheless we were all stunned at how great Janet looked - she was breathtaking. She was wearing an asymmetric crimson silk gown, low cut in the front and backless. Her hair was swept into great loops and falls using a series of clips that I still don't understand. And she wore knee-high black leather boots with four-inch heels.

I noted to myself that with those heels she'd be taller than him. I also noticed that she wasn't wearing lipstick, although her eyes had lots of make-up. I didn't have time to think that through before I went down a rabbit hole.

"Is Peter here?" she asked. Then she spotted me. "Ah. Come along, Peter." And she strode to the back of the office and into the file room.

Naturally, I stood there like an idiot glued to the floor. I looked to my senior co-workers for guidance. I saw much interest, but no guidance. Finally Tom said "You better go."

So I did, I went into the file room with the dolled up Mrs. Shaw.

When I stumbled into the room she closed and locked the door. "Give me your jacket."

"Huh?"

"Give it, Peter. Take it off and hand it over." So, of course, I did. She took my jacket, folded it, put it on the floor, and knelt upon it.

She took my hands and put them on her bare shoulders. "You are to keep your hands here, understand?" I did not understand at all. "Do not touch my face or my hair." Ok, so I now understood a little.

Janet undid my belt. She unzipped my pants. She pulled them down to my ankles, fully exposing my cock, balls, and ass.

"Aigh!!" I inquired.

Palms up, she took my penis in one hand and my scrotum in the other. My penis was visibly swelling as we watched.

She blew on the swelling tip. 'Twas warm and cooling both. As I grew fully stiff she wrapped her fingers around me and gently stroked.

"Hmm. You have a very nice cock, Peter."

"Th-thanks, Mrs. Sh-shaw..."

"Oh, call me Janet," she said, and began sucking my cock. I had not expected this. I didn't know what to do, so I did nothing.

Janet knew what she was doing, though. I'd never had my nuts handled so well - she knew just how to stroke them, at the back, for maximum effect. And her mouth and fist on my shaft were astonishing. She twisted her head, getting her tongue everywhere.

In under two minutes she had me blowing my load down her throat. She swallowed all my sperm right down.

Then she calmly stood up, took a mirror and lipstick from her purse, and painted her lips the same crimson as her dress. Perfectly.

"There," she said. "You can put your jacket back on now, Peter.

"Nothing sets the mood better for a long formal dinner party than a bellyful of a young man's sperm. Thank you, Peter."

She swept out of the file room, leaving me standing there amazed. With my still semi-hard dick exposed and dripping.

Dripping sperm onto my folded jacket.

Somehow, I didn't mind.