I sat behind my office desk, undecided.
In my desk drawer were a pair of lacy, emerald-green panties.
From Giana.
Or at least, I assumed they were from Giana - after all, after we'd talked about how much her pictures had excited me, and how hard talking with her had gotten me, she'd risen from her chair, excused herself to the ladies' restroom, and returned to give those to me before she'd gone back to her office.
They were in my desk drawer for two reasons. First, I couldn't very well leave them on top of the desk while I pondered what to do next; while I was pretty sure they didn't have her name in them, or something, I was pretty sure that I didn't want to explain to anyone - whether part of my IT cadre or not - precisely WHY I had a pair of panties on my desk. Granted, my IT cadre was quite familiar with my myriad official and unofficial hijinx over the years, and I'd certainly covered for their idiosyncrasies over the years - how many other bosses did you know who accepted "I didn't get to recover my body from the Plane of Hate until 4AM this morning" as a valid excuse for an employee being four hours late to work?
But this was something a little more significant, and not only did I not want to answer any questions, I didn't want to answer why I didn't want to answer. They'd seen my girlfriends before, and were aware that I had about as many inhibitions as a wolf in season, but I'd never given them any details, especially about someone who worked at the same company they did - in short, aside from being a "gentlemen who doesn't tell", I didn't even want to be a gentlemen who refused to answer the question!
The second reason was that my desk-drawer was lockable. I may be paranoid about security, but even paranoids have enemies...
In any case, I was pondering the decision - not whether or not I was going to soon close my door and stroke my cock until the pleasure became too much, and my semen came forth like a geyser (well, a really small geyser...), that was a given, but in what way to best use her gift while I masturbated.
You see, right now, the panties were damp. Giana had obviously enjoyed our talk as much as I had, and while she was blushing, she was also quite taken with the idea of being the object of my lustful fantasies... When she'd left the panties with me, I'd taken them into the men's bathroom and - in the relative privacy of a locked stall - examined them, holding them against my face, letting the scent of her arousal inflame my senses for a moment before returning to my office, and its lockable door.
The silk of the material was soft, and they were full-cut, not the thongs so fashionable these days, with the lacy front panel forming a V-shape at the front.. The material which once pressed against her delectable ass would feel like heaven against the soft skin of my cock, and I could imagine the sensation if I were to run it up and down my shaft, swirling it over my purple cock-head.
Or I could use three fingertips to stroke the shaft while I nuzzled the panties with my other hand, letting the scent - and eventually, the lingering taste - of her pussy drive me into a frenzy.
If I used the panties on my shaft, I'd end up mixing my cum with her pussy honey, which was a delightful thought. If I ran them across my face while stroking, I'd likely not cum on them, and be able to preserve the condition. How long would they remain fragrant? How many fantasies of kneeling between her thighs and gently licking and sucking her to orgasm would I be able to indulge with her actual scent and taste?
Eventually, I'd need to wash them, and return them - even if she told me to keep them thereafter. It wasn't so much implied that I needed to actually give them back, but it was much more courteous and considerate to consider them a loan, rather than a permanent grant. Of course, the odds were overwhelming that she wouldn't expect them back - but that just made the return of them more appropriate. Most people are no better than they are required to be, and I prided myself on being more courteous and considerate than was required.
I rose from my desk, and crossed over to my open door. I leaned out, and announced "Take a message if anyone comes around, will you?" to my crew; they had long-standing orders that if someone came around when my door was closed to take a message, and if it was important to tell the person that they'd page me - but still not let them through the door. The door was sacrosanct.
The door closed, and I barely registered the double-click of the door latch and the second lock engaging as I retreated to my chair. A key flashed in the darkness, catching the light of the monitor as I unlocked the door, and took out her panties. My trousers unbuckled - seemingly by themselves - and hit the floor. I had been wearing black satin boxers, and I reclined, my cock still within their confines.
I closed my eyes, the better to visualize Giana as she'd been at the cafe - her white blouse, her gray slacks... with my left hand I started stroking my cock shaft through the boxers, and with my right I brought her panties to my cheek, enjoying the silken sensation. I imagined her getting dressed in the morning, selecting her lingerie with care - fantasy Giana had a matching bra, of course - and dressing slowly, a strip-tease in reverse while her husband watched. I imagined him coming up behind her out of bed, pressing his cock against her ass while his hands pulled at her nipples through the bra, and her smilingly shooing him away as she continued to get dressed.
My hand guided my cock out of the front slot of the boxers as I brought the panel of the panties closer to my nose. Fingers hit bare, erect flesh as I breathed in the scent of her arousal... I imagined her in the cafe restroom, slipping off her pants and running her palm against her silk-covered mound, making sure that her cream was well-represented. I imagined her fingers pulling the panties down and off her ankles, and her pausing a second to touch herself intimately, her own eyes clothed as she imagined what I'd do with them... and then dressing again.
My cock twitched with pleasure as I lingered on this image, her scent sending a string of wildfire up and down my spine. I imagined her down at her office, the material of her gray pants against her naked ass... did she shave down there? Was the material of her pants directly against her pussy? Was she still wet, thinking of me up here, knowing to what use I'd be putting her gift?
I could feel the sap of my body begin to build towards explosion, fueled by the scent of her pussy in my nostrils... and added a little more fuel my lightly touching the damp fabric with my tongue. My cock twitched almost angrily at being denied the sensation granted my tongue, and I savored the light taste of her... pleasantly musky, and a little sweet, like a thick honey.
Instead of downstairs in her office, I imagined her sitting on the other side of my office, watching me stroke myself. This first time, I suspected she'd be too shy to join in, but I imagined the shallowness of her breath, and the erectness of her nipples (God bless the picture, I knew precisely what to imagine, those perfect, soft globes and the darker nipples...), and her lips slightly parted as she watched. She'd be torn between touching herself, and being too shy - and that dichotomy increased the appeal of having her watch.
Did I mention I thoroughly enjoy teasing? I wasn't sure if it came from my passion for oral sex, or if my love of oral sex came from my passion for teasing, for driving my lovers insane with pleasure, with bringing them almost to the peak and backing off slightly, holding them there, until they were likely to kill me with the force of their final, eventual orgasm... but I didn't put much thought into it - who knows, if I over-analyzed it, it might diminish...
As I came closer and closer to my own orgasm, I imagined telling her how close I was... I imagined her leaning forward to watch, and me telling her that I wasn't going to cum until she unbuttoned her blouse and showed me her lingerie-clad breasts....she unbuttoned her blouse slowly, tantalizingly, pulling the material part to form a V-shape, moving the shirt to the outside of her bra so that they framed her breasts perfectly... in my fantasy, she cupped them with her hands, tweaking her nipples underneath the fabric, commanding me to cum...
...and fantasy and reality merged as both of me came at the same time... not one of those quick cums, but one of those nice, drawn-out orgasms, my fingers gently encouraging the spasms and contractions of my body.
Of course, the fantasy me was better off - he didn't have to clean up afterwards...
Much of the rest of the day at Findem! passed in something of a post-orgasmic haze, and it was pleasant that nothing pressing required me to snap out of it. I mean, I would have... but it was nice that I didn't have to. Much of the rest of the day at Findem! passed in something of a post-orgasmic haze, and it was pleasant that nothing pressing required me to snap out of it. I mean, I would have... but it was nice that I didn't have to.
