In Need Of Counsel

I had traveled to Portland for the first time ever -- a week there on business. I found myself flipping through a magazine, searching for touristy things to do, when a familiar face caught my eye. I stared for a minute -- looking back at me from the page was a man who had been my lover years ago, without a doubt the best I'd ever had. It didn't take long to formulate a plan which had nothing to do with a tour or excursion . . .

It turns out that he was an attorney in a small town not far from where I was staying. I called and made an appointment with him, asking for the latest possible time in the evening, giving a false name, and saying only that it was a civil matter. Then I did a little shopping.

I showed up to his office late in the afternoon, wearing a suit with a short skirt, a silk camisole beneath just low cut enough to raise eyebrows had I been at work. The heels I wore were of a of a height far more appropriate for an evening on the town than an appointment like this, and accentuated the lines of my legs in a way I knew he couldn't help but notice.

He was running a bit late, and I was beginning to doubt the wisdom of my plan, when his assistant finally ushered me in. He didn't look up from his desk immediately, and I didn't sit down. I paused a moment, then asked, "How long are you going to make me wait?"

He was obviously startled at the sound of my voice, and slowly looked up to meet my eyes. I walked over and sat across from him, never breaking that eye contact. I saw him watch as I slowly crossed my legs -- he still hadn't said a thing. I finally told him that this matter would require some privacy, and asked that he close the blinds. He hesitated briefly, then rose to do so, and I let myself drink in the sight of him.

I slipped off my jacket, knowing that he'd immediately realize how sheer that camisole was, and that I had nothing on underneath it. He came back over to sit beside me, eyes questioning what I had in mind, then running his eyes over every inch of me like I had done to him moments ago. "I know it's a bit unconventional, counselor," I said, "but I thought perhaps I could provide a service or two for you." I reached over and traced a line down his chest with my finger, over his stomach, and started to undo his belt. He rose to lock his office door. "Don't," I said.

I took his hand and pulled him back to me, then stood to meet him. I ran a hand through his hair and pulled him in for a kiss -- gentle, at first, then almost hungry. My other hand unzipped his pants, and I took his beautiful, hard cock out. I broke the kiss to lower myself to my knees in front of him; he watched as I slid my barely covered breasts over his cock before taking it into my warm mouth.

I couldn't help but tease him a bit -- my tongue made circles on his cock, my teeth gently ran across it. I'd take him in, and suck softly, then stop again -- almost like the kiss I'd broken to start this. I closed my lips around him, and looked up again into his eyes; he obviously remembered how much I love doing this. I started to suck a bit harder, and watched his eyes close in pleasure. I ran my hands up the back of his thighs and found his ass, and with one sharp move pulled him all the way into my mouth, back into my throat, taking every bit of that amazing hard cock in. I set the rhythm as he fucked my mouth. My mouth and throat were tight around him, and I could feel him getting close . . . so I slowly stopped. He groaned -- but I had other things in mind for him.

I stood, and turned my back to him, bracing my hands on his desk. He lifted my skirt, and I could tell he was taking in the sight of my ass and legs and dangerously high heels. He suddenly ripped off my lace panties, and I couldn't help but moan myself, anticipating him inside me. He was making me wait . . . and I didn't like it one bit. I spread my legs, ready to take him in. "Fuck me," I whispered, and he slowly entered my wet, ready pussy. I backed up against him -- wanting to again set the rhythm, but he wouldn't let me. Suddenly, my plan seemed to be falling apart -- he was taking control despite my best efforts, and the only effect it had was for me to want to fuck him that much more. He teased me, slowly, his fingers on my nipples and his cock inside me, and I felt my back arching and head going back. "Oh please, please, fuck me," I begged, and I could feel my orgasm starting around his cock. He could feel how badly I wanted to scream as I starts to cum around him, but I could only keep asking quietly, "Fuck me, fuck me . . ." as I had orgasm after orgasm, and he thrust harder and faster inside me.

I abruptly pulled away from him, and his eyes asked why. I asked, "What is something you've always wanted to do to me but never had the chance?" I already knew the answer -- and I turned back around to put one hand on his desk and used the other to grab his wet, throbbing cock and guide it into my ass. I gasped as he entered me, then relaxed and embraced the bit of pain that came with the pleasure. I could tell he was barely holding himself back -- rock hard and so close. "Do you like that, baby?" I whispered, and he only moaned in reply. "I want to feel you explode while you fuck my ass -- come on baby . . ." I said, and was surprised to find myself exploding again. It was all he could take -- one more hard thrust and I got what I asked for. We both slid to the floor, unable to stand, almost unable to breathe.

After a few minutes of lying there with eyes closed, limbs entwined, I moved away to stand. I straightened my skirt, found my jacket, ran my fingers through my hair, and offered him my hand. As he stood, clothes askew, obviously just fucked, I kissed him once, then walked out his office door, leaving it wide open.