About three hours into a review meeting on the prospects for regime change in Zimbabwe and the great challenges that policy-makers are likely to face in a post-Mugabe Sub-Saharan Africa, I felt my iPhone vibrating against my leg. I quietly slid it out of my pocket and laid it across my lap. It was an IM from Brandy.
"r u busy?" read the text.
I slowly pecked away at the phone while trying to feign interest in a discussion of the economic situation in southern Africa: "yeah, meeting -- can't talk."
After a few seconds her next I'm popped up: "hmmm... too bad . Maybe you want look at these instead of doing your job?" read the next message, which had three photos attached.
The pictures were self-taken. Brandy was wearing a grey, wool, pinstriped suit with a tight pink blouse underneath. The well-fitted blazer, with princess seam shaping, curved gently around her bust point and then pinched inward, down to the small of her waist, before curving back out over the top of her hips.
In the first picture, she sat pertly on the edge of her chair. Her shoulders were pulled back and her breasts pushed forward. The angle of the photo highlighted the sexy curve that runs from the outline of her busty chest down to her petite waist. Her skirt, which stopped just above her knees, was pulled tightly around the delicious contours of her small, round, firm ass. The photo also captured most of her shapely legs, which were covered by black stockings.
Brandy's jacket was buttoned, partially obscuring her breasts. But the top of her shirt was undone, affording me a tiny glimpse at her cleavage, which is amazing -- she has phenomenal breasts. The sexiest part of the picture, though, was her coy, open-mouth and partial smile. I zoomed in. Brandy's tongue was pressed playfully against the bottom of her top teeth, and her full, voluptuous lips were like fresh juicy grapes waiting to burst with flavor between the soft bite of my teeth. My heart raced; I took as deep of a breath as I could manage and then flipped to the next picture.
When I did, I was floored. She had taken off her jacket -- and hopefully locked her door. She obviously wasn't wearing a bra. Her taut shirt stretched restrictively around her sensational tits. They looked like grapefruits bulging out the side of an over-stuffed plastic grocery bag. Through the thin material, I could make out her nipples and faintly see her areolas. She had also pulled her skirt up high enough to flash me a peak of the top of her stockings. My eyes quickly zeroed in on the snap where her garter attached to her hosiery. I then followed the pink strap, which stretched across the naked flesh of her tanned thigh, until disappearing under her skirt.
The last picture was even more provocative. Brandy was sitting with her legs crossed while talking on the phone. Her reading glasses were on the tip of her nose and she was looking at the camera, which must have been placed on her bookshelf, as she was gazing a little to her right and just a touch above her eyelevel. Two more buttons were undone. From my angle, I could still see the outer half of her round firm left breast pushing hard against her shirt. More delightful, though, was the perfect teardrop shape of her bare right breast. Although it was tucked snuggly against the inside of her shirt, the opening flared out far enough for me to see the beautiful shape of her bare tit and part of her pink erect nipple.
As I was admiring the images, I realized that I hadn't looked up in the last couple of minutes. I glanced toward the speaker just before he shifted his glance to me. The look on his face was one of slight annoyance, suggesting that he noticed I had been distracted. Regardless, I could no longer think about anything other than Brandy.
"Send more," I managed to text back without really looking at my phone. A second later a felt my phone vibrate with Brandy's response. I glanced down to my lap.
"No," was all it said. After a few more seconds she elaborated: "Not unless you promise to meet me in an hour so finish what we started this morning."
I, of course, new exactly what she was referring to, and my mind immediately went to work recreating images from this morning in excruciatingly vivid detail. I recalled Brandi straddling me, with a sheet wrapped loosely around her hips. She was wearing a zip-down Juicy Couture tracksuit top with nothing underneath. Her right leg was exposed and I could see higher and higher up her bare thigh each time she lifted herself up and then slowly slid down my aching hard on.
It was aching because when Brandi fucks, she doesn't just bounce up and down on top of you, she rides you like a sexy lingerie model on a slow moving mechanical bull. This morning, she was doing just that. At first, she was up on her knees, sitting erect, with both hands on my stomach. She pushed down just an inch our so, rolled her weight from one hip to the other and then lift back up as she re-centered herself. She continued like this -- riding just the top few inches of my dick -- until I couldn't take anymore. I could feel Brandy getting wetter and her pussy starting to relax around the head of my thick tool. But, when I tried to push up against her, to slip deep inside of her warm wetness, she pressed down against my abs with her hands.
She laughed and looked into my eyes. "This isn't you fucking me. This is me fucking you.... Just relax and let me do you my way," she said.
As I endured this torture, her breathing became heavier and then she started to bite her bottom lip. Realizing that I had acquiesced, she moved her left hand behind her, reached under the comforter, and began massaging my balls. Her right hand slid up my abs and onto my chest. At the same time she eased herself all the way down my pole. As she did, she slowly arched her back and pushed out her chest.
"Oh, god" she moaned softly upon reaching the base of my cock. Then she looked into my eyes and, after giving me a sexy little wriggle and a wry smile, she slowly slid her hips back against my thighs. As Brandy forced me even deeper inside of her, she proceeded to roll my balls against her firm, round ass. "See, isn't this better," she asked. I agreed as I watched her performance.
She looked amazing: to compensate for sliding her hips so far back, she had arched her back a bit more and pushed her chest out even further. Between the delicious eye candy and the special treatment of my balls, I felt my cock start to throb. Evidently Brandy noticed too: "can you handle this..." she taunted, a little short of breath, "or are you going to cream inside of me like a little schoolboy."
