Marc's Single Life

Author's Note: This is the fifth and final part. I've written a second version that was more of a straightforward booty-call, but thought it would be more interesting character development to take the story toward a slight romantic direction with some uncertainty at the end.

You can read it stand-alone but you might enjoy it more if you read the first four parts for context.

Part 5 - The Spark of Something

*Lindsey*

Of all the new sales reps I was hired with, I felt honored I was chosen to accompany the VP and two other senior sales reps to this trade convention. For me it was a watch and learn trip, part of my training. I was warned to pack smart, not wear the same thing twice, be seen and not heard, and maintain a professional demeanor; not just in the meetings but especially in the social events. Bleh, it was a recipe for abject boredom.

I know I'm young but not so naive to know I was only there as a showpiece; existing only to attract attention for my seniors to handle the sales. This was my first foray into business travel I expected to be glamorous, but honestly couldn't wait to get home. Being on my best behavior had become tiresome. I'm ready for the weekend. I wanted a drink, I wanted a cigarette, and I wanted to get laid. I've heard of women packing their vibrator when traveling and have read funny stories, but couldn't tell if it was reality or just memes. Either way, I could survive for a few weekdays and didn't want to risk it buzzing in my luggage.

My mind wandered throughout the days, dipping into fantasyland. Marc inevitably enters the scene and it becomes a challenge to keep my mind on my work. I imagined gentle cuddling, his hands gliding over my body and his mouth kissing from my neck all the way down over my boobs to my belly. Just as quickly, the mental scene changes to being tied spread-eagle to his bed while he ravages me. I need his perfect cock tapping on my lips, I need him pulling me into him with his hands on my hips. Sometimes you need intimacy, but right now I need my hair pulled.

I managed to get myself under control and back in the moment, smiling up at our visitors and my co-workers, shaking hands and painting on one last smile before my flight home.

I sent Marc a friendly text on the way to the airport hoping to get something started. God, his charm even comes through on text. It's hard to believe he doesn't have plans on a Friday night, but what other answer can he give to a sure thing throwing herself at him. I don't care, I love how he makes me feel like I'm the only person in his world, if only for a couple of hours.

I was fresh, looked good and I knew it. He might see me as an easy lay but I hope he's prepared for Hurricane Lindsey.

"Hey! How was your first business trip?" He asked, pulling me into his apartment with a kiss. He helped me out of my blazer and led me to the couch, where he kissed me again.

"I'm glad you called, it's good to see you again," he said as he looked into my eyes. Marc has a flirty, mischievous look, but the hint of emotion behind his gaze was something new. He kissed me again, and lingered as he slid his hands across my shoulders. "So how was it?"

"Not all it's cracked up to be, just glad to be back home."

Marc pulled my feet into his lap and removed my pumps, gently massaging my feet. God, just fuck me already; I came here to get laid but he's treating me like...a girlfriend. I'll play that part; as long as he closes the deal. I don't get why some guys like our feet so much but I'm happy to cater to him. Maybe he's just trying to make me comfortable, I can't tell but if he's getting something out of treating me like a princess, but I'm totally on board with it. It felt good after being in heels all day. Just feeling his hands anywhere on my body gets me going.

I drained the vodka soda he had ready for me and accepted the second one he brought to me, waiting on me literally hand and foot.

If someone asks about your day, it's only polite to ask about theirs. Marc has always been superficial and guarded about his life; I get it, I know I'm a booty call he hasn't wanted to open up to, but he's revealed more of his work and personal life in the past few interactions as if we're slowly becoming friends. I've accepted my initial infatuation for what it was and embraced my lust for a man who's been painfully clear he's not looking for a girlfriend. I'm at peace with being Marc's on-call friend with benefits.

I didn't fully understand everything he said about his work in the financial world, but a well-groomed professional talking about handling millions of dollars is an underrated aphrodisiac, and prompted me to ease onto his lap presenting my boobs to his face. Again he just kissed me; and I went with it. We made out as if we were two people on their first date. He finally turned his attention to my titties, only needing one hand to get me out of my blouse and free me from my bra. All of the conversation and kissing made the foreplay meaningful. I was starting to feel a connection.

Five hours ago I was sitting legs crossed, all proper and professional in my business suit; now it was a rumpled pile on the floor of a man I continuously threw myself at. If my VP could see me now. She wishes she was where I am right now.

I'm glad he slowed me down. All of the submissive fantasies I've had all week were evaporating into this girlfriend experience. I don't care what it's called, as long as his face was buried between my tits. He softly took each of my nipples between his velvety lips, launching electric impulses throughout my body and converging where his fingers pulled my thong aside. He tickled and teased me, his fingers slippery with my desire.

He backed away and pulled me down supine on the couch taking my toes into his mouth; again with the feet... But seeing this powerful man getting so much pleasure from worshiping the lowliest part of my body evoked a glimmer of a power of my own. He's trusting me with a clear fetish I can easily get on board with.

My fingers had replaced his, stimulating myself while he took his time kissing his way up my calves, behind my knees and up between my thighs until I could grab the hair on the back of his head and pull him into me with my soles sliding up and down his lower back. He sucked my thong into his mouth and pulled it back between his teeth. I shifted my hips to help him pull it free, down past my knees and ankles until he spit it onto the floor like a dog before diving back in.

Marc came up for air and swept one arm under my knees and the other around my back. I shrieked as he lifted me up in one motion over his shoulder like he was carrying a bag of dirt. I giggled as I looked down past his ass to the floor, carried into his bedroom and tumbled backwards onto his bed.

Now it's my turn. I had his pants down and off, freeing that perfect rod I fantasized about all week long. This is the best part, watching and feeling him grow in my hands and knowing I'm the one exciting him. Of all the women he's had, the man who took my virginity (at least that's the story I tell myself) is horny for me. I salivated as the soft, spongy flesh became more and more rigid. I could feel his pulse between my lips, twitching until it felt like an iron bar covered by a thin layer of loose skin. We were slow and quiet now as I worshiped his cock, the silence only broken by his whispered affirmations.

"Feels so good."

"You're so beautiful."

"I've missed you."

"I've been dreaming about you."

"Baby, you're so sexy."

"You're my good girl."

Each soft whisper fueled my libido. I don't care if any of it was true. Calling me his good girl was the one that got to me. Maybe I have a praise kink. Whatever; each statement was as hot as his cock sliding over my tongue.

Marc pushed me back onto the bed and pulled my hips to the edge. Finally. The moment I've been waiting for all week and what filled my mind before drifting off to sleep each night. He placed his hand on mine and pulled it down to wrap it around him so I could feel him enter me. But first, the tapping and sawing he's taught me to love so much. The bottom of his bell head popping in and out of my gap, then feeling him slide through my hand until fully inside me.

His pelvis was pressed against my ass when he wrapped one hand behind my back and another underneath my ass, pulling me into him. We were still fully coupled as he stood us up and shifted me fully onto his bed. We kissed softly as he held me, still impaled on his body. My weeklong fantasies of Marc ravaging me like a piece of meat evaporated as he gazed into my eyes. Anyone who says missionary is too vanilla has never experienced this. My gentle pressure on the back of his shoulders was enough for Marc to descend and press his body against mine. We rolled onto our side, Marc pulling my leg over his thigh. We were more grinding and wiggling against each other than thrusting, enjoying the feel of our bodies becoming one. Sex with an emotional connection is as underrated as missionary. My physical reactions to our coupling were soon accompanied by something new; something deeper within my brain as a second, more intimate emotional orgasm welled up inside me. I could feel him swell and spasm as I was coming down; his skillful self-control always allows me to finish first and this time brought me to the brink of one more bonus orgasm.

Aftercare has always been the final act in each of our encounters, but this time he just held me; neither of us were in a hurry to get up. I got what I came for; we've taken turns being each other's on-call slut, so I wasn't expecting a different kind of passion he gave me. I need some clarity.