Office Affair

New jeep. Nice. I left the fence with him today at lunch with the pretext of checking it out. And I did, really. It was a very nice jeep. Brand new. It had all the bells and whistles of a new vehicle. It also had some very minor hail damage, so he got it for a steal. "Get in," he said. So we sat there and he showed off some of its features. We listened to the satellite radio- his new toy came with Sirius. Having XM, I was already familiar. But that was ok. I was content just sharing his company. After all, this was the only time I'd ever been in his presence away from the office; aside from the day he caught a ride with me to Chief's retirement ceremony.

He sat beside me that day. I think, unconsciously, I tried not to touch him, but the chairs were too close together. Much as I attempted to mask my nervousness at his close proximity, he still noticed, and made fun of the fact that I was practically sitting on the other guy's lap in an effort to not sit too close to him. So, I settled myself into the chair, and allowed my leg to rest against his. The heat from his thigh warmed mine, even through the cumbersome material of our uniforms.

My mind snapped back to the present when I felt the slight pressure of his hand on my lower thigh, just above the knee. He was still talking, but honestly, I no longer heard the words. Instead, I was focused on his hand, silently willing him to move it upward. He traced a gentle path along the inseam of my pants and back again before I gathered enough courage to cover his hand with my own in acquiescence.

We continued to make small talk about the various features of his new toy, but whether or not my responses made any sense in the conversation was up for debate. I stared at him then, trying to see his eyes through his sunglasses, all the while thankful that he couldn't see mine through my own. His fingertips had reached the upper inseam of my pants now and were dancing over the one area I had been forced to deny him access to the last time we touched. "Damn these pants!" I thought to myself. I looked away, out across the parking lot, watching others pass by in the broad daylight of lunchtime. I felt myself moistening beneath the pressure of his hand, even through the material, and began to squirm, raising my hips to offer myself to him.

"You know, that seat goes back," he drawled quietly, an invitation to further this stolen moment.

"Hmm, I guess it does, doesn't it?" I had hoped to sound nonchalant, but knew I'd failed miserably. I reached down to find the release lever, fumbling for an eternity before I finally located it and lowered the passenger seat to its fully reclined position. As soon as I'd laid myself back in the seat I felt his hand move up, struggling to unfasten my belt. Immediately I reached to help, deftly releasing the buckle and unfastening each of the four buttons on my pants before wiggling my hips to slide them down slightly. His hand dove beneath the remaining material and eased down to find me again. The paper-thin scrap of silken fabric offered no sanctuary against his expert touch, and I felt myself biting my lip to suppress the moan I could feel forming behind my lips. Not content to simply stroke me through my thong, he pushed the damp fabric aside to touch my bared lips for the first time. My hands clenched at my sides when he found my clit and began to circle his fingertip against the sensitive nub. A soft sigh assailed my ears, and I smiled when I realized it was my own voice. "So much for biting my lip!" I thought wryly. It deepened to a quiet moan when he moved lower, sinking easily into my waiting wetness. I sighed again in pure delight, reveling in the delicious sensation of the first penetration I'd had at someone else's hand in longer than I cared to remember. Soon enough though, he withdrew, drawing the wetness he'd collected back upward. I inhaled sharply when I felt their slippery contact against my swollen clit, returning to the lazy circles of pressure that incited a new rush of warmth between my legs.

I wanted nothing more than to pull him to me, to feel the pressure of his lips against mine, to taste his kisses again. One quick peek around at the other people passing by mere yards away laid waste to that thought though. "Damn it!" I silently cursed the inappropriate venue of our tryst. If only we were somewhere more private, I could've touched him too, put to reality all the fantasies I'd been playing out in my head this past week or so. I found my thoughts wandering back in time, back to his kisses, back to the absolutely yummy pleasure of drawing him between my lips, feeling him grow harder against my tongue. Oh, if only I could have reached over and freed him so I could have tasted him again!

I found it odd that he didn't seem to be bothered at all by the one-way nature of our encounter. In fact, he seemed perfectly content with driving me to madness without any reciprocation at all. The pressure of his fingertips against my most sensitive spots increased. No longer teasing, his touch now demanded my response. I couldn't help myself, wouldn't have even if I could. I was so close at that point; I knew that any second, I was going to explode from the whirlwind spiraling upward inside of me. My hips rose up off the passenger seat in a staccato tempo to meet his fingers as they slid inside of me, encouraging him to bury them deeper. When he withdrew to again pleasure my clit, I bucked wildly against the intense circular motion, grabbing his hand to increase the pressure, moaning softly as each wave of my orgasm crested and broke. Finally, the sensations within me subsided, and I felt my backside make contact with the seat again as the tension drained away.

Only when I felt my fingertips loosen did I realize I had been holding his hand in a death-grip. I pulled my hand away, looking at everything but him. To my surprise, I found myself embarrassed by my reaction to his touch.

Maybe it was the years of no one else bothering to elicit this sort of reaction? I felt his eyes on me, burning through me, searching. Still, I couldn't make myself meet his gaze, and instead stared at where his forearm ended and my pants began. Slowly, he freed his hand, bringing his fingertips up to my lips. Automatically, my tongue darted out, lapping at my coating of juices on them before I pulled them between my lips to gently suck them clean.

To be continued...