It was another day in the office, days spent sitting in front of a computer, while the hours ticked by hardly noticing that the day was gone. I looked up through the newly crafted office space of the building to see you walk by, heading into your office, your blue dress hugging your lovely curves, completely focused on whatever you were working on.
First I have to explain -- we've been friends for years, but at 5'6" your body is a knockout, firm breasts, narrow waste and a "round thing" that I'd love to have in my face. I've secretly, or not so secretly loved you for years, and dreamed of the night when you finally let things progress.
Smiling to myself I think forward to the evening coming, and the fact that I alone get to take you out for drinks, remembering your last not so innocent comment about your tongue. Relaxing for a moment I lean back at my desk chair and my imagination conjures you kneeling in front of me, with your hands loosely tied behind your back, your mouth open with your tongue playing across your lips, staring upwards into my eyes with a deeply wanton look on your eyes. You whisper softly, so softly that I can barely hear you; tilting your head backwards you whisper again "is this what you wanted my tongue for?"
When I hear those words echoing in my imagination my cock twitches in my pants and I come back to reality. Down boy, we still have 3 hours of work until it's time to go get drinks -- and let's face it, that daydream isn't going to happen.
Finally work ends for the day and as is our tradition we leave separately. Working in a small office, and leaving together can lead to talk, even if we're just friends. We arrive to the neighborhood bar and take stools at a high top table, both of us ordering a Guinness. As we fall into the easy rhythm of our conversation, and the beer begins to work its way into our bloodstream, my hand falls to your thigh repeatedly, and much to my shock, instead of giving me the "back off" look, I find your legs falling a bit further open, and your leg is now touching mine.
Next time my hand falls on your thigh, I look into your eyes, and slide my hand discreetly further up your thigh, and this time I'm sure that not only do your legs fall open further, you slide closer to me so that my body hides you from the bartender and the other patrons. Leaning against me you whisper in my ear "Did you ever decide what the best use for my tongue would be?"
I abruptly decide it must be time to leave, so I casually raise my hand and collect the check from the waitress, and quickly pay without looking at the total. As we stroll out, I'm softly describing my day dream from earlier in the day, you giggle softly and press closely to me.