I suspect my face shows the realisation hit me, as you laugh again. "Now you've got it!"
"Uh-huh!" I squeeze my right hand, feeling the way your butt tenses in response. "Certainly have! This is a pleasa.."
You cut me off with a kiss. It's as the last; we momentarily lose ourselves in it, lips and tongues and bodies together, merging and melting, but this time there's a new energy, an urgency, and I can feel goosebumps start to rise under my hand then under both hands as I slide my left hand down to the bottom of your dress and return it, pulling you close against me. There's a light moan from you as you shift against my body, and I can feel the way you press yourself close to me - the same way you had the previous night as we staggered back to your place. The tiredness, the workday, evaporate from me and I kiss you back, more pressingly than before.
My hands knead and grasp you a little tighter; the response is immediate - another moan, another wriggle of your body against mine. The need is infectious, and my hands start to roam beneath the dress - cupping your butt, holding your hips; thumbs, fingers all stroking as they flow around you. I hold you by your hips, my thumbs circle the dipping, curving, sweeping lines that run from your waist to your mound, but you're not willing to wait and push yourself against my wrist and grinding slightly; your close-trimmed hair is almost soft, but it's the heat that catches my attention - it's like you're burning up.
I accept the cue and allow my wrist to roll slightly, offering the edge of my hand to you. It nestles against you, a firm line in a soft crease, a searing fold of warmth and wetness that envelopes the base of my thumb and wrist as I sweep my other hand back to your ass and squeeze you again, shoving you closer still against me. You wriggle in response, a little rocking thrust that grinds you against my hand. I again give you a little shove, and the wriggle this time is longer, more pressing - wetter and warmer.
Thoughts around the inadvisability of what we're doing are fading into insignificance, but I've enough presence of mind to notice the open door, and reluctantly tear myself from you for a moment to kick it closed, just for safety's sake. The closer slams it shut with a thud, and the slight sigh at the loss of my hand to rub against that you make is almost masked by it. I feel the loss too - I want you, so fucking much - and the act of reasserting myself over the room reminds me that I can assert some control over our play, too.
I step back close to you, and we kiss again as I take your hands and as we come up for air from the kiss, I walk you backwards a few steps until you're stood against the large conference desk that dominates the centre of the room. "Let me lead" I whisper into your ear, and as you give a little "uh-huh?" In reply, I steer you by the hips to turn you to face the opposite wall. Again, my arms wrap around you, my body pressed close to your back and I'm in no doubt that you can feel the bulge at the front of my jeans. I'm also sure that you notice the way that same bulge involuntarily twitches slightly in response to the discovery - with hindsight, one that should have been obvious - that your lingerie today is a matching set - with nothing covering your breasts under the dress either. This discovery is made as I reach up and cup your breasts with both hands, gently stroking and rubbing them through the cotton covering them while I begin to nuzzle the nape of your neck.
As expected, this elicits a low moan from you and judging by the way you lean forwards onto the desk, possibly a slight weakening of the knees as well. I trail the kisses down the back of your neck, stopping periodically to nibble lightly at your shoulders, brushing your hair from them with a fingertip to expose each spot in turn. Your shoulders are strong, tense from supporting some of your weight through your arms and I trace the outline of your shoulder-blades and the muscle groups with my lips. Normally I'd linger, but there's no sense or ability to wait and my lips move on, rolling down your back, alternating across each side of your spine until I reach the top of your dress where it rests low-cut across you. Skipping over the material I lift the dress, rucking the skirted section up onto your upper back and begin to kiss the newly exposed skin at the base of your back. Your ass is glorious - a rounded, curved treat to the eye that I can't help but stare at. In the fading twilight flooding the room through the large windows, it almost glows. I drop onto one knee, my face at the perfect height to plant a warm wet kiss on each buttock - then there's a loud clap as I can't resist giving you a firm whack on your right cheek with the palm of my hand.
You yelp, and I'm about to apologise when you follow the surprised exhortation with a little purr of pleasure and I see you take a few small steps to adjust, spreading your weight and leaning forwards further over the table. It's a surprise, but not unwelcome, and I test the waters again with another, slightly lighter smack on the same cheek which is met with only a sharp intake of breath this time rather than the yelp, but the same visceral moan follows it. I rest my hand on the ass cheek I've just spanked and stroke it lightly while kissing the other - and, recalling the fire that had been burning between your thighs a few moments earlier, begin to slide my other hand up the inside of your left leg. Your skin is marble-pale in the dimming light, but I can feel the way it goosebumps and responds to my touch, anticipating the imminent return of my fingers to your most intimate place.
The moan you give as my fingertips brush between your soft outer lips validates my decision to multitask, and even as the hand resting on your arse lifts in advance of delivering another smack, I can feel you push yourself down onto my hand slightly, the neediness palpable. I don't deny you, can't, wouldn't - and as soon as your groans from the smack subside, I gently begin to rub my fingers up and down between your labia; allowing them to brush the swollen bud of your clit as they push forwards, and spreading you slightly as they glide back. I see it all and lean forwards to taste you from my fingers but change my mind and instead, sink my face between your thighs, my tongue parting you and lapping over your lips and clit. You taste of the beach; warm sun and salty sea, and I headily consume your scent and juices as my hands cup your buttocks, spreading you, opening you for me to press closer so my tongue can envelope your clit with each broad brushing kiss. It occasionally parts you more, enters you and I feel you tense and squeeze in a way that reminds me of the spasming clenching way you'd climaxed on my cock at in the early hours that morning.
My hands continue to play with your buttocks, alternating between light circular strokes and firmer, harder grabbing and kneading, switching between the edge of perception and the edge of pain respectively. Your moans are gaining volume and get louder still when I slide first one and then two fingers into your pussy, beckoning and curling them against the inner body of your clit, echoing the rolling, flickering motion of my tongue on the outside. It's hard to limit myself to that though and as your moaning begins to crescendo my hand begins to rhythmically pump back and forwards into you, until you're gasping for breath and it's my name, over and over as you climax there on the desk.
"Fuck" you manage to get out as I continue with slower, less urgent rubbing of my fingers and tongue, "Just, fuck, fucking do me, I need it, now, please Al, fuck me!"
I stay silent as I stand and hurriedly unbuttoned first the fly of my jeans and then the boxers beneath. My cock requires little encouragement and springs out as soon as my hands have undone the final button. It - I - can remember how well we fit together, how perfectly our bodies work in unison, and I want you, all of you, again.
I remember to take in the sight briefly - your dress hocked up around your waist, your hair hanging low in a curtain around your head and your shoulders heaving with your still-heavy breathing. The slight handprint on your right buttock, the way your ass and thighs frame the glistening fold of your pussy, slick and still twitching in a post-climatic spasm.
A spasm I can feel still echoing through you as the tip of my cock glides into you, meeting not exactly resistance but a slight pressure as your body parts to take me in but continues to quiver. I'm hyperaware of how tight, how all-encompassing you feel, and I can hear myself give a deep, low moan of my own as I sink myself deep into you. I can feel too the squishing of your ass between my hips and the desk, the cool wet trickle of your cum that's run down your leg and now rubs off on mine as I press myself against you.
I grasp your shoulders, holding you with both hands and my cock, pinning you to the desk, and pause until I can feel your body adjust to my presence inside you. My fingers massage, both holding and rubbing, slick with your juices, before gripping rather than holding you and you're still, held, pinned and prone and soaking and I can anticipate your next word and I'm not wrong - I've barely even thought that thought before you're repeating your instruction; "FUCK, you tease!"
I begin to grind my hips against you, working my cock within you from left to right, up and down, but all the while still pressed deep inside you. You can feel the pressure ease momentarily as I pull back, looking down, I can see the head of my cock nearly entirely leave you - with barely the tip still inside and your immediate sighing moan makes it clear that it's intolerable...
...but it's back, hard and fast and your ass shakes as my hips slam against it, first once, then twice, a third time as I thrust into you; the hands on your shoulders push and pull you each way and that. First you're squeezed flat against the cold wood of the table, your face low above the smooth surface as I push myself back out from you, then the next moment you're lifted, pulled up and away slightly as my arms use your body for leverage as I fuck back into you.
It's hard, deep, hungry sex; fulfilling and greedy and ours. The room is filled with the wet smacking of our bodies as we meet, the deep grunts of effort from me, the breathy moans and whimpers of your body responding to the railing it's taking; it's a filthy cacophony of lust that I can't help but be overwhelmed by. No wonder, either - the sound, the sight, of you spreadeagled in front of me and taking thrust after thrust after thrust keeps driving me on, hard and fast, again and again until I'm there, moments ahead of you in my climax - one hand wrapping itself in your hair and lifting your head back while the other seizes your hip and pulls you back onto me as I feel my balls clench up into my body and my cock thickening, gushing into you and you moan, low and animalistic, your own climax washing over your body in a maelstrom of sensation.
I collapse forwards onto you, covering your body with mine, our clothing in disarray and my cock still inside you, and I feel us both shiver slightly in the cool darkness that's descended as we've had our fill of each other. We lie there briefly in the dark boardroom on the conference table splashed with our cum, and we're both positive it's the most fun we've ever had at work.
