Office Treats

He kept his office fairly dim, with the overhead fluorescents off and just a task light on top of his large oak desk, so it was easy for me to squeeze into the narrow space underneath and not be visible to either him, as he sat down, or anyone else who happened to come into the office during the busy work day. I will admit it was a little uncomfortable: my short skirt was tight to begin with, and the high heeled shoes with their pointed toes were not meant for walking, never mind crouching for a period of time. I couldn't, of course, make a sound, not only to make sure I surprised him, but in order not to be detected by any of the other office staff working just steps from his open door, never mind the clients who came and went during this busy tax season.

But, finally, I heard his voice, and the sound of him placing his briefcase on the floor beside his desk and hanging his overcoat on the hooks behind the door. He shared a laugh with one of the other partners who must have been coming down the hallway at the same time and then the wheels of his desk chair rattled as he pulled it out, sat down, and tucked himself up close to his desk to go over the papers he had picked up from a client (believe it or not, computers were just starting to be used as more than giant calculators, I'm that old, so business life still revolved around paperwork and face time - real face time, not virtual face time). I stifled a chuckle as he sat with his legs wide open, as I knew he would, and reached down to adjust himself. I was thirteen years his junior and our affair had been going on for about a year at this point. Looking back at pictures of myself, I wish I realized then what I do now and that is that he was one lucky guy. My 34 23 34 figure was proportionately ideal, my skin had the softness of youth, and I had the spunky fervor of a young woman who had broken out of a religiously repressive upbringing. I was a ready, willing, and enthusiastic bed partner.

I waited for a few moments until his phone rang - it was a thing that sat on top of his desk and was attached to the wall by a wire, in other words, not a cell phone; those showed up a few years later and were the size of a man's shoe - and he was focused on the conversation, before I gently moved my hand up to the crotch of his pants and began to delicately open the zipper. I am sure he wasn't actually aware I had done so; indeed, not even aware I was crouched under his desk as he was very focused on the phone conversation and the paperwork he was referencing as he spoke. It did not take much dexterity to slip his cock out of the fly of his pants and so that the pleasant feeling of having it stroked with the tips of my fingernails was only on the very edge of his consciousness; that pleasant feeling that might occur at any point in the day with a swelling cock, rather than a specific awareness that someone was initiating the arousal for him. But swelling it was! And I began to trace my fingernails more firmly around the head of his shaft.

It must have hit him then that there was more going on than just a typical hard on for I sensed a shift in his awareness as he ended the phone call and then hesitated, almost rigid in his chair, before grabbing the side lever and lowering the seat slightly so that there was room between the underside of his desk and his crotch for that cock to grow to its fullest state of arousal. To give him credit, he did not look under the desk to see who was stroking him, aware perhaps that the anonymity of the giver of the "office treat" was part of the eroticism, nor did he pause, for long anyway, in focusing back on the work on his desk, although I could tell by the way his cock waved back and forth and the pulse visible in the engorged veins, that focusing on work must have been challenging.

A junior partner came in the room - I recognized his voice - and while they had a brief conversation about another client, D leaning back in his chair but careful to keep his pre-cum leaking cock out of sight, gasped a little when I took his cock into my warm mouth. He covered the gasp by clearing his throat but I suspect the junior partner realized he did not have D's full attention - for whatever reason - and, without reaching a conversational conclusion, left D's office.

I was careful not to slurp too loudly as I sucked and then licked that, by now, very active cock - waving and beckoning when I removed it from my mouth to lick it, and then throbbing when I thrust it deeply toward the back of my throat. And D had given up all pretence of working, at least I felt so through the stillness of his body language and the quiver in his legs as he pulled himself back from a cum more than once. Until finally, when I had licked and sucked and tickled his rock hard cock as much as he could stand, he reached under the desk, angled himself so that his hot load shot all over the underside of his desk in multiple orgasmic spasms. To his credit, he rested for a moment, then tucked his still hard cock back in his pants, did up his fly, and, with a restraint I would not have had, moved his desk chair back without looking under his desk, and went to the men's room to clean up, as it were.

It was only later I found out he actually thought it was one of the male interns who was blowing him under the desk. I had asked him, in that lazy skin on skin post-coitus time we had occasionally, how he had liked his "office treat" (he and I had been having an affair for about a year at that point) and his response, "Oh, it was you!" alerted me to the fact I wasn't the only cookie he was biting in the clerical pool. While I wasn't immediately aware that he liked the "Ding Dongs" as much as the "Oreos", that wasn't what ended our affair. What ended our affair was me falling in love with an age appropriate single man who had the largest cock, to this day, I've ever seen in person. But that is another story altogether.