Monday
For Geoffrey, Sunday is family day. They all go to church in the morning, go for a walk, have lunch, and then watch a film. And after the kids have gone to bed, Geoffrey and Linda have sex. Life didn't use to be this regimented; family time would occur naturally, and often, as would the sex. But, one day, Linda noticed that they had all drifted apart, more than perhaps they'd noticed, and certainly more than she would like (partly my fault I'm sure) and so Sunday was set out in this family: the sex, though never spoken of, seemed a naturally end, and so occurring as it did after their first 'family day', it occurred after everyone since. Gradually all other family time, and all other sex, ceased. It was like a club, a weekly club, that Geoffrey attended: domestic life.
I know all this because Geoffrey talks about his family a lot. That is to say, I ask Geoffrey about his family. It makes me feel closer to him, knowing how I do that I can never be part of a family with him. I'm only his secretary after all.
It is for this reason that I so love Monday mornings. I get to ask Geoffrey about his weekend, about the sermon at church, where they went for their walk, what they talked about, what he had for lunch, what she had for lunch, whether they were glad of their picks, or regretted them. If I sense that Geoffrey is in a good mood, I even ask him about the sex.
This morning, Monday morning, I am wating for him under his desk when he gets into work. He told me about this months ago, something a friend had told him their secretary did, and he asked me to try it. I don't know if he's noticed that it's almost always Monday that I treat him to this, maybe he even knows why. Maybe he thinks I've just missed him over the weekend, which I have, though that isn't the reason.
Sundays are hard for me. I fill them with girlfriends, and shopping. I masturbate on Sundays, several times usually. It has become a bad habit, sometimes I even do it in public bathrooms, if I'm desperate.
Really it's not him, though, that I miss: it's his wife.
I've never actually met his wife I should say. Linda, she's called. Though I feel like I know her. I know what food she likes, and what food she thinks she'll like but never does. I know what films she likes, and how long of a walk she thinks is a good walk, and how long is too far. I know what will make her cum: I know that she's very vanilla, but that she'll do certain things that Geoffrey wants, and that she won't do certain other things. I could make you a list if you wanted. I often picture the list in my head, knowing that I would do almost all of it, if he asked, and definitely all of it, if she did.
He walks into the office; presumably he has guessed where I'll be; that is, at least he isn't surprised when he sees me. I'm not wearing my top, or my bra: they're folded next to me, with my shoes on top. I'm just in a little black miniskirt, with my medium sizes tits hanging out. I hope I look sexy for him. I feel sexy for him. When he sit down, I reach up and unzip his trousers. He likes it when we don't talk immediately. He says he likes 'greeting me with my cum down your throat'. He is semihard as I take him out and begin kissing him. He is unpacking his briefcase by the time I finally put my lips around him. With one hand I start to massage his balls as he checks his diary.
It is this that I so love about Monday mornings, the first journey my tastebuds take down his shaft. I close my eyes, and imagine the sex he had with Linda the previous night. Now that Linda is no longer fertile, he fucks her raw, and I swear I can taste molecules from her cunt still on his cock. I imagine that it is she I am servicing. I use my tongue a lot, taking him out of my mouth to flick at the tip like I would Linda's clitoris, and then slid my tongue up from the base to the top, like I would with her labia.
As I open my eyes I see that he is trying to get my attention. His first look down at me. I try to smile, though with his cock once again filling my mouth.
'I need you to rearrange my ten o'clock: I've booked squash with Harry from Accounts.'
I nod, and mumble agreement.
Linda couldn't rearrange his ten o'clock. Linda wouldn't suck him off like this. Not when he still smelt of another woman, not with her knees on the harsh office carpet, not without the slightly chance of any reciprocal love. I wonder who enjoys these morning blowjobs more, me or him. I know who thinks about them the most, and who masturbates in the shower dreaming of them.
I feel his foot, with the shoe still on it, find its way behind my skirt, and up to between my legs.
I take him out of my mouth, so that I can kiss his thighs instead, and give him a wet sticky hand job instead. I think that I have time to play, but suddenly I feel him tense, and hear the faint silenced moans, as he finished.
'Oopsie,' I say with a giggle, as his cum lands in my hair, dribbling down to my skull.
I quickly lick him clean, savouring as much as I can of his wife's scent in these final moments, knowing that on some level I will spend the rest of the week waiting for this moment again.
I wish that I could taste him straight afterwards, twelve hours ago, approximately. She'd be already asleep, and he would find me waiting for him in his closet, when I would lick all of him, all of her through him.
I sadly place him back in his boxers, and then put on my bra and my top.
This morning I carefully wrote 'Geoffrey's little slut' on my chest, with lipstick and a mirror, but he hasn't really looked at me properly yet.
If he isn't busy at lunch hopefully he'll fuck me, and he'll notice then. I come out from under the desk, smile and wish him a good morning. He kisses me on the cheek, and reminds me about his ten o'clock, and then spanks me hard on the arse and I leave.
It's half-twelve when he finally comes back from his squash game. He's had a few beers afterwards, though seems generally ok; he's a loving drunk really -- it's cute. He kisses me on the mouth, hard, as I come into the office, and then he puts his hands on my arse cheeks, and pulls me in closer.
'Geoffrey, sweetheart,' I whisper in his ear,' are you going to fuck me?'
'Yes, probably. Get me a scotch first,' he says, slowly, as I distract him by kissing his neck.
Then, after a minute, I pull back, ready to engage in a conversation I've been having in my head all day: 'It's just, Geoffrey, darling, I have a surprise for you.'
'The writing,' he motions to my breasts, 'yes I saw earlier, very pretty, love.'
'No. I bigger surprise ... I'm on the pill. I've been on it for a couple of weeks; it'd probably have been ok last week, but I didn't want any risks. But now I'm definitely ok. So you can just fuck me properly.'
'It's not that simple, Jane, honestly. You know that I'd love that, but what if Linda could tell. She's very perceptive.'
'Geoffrey, you haven't had sex with her for months apart from on Sundays.'
'I know, but I've got to be careful.' This isn't how the conversation happened in my head, not once. I am a little saddened by it. I can't stand the thought of him entering me with a rubber on again. It feels so clinical. He walks off to get his Whiskey, and I follow him towards the desk.
'I'm sorry, love. We don't have to do anything if you don't want.' He is trying to be nice, I think, though I worry that I've completely ruined his good mood.
'What if you showered, at my place, or back at the club.'
'I haven't the time, poodle.'
'What if I washed you, afterwards, with some soap from the bathroom. I'd be loving, you know I would. You're thighs, and your cock, and your balls. I kneel, and hug him, pressing the side of my face against my trousers. I am sort of begging him, but in a cutesy way, I hope.
He can tell I'm not budging. He's gotten his own whiskey at this point, and starts to unzip his trousers as he finally agrees.
'Yes!' I should, a little schoolgirlish I think. 'Thank you, baby,' I say over my shoulder as I turn around, hick up my dress, and lean over the desk.
He still has his glass in his hand as he first enters me, though eventually he puts it down on the desk, grabbing my torso with both hands, as he slams himself harder and harder into me.
'Geoffrey, dear, can I ask you for another favour?'
'Is it what I think it is?'
'Yes, please, you know how much I love it.'
'Ok, whatever you want ...' he pauses for a second, '... Linda.'
To be addressed to by her name sends tingles down my spine, and I wiggle from it. He slaps my arse, telling me to keep still, and picks up his drink again.
He calls me Linda again when he cums, as for the first time I feel his cum releasing inside of me, and then, with his trousers still round his ankles and his slowly softening cock flopped out, goes and sits down in his chair.
I gather myself. Though I have not finished, something I will have to deal with myself later, the experience has still left me a bit shaken. I pull down my skirt, feeling his cum start to drip down my legs, and go in search of something with which to adequately clean him up.
When I come back into the room, Geoffrey is already reading through some documents. He looks a little silly working with his cock out, and I giggle at little as I walk over towards him.
'Be quick, I have work to get on with. And stop bloody smirking.'