Doorway Domination

"What time is your meeting tomorrow?"

Your low husky whisper comes from the doorway behind me, pulling me out of the CRT-induced coma that I must have been in for, what?... an hour? Or maybe six... thousand.

"Ummm... 10:00 a.m." I respond.

I don't turn around. I take off my glasses and rub my eyes with the ends of my fingers.

"They fly in first thing," I continue. "Then they'll rent a car and meet me at the office."

"Are you ready for it?" you ask.

My hands go back and link behind my head as I stretch and squeeze the day-long tired acid out of my shoulder blades. I think I even hear a pop or two.

"Oh, sure," I say in confidence. "... it's just an initial consultation. I'm just trying to make sure I have all my ducks in a row."

"Are you REALLY ready for it?" you repeat, with an interesting emphasis.

A tone in your voice stops me. The room is dim... only illuminated by one little lamp and the computer monitor. I suddenly feel the room fill with an aura that is attempting to push aside clients, meetings, agendas, and everything else.

I swivel in the chair to face you.

You stand in the entry to my office with your back against the door. You have on the white silk blouse from your work outfit of today, and little else. The blouse is unbuttoned from top to bottom and parted just slightly.

You stand with your arms behind you, crossed horizontally at your lower back. Your right leg is bent at the knee and your bare foot rests on the door.

Even in the blue-white monitor light, your holy-shit perfect nipples are pushing nicely into the silk of your blouse.

My mind is struggling to catch up.

A few seconds ago I was only thinking about tomorrow's important business. Now, after being presented with an unexpected case of agenda-interuptus, I answer with a questionably-intelligent...

".... Uh...."

"Oh, good answer," you say with a smirk. "Here's what I think."

You push your right foot against the door to shift your weight forward. You're now standing on your own, and your arms move away from the horizontal.

I watch you slip them underneath the back hem of your blouse and then reverse direction. You skim your thumbs inside the elastic waistband of your panties, and in a heartbeat have them off and in your right hand.

It's one of those sexy, stripper-like moves that only women know how to pull off, like removing their t-shirt by crossing their arms and pulling it up and over their head. Men try to do that and end up looking like a perverted pretzel.

"I think," you whisper, "I need to take a look at your meeting notes, mister."

You toss the panties straight at my head.

Fortunately my reflexes at this particular moment are a bit quicker than my intellect. I catch your panties about two inches from my nose.

While the flight path of the fabric stopped, the essence of what it had oh-so-very recently enshrouded did not.

My fingers feel the smooth silky-satin fabric, still warm from your skin. I also feel the warm, delectable moisture which accompanies the musky aroma that continues to travel unabated to flood my olfactory senses.

I pull the fabric closer, inhale deeply, and then smile at the discovery.

"Seems like you might have started the meeting without me" I say, attempting to be sexy.

You tip your head down slightly and look at me through the top of your eyes... as though you are looking over a pair of invisible reading glasses.

"Yeah, maybe. But now it's at the point where we need your... umm... input."

It's such a cheesy line!... but you deliver it flawlessly.

And, wrapped in the moment, the fragrance, the dim light from the monitor, and the silk, it shoots straight into me like a bolt of sexual lightning. I always crave that feeling... and you know it.

Its effect is immediately apparent; I am back in mumble-land.

"Well, it's always nice to be... uh... needed," I bumble-mumble.

But at least I'm able to lift my ass out of the chair and awkwardly move toward you at the door. My hands go low, resting on your waist just above your hips.

"Oh, you're needed alright," you whisper as you grab my head with your hands and pull me into a deep, soft, penetrating kiss.

Your right leg remains pressed against the door, but it also slides between my legs so that our hips meet and I can feel the heat of your building passion pressing into my groin.

The kiss breaks but you hold my head firmly between your hands and we exchange hot breaths through our open mouths. For a couple of seconds we stay that way, hearts pounding one against another.

It's almost as though you are planning your next move.

Then, using your hands on my head for leverage, you drop your raised leg, spin the two of us around, and push my shoulders back against the door.

"Let me bring you up to speed on a few things," you purr.

Your hands leave my head and neck, and they slide purposefully down across my chest, then move opposite each other to stop at the top of my hips.

At the same time you sink down to your knees, tracing a line straight down my midsection with your nose and chin.

A second later your hands move under my t-shirt and grab each side of my boxers, yanking them down around my ankles in one smooth motion. You aren't interested in removing them from my feet... you move immediately back to a different target.

But my t-shirt is now in the way. You lift it, but immediately realize it has to go as well.

"Oh, take this fucking thing off," you demand.

Obligingly, I pull it off... the man's way... and manage to kick the boxers off of my feet in the process.

Now I'm naked, somewhat trapped, and you have a totally clear approach... unencumbered. And the couple of seconds it takes for me to disrobe gives you a clearer direction toward your next target.

My metabolic engine is fully in the process of getting red-lined, but not everything is keeping pace. Maybe it's the wine both of us pretty much inhaled with dinner.

My cock is hanging semi-heavy... certainly more full than it was while I was in my business coma, but not quite -- in itself -- fully ready for the business at hand.

You bring your lips closer and begin to flick the tip of my dick with your tongue.

Sometimes, a man doesn't know what to do with his hands... especially when he's standing -- naked -- against a door. I place mine on each side of your head, which is the wrong choice.

You stop, look up at me with a half-smile, and shake your head lightly from side to side. "Ah-ah-ahhhh," you purr in your sexiest school teacher voice.

You take both of my hands in yours, push them behind my back and hold them tightly against the door behind me. In that posture my hips are pushed slightly forward and I feel, well... just a little bit helpless.

The sexual lightning sparks again... and I close my eyes and take in a sharp breath, as if I am anticipating an attack.

And here it comes. Oh, sweet jesus... here it comes.

With your hands still holding mine, your mouth and your tongue and your head and your neck begin to do all the work.

You quickly gobble my cock into your mouth... instantly making it warm and wet and hot, even in its still-hardening state.

You release it and let it plop downward, then you lick along the underside from the scrotum to the tip, using the pressure of your flattened tongue to press it up against my belly.

Back at the top, you take my stiffening cock fully inside your mouth and hold it there, rolling your tongue in riotous circles around and around and around the shaft while you simultaneously suck the pressure out of your mouth.

A pause, and then another similar, but equally furious fusillade... all with just your mouth... your lips... your breath... your teeth... your tongue.

And all while I am being held tighter and tighter against the door, which now starts to clatter.

My god, it's fellatio made for a rock star!

And of course, my cock is now beginning to respond to all of this -- as one would hope that it would -- getting thicker and longer and stiffer with every passing second.

But the intensity of the attack is bringing on it's own inevitability; no mortal man can endure such remarkable carnal attention at this pace and not quickly come to the brink.

But is that what you wanted? Is that part of your silk-enshrouded, stripper-moved, get-this-meeting-going agenda? And -- if not -- will I be in REAL trouble if I bring it to an end, too early?!?

The suddenness of my next move takes you by surprise; my hands fly out of yours and grab your head. "Oh, baby, I'm gonna... do you want me to... oh, Ohhhh..."

Instantly, you stop. For a second, my hands are keeping your head in the same position.

With only your neck, you move back slightly and look up at me. Your eyes lock into mine. This time it's a look not of annoyance... it's determination.

And my cock is still in your mouth.

You once again take both of my hands in yours and push them behind my back.

Still staring into my eyes this time though, you pin my hands to the door with your left hand, and bring your right hand back around and rest it under my aching scrotum.

Again, still locked with me in a stare, you begin to again to suck on my cock... this time a litter harder.

Breaking the pattern, you move to lick my balls... then the the length of my cock... and then you move back to the purple-helmeted head.

I can't remember when I've been so hard... for you.

You raise your head to remove my cock from your mouth then slowly, grazing your fingernails against the wrinkled skin of my scrotum, you bring your hand up to your mouth and run the long, flat length of your tongue against the palm and fingers of your hand.

As you return your gaze to my eyes you wrap your hand around my stiff and throbbing cock, twisting your slickened hand gently from side to side.

Your whisper becomes the deal-maker: "I think it's time for you to contribute to this meeting."

And, as another flash of sexual lightning rushes into me, you renew your attack.

Your mouth, lips, and tongue enshroud my aching cock while your hand, wet from your own saliva, mixes with that already coating my rod and you twist and piston and slide up and down... chasing your lips and tongue and meshing perfectly together to bring me back to the brink.

It takes only seconds.

Straining against your hand behind me, held captive by your mouth and your twisting fist holding my dick in a prison of hot, wet, soft, velvet in that is your mouth, I shoot hot jizz deep into your throat.

My cries of release mix with your moans of pleasure as you continue to piston and bob, lick and flex, slathering and coating me in an incredible mixture of passion and power.

My cock, which has barely had time to fully inflate, is now deflating.

You let it slip out of your mouth and out of your hand and you lick and rub the dribbles over your lips and cheeks as you yourself slide down from the passionate peak you climbed.

You release my hands. Rising to your feet, you stand directly in front of me. With your eyes staring into mine, you gently smile... almost a smirk.

My hands come up, gather under your jaw, and pull your lips fully into mine. With our eyes still locked I begin to taste the saliva and the slick residue around your lips. Your tongue begins to dance gently, then more aggressively with mine.

Suddenly I spin the two of us around, and still continuing the kiss, I press your shoulders firmly against the open door.

"Mmmfff!!," you cry as your hands instinctively grab for my shoulders.

Still holding your head firmly in my hands, still locked in the kiss, I press you harder against the door.

When I feel you wriggle slightly against the pressure, I break the kiss but leave my face and forehead pressed tightly against yours, hands still firm against your jaw and lightly encircling your neck.

You open your eyes to find that mine are already locked, staring into yours.

"Now..." I breathe. "It's my turn..."

(This is a 2-part story. 2nd chapter is still developing. Stay tuned...)