Alan spanked her. Her ass felt firm, springing back against his hand, and the skin was smooth to his fingertips.
She bucked against him. He could feel the tight, wet confines of her pussy contracting around his cock. She moaned, throwing her head back. Her long hair lashed across her back, but the room was so dark he couldn't tell for sure the color. There was barely enough light to see a faint glow of skin on one ass-cheek, the small of her back, and up the line of her spine before it disappeared into her mane.
"Shit, yes!" she said, grinding against him. "Oh, I love that cock in me!"
He spanked her again, thrusting as he did. Then he grabbed the cheek, squeezing as much of it as he could fit in his hand. He pulled open her ass cheeks, watching her pussy lips part around his tool, and the contraction of the tiny button of her anus. He placed the tip of one finger there.
She recoiled a little. "No, not there, I don't like it in my-"
[You'll love it in your ass,] he thought at her. She paused, hesitating.
"Oh, what the fuck," she said. "Try sticking a finger up my ass."
Alan smiled and rubbed his middle finger in the juices leaking from her snatch. Slowly, he circled it around the entrance, wetting it more with some of his saliva, and smoothly pushed it in all the way to his knuckles.
"Oh, god, fuck!" she said, tightening around his finger. "Oh, shit, that feels..."
He thrust in harder with his cock and finger, building rhythm. She broke off with a loud moan. He swirled his finger inside, jerking his hips. She began to moan steadily, thrusting eagerly against his finger.
"Yes! Oh, baby, fuck those holes!" she said, voice rising. "Fuck 'em so so so goood!"
Alan thrust harder. He felt it building.
"Yes!" she almost screamed. "Yes, do me like that! Fuck!"
Alan was thrusting with abandon. It felt amazing. He was almost...
"Yeah, fuck fuck FUCK me, Jackson!"
Alan was almost... wait, Jackson?
Alan's eyes snapped open. He was staring at the familiar off-white of his bedroom ceiling. The light cutting across it through a gap in the blinds seemed blinding: his head throbbed angrily.
It wasn't the only thing throbbing. He looked down to see his light blanket had been thrown off in his sleep, and his pulsing hardon was tent-poling the sheets.
He sighed, and rubbed his hands against his temples. The pain felt like it was centered there, but went up in lines to the crown of his head, and ached on the back of his eyes. He rubbed his eyes too, but it didn't seem to help. It made him just faintly nauseous. He glanced at the clock. He was ten minutes early to his usual alarm.
Sighing, Alan pushed himself out of bed, his wood slapping with unrelenting hardness against his thigh. It flopped heavily in his boxers as he stood. He paused at the doorway, letting the fan there cool away some of the sweat from his bare chest. It only helped a little.
He trudged to the fridge, paused there looking at it dumbly, and then went to the cupboard for a glass. He filled it with water from the fridge's filter, downed it, and then another. His head felt better while the water was going down this throat, but then immediately went back to feeling like an well-used anvil. He added a pair of aspirin to the equation, and drank half of another glass, pouring the rest into the sink.
He paused there, glancing into the little living room where his weight set and matt were. He shook his head at them, and instead turned to the shower. He turned the water on, waiting with his hand in the water while it went from lukewarm to cold to warm again, and then stepped inside.
He leaned against the shower wall, letting the water flow over his face. He was sure how long stood there, but eventually the headache died to a dull throb. Alan sighed with relief, and opened his eyes. He blinked, and looked down. His hardon, however, was still going strong. He frowned at it, and shrugging, got to shampooing and soap.
He was was still swinging a plank when get got out, dried off, used deodorant, tapped a finger of cologne on his collarbone, and put on a clean pair of boxers. He paused at the clothes he'd set out the day before, hanging on the door. Instead of his usual business casual, he had a nice button down shirt in light blue, slacks, and suit coat.
He snapped his fingers, remembering.
***
Alan set his bag down next to his desk, pulling off his coat to hang it on a peg on one side of the cubicle wall. He heaved a bit of a sigh when it was off: just wearing it on the walk from his car to the building had started to build up sweat.
"Well, someone is a dapper Dan today," Laurel said, turning in her chair to look him up and down. "And when it's sweltering hot out, too. Got a hot date after work, or something?"
Laurel had a fan going at her desk, in addition to the AC roaring dully in the background. She still glowed slightly.
Alan shook his head. "No, just a job interview."
"Oh, I see. In or out of company?" Her eyes lit up. "Oh, you're applying for that job over in marketing, aren't you?"
He nodded, smiling a bit anxiously.
"Who's interviewing you?"
"Alyssa."
Laurel paused, eyes narrowing. "Just Alyssa?"
"Yeah, why?"
She stared at him a moment, her face quirked like she was trying to stifle a smile, and then down at his pants. He'd done his best to hide it, but a little bulge of his dick still showed through the slacks.
"Well, I think you'll do just fine," she said evenly.
"Uh... really?"
She smiled, mostly on one side of her mouth. "Oh yeah. You're going to blow her mind. She won't know what hit her."
Alan shrugged. "Well, I don't think I would go that far."
"I think you will," she said, shaking her head. "I really think you will. Anyway, notice anything different about me?"
Alan paused. His eyes narrowed, darting over her. He knew this was a dangerous question to get wrong. Her top was black and white horizontal stripes, and a thin, gauzy material. It both clung to her nice curves, and made her chest seem even bigger. Her skirt barely went past mid-thigh, and she wore nylons and open-toed sandals. Then he spotted the glint on her left hand. His eyes opened wider, and she smiled, holding up her hand to display the decent-sized rock that glittered on it.
