"You know what they say, Ron," Janice purred, her normal timid squeak downshifting to a husky growl as she pulled his stiff cock out of his trousers and began to stroke it. "It's the quiet ones you have to watch out for." Ronald had no idea how to respond, either to her words or her unexpected and incredibly forthright advances--there wasn't a place in his head for meek, mousy Janice with her winter-pale cheeks and her frizzy brown hair and her chunky glasses and her sensible sweaters suddenly coming on to him with such... such impressive sexual talents. It simply locked up his brain.
He managed to stammer out a feeble, sputtering murmur of, "Janet, I--I don't think this is a-appropriate office behavior," but she simply cut off his words with a long, slow, soulful kiss that plundered his mouth and left him to breathless to speak even when she pulled away. Ron couldn't even make his eyes refocus at first--they kept crossing and uncrossing, and the relentless motion of Janet's hand on his cock didn't help matters. Ron would have bet good money that Janet had never even seen a man's penis before, let alone touched one with her bare hands on purpose, and yet there she was tugging on his pud so expertly that he could barely even breathe.
He must have had some tell, though, some hidden sign that told Janet when he was getting close to orgasm, because she backed off her stimulation every time Ron felt that rising tension in his balls that told him he was about to cum. He had barely enough presence of mind to realize he'd gone from shock and dismay at his employee's behavior to disappointment and frustration that he wasn't going to be able to spurt jizz all over the front of his trousers, but just then Janet giggled and said, "Who the fuck cares?", and Ron's numb brain retreated even further into bewilderment at the completely foreign sound of a swear word coming from her lips.
"The thing you need to ask yourself, Ronnie," Janet growled, raking her fingers down the middle of his chest to tear open his dress shirt and send buttons flying all over his private office, "isn't whether this is 'appropriate' or 'professional' or whatever bullshit word you want to use to describe the boring way you expected me to behave when I walked in here. It's whether you have the willpower to stop me from doing whatever the fuck I want to... and you know what? I don't think you do." She shoved her hand into his clothing, finding his nipples and tweaking them into stiff brown buds.
Ronald shook his head in stunned disbelief, his eyes glassy with confusion as he stared at the wicked, contemptuous smile on the face of a woman he could barely get to say three words to him yesterday. He'd literally called this meeting to find out if there was any way of getting her to open up to her co-workers, and now.... "W-why?" he stammered, unable to summon up anything more complex in his befuddled brain. "Why are you, you, you....?" That was all he had. Anything more involved actually confronting what she was doing to his chest and his flushed, engorged cock and Ronald simply wasn't ready for that.
"That's another really boring question, Ronnie," Janet chuckled, giving Ronald's cock an especially hard tug that forced a gush of precum out of the tip to leak down his throbbing shaft. Every time he leaked another dribble, her hand slid up and down his stiff prick faster and with less friction, and that made her handjob feel better and better until even the slightest motion left him on the verge of climax. But still she didn't let him cum. "'Why' is for losers. The important question is, 'Can I stop her from scrambling my brains so bad I'll fucking beg to kiss her feet every morning when she comes into my office?', and I think we both know the answer to that."
Ronald didn't want to admit it, but he thought she might be right. He'd always heard about men who thought with their dicks, and he always thought it was a despicable excuse for either a contemptible lack of willpower or more simply just bad behavior they didn't want to admit responsibility for, but now that Janet's talented fingers were milking the precum out of his cock in gouts of clear slick fluid, he had to admit there was more truth to it than he imagined. Every time he so much as thought of pushing Janet away, she found a new way to tease another burst of unexpected pleasure out of him and his eyes rolled back in his head with overwhelming ecstasy. His own wife couldn't make him this goddamn horny, and she had a body that made Janet look like a stick figure.
But Ronald didn't have his eyelids open very much anymore anyway. "Go on, Ronnie boy," Janet murmured in his ear, her breath tickling his sensitized skin until he could hear himself panting with arousal. "Tell me you're not going to kiss my feet when I walk into this office tomorrow. Tell me you're not going to feel your brain dragged right back to this moment and float back into that same soft, drifty space in your head when all the pleasure and all the helplessness and everything about my complete and total control overwhelmed you until all you could do was hump my fist like a needy little slut. Can you honestly do that, Ronnie? Can you honestly tell me you won't pop a boner the second you see me?"
Ronald's mouth opened and closed like a goldfish as he struggled to parse the tidal wave of speech for its important informational content. "I, um, I, I, I...." he babbled, trying to push aside the vivid mental images of springing an erection like a horny teenager at the sight of Janet and her talented fingers. He was supposed to be professional, he knew. He was supposed to resist the temptation to abuse his power and authority over the women in his employ to get sexual favors. But Ronald didn't feel like he had any power or authority right now.
