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Continued:
Heat shot through me like fireworks. I shook my head.
Maybe someday.
βGood.β He slid my panties down over my calves, over my feet. He examined them, put them in his pants pocket, then turned his attention back to me. His palms pressed against my nylon covered thighs, easing them apart.
Oh, God. Oh God oh God oh God.
His fingers feathered over my hips, my stomach. My muscles danced under his touch. I wanted to plunge my fingers back into all that blond hair, and it took pulling against the tie around my wrists to remember I couldnβt. I whimpered, my hips pressing up to his hands.
He slid his hand between my legs again, velvet slick against the wetness there. My eyes fluttered shut, and I groaned. I felt like I was coming apart, and he hadnβt even gotten inside me yet.
βMr.A,β I whispered. βPlease.β
βHush, baby. Look at me.β
I opened my eyes, saw him watching me with a hooded expression.
He knelt between my legs, pants tight across powerful thighs. βDonβt move,β he said, sliding his hands around my calves. The heat of his skin shocking, even through socks. He pushed my knees up, my feet flat on the bed. βLet me take care of whatβs mine.β
I wanted to run, then, more than any other time, watching his face framed by that collared shirt, this intelligent, powerful man putting me at the center of his universe for these few minutes β yeah, I wanted to fucking run. But his eyes trapped me, held me in place, as he leaned forward, dipping his head.
No one had done this before. Not even Mr.C.
βYouβre shaking,β he said softly. His hands hadnβt stopped moving: up my legs, over my hips, his palms tracing the curve of my waist, my ribs. βAre you okay? Do I need to slow down?β
I shook my head.
βTell me if I do,β he said. βTell me if something changes. Any time. Okay?β
I nodded.
βSay the words.β
βIβm okay,β I whispered. βIβll tell you if Iβm not.β
He smiled. βGood girl. Thank you.β His hands dragged back down my stomach, up my thighs, and he pressed my knees farther apart. Cool air on wet skin like its own touch. He slid his knees back, lowering his chest to the mattress, curling his arms around my hips, all in one fluid motion, all grace and power.
The first brush of his lips against mine was electric: I jerked as if I had been shocked, and his arms tightened around me. I was staring down at him, in surprise, in awe, in β I donβt know, I didnβt know anything right then β and he looked up at me, those blue eyes almost black. His fingers pressed into my hips, into that sensitive spot between thigh and labia, and the noise I made was only barely human.
βI love how sensitive you are.β The heat of his breath might as well have been his tongue. βAnd how sweet you taste.β
He kissed me like I was kissing him back, dragging lips and careful tongue, heat singing through me, pleasure crawling through my belly, spreading through my hips like fingers. His nose brushed my clit through my pantyhose, and my back arched so sharply he dug his fingers into my thighs to keep me steady. And instead of backing off, instead of letting me breathe, he turned the full attention of his mouth to it, holding tight onto me, following the movement of my hips.
His tongue traced the contour of my pussy, his beard brushing soft against my thighs. Every muscle in my body was flexed and hard against him, against my bonds, the pressure ratcheted up tight and hot in my midsection. I wanted to curl up into a ball, wanted to wrap my arms and legs around him. I wanted his grip to bruise me. I wanted to come so bad I could barely think.
He uncurled one arm from around my hip, and I felt his fingers brush my ass, under his chin. His tongue dragged up the length of my lips, fingers following the trail, a sudden small rip in the gusset of my pantyhose, pushing into me at the same time he sucked my clit into his mouth.
My cry was sharp and loud and made me acutely aware of the near-silence in the room, of the sounds he was making, the sounds I was making, but he hummed again and smiled against my pussy. And flipped his hand over, palm up, and curled his fingers.
βShit,β I breathed, βMr.A, Godββ
The rhythm was incessant, insistent, and I was pulling so hard at the tie on my wrists I knew Iβd bruise. I needed to bruise.
He lifted his head, letting his thumb take over where his mouth had been. βAre you going to come for me, baby?β
βPresent your hands to me.β
I frowned at him.
βLove.β His voice was sharp. βGive me your fucking hands.β
I did. He held my wrists in the stretch of one big hand, lifting them over my head, laying me down again. I watched the pulse hammer in his throat as he leaned down to tie me to his headboard. The knots werenβt tight, but I had no interest in trying to get away. I lay stretched out on his bed, and he finally β finally β unzipped my skirt and slid it down my legs.
To be honest, I hadnβt expected to be naked in front of him when I got dressed that evening. Iβd indulged in some wishful thinking (as I did basically all the time), but I didnβt really own any sexy underwear- because I rarely ever wear them. Tonightβs panties had a green heart-shaped argyle pattern. They cut a little high up on my cheeks. Nothing special.
But he murmured, βJesus, look at you.β
I blushed and looked away. His hands slid up my nylon covered thighs and his fingers curled around the waistband of my panties and pulled them down.
Oh, come on. The lights were on, and he was going to look, like heβd fucking looked at everything else, like he could memorize it.
βMr.A, listenββ
βHush,β he said again, and looked up at me. βAre you going to make me gag you?β
TO BE CONTINUED...
I planned to share the story of how I fucked my boss at a previous job - it is one hell of a story π€€! But, today I am quite busy so I am substituting my words for pictures (they say a picture is worth a thousand words...right!?).
Be sure to swipe to the end for the extra naughty photos! ππ
I went through some older photo sets and came across this image (that I somehow forgot to share).
I want so badly to live out this fantasy today!! ππ€€