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Overtime Fantasies (Part 1)

Working overtime at the office to satisfy my fantasy's desires.
As soon as the last meeting of the day was over, I walked back to my office and closed the door behind me. Leaning back against it, I slowly let out a deep sigh. Every day at 5 pm, the office clears out quicker than if the fire alarm had sounded, and thankfully that time had finally arrived. Once again, she had driven me completely to distraction and I have been unable to concentrate on getting any work done. I close my eyes and review the metal image etched into memory from the project meeting that had just concluded a few minutes ago.

The outfits she wears to work are impeccably professional, and yet entirely seductive. Even today, her wavy walnut-colored locks are appropriately composed into a neat bundle, with only a few wisps escaping their restraint to dance rebelliously along her cheeks and the tops of her ears. The black knit-wool cardigan sweater only serves to emphasize the crisp whiteness of the cotton button-down blouse worn underneath. She leaves perhaps one too many buttons open at the top of her blouse, which is possibly the only outward concession in acknowledgment of her own sexuality, but certainly nothing anybody would be able to fault in her appearance. The charcoal pencil skirt ensnaring her waist falls most properly to a length just a few inches below the knee, yet somehow manages to shadow every curve of her hips and thighs without impairing her stride in the least. Even the soft, nude tones of the nylon hose hugging her calves screams propriety while fully accentuating the firm tone of her smooth flesh beneath. Yes, even the black patent pumps with a modest 2-in heel caressing her feet meet all the standards of decorum.

I take another very deep breath, exhale slowly, and open my eyes. Noticing the dryness in my mouth, I decide some water would be a good thing right about now. I head to the office kitchenette, fill a cup from the water cooler, and empty it in two swallows. Standing a moment there in the kitchenette, the lack of office chatter reminds me that most everyone has left for the day by now, and I chide myself that I, too, should be heading home to my wife. Instead, I return back through the hallways to my office and once again close the door. I dim down the lights and lock the door, just as I have done in what almost seems to be turning into an every Tuesday night occurrence for the last several months. I move around the desk and almost fall into my chair. The blinking of my desk phone and the flashing of my computer screen, both intended to alert me to the fact that I've got messages waiting that need response, are ignored. I lean back and close my eyes, again calling her seductive image to the forefront of my mental attention.

She had been sitting to the right of me at the conference-room table for the last hour and as usual, had absorbed all of my attention. The scent of her perfume had wrapped me into its erotic embrace from the moment she sat down. Being forced to look past her throughout the course of the meeting to outwardly pay attention to the meeting coordinator at the head of the table had given me more than ample opportunity to survey her (even more?) open blouse and admire the full swell of her breasts barely contained in the very sexy black lace demi-bra she wore. Glancing back over her shoulder, she draws my gaze to her gorgeous face just in time to watch her perfectly full lips rearrange into a crooked smirk. Her soft honey-brown eyes laugh at me through the veil of her long lashes before she composes her features and turns back away. Suddenly realizing I had been holding my breath, I carefully let it out slowly as to not draw attention to myself. Despite my best intentions, my traitorous eyes immediately resume their sideways perusal of her firm breasts through her blouse. She leans forward in her chair to scribble some notes onto the tablet in front of her, allowing the weight of her breast to pull an erect nipple free of her bra to tantalize to my enthralled vision, and sending thrills through my body. Already I feel my manhood filling with desire at the illicit peep-show, straining within the confines of my briefs. Almost casually, she crosses her left leg over her right, and allows her shoe to release her foot to dangle impudently from her toes. A sideways glance from her, and a quick return of that crooked smirk alerts me back to awareness. I investigate the direction of her gaze, and realize my arousal is fully apparent with the tent formed in my trousers. I shift uncomfortably in my chair attempting to mask my erection, but to no avail. Her gaze returns to her tablet, but the smirk does not leave those succulent lips for the remainder of the meeting. Again she composes herself and gathers up her pen and tablet. Standing up to depart she murmurs quietly, "see you next week." Then she is gone. After another minute or two, I'm finally relaxed enough to stand and walk out of the room.

I lean back into my chair, again at full arousal at the memory of her. I can't resist it anymore, and my lust demands release. I spin my chair around and open the bag I keep in my office for those lunch time visits to the gym. Pulling out a towel, I take once last glace out my office window to make sure the office is clear. I carefully lower my chair and turn the chair to face away from the door. I quickly unfasten my belt and open my trousers. My hand slips under the band of my briefs and takes my swollen member in a firm grasp. I'm shocked at the state of my own arousal as pre-cum has already fully coated the head of my tool. Using my own juices for lubrication my hand begins to slowly stroke up and down my rod. I close my eyes again and fully surrender myself to the fantasy of her. My fist twirls, grips, relaxes, teases all along the entire length of my shaft as my imagination takes over. I imagine the taste her lips against mine, the feel of entwined tongues locked in a deep passionate kiss. My nose, still filled with the lingering effects of her perfume, overwhelms me as I imagine her breasts, finally naked and free, pressing tightly against my chest. I stroke my rod faster, driving myself toward much needed release, allowing myself to moan in real pleasure as I picture her manicured nails running down my back as she pulls even me into an even tighter embrace. My hips begin to thrust in time with my own movements as I imagine her breath warm against my neck as she gasps and moans against me. I quickly drape the towel across my chest, pumping myself even harder and faster, as I demand her impending orgasm from my fantasy. At last, her back arches in my dream and she screams out in pleasure as white ropes of semen spurt forward from my shaft to land all over the towel on my chest.

Slowly my pulse returns to normal although my nerves are all still on fire from the intensity my own orgasm. I do my best to quickly recompose, cleaning myself up with the towel and tossing it back into my gym bag. I spin my chair back around to face my desk for a look at the clock, hoping I'm not going to be too late for dinner. Did I see a glimpse of black and charcoal outside of my office window from the corner of my eye, or was it just my wild imagination?

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

Copyright © This is a work of fiction, not meant to resemble any real persons. Reuse of this story, wholly or in-part, without the explicit written permission of the author is strictly prohibited.

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