We’ve been flirting around this for a while now. Long glances during lunch meetings, where I catch your eyes dipping down to the valley between my breasts. Other days, when I’m feeling pretty, I wear a skirt and heels. I’m a high heels, stocking and garters girl, and I’ve got the legs for it! As we sit in a project brief, I flash the edge of my stocking to adjust the garter, watching your eyes drop down and your hand tighten around your pen. Your eyes meet mine and I can see the heat in them. We haven’t touched each other yet, but the teasing is getting close.

——-

It is the end of the day. I sit at my desk, preparing for a long weekend away when I feel breath on the back of my neck. A husky voice whispers in my ear.

“When you met me, you wanted to fuck me, didn’t you?”

Not the smoothest of invitations, but a flash of lust races through my body, tits tightening, pussy wet, breath suddenly heavy in my chest. I’ve been anticipating this moment, and fire runs through my veins, knowing if I say yes, I can have your hands on me. It takes all I’ve got to not turn towards you.

“Go home,” I quietly reply.

Now that you’ve asked, I have to decide. Do I give in, say yes, let myself get lost in the feelings? Or do I go back to my loneliness in the name of fidelity?

You pause a moment, breath still touching my neck. I would only have to move an inch to feel your mouth on my skin. I feel as much as hear a rumble of satisfaction in your chest. I am sure the tension in my shoulders and my voice have betrayed me.

“You still want me to fuck you, don’t you?” Your voice is a little hesitant, almost surprised.

Facing the screen, I continue to type. My hands shake with the need to reach for you, mind scrambling for what to say.

“Go home,” I repeat. I say a quick prayer that you go - for now.

You stand and walk to the door. Turning back, you give me a slow look, head to toe, before your dark eyes meet mine. We both understand that wasn’t a “No.”

——————

I sit alone on a flight home.

No movie, no books.

Nothing to do but think.

Appetite for Destruction in my ears. It’s So Easy.

I sit with a blanket over my lap, thinking of you in the seat next to me. I hear your voice in my mind, a memory from Wednesday.

“You want me to fuck you, don’t you?”

Oh, how badly I want it. I think of what I would do if you were here next to me. The in-flight blanket draped over your lap would cover the rough drag of my fingernails on the denim as I stroke your cock through your jeans. I can feel the pull of the zipper under my hand, metal warm to the touch. The smell of your arousal lingers in my memory.

Thank God for skirts. My skin shivers, and I inch my skirt up to touch myself under the blanket. My hand takes the place of yours, imagining your hands on me, sliding down my stomach into my panties. In my mind, hard, square, strong hands stroke my wet folds, then push inside, driving into my puss.

I realize I can’t wait. I need the rush. So I smooth my skirt down before standing to make my way down the aisle. The lavatory on this flight would fit two - snugly. A quick pic for later, just for the memory. My fingers dip down into my panties to rub my clit, and I quickly bring myself off, the electric rush traveling through my body.

Back in my seat, I find my mind swimming in glorious thoughts of you, and where this hasn’t gone yet. My mouth waters at the thought of being on my knees in front of you, licking your hard cock, with my shirt pulled off so you can reach my breasts.

Suddenly, my thoughts are interrupted. The plane touches down, one bump, then two. The rough friction of the runway sends me over the edge, and I gasp as my body rocks with the orgasm.

——————

And here we are again, so soon. Headed home from a site. Riding together so we can work. Right. The other guys ride in the front seat, talking, but the road noise covers quiet speech. You ask to see a story or a picture. I give in, with a flash of lust. Writing is a way to process the emotion and raw need running through my system. Body so hot that I tremble. My snatch is wet and begging for you to touch me. Your fingers curl around mine, and I’m on fire, head to toe. Just for a moment. I squeeze hard and let go, wanting to draw your hand up to my breast. I am totally sure this is a bad idea. Trying to focus on work. Totally impossible as you add comments to my story, sharing your thoughts.

——————

You called to say if I ever teased you like today, I would find you in your truck with your cock in hand. My sight blacks out for a second with the force of the lust.  Do you really? What do you clean up with? As you tell me, I sit here with my hand in my pants, wanting so badly for it to be yours. Fingers drenched. What if I used those wet fingers on your cock?  I want you to worship me until I cry for release, till my body takes over all thought.  Hands on me, touching me everywhere. Teasing me with the possibility of release, feeling my skin shudder, my body arch into the curve of your thigh, your chest, your hand, as it started to do today.