Even in my state of awkward befuddlement, I couldn't help but let my desires for this man's appearance get the best of me. He always dressed so sharp and sophisticated, with his suave suits and his expensive haircuts. Plus, at his age, I knew him to be a major workout enthusiast- although, I must say, I don't know when the hell he might have found the time for such things, as I myself did yoga two or three times a week, and I found it nearly impossible to try and balance it with my own hectic work schedule, missing classes far more often than I would really care to admit, despite my best intentions. This man was, truly, a miracle worker of sorts, as far as balancing out his life was concerned- and I say that in more ways than one...
I caught my breath after a while, then, blinking, and though I shouldn't really be doing this, I turned next to Mark, standing on my opposite side, and I gave him a similar looking over from the corner of my eye.
Mark, in contrast with Mr. Johnson, was a young stud, blonde and similarly strong, but with that extra youthful vigor that served to distinguish him from my boss. He was, suffice it to say, beneath me at the company, but a highly promising, rising star. I hoped his ambitions wouldn't quite get him to the point where he passed me on his climb to the top, given how very hard I'd worked to get where I was. But he certainly showed promise, and had gone out of his way to strengthen the firm in his relatively brief time spent here. And that was saying a hell of a lot, given that he was even younger than I was, fresh faced, and hot out of college, looking to get his foot in the door as far as flinging himself into the job market was concerned.
If you asked me, so far he'd done one hell of a job at it...
When you got right down to it, then, I was standing sandwiched between two alpha males- or, if you want to split hairs, a fully accomplished alpha male, as well as a prospective alpha male in training, but well on his way to achieving the goals he desired out of life. There was, of course, an inherent intimidation about this for me, but it was nothing compared to the more specific, tangible tensions that had been mounting ever since those words were uttered, “Could you hold that door for me please?”
I found myself holding my breath as my eyes burned, beaming at the lights above the elevator door that were there to indicate our climb toward the top of the building, DING, DING, DING, DING, DING, halfway there, halfway there, halfway there, it's almost over, it's almost over, I'll be able to breathe again soon enough...
And then, suddenly, I found myself shrieking- there was a huge, turbulent rumble, the entire car shaking and nearly toppling me forward into the closed doors- Mr. Johnson, mercifully, grabbed me by the arm before my skull could smack into the metal, and my skin prickled fiercely at his touch.
“Are you alright?” both men asked, nearly at once, and I nodded dumbly, chest on fire as I tried to catch my breath, and gradually the realization dawned on me as to what had just happened- the lights, suddenly, flickered off, and we'd stopped moving. A dimmer set of emergency lights flashed on in reaction to the shorting out of the power, and the three of us froze, dumbly, staring at the control panel, as though somehow we were confused about what it was that had just so clearly happened.
Mark took the initiative first, scrambling for the control panel, and wildly pressing buttons, knowing, all the while as he did so, that he would receive no response- I could have told him that. Mr. Johnson, then, leaned in to take his place, but instead of wildly pressing buttons, he went for the emergency call switch, hoping that it may lead to a response.
But there was no luck...
“It... It looks as though we're trapped,” said Mr. Johnson, stepping back calmly, and I noticed that Mark was identically calm as well. As it turned out, I was the only member of the trio who was practically hyperventilating, sweat rolling down my body- damn, was it hot in here- and running down dangerous avenues in my mind, forecasting all sorts of dreadful things that could happen during the time it might take for things to be repaired.
But honestly, could you really blame me? I'd known, I'd forecasted, that my day was going to go just about like this, from the moment Mr. Johnson had originally stepped on board.
I was trapped, in an elevator, sandwiched between my two co-workers, the only two men with whom I was currently sexually active- and neither of them knew that the other was sleeping with me...
____
They say it's hard for a girl in this world to make her way to the top. That may be true for some girls, but for others, all it takes is a willingness to spend a little bit of time on the bottom first- which I most certainly had been...
Now, from the get-go, I should say that my wish is not at all to mischaracterize the nature of the relationship shared by Mr. Johnson and I. Nor do I wish to make myself sound like a total whore by implying that my only asset in rising to the top of the food chain here has been by sleeping with my higher-ups. I mean, that sort of thing certainly doesn't hurt a girl's odds one bit, but that seriously wasn't the nature of what Mr. Johnson and I shared.
God, Mr. Johnson... Referring to him in that way does make it seem like I was completely subordinate to him sexually indeed, that the very assumptions you may be making about my climb to the top are in fact grounded in reality. Harry is what I normally called him, at least when it came to our, ahem, extracurricular involvement with one another. We were complete equals when it came to any and all matters of the bedroom, although that certainly wasn't to say our lovemaking was devoid of that spicy, sub/dom dynamic. But I wasn't, on any day of the week, my boss's whore, and my job security, at no point would have been compromised by what the two of us chose to do or not to do between the sheets, of our own free will, and on our own time.
Let me just say this... Harry, or Mr. Johnson, or whatever the hell you might want to call him from this point onward, was like a mentor for me, in any and every way. I certainly owed my rise to the top to him, but it wasn't simply a matter of me simply giving him a blowjob under his desk and him promoting me as a reward. Rather, I was completely under his tutelage, and he'd taught me everything he knew, schooled me in just about every applicable field which would help me in life- be it socializing, networking, communication, politics, investment strategies- and yes, in fact, sexuality.
Honestly, it was hard to fully explain, even to myself, sometimes, what it was that Harry and I shared. To some extent, I could understand his interest in me. I was young, supple, full of energy and life. I'd always been a girl you might consider attractive, with long chestnut hair, seductive green eyes, a face close to that of a model. I was, quite simply, a very sexy girl- a very kinky girl, even- and it was unsurprising that a man of power such as him might have wanted me.
What was more surprising, I suppose, was that I wanted him... And it wasn't simply motivated by a desire to get ahead in my line of work either- as I expressly stated earlier, I am no prostitute. I respect myself and my body, and would never sleep with someone just to advance in my field (again, though, I'll admit freely that it doesn't hurt one's career prospects, but I merely considered it a side effect of the affair.)
I was hardly a virgin or anything when Harry and I began sleeping together... I'd had my fun over the years, sowed my wild oats as it were... Only- well... Maybe I hadn't been all that wild, actually. Not a virgin, but not hyper-sexual either. Which isn't to say I didn't like sex either. I just didn't... Didn't click with my peers as much, I suppose. Lots of guys hit on me, sure. And a few lucky studs made it past my defenses and into my panties- but almost always, they were simple flings, rolls in the hay, nothing to really be taken all that seriously. I can think of maybe only one serious relationship I was in throughout college, and that only lasted for a few months before I deemed the guy I was with to be too childish, and moved on.
My sex life had been as dry as could be throughout the course of my time at the firm. Maybe a one night stand with some poor bastard from a bar here and there, but for the most part, I'd let the young, kinky, sexual side of myself go by the wayside, unable to find the right sort of guy who could
meet my needs, abstract as they were, and the trouble of flirting and seducing and putting up with all manner of bullshit entirely more than I wished to endure.
Harry had, I think, sort of managed to sweep me off of my feet without wholly meaning to. I just spent so much time with him, you know, was in such close quarters with him on a routine basis. And he was so mature, so in control of himself and his emotions, but powerful... All and all, completely unlike the sorts of juvenile twenty-somethings I'd always settled for in my life. Something new, something exciting, someone who knew how to treat a lady right.
In the beginning, I have to admit, I did feel just a little bit bad about it. He had a wife, a young daughter, the wife in her thirties, and me, I realized, the harpy who might threaten to split up her home and wreck their life. But I had no intention of doing so, and I made sure that things remained contained, the two of us in control over what we shared. I needed him so badly at that point, and whatever guilt there was to be felt at this betrayal of his family, perfectly lovely people, I'm sure, was his to be felt, and his alone.
I'll never forget that first night we spent together... Him, taking me into that hotel room with him, kind, patient, and oh so enthusiastic. I'd been shaking, I remember, in spite of myself. I tried excruciatingly hard to calm down, to get a hold over myself, but I just felt so damn nervous. He could recognize this, of course, and he did his best to soothe me. He succeeded, eventually, a lot more than your average guy might have been able to. He placed a hand on my shoulder, in almost a fatherly manner, and it was like everything just sort of lifted for me, made easier, lighter...
He poured me a drink, and we talked for a while, smiling, laughing... I don't have a clue what it was we discussed. I was still so nervous at the time, and sort of just making my way from one moment to the next in the hopes that I would survive. But of course, I did, and things got easier and easier, the possible implications of what the two of us were doing growing more and more distant as things steadily progressed through the evening.
And then he kissed me. It caught me off guard, I think, but it wasn't at all unpleasant. I was frigid for a moment, trying to gain my footing, but then I gave into it wholeheartedly, melting into him, throwing caution to the wind. I was his, and his alone, to be dominated, used, hung out to dry...
Lord, how he ravished me...
He pulled apart after that first kiss, as though to ensure he hadn't shocked me too terribly. He had, of course, and for a moment I was left breathless, panting. But then I smiled at him, lighting up, quick to assure him that I was every ounce as enthusiastic about the direction in which things were headed as he was, and this, in turn, seemed only to redouble his want for me.
He leaned into me once more, and I did the same. Our mouths dissolved into a single, wet, luscious unit, and I breathed him in, nostril flaring, heart pounding in my chest, and my ears ringing, ringing, ringing as though a bell was being sounded right next to my head.
He ravished me... Dominated me...
He stuck his tongue into my mouth, and tasted the insides of my cheeks. I pushed my tongue back up against his own, the two of us wrestling it out playfully with those fleshy pink units of ours, mouths popping, slurping, neither of us able of getting enough, no matter how desperately we might have tried.
And his hands, so knowing, so capable, were all over me. They slid across the front of my little black dress, dredging the fabric all over me in such a manner that my lingerie were brought routinely into view. He squeezed on my breasts, and cupped his hands against my ass, pulling me into himself. I thought, initially, that this first contact might prove wholly peculiar, but instead it seemed to crush whatever barriers lay between us. It put us on an equal sexual footing, and took away my fear- I could tell, even from those first few desperate clutches toward my anatomy, that he would prove one immaculate lover...
We began to stumble around wildly, almost drunkenly, through the expansive hotel suite. I loosened his tie from around his neck, yanking it from him through the loop of his collar, and I slipped him out of his suit jacket, only managing to get the first few buttons of his dress shirt undone beneath the thing before he pushed me through the bathroom door, giggling.
There was no need for it, really, other than to more thoroughly seal us in one with one another, but he closed the door shut behind us, and in an instant we were back on one another, kissing, touching, groping, passionately devouring one another, as though neither of us had the slightest hope in hell of ever getting enough. I could feel him hardening against my thighs, and it turned me on like all damnation to experience his bulge grinding up against me- the biggest, I could tell, that I'd ever encountered, and the most adept, I would soon come to know all too well, at pleasuring me...
He fumbled absently for the faucet of the shower as the two of us continued to make out like newlyweds, and hot, scalding water proceeded to rain down into the basin of the tub- his intention, I supposed, was to get the two of us cleaned up a bit before we got ourselves very, very dirty all over again...
I undressed first for him. I slithered out of my tight black dress, careful to move my body just so, slinking and writhing in ways that I knew would do the most damage to his already stiff and inflated cock. I peeled the straps of my bra from my shoulders seductively, leering into his eyes as I did so, and then slowly, slowly, slowly bringing my arm up to my breasts, censoring my nipples before he even got a chance to sneak a peek at the sweet, sharp things.
Then I doubled over at the waist, popping my ass out toward him as I bent over to slide away my lacy black panties, dredging them down along my body, spreading myself wide for him to witness, devastating him, and causing my inner woman to swell with sexual pride.
Ass naked now, I could see that he was beginning to leak for me, pre-ejaculate seeping through the lump in his pants as he lusted after me, and I decided to agonize him just the least bit more, spurring things along. He moved in for me, clearly hungry for my lithe, naked body, but before he could even come close, I slipped behind the shower curtain, the hot water feeling glorious against my naked flesh as I disappeared from view. I waited a moment, and then stuck out a single hand to him, hooking my finger in his direction in a crystal clear “come hither” motion, and then vanishing once more.
It didn't take long at all for him to join me in my nakedness, his clothes crumpling to a heap and then his powerful body stepping in beside mine in the shower, looking glorious, even sturdier than I'd imagined this first time, and so luscious to behold. His long, hard rod curved upward for me, throbbing with arousal, and almost immediately I reached over and began to stroke him, cupping his massive, hairy scrotum in my hand and dredging the shaft of his erection from base to tip, base to tip, base to tip, masturbating him lightly as the two of us kissed.
He pressed the hot, stiff thing up against me as the two of us continued to make out, and my kisses began to fall further down, down, down along his body, from his lips to his cheek, to his chin, to his neck, to his nipples... As I kissed his chest, I could feel his heart beating up against his chest, and I thought fearfully that I may be on the verge of giving the poor, studly bastard a heart attack.
He put a hand on my head, however, clearly instructing me to continue on my downward trek, and I was certainly not one to disappoint. I continued my way down along him until I made contact with the furry obstacle of his bush, unshaven, but neatly kept. I brought my face back to his engorged purple tip, and rolled my tongue around its circumference a few times. Then I parted my jaws wide, and I swallowed him all up inside me, needing a few attempts to be able to fully contain him without my gag reflex kicking in, until at last, with some angling, my lips touched down against his fur, and he let out a tremendous sigh.
He continued to keep his hand planted firmly on my pretty little skull as I proceeded to suck him off, guiding me, even in our sex, like a real mentor, and asserting his dominance over me in a manner that defied second guessing. I sucked, and slurped, and lapped up that long, hard boner o
f his, doing my damnedest to please him as I bobbed my head rhythmically from one end to the other, building up an immense suction as I pulled back tightly to his tip, snapping my lips off of him, and then pushing back along toward his pelvis, my neck gouged repeatedly by his massive spear of a cock, but his insistence at my compliance evident from the fact that he never, not for one minute, relinquished his grip over me.
Again and again and again I choked him down, nostrils flaring as he stabbed the back of my neck repeatedly with his tip, and at last, when I thought I could handle no more, he heaved me one final time into himself, holding steady, steady, steady- and he began to ejaculate wildly into my mouth.
God, there was so much of it, his hot, steamy fluids, delicious to me in my infatuation with the man, filling up my cheeks, spilling through my lips, dripping down along my chin, and dripping onto my breasts in a way that I knew must have pleased him.
Billionaire: Menage: Swinger: Let's Swing (MMF Bisexual Romance) (New Adult Contemporary Short Stories) Page 4