Longboard (Desk Surfing Series Book 1)

by Davila Eggert

  "You didn't think I gave you my all just yet, did you?" said Longboard.

  "I was being pounded pretty hard. There wasn't much room for thinking. Literally."

  "That's why I eased up," said Longboard, "Because you still have to be able to walk to the conference room."

  "Is chivalry dead? You can't carry a girl?"

  "Most girls these days aren't up for that," said Longboard.

  "I was raised by my grandmother. I got old school values."

  "Do you really?" said Longboard.

  "Try me." He did. He slung me over his left shoulder, despite being right-side dominant. He needed his free hand to turn the door knob. He was sluggish trying to make his way to the conference room. It was about twenty yards if I had to guess. All management had offices on the periphery, staff sat on the floor in cubicles. We had to walk from one end of the row to the other and then turn right down the hall to the conference room. Despite being in charge, Longboard's office wasn't the most impressive. It was a bit old school with no real regard for taste. It just had that kind of feeling that he was self-made, which he was. The office didn't have that sleek, techy feel, like we were sponsored by some VC with more money than he knew what to do with. It looked like an old money family business. And I realized all this hanging upside down on Longboard's shoulder. I had two free hands so I could pull my hair to the side to see. Hanging on his shoulder with my hair down in front of my eyes made me feel like a carcass. So I had to brush my hair behind me. As I looked back, I realized Longboard didn't close his office door. There was an analog clock on the far wall that showed it was 12:15 am. My heart skipped a beat. It was late but not so late that someone couldn't come in. The cleaning ladies were gone but we had a big presentation the next day. Someone could come back to finish something up or come early to prepare. And I didn't know how long Longboard needed my assistance. He carried me into the conference room and kicked the door shut. He flattened me out on the long conference table, with my boobs facing up. I could see Waikiki beach out the window. It looked like the biggest oil spill in history, black water under moonlight.

  "Don't move," said Longboard. He grabbed one of the markers from the magnetic box on the Olympic-sized whiteboard. The marker was red.

  "Be still," said Longboard.

  "A red marker?"

  "You'll see," said Longboard. He took the cap off the marker and lowered it to the edge of my right boob. It was right at the top on the edge of the implant. Then he started to drag the soft tip of the marker around. He tickled me going off to the side near my armpit area, then down the side of my boob to my under boob. He brought the tip around, gently pushing the flesh aside while leaving a red mark. He did it again with the marker, making a circle around my boob but closer to my nipple. He kept going. After a few minutes, I closed my eyes. Dudes always wanted to give me breast play with their hands. But hands always felt the same. The marker was nice. It was cool, never cold, but got warm against my skin. I felt a tingle at the very bottom of my feet. It was relaxing, almost massaging. The felt tip wasn't rigid. It had give to it and the pressure was there but he wasn't stabbing me with it. He went around in smaller and smaller circles and did a few light strokes on my nipple. They weren't even strokes. They were taps. He tapped my nipple three times from right-to-left and three times from left-to-right. Then he started on my left boob. He started with the circle. And spiraled around and around until he came to the nipple and three taps with the marker from right-to-left and left-to-right. Then he stopped.

  "Stand up," said Longboard.

  When he was done, my boobs were both covered red. I turned toward the glass window and saw my reflection. With the stage lighting on in the conference room and the black water outside, the reflection was pretty good. The image was not. It looked like someone had CGI-ed my boobs away. I had to turn to the side to make sure all that was there, was still there.

  "Come here," he said. Longboard took my hand and lead me around in front of him.

  "Face the whiteboard," said Longboard. I was used to taking his commands during the day. Being naked with red tits in the conference room didn't change that. I felt his hands on my hips. He slowly tilted my pelvis forward, which threw me off balance and made me put my hands against the whiteboard to brace myself. His hands came up along my forearms, which made me nervous because I have unnaturally hairy arms for a Hawaiian girl. But his hands swam up my arms and bolted to my wrists. I could feel his chest against my back. There was the slight tease of a few chest hairs. Ethnic Hawaiian dudes weren't known for hairy chests, which is why switching it up with Mainland dudes was a must. But I guess Hawaiian dudes were more comfortable around Hawaiian girls because they didn't hold back. Longboard latched my wrists to the whiteboard till they were flat. As he inhaled, his chest expanded pushing my nipples into the whiteboard.

  "Aww...that's cold." My nipples got ice burn from the cold whiteboard but as Longboard pushed his thighs forward, I had nowhere to go. My boobs smeared against the whiteboard nipples and all, leaving red marker impressions against the board. I could still feel the tight grip of his hands around my wrists. I could feel his long hard-on measure itself against my back. I don't think I realized how long he was until that point. I could feel part of his dick at the beginning of my butt crack and I could feel his tip in the curvature of my back. That had to be a good nine to ten inches. He unhinged my right hand but held my left hand hard against the whiteboard. He used his free hand to pull my hips back just a bit. It felt so feminine. I was being controlled by a powerful man, powerful in more ways than one. He grabbed the base of his long penis and pulled it down my butt crack, letting me know where it was at all times. He pushed his dick down to the back of my thighs, then pulled my right leg over to the left. He put his hand back on his dick and angled the tip toward my gate. He didn't cross the border. He just kept moving his dick around my lips in a circle. It went on for what must have been a minute before he dipped his mushroom tip in. My labia lips spread open to accommodate all that mass but as wet as I was, he didn't dive right in. He hung out there with my clit and used his hand to bang that penis side-to-side in my veejayjay. It was playfully pleasant, just the tip rattling around in my cage. I could feel my pussy walls pulsate. They were so wet they felt shiny. I needed him to bring that shine on but he just stayed there at the opening whipping his tip around. Then he came in a little more. It was fine this time. My vag knew what it was in for. Before it became too painful from the tight contractions in my pussy, he did what he had done all his career. He didn't procrastinate. He saw the opportunity and went for it. Despite his size, he slid right in all the way. I reached around with my right hand, my free hand, and grabbed his ass pulling him closer, I needed it in me. He grabbed my right wrist and took it to the whiteboard again. I was stationary, couldn't move. He started to do a lot of moving. He started to hump me from behind. Just using my board of a butt as a fulcrum so he could seesaw his long steel dick up and down. He was plugging me good. But it wasn't that hard ramming like in his office.

  At first, I thought he was tired or didn't feel as much in control as in his office. But I realized that we were both standing. It was a different dynamic. He was using my noassatall to help his range of motion. And he was pushing off the floor with his toes to push his rod all the way inside. It wasn't just in me. It was up me. And that's why it's called Pogo Lottery. He was literally jumping his free-standing cock up in me. It was like he was doing reps in my veejayjay. It wasn't the throttling that he gave me from behind, when we were on his desk. It was like he was doing dick exercises because the motion was a lot slower. He pushed a lot longer as his tense cock caught every nerve ending along the way. I had to widen my stance to handle him. And my boobs were trapped against the warming whiteboard. I could feel his slow tug on my hair as he extended through my pussy. It felt like my pussy walls were just cashmere. He wasn't pounding it out of me so I didn't dry up as fast. It was just slow stokes, up and down. I felt him tense up as he got it all the wa
y in me. I could feel his thigh muscles flexing against the back of my legs. He tightened up at the top of the stroke and then slowly unplugged his dick before pushing it through me again. He slowly pulled against my hair, forcing my head back as he drove his dick through again. But after what I guess was close to ten minutes, he released my wrists and pressed his hands against the whiteboard. With two free hands but two caged breasts, I didn't have much range of motion. But I could fish my right hand down the back of my thigh, squeezing it through his leg and mine. I found his balls hanging down, just floating. Because he wasn't packing it in like on his desk. His balls weren't really a part of the game like they were before. They were just there giving him his male spark, but the rest of it was his thigh muscles and his rock-hard, play hard cock. He was just shoving it with slow intense burst, so I was able to grab hold of his balls easily. I pulled down on his sack and held them. It was something I'd done before, different dude though. It elongated his sperm tubes, which made it harder for him to pop his top. I stretched his balls just a little bit from the base to make him last longer. I only ever met one guy who didn't like the sensation and he was small, so Longboard would probably love it.

  His thrusts became a bit more aggressive when he reached all the way in. When he got the base of it in, he would bang it hard up inside me and it kind of hurt. Each time he banged, it sent me up a little and my hand clung to his balls. I didn't know if that was healthy, so I started to lever his ball sack back-and-forth to get them back in the game. He was getting more aggressive because he couldn't shoot his wad. It was probably the result of some chemical induced erection. Because a forty year-old guy who can get it up and keep it up twice in one night is a rare fish to find, unless he's on the blue or purple pill. Actually, I don't know what color the pills are these days, but I tried to help him out. I gave him a Heart Start. I pumped his balls lightly with my hand. I gave them a gentle press-and-release on rhythm, like a heartbeat. My girl, Jessie, told me about it. Her mom was an acupuncturist from China. I wasn't tugging on his balls anymore, trying to weigh them down. I let them back to their natural hang, and just defibrillated them. I pulled my fingers down through the hair around his sack and held for one second. Then I released his balls into my hand for another second before pressing them again. I just kept going until he made that hiccup noise. Then I could feel a strong exhale through his nostrils against the back of my neck. I sped up the rhythm of my fingers against his man sack. He took his hands off the whiteboard and latched on to my hips. He gave me one, then two, then three final thrusts before his hands relaxed around my waist and he started to breathe deep and labored. They were long inhales followed by hard exhales. He went backwards toward the conference table. I pushed away from the whiteboard to give myself some breathing room. Having my ladies lumps levelled against a wall or a whiteboard felt woman-cancelling. I was flat-chested before I got implants. If I wanted to be flat again, I'd have them taken out. Longboard was tired. I could tell by how his chest seemed to crater when he exhaled. He was close to hyperventilating. I stepped away from the whiteboard and went to the conference table and went on top of the table. My boobs were up in the air, front and center, like they were made to be. I crossed my legs at the hip and laid down on my left side. It was a postcard image that I wanted Longboard to remember. The next time he saw me I'd be in a suit skirt.

  Longboard didn't look at me. He didn't even turn around. I saw him staring at the whiteboard. I didn't know what he was looking at but it didn't seem normal for him to be overly interested in a plain whiteboard. When I sat up to see what he was looking at, I was shocked. Something had slipped my mind. My boobs still had red marker painted on them. But the girls left an impression on the whiteboard, like Warhol would have. There were two red boob-smears on the whiteboard. You could see a sloppy nipple mark in the middle. My areolas didn't make the cut. There was pretty much white space or pink space around the nipple mark. Then there was just a somewhat circular smear. It made me see another side of Longboard. He had an avant-garde artistic side. He was thinking ahead. I guess that's how he got ahead. Most guys would've just pinned me up against anything. The last time I tried desk-surfing to climb the ladder at a company I was pinned against the bar top at the office manager's apartment. I wasn't really trying to desk surf. I was interested in the guy and the fact that he was three levels above me was a big help also. But I caught a bigger wave with owner/founder/CEO.

  "I'm thinking I should find my way home before Dawn comes again." My little joke was enough to get a turn back smile from Longboard.

  "It's close to one," said Longboard, "We've got a serious day tomorrow. Some rest is in order."

  "Agreed." I hopped down from the conference room table and walked barefoot across the carpet back to Longboard's office. I didn't have time to fold my clothes as Longboard came into my personal space, so I had to pick my wrinkled shirt and skirt from the floor. I hadn't planned to wear that skirt again that week so I wasn't bothered. The only drawback to desk-surfing is getting caught. If I got that year end promotion, I definitely didn't want anyone to think it was because of desk-surfing with the boss. In fact, few promotions came that way. You could get free food and a fatter bonus check but most managers always had in mind who would make a great manager. And if it wasn't you, then it wasn't you. You could ride all you wanted. But if you were manager material and you surfed, you could have that promotion on lock. The position was Office Manager and it had been vacant for nearly four months. Longboard said he was going to announce his pick sometime after Thanksgiving holiday. Brianna, the previous office manager, had left after a fallout with Longboard. So far as I knew after Brianna left, the position was up for grabs. And that's where I stood. I was twenty-eight years old and mature enough to know that life is all about having what you want on lock. Just ask any WAG, it's a daily struggle. Ask Victoria Beckham or Tiger Woods' wife. They got the harpoon in the whale but the challenge is keeping him from getting away again. I didn't have my harpoon into Longboard just yet but I was aiming. I even had my first mate bring the boat around for that closer shot, my girl Jessie. She was my wing-woman. And I needed to give her a situation update.

  After I got my clothes out of Longboard's office, I actually went back to my quad. That was the name I gave to my cubicle. On the floor, they were all set up in fours. I thought about trying to make it to the ladies' room but if anyone were around they'd see me naked carrying my clothes and shoes. And the ladies' room was across the hall. So I headed back to my quad and turned my screen on so that if anything, I could look like I was working on something. The shirt went on first, no bra. How would it have looked to have a bra with no shirt? A shirt with no bra was a sign of working horribly late. It didn't mean I was riding the boss. I slipped the skirt on, no panties. I stuffed my bra and panties into my purse and I wiggled my toes into my ballerinas. I looked around my desk to make sure there was nothing I missed and I locked my computer. I looked in my purse for my keys and license because I didn't want the awkwardness of having to come back and see Longboard. The next day would be fine because we'd both pretend like nothing happened. But what do you say to someone after it just happened in the office? Pleasure doing business with you. I've never been that corny.

  Chapter 2

  I was feeling hectic as I drove back out to Paalea St., to my duplex and my carport. I left Longboard staring at my boob impressions on the whiteboard. I just never had anything like that before. And I still had to go see him the next day, like I had just gone home and not stayed late. Plus, for some reason I wasn't so sure I had left on a good note. I was just as sure that I could come in the next day and get fired, as I could get that promotion. And with no panties on, I had an uncommon sexy feeling. It's not how I usually feel after staying at the office late. It's not how I usually felt after coming home. But I felt alluring. One of the Island's most influential people had just given it to me twice over. He was interested. And he was interesting. That's a win any way you wanna cut it. With nothing coverin
g the lips of my vagina, I felt like I was ready for another round. I was tired but my pussy was suffering from pole angst. My body was missing the fit of his width. I could feel it in my skin. I felt hungry, lacking something. I just liked having a man inside me, a categorical man, not any swinging dick. He wasn't just some surfer dude, like so many of my girls went for. Sure the surfer guys had ripped bods. The Hawaiian sun could chisel and already sculpted six pack. But those were the guys you went after when you were sixteen. Tattoos didn't do anything for me anymore, unless on Adam Levine. But I never saw him on the Island.

  The carport motion sensor lights came on and snapped me out of my girly-girl posture. I was a working woman and had to do me. I had to shower and get some sleep for the presentation that I had to give in a little less than nine hours. My shower was longer than usual. I never really stood under the water but that's what I did. Occasionally, I would remember to scrub myself to get rid of some grime and dead skin cells but that was the extent of it. I just stood. Water draped over me until it got cold. I took the loofah to my boobs. That red marker had to come off. I kept scrubbing until I used up all the hot water. The funny thing was that only ever happened after a break up. Most times, I was too much on-the-go to shower that long. I never really used up all the hot water since I was a kid, since I had to start paying for it myself. I toweled off and sent a text to my girl Jessie.

  Jst got home got a story to tell ya. XOXO

  To my surprise she answered. I guess she forgot to put her phone on silent while she slept.

  happy hour fri @gingersnap

  Knowing I probably woke her up I just texted back OK. And I left it at that. It was 2:34 in the morning on Wednesday. I didn't know how to hold in what I had to tell her but every working girl's gotta do it from time to time. I just tore the towel off and jumped into bed naked. The clock was ticking and I wanted to look fresh the next day. I didn't want Longboard to think I was fazed by him because that's probably what he wanted. My rule was never give a guy what he wants unless he's earned it. If he gave me the promotion, then I'd say he earned it. But that was still a ways off, at least as far as I could see. Things never moved as quick as the imagination. And when I left Longboard, he was staring at a smear of my breasts against a whiteboard. It was either a good thing or a bad thing but I wasn't naive enough to settle on either one.