by Sofia Connor
She smiled and closed her eyes feeling a weight lift off her - figuratively. She could handle the literal one staying right where he was for as long as he wanted. "Don't feel too smug," she said. "It's only because of your impressive body."
"Uh huh." His kiss was slow and deep, a leisurely meeting of lips, a soft flicker of tongue. "I believe you."
The rasp in his deep voice had her drawing a steadying breath. She always seemed to feel lightheaded around him. "I already know you on the inside," she said. Her eyes opened again and her hands skimmed down his spine, curving over the bare ass that was hard and muscled like the rest of him. "Now I want to get to know you better on the outside."
"That's fine with me." Ryan pressed a lingering peck on her lips. "Stacey'll be back soon," he said, referring to her housemate. "Come back to my place. Stay with me tonight."
Sophie lifted her arms above her head and stretched. Her breasts squashed against his chest, making heat flash in his eyes. "On one condition," she said, pleased with the reaction she'd stirred in him.
"And what's that?" He lowered his head to nibble her neck.
"You let me give you that kiss I wanted to give you earlier." The groan that vibrated against her skin told her he appreciated her forwardness.
Ryan wrapped his arms around her and rolled onto his back, taking her with him. "I'm glad you made your desperate, drunken move on me last night," he said, curving his hands around her hips.
Sophie sat astride him and their eyes met. A smile played about her lips as happiness flowed through her. "And I'm glad you turned into a prude and made me wait until today."
He reached up to cup her breasts and she felt him grow hard inside her all over again. The connection, the feeling of intimacy between them, warmed her from the inside out. Her hips moved slowly back and forth, a sensation of lightness spreading through her as she watched him.
She held onto his forearms, feeling as if she was about to take the ride of her life...in more ways than one.
The End.
The Headhunter Mistress
It had started with a phone call. I was at work when my office line rang.
"This is John."
"Hey John, this is Miss Sinclaire. I was recently referred to you. I'm just calling to introduce myself."
"Oh, uhm hello."
"Full disclosure," she laughed. "I'm part of an executive search firm. I'm sure you're happy and successful and not actively looking for a change. But, I wonder.... Would you ever consider making a move for the right reasons?"
I said no.
She said coyly, "tell me you wouldn't consider making a move for the wrong reasons?"
I laughed, "actually I'm at work."
"Of course," she said. "give me a better number to reach you after work."
I hesitated for just one second... but there was something about the way she asked. But she didn't ask. She just spoke, expecting me to comply. I thought about hanging up right then, but there was something about this woman's voice on the other line. After all, I perhaps I could use a job change. This job was fine. But, what if there was another job that suited me better... I gave her my cell phone number.
"Good boy," she purred. "I'll call you after work sometime. And she hung up.
Once five o'clock hit, I was staring at my phone just waiting for it to ring. But it didn't. It didn't ring that night, and it didn't ring the following night. It was a whole week before I got a call from her office. It wasn't her, but a man from her office. He was calling to set up a time for me to meet Miss Sinclaire in her office. I was irritated that she didn't call me herself. Why was another man calling me? Why didn't she call me? It didn't take that long. I couldn't believe my anxiety. What had happened that I wanted to speak to the woman on the other end of the line so desperately. I took a breath, trying to calm myself down, and then set a time with the man.
Two days later I was in her office.
The male secretary out front told me to wait in the front area. He asked if I'd like any coffee, water? I politely declined and sat down in the waiting room. I waited for fifteen minutes. I thought about asking the secretary if Miss Sinclaire was out, wondering if I should come back. But I decided to give Miss Sinclaire a few more minutes. Perhaps she was busy. I sat in the plush leather chairs, waiting.
Fifteen minutes later Miss Sinclaire emerged from the hallway, reaching out her hand.
"Mr. Smith?" She said. "Pleasure to meet you."
"Thank you," I said shaking her hand.
"Follow me."
She took the lead down the hallway. I tried not to notice her incredible figure, as she walked down the length of the hallway to the executive suite towards the back. She opened the door, gestured for me to sit.
She stood over me, waiting for me to sit. I sat down. She walked behind my desk, almost inspecting me, and then she sat down across from me, on the other side of a large mahogany desk.
"I'm glad you could make it," she said.
I looked up, as if caught off guard. "Yes," I said. Was I stammering? If I wasn't careful, I'd be hypnotized by her figure. Something about the way she demanded attention.
"Vice President of Operations," she said.
"That's me."
"Do you make over two hundred thousand dollars?"
"Not yet."
"Why not?"
"I... well, I don't know."
"Perhaps that's part of the problem."
"What do you mean?"
"If you're going to rise, you have to be able to make decisions... but it doesn't seem like you can."
"I can, I do. I think I do a pretty good job of managing everything I need to do."
"Perhaps it would be better if you managed less."
"I don't understand."
"Perhaps if you could focus your efforts on just one thing, you'd be able to get more done."
" That would be great."
"Then it's settled. I have the perfect job for you."
"Really? Don't you want to know what I do."
"Not really. "
I hesitated. "What kind of job."
"You're going to be my new Executive Assistant."
"Excuse me?"
"You just said it yourself, you have far too many things to focus on. Now I'm going to give you one thing to focus on. Me."
"I'm an executive Vice President, I'm not going to quit my job to become an executive assistant."
"You don't think you would like serving me?"
The way she said it. I was getting hard. I couldn't believe it. I had to retain my focus.
"It's not that I don't like... I mean... it's not that..."
"Did I say quit your job?"
"No...." I stammered.
"No you're going to have two jobs. Your first job is to be my executive assistant, and your second job is to be the executive vice president."
"I have responsibilities..."
"What if I could promise you that you would achieve more at your current job, if you could make more money than you've every made, if you would just do what I say?"
"I don't... know."
"You can feel it. This is what you've been looking for hasn't it?"
I tried to look away from her eyes. "Uhm... I don't..."
"You've been searching for something to submit to.... To serve, haven't you?"
"I..."
And then she turned off the seductive charm. "I'm thirsty. Be a good boy and fetch me some water over there."
I instinctively got up and walked across the office and returned to her with a glass of water.
"Set it down," she said. And I did. "There... do you see how easy it was?"
I couldn't believe I just went and did it without question.
"You see how every part of you wants to give up control, and just serve?"
I wanted to argue with her. I wanted to step back into my role as the big man, as the Vice President... but something just felt so warm and comfortable around me.
She got up and walked towa
rds me, sitting on the desk in front of me. Her nylon stockings stretched over her fantastic legs. She crossed them in front of me. I felt entranced. Like a dog just waiting for his master to drop down a treat.
"What if all I ever asked you to do was something that brought you pleasure?"
"I don't understand."
"What if, by serving me, you experienced more pleasure than you had ever experienced in your life. As if.... You became the thing you were destined to be. Like a child coming home."
"More money than I've ever made?"
"Infinitely more."
"What would you have me do?"
"All sorts of things. Things that brought me pleasure. And because they brought me pleasure, they would bring you pleasure."
"What if I told you to unzip your pants and start stroking?"
"Excuse me?"
"You don't find me attractive?"
"Yes, but..."
"Then do it," she said. "Take it out and stroke it."
For a moment I hesitated, but my hands involuntarily were reaching for my zipper. "Wait," she snapped. "Not there... do it properly. Get on your knees."
She touched the top of my head. Her touch was like getting a high. She put just the tiniest amount of pressure on my head and I slid off the chair and dropped to my knees.
"There you go, that's a good boy. Stroke it for me."
I sat there, on my knees, stroking myself, looking up at her.
"This is where you belong, you realize."
"Yes," I grunted.
"You feel good?"
Looking up at her tall legs, wishing I could see underneath her skirt, looking up at her figure from below, towering over me, how could I not feel good. "Yes!" I said, with a loud sound that surprised even myself.
"You realize that once you come, you'll stop being a man. When you come here, and offer your cum to me, you'll stop being a man. You'll just be a boy. My good boy. You understand?"
I wanted to stop. I wanted to have control. But something was slipping away from me. A warm haze took over my body and all I wanted was to keep going. To keep stroking. To keep obeying.
"Yes," I said.
"You're not a man, are you?"
"No," I grunted.
"But you're my good boy."
"Yes."
"Now cum," she said.
And instantly, as if I had no control over my body, I ejaculated onto the floor at her feet. This must be what heroin addicts feel like when they get a hit. My eyes rolled back up into my head, my vision cloudy. I felt Miss Sinclaire put her hand next to my face and whisper softly,
"You belong to me now."
The following morning I was emailed a conference number to call into and I called in at 7:30am, sharp. I was the fourth person to enter the conference line. Moments later, after there were ten or so people on the line I realized that I wasn't alone. This was a weekly conference call with all of Miss Sinclaire's Executive Assistants from around the world calling to report in, give status updates, and take orders. During the call I was given an assignment to perform that day before the next conference call. I hung up the phone with a mixture of anxiety, terror, and excitement. What had I done? What world was I entering. I could barely contain myself as I went about my day with clarity and purpose.
The End.
Vacation Sex
We had planned this vacation months in advance. By the time it came near I was counting down the days. Each morning I would tell my wife how many days were left until we were lying in our bathing suits on the sand. Listening to the waves lapping against the shore. Sipping those fruity, tasty vacation drinks. Taking in the sights of those twenty and thirty something's in their skimpy swimsuits. Perhaps topless even. I did have a weakness for looking. Though I would never stray. My wife was all to me. She still looked quite good in her mid forties. All I ever needed or wanted.
But I did so enjoy the looking. Doing so only made me hotter for our time alone. Vacation sex was the best. Away from the daily pressures of every day life. Instead of once or twice a week, we would be enjoying each other's fancies that week until we were raw. Even then, that would only slow us down a little. By the time we flew home I knew sitting in that airplane for five hours would be a tough ride.
We were down to three weeks away and I was busy making excursion plans. (After all I figured at our age we couldn't spend the entire week in bed, as we had on our honeymoon.) Each night I would tell her what new idea I had come up with. Then with just two weeks to go, she tweaked her shoulder while working out. The pain was slight but it wouldn't seem to go away. I told her to book herself a massage and see if a professional could rub the stiffness out for good.
She finally agreed and called to book one. I heard her stutter and hesitate on the phone some. She then asked if there were a woman that could give her the massage. Her face lightened and her smile returned as she confirmed the time for that afternoon. After she hung up I teased her a little about not wanting a man to rub it out for her.
She teased right back saying that if she had let that happen he might be rubbing more then just the knot out of her shoulder. Now it was my turn to feel uncomfortable with the situation. I quickly replied that the female was the best solution, and that thinking of another woman rubbing her naked torso left me feeling a little stiff myself.
So much so that while she was off having a professional rub the knot out of her shoulder, I found myself in the shower rubbing my own stiffness away quite vigorously.
That done, in record time I might add left me time to relax and pursue further activities for our vacation.
When I opened the page on our resorts health spa I found that one of the options was for a "Couples Massage on the Beach." My mind instantly went right back to her being naked and rubbed by a young cute native girl. All the while with me on the cot right next to her having the same done to me. There was a list of masseuse technicians, I requested Maria for my wife and Consuela for myself. How could I go wrong with those choices? As quick as it took for my cock to get back to full mast, we were signed up for a Tuesday evening couples massage at sunset on the sand. His and Her couple massages. I couldn't wait to tell her about it.
She returned home in a state of bliss. The knot was pretty much a thing of the past. She seemed much more relaxed and ready for all our vacation fun. I did tell her I booked her another massage, but I left out the couple part to surprise her on our second night there in paradise. I did tease her some about how it felt to have a lady rub her all over with warm oil. We ended up having a nice long fuck before calling it a night. This only enhanced my thoughts and plans for her Caribbean massage in the near future.
Well the date of departure finally arrived. As usual my week leading up to that date was extra hectic. Running my own business as I did made it hard to get away for a full week at a time. When I did manage there was much preparation that preceding week. Needless to say the extra long hours had left me tired. The result was getting home late all week and our time together was left to cuddling before bed. Friday afternoon I closed up shop and headed home to get ready to depart for the airport.
On the drive home my mind raced as my thoughts of that beloved vacation sex filled my thoughts and also my boxers. Although the drive home was a short one, I was hard and ready to get my time off started. Racing in hoping to find the wife and get things off to a good start. Alas her last couple days were hectic as well as she was left to do all the packing and all the last minute chores of getting the house ready for our departure. All I found were the packed suitcases and a note. "Forgot the sunscreen, had to rush to the store for that and some magazines. Be home soon. Love you. XXX"
I looked down at the tent in my pants. Should I hit the shower or just make the wait a bit longer. Deciding the latter would just make me want her more I took the suitcases out to the car. We didn't have to leave for another hour so I figured she would be home soon enough to get in a quickie. Ten minutes later she rushed in, asking if I was ready to go, as we needed to
drop off the keys to the house sitter and grab some quick dinner. She explained she didn't want to settle for airport food and wanted a decent meal before our red eye flight.
So off we went. Her in her rush, me in my semi hard state thinking that shower would have been a good idea. But my time was close at hand. I laughed to myself. Not at "my hands" this week. Thoughts of joining the mile high club flittered though my brain as we did our chores, ate our dinner and headed to the airport. Just before our boarding began she ran off to the bathroom. I again began to devise ways to get our week (and myself) off to a good start.
She returned and handed me a bottle just as we were called to board the plane. "Put these back in my purse while I get my carryon please." Looking down I sighed as I read the sleeping pill label on the bottle.
"Sleeping pills?" I inquired.
"You know I hate red eye flights and can never get to sleep on my own. You want me relaxed and good to go tomorrow on the beach don't you?" And with that we boarded and were off. I had a couple beers to help me relax. Resigning myself to one more night without before the onslaught began.
From there things went smoothly. We landed. Shuttled to the hotel. Checked in, and up to our room. It was everything the brochure had stated and more. Huge Jacuzzi bath, two could fit with room to spare. Three even I smiled to myself. As if that would ever happen. Having taken the red eye we had arrived on the island at 9:00 AM. After checking in we were in the room at just past 10:30. Naked by 10:45 and in each others arms for a long slow session of sex. Having been backed up and deprived for the past week of any amorous activity that long slow session lasted about 10 minutes.
"Don't worry about it." She giggled. "We have all week long. But the next time you had better last longer or I may need to go find the cabana boy." She teased. Slipping on her bikini and a shear cover we headed off to explore the resort and check out the beach. After strolling the entire grounds and looking around a bit we decided to stop at one of the many bars and have a libation before heading over to the sand to sunbathe.
We asked the young handsome bartender to recommend a local drink for us to try. He returned with two Mojitos. A rum, lime and sugarcane mixture with a touch of mint. They were very refreshing and easy to drink. We took them down to the sand and sipped them as we lay in the sun the rest of the day. About 4:00 PM she got hungry and thought we should head up to change for dinner.