I work in an upper management position in an aging office building in downtown Miami. At a time when state-of-the-art trendy high rises are popping up all over, my 60's era building is now quite desolate. Only a handful of tenants remain mostly stuffy lawyers and international government agencies. The one that remained on my floor was the consulate of a Latin American country.
I am an early bird and when I came in one morning our regular UPS driver was at my door. He was complaining about how early it was and how he had these two heavy boxes for the consulate.
"They're not in yet, could I leave these packages with you?" he asked.
"Sure, no problem." I said, even though they had never extended us the same courtesy.
"Thanks, you're a life saver. They are super heavy and I'd hate to have to lug these back up here." He continued.
As I settled into my office and got a pot of coffee brewing I heard my office door open. I peered over, and in walked a stately woman in her mid to late 50's. She was tall, about 5'9", jet-black hair, slender figure, an aged but nicely kept pretty face, and was dressed to the nines. However, she was jabbering on her cell phone and didn't pay much attention to my initial welcome. I of course, have no patience for this so I went about my routine.
About a minute later, in a mildly Latin accent, I heard
I peered over again, this time she was less distracted and said she was here to pick up her packages. She thanked me profusely for being so nice to sign for them. She continued on, with that accent. Jabbering about a conference that afternoon and how important the packages were, and how she was the only one who could come in this early to receive them, yadda, yadda.
I politely interrupted her rant and said it wasn't a problem and asked if she would like any help with the packages.
"They are very heavy." I said.
"No no, por favor muy amable, has hecho sufisiente!" which is Spanish for "I'll take care of it."
At this point she pulled out a travelers luggage cart complete with hair thin bungee cords. They were worn and frayed barely even stretchable anymore. I offered to use our office handcart as I didn't think her foldable wire rack with mini wheels could hold these boxes. She stubbornly refused.
"No, yo puedo con mi carrito no mas" which again is Spanish for "I'll take care of it."
She asked if I would hold it steady for her and proceeded to try and drag the boxes onto the cart. For the sake of wanting to get back to my coffee, I stepped in,
"Allow me señorita."
I briskly got the boxes on the cart. They were heavy as shit and I thought I busted something inside me. Nevertheless, I keep my composure in front of her as she gazed at me with utter gratefulness.
At this point she asked for me to lean the cart over as she tried to bungee the load. She dropped to here knees and poked her head under this cargo looking for a place to hook the bungee. I had no choice now but to notice her belt line dropping lower and lower revealing her panties. She kept bending over further and further until I could see the bottom edge of her panties, which are creeping higher and higher up her crack. The fabric stretched thin now, splitting her hams into two delectable portions of official Latin derrière. This went on for about two full minutes as she struggled to find a hooking point. Here I was balancing this frail, whimpering luggage cart. Trying not to let it dismantle itself and drop a box onto her head. And of course I'm slightly leaned forward with nowhere else to really look but straight ahead, at the junk in her trunk being split in two by a maxed out boy short panty.
I was moderately aroused by now. I found the whole situation humorous and frankly didn't think anyone would believe me if I retold the tale. Somehow I freed up a hand and reached for my cell phone in my front shirt pocket. I switched it to camera mode as this stubborn yet innocent consulate aid lay on my office lobby floor, putting me in this ridiculously precarious position of starring at her backside. I snapped a pic.
This was where it really got interesting. She proceeded to come up from under the box, as I quickly stow my phone, and put on a 'who me?' face. She was looking at me with quiet ambivalence as she fixed her belt and asked if I had just taken a picture of her.
My life flashed in front of me, the blood literally rushed to my head. My stomach pitted, my mouth immediately ran dry, and my next thought was,
'Damn that cell phone shutter sound effect!', 'you gave me away!'
Why did I stoop to this juvenile level? What made me want to record this moment? Did I want to brag to my friends, or did I want to quietly relive the moment again at a later time to indulge my initial arousal and subsequent fantasy?
"Por favor y venga con migo." she said, as she turned out the front door. This is Spanish for "She's gonna take care of it".
My goose is cooked! She is on her way to report me. The Latin equivalent of the secret service is going to pummel me with the justifiable evidence right there on my cell phone. I will cause a scandal at my company, be fired, ostracized by my wife and family, all for one pubescent giggle inducing view of a seasoned, mature, and incredibly tantalizing, consulate rump.
I was scared now following her commands thinking desperately on how to get myself out of this. I was coming up empty. I followed her with that stupid cart overloaded with these boxes down the long hallway towards her office. I could swear I heard the chants 'dead man walking' and metal cups being clanged on metal bars. I was delusional now following behind her like a lost puppy. My eyes gravitated to her swaying ass. The very reason for me being in this pickle and I could not look away. Back and forth, hypnotizing me, pulling me deeper into a trance. I kept staring. They were like two kittens playing inside of a pillowcase. We arrived at her office, where I quickly dropped the boxes just inside the front door. She walked behind the receptionist desks and retrieved her purse. Just then I noticed her face. Her lips pursed, her throat swallowed short, and her eyes where red and watery. She was crying.
"I'm sorry… so sorry." I said, "I can imagine how violated you must feel. I don't know what came over me. I...I... "
"My husband is the chief magistrate!" she interrupted, "How dare..."
She bellowed in sorrow cupping her beautiful face in her velvet leather hands. Her manicured nails and the jewelry she wore confirmed her very important status. I pulled out my cell phone and placed it on the desk. I felt compelled to console her by embracing her but I was afraid it would add another charge to my wrap sheet. I handed her my handkerchief instead.
"He doesn't look at me... He has never noticed me... I knew that I was exposing my backside to you but I never thought it would entice you to capture it in a picture."
Opening her purse she reached in and pulled out a small photo album handing it to me. I reached for it as she clutched my handkerchief close to her face, smelling the faint hint of cologne.
"I took these for him... But I decided not to show him, I could not bear what I know would be another rejection."
A bit confused I opened the album and saw semi professional pictures of this beautiful dignitary in various lingerie outfits and dawning seductive graceful poses. Page after page of nude and semi nude eye candy, that any tabloid would pay millions for. I carefully studied each page as it progressively got more and more intense. About ten pictures in I realized I was standing there at her mercy now with an engorged member pressing against my trousers. My heart raced and embarrassed I looked up. Her gaze was already fixated on my crotch.
"Forgive me," I stuttered, "but you are incredibly beautiful. I'm afraid this whole confusing and embarrassing episode has peaked my arousal."
"Des abrochate esos pantalones y dejame ver" she said. Which is Spanish for "I'll take care of it."
I was totally confused now.
She slowly glided over to me looking straight at me, and got within two inches of my face She briefly paused then planted her lips against mine. A second later her tongue thrust into my mouth. Simultaneously she began to rub my now fully erect but trapped cock. We embrace in a passionate lip lock, the momentum pushing me back causing me to loose my balance and fall backwards onto the floor. Never missing a beat she fell on top of me still kissing and rubbing. Her lips were soft and determined. Her touch firm but caressing, her perfume was intoxicating as her hair brushed across my face.
She disengaged her lips from mine working down my chest kissing her way to my groin. She pressed her cheek against my cock while working my belt and pants undone. Upon lowering the pant zipper my rod springs out of its restraint with the vigor of an Olympic diving board.
"Santo madre de la gloria, estas duro como un palo!" She uttered. I wasn't quite sure what it meant but it sounded heavenly.
Right there with her knees and elbows to the floor I glanced up and barely saw the same view of her backside, which started all this. She was so far bent over that again, her silky black boy short panties were splitting her in two, and she seemed totally comfortable with it. As I briefly looked around I realized that I was sprawled out on the lobby floor of an official consulate office with the lonely, desperate, and very attractive wife of a government diplomat on top of me. The overwhelming realization sent a surge of pre-cum up my shaft that slowly ran down my head. At that point she inserted the head in her mouth. Slowly and deliberately she continued down, down, down until her lips met my shaved pubic mount.
I'm averaged sized at just under 6" long, and my head was now pressed against the back of her throat. Without so much as a gag or whimper she held steady for a moment then proceeded to stroke back up, making a subtle popping noise as her lips released.
"It has been 8 years since I have been with anyone." she confessed.
I couldn't even begin to fathom the complete abandonment of her companionship before she was thrusting her mouth down on my cock again. Her strokes were extensive, slow and deliberate, my cock was now glistening, and I could feel her breathing. Heavier and heavier at times giving out small whining hums of pleasure. I was quickly approaching climax. As I began to breathe fast and heavy giving out a grunt, she grabed and pulled the sides of my hips. Sinking down deep over my cock, her nose and lips firmly pressed against the skin of my pubic area, my cock head firmly compressed in the hole of her throat. She held there steady. Suddenly she stuck out her tongue to lick the very bottom of my shaft as well as the soft upper skin of my ball sack. In what felt like my whole genitalia in the warm moist comfort of her mouth I exploded jet after hot streaming jet of cum deep inside her throat. She held there not gagging or whimpering at all, allowing me to drain my tanks completely. As my grunts died down she slowly lifted away. My still rock hard cock sprang out to slap my belly. Not a drop was spilled.
As we gazed at each other in total wonderment, she sprang up and began undoing her belt. Then her blouse came up and over her head. She was not wearing a bra. Her full breasts just bounced and swayed out of her blouse, firm and slightly pendulous with erect nipples and dark areolas. Never breaking her gaze with me she had a look of poignant determination. Yet she still carefully stacked her clothing in one pile right next to us on the floor. She lowered her suit pants past her feet. Her shoes had already been kicked off. Her boy shorts where even prettier from the front adorning a small lace appliqué from the waist down over her pubic mound. As she pulled them down exposing her perfectly manicured pubic patch things seemed to proceed in slow motion now. The thought that this was going to happen overtook me.
She added her panties to the pile and straddled me. Her skin has a bronze sheen and she stood there with nothing but her jewelry left on her body. She bent her knees lowering her hips while grabbing hold of my cock to guide it inside. And as she did I caught a glimpse of her spreading pussy glistening with passion and gliding over the head of my cock. She lowered herself completely as I easily slid into her. I felt the immersion of heat from her loins and I saw the silhouetting light from beneath her crotch disappear as her voluptuous ass pressed firmly against my pelvis.
"Ay madre mia, ques esto, dios santo?" she blurts.
She proceeded to take long slow strokes taking me in. Her knees fully bent. One hand behind her supported on my leg, the other hand in front with two fingers straddling the base of my shaft. As she stroked, her juices quickly frothed lightly on my shaft. She now had her eyes closed tightly, deliberately but apprehensively stroking when suddenly she falls forward. Pressing her beautiful firm breasts to my chest she put her head next to mine and repeated in my ear,
"Ay dios mio, dios mio, dios mio, dios mio..."
Simultaneously, I feel her womb gripping my cock as if it where ringing it out. The heat increased and her juices flowed out over my shaft and down around my ball sack, quickly cooling to a burn as it hit the ambient air. I felt the drippings reaching down to my asshole all the while she was gripped onto my shoulders still uttering the same words into my ear.
About a minute later, she lifted her head and looked straight into my eyes as if she were studying me. She lifted herself off and again my still rigid cock slapped my belly. As she dressed herself, I lift my pants from my ankles trying to tuck my self back into my trousers. The task was difficult, as I do not wear underwear to help restrain it. I tucked my shirt in and watched her dress. Again things progressed in slow motion. This was a bronzed, elegant beauty. Her subtle wrinkles and perfect flaws, perfect stretch marks, a slight bikini line scar, a full and hippy bottom, heavy hanging full breasts, and slightly wrinkled neck had been thrust into my morning which would have otherwise been routine.
Her lonely empty existence collided with mine to briefly sling me from the mundane. We quickly dressed and once again she walked up to me; studying me. Putting her face closer and closer to mine, with her hand on my cheek she worked her fingertips across and over my lips. She closed her eyes and kissed the backs of her finger tips. I knew this was her farewell to an accidental and one-off soirée of official and inter-office lust. She retrieved my cell phone off the desk and placed it gently into my front shirt pocket. I smiled at her and went along my way never speaking another word to her or to anyone about the incident.
About a month later, as I was making my early morning walk from the parking garage to the elevator, I decided to make a rare stop at the lobby level for my morning coffee. As the elevator doors open, I walked out into a bustling scene of news cameras and reporters to see the chief magistrate in the middle of a press conference behind his podium. I proceeded to my coffee stop and as I was in line to pay, a soft voice with a Latin accent whispered into my ear,
"I can still feel you..."
I turned my head in time to see the jet black hair walking away from me and catch a glimpse of her bright smile in the reflection of the coffee shop door. My eyes gravitated down to that sweet, swaying bottom disappearing down the hall. Her perfume eminent but slowly fading enticed me. Once again an unexpected break of my routine led to a brief, yet fulfilling encounter with 'Consulate Trouble'