She unlocked the office door. It was getting dark.
She had invented some reason, even to herself, that she had to go there at that moment. But she knew it wasn't the real reason.
She had been so turned on all weekend. None of it ever made sense. Maybe a certain thing he said this time. Maybe what he was wearing when she had last seen him. Maybe the way he said her name.
It didn't take much. A touch of his hand on her back. But this time he'd moved behind her, and she was sure it was on purpose. He pushed fully against her back and squeezed her shoulders.
She felt her face get hot. Her body shivered. Physically he was an addiction that she could only indulge in the smallest of doses, because that's all he would give her. Just enough to keep her insanely craving more, more. And because of that, the smallest touch brought out much more of a reaction.
This time it was more than she'd ever felt of him, from him, and she couldn't shake it.
So she made up a reason. And went to the office.
And got a beer out of the fridge and sat at her desk for a while, thinking. Thinking about him. Thinking about his empty chair. His empty office. All the things he touched. Where he sat. The air he breathed. The newspapers he'd held in his hands. The pen he'd used to write something. It was the most of him she could be close to without actually being close to him.
She sat and reasoned with herself. Tried to talk herself down. Talk herself into calming. But she crossed her legs. Felt herself getting wetter. She'd been wet for days. It was maddening. She couldn't stop it and every move was more of a turn-on when she was that way. She couldn't ever be unaware of her pussy. It was hot and wet and reminded her of him every time she moved.
She finished the last of her beer. And gave up fighting it.
She walked into his office, getting darker by the minute. She pulled his chair out and sat down in it. She let her hands run over the arms, stroking them. She let her hips roll in the chair a little, grinding herself into it. She ran her fingers over his keyboard. Put her hands on the desk.
Back to the arms of the chair again, her hands moving back and forth over them, back and forth.
She put her head back against the back of the chair, knowing his body had been there. His head had been there. She opened her legs on the chair. She closed her eyes, ran her hands up to her breasts and found her nipples. Squeezing them.
She sighed a little, moved in the seat again, moved her hands down, down. She was getting hotter. It had been so many times but it still amazed her each time. She got hot, came so fast when it came to him with virtually no effort.
She didn't want to take anything off in his office. Just in case. But she had to press her hands, folded together, between her legs, against her clit, pressing hard, grinding herself into her hands. Her eyes were closed. She started to sigh. It was coming.
She pressed harder. She sighed louder. Her eyes closed tightly. Almost there. Almost.
"Need some help?"
She froze. Gasped.
Froze completely. She was afraid to open her eyes, but she did. She must have been too distracted to hear the key in the door.
And saw him leaning in the doorway of his office, arms crossed. Watching.
She should have been embarrassed, but she'd gotten herself too hot to be.
"How long have you been there?" she said.
"Long enough," he said.
She looked at his face. It was unreadable, as always. But his eyes looked different. Something was there. She looked at his mouth. Her turn-on was multiplied by one hundred.
She put her hands back on the arms of the chair, her head back, legs slightly open, still looking at him. She didn't know what to say. There wasn't anything to say. She started to blush, and covered her face with her hands.
He moved then, coming into his office, toward her. He pulled her hands away from her face.
"I'm embarrassed," she said. And now she was.
"Don't be," he said.
He pulled her from the chair, sat down on it, and pulled her back onto his lap, so that her back was to his front, her legs over his on each side. She felt him, warm and strong, underneath her.
"Close your eyes," he said.
She did, hands holding onto the arms of the chair again.
She felt his hands on her hips, squeezing, then down the outside of her thighs, over her knees, and back up the insides, pressing between her legs.
She moved her hands from the arms of the chair to his hips under hers and held on for the ride, and bit her lip hard, head back.
"I think you were right about here when I walked in," he whispered in her ear.
"Oh yeah," she whispered back, and writhing, grinding her hips into his lap, she felt him getting harder as his hands pressed between her legs.
"Is that right," he whispered.
"Yeah...oh yeah," she said, and her breathing got faster, faster, and it was so hot to have him under her after so many nights of getting off alone in his chair, thinking about him, about his mouth, his hands, his dick, his eyes, those eyes she couldn't look into, and his hands were moving.
They moved up now, her back fully against his chest, his hands exploring under her shirt now, and oh, it was so good. Her nipples were so sensitive, and he knew that – knew because she had told him. He was deliberate in his touch, to find them, work them through her bra first, so hard, and then pulling it down to find her naked, hard nipples, squeezing them and teasing them.
Her writhing on his lap got more intense, her legs more open, her hands tight on his hips, holding on, her sighs getting louder now, and all it took was a few seconds of relentless, rhythmic rolling of her nipples between his fingers for her to come in a whispering, shuddering way that wouldn't stop.
"That's it," he whispered, and he was everywhere, in her ear, under her body, hands all over her, and he moved down now, to the top of her jeans and with liquid ease had had them open, open more, his hands, his fingers slowly moving under them, finding her, and now her whispers grew louder.
Softly moaning, mumbling, sighing as his fingers found her clit and she came within seconds of him working it, stroking it and squeezing it.
"Wow..." he said finding her wet pussy, opening her, exploring her, and she came again, and his fingers moved inside her, barely inside her.
"More...more," she said.
And he knew, and lifted her from his lap and onto the desk, and her eyes were still half closed as he faced her now, pulling her jeans away, and she leaned back on her elbows, unable to catch her breath as his fingers found her again and slid inside her, all the way, deep and fast, and she came hard, so hard.
And her eyes opened, catching his, and she reached now for the button of his pants and he smiled as she opened it, her smile back evil and determined, focused, despite his unrelenting working of her pussy, and when she found his hard dick with her hands, stroking it, he closed his eyes.
He let her touch him only for a few seconds before moving between her legs and pushing himself deep inside her, rocking her, her whispering, urging, pleading for more, just more.
And he gave her more, harder, faster, so fast, and he knew he wasn't going to be able to last. He was so turned on from catching her unaware, watching her in his chair. Taking over, feeling her grinding into his dick, making her come, feeling her nipples, her pussy, watching her in an orgasmic, confused frenzy on his desk, it was coming and there was no stopping it and neither of them cared.
When he came she was almost grateful for the release from her exploding brain – it was almost too much. He pulled her to him and held her for a few minutes before gently fixing her clothes, her eyes still unfocused but happily, dreamily smiling at him in a way that made him laugh softly.
He took her hand and put her back in his chair and touched her hair, looking at her once more.
"Are you all right?" he whispered.
She laughed at first, then let loose into a momentarily lapse of giggling, covering her face with her hands again.
"I'll take that as a yes?" he said, smiling.
She nodded behind her hands, her giggling subsiding.
He took her hands and she was able to look into his eyes.
"I'm going to go. But I'm sure glad I stopped by," he said.
"Me too," she whispered, head back against his chair.
"Thanks for the help," she whispered, giggling softly again.
He put both hands on the arms of the chair to look into her eyes.
"Trust me," he said, kissing her mouth softly, "it was my pleasure."
He grabbed his bag and headed for the door, then turned around.
"Do me a favor?" he said.
"Anything," she responded.
"Next time you do this, can you turn the chair toward the window?" he asked.
She blushed again.
"Uh, sure, I guess. Why?" she said.
"It's a much better angle for the camera," he said.
He was still smiling at her stunned laugh as he walked out into the fall night, and he reminded himself to make sure to charge the camera battery.