Oral Agreement

I had the most amazing business trip a few years ago. My name's Chris, I was 28 years old at the time and I work for a City of London firm specialising in business financing. We'd been looking to diversify into new and developing markets, and we'd identified a manufacturing company in -- let's just say a state in Eastern Europe -- which was seeking to expand and needed the capital to do it. I wasn't wild about being the one to go there to negotiate the deal -- I prefer the likes of Paris, Frankfurt, Copenhagen for my trips -- but our CEO, Malcolm, gave me some flattering bullshit about it requiring my special abilities and sent me on my way.

It was pissing down with rain when I arrived at the airport of the country's second city, and I was less than impressed. From my taxi the area around the airport looked like the worst kind of industrial wasteland, and the route to the city centre seemed to be lined with scores of grey Communist era apartment blocks, matching the grey day and my grey mood. The one good thing was that everyone there seemed to speak at least passable English -- in fact the taxi driver and I chatted about an upcoming match between Tottenham Hotspur and one of their teams.

I was only planning to stay for one night so I checked into my hotel, grabbed a quick latté and Panini in the American chain coffee bar across the street (you know the one, but I was surprised to see a branch there), then took another taxi to my afternoon meeting with the corporate finance director of our potential business partners. The office wasn't part of their manufacturing plant, just a suite on the second floor of a slightly dilapidated looking office block on the edge of the city. I was met in the ground floor reception area by a pretty secretary called Marta. I guessed she was about 22, maybe five-feet-two tall (I'm six feet by the way), green-eyed with white-blonde hair as short as a man's, a buzz cut at the sides, not much in the way of boobs but wearing a short denim skirt which emphasised nice, muscular bare legs and a pert bum.

Marta took me straight into the office of her boss, Ana. She was a tall (as tall as me in her three-inch heels) well-preserved early 50s, with the deep throaty voice of the long-term smoker and almost a Scandinavian look -- long flowing blonde hair, half over one eye Veronica Lake style, a deep tan, blue eyed with pouting lips, considerably better stacked up front than Marta, dressed in a crisp white blouse, black tight knee-length skirt and sheer black tights. She gave me a pleasant enough smile and a surprisingly firm handshake, Marta poured us fresh coffee, then we sat side by side at a table beside Ana's desk and went over a file she'd had drawn up for me giving a profile of their business. As we worked on the figures I couldn't help my eyes straying a couple of times down the open neck of Ana's blouse, and the impressive pair of brown tits that were threatening to overflow from a little white bra.

After a couple of hours we'd more or less agreed things, apart from the percentage if her company's profits that we were going to take in return for our investment. We reached a bit of an impasse there: Ana had one figure in mind, I had another. To be honest I had more than enough leeway to come down to her level, but every percentage point I knocked off my price also cut a bit off the bonus I was due for this job. After a few minutes of negotiation, with things beginning to get just a little tense, Ana sat back and gave a big sigh, her bosom rising and falling impressively. Then she spread her hands and said, "Look Chris, I can't afford your figure -- we just can't do it. How about if I add half a percent to mine and give you a blow job?"

For a moment I thought I'd fantasised what I'd just heard her say, then I wondered if it was some form of local humour, or perhaps a euphemism for a financial bribe; but she looked me straight in the eye and said, "It's simple enough, you get most of what you want, and I suck your cock".

My jaw still hanging open in shock, I hear myself breathe "Okay," not so much agreeing as getting my head round the situation. Ana, however, stood, strode over to her desk, said something into the intercom to Marta next door -- Christ knows what! -- then kicked off her shoes. I still couldn't quite believe this was happening, but she walked back, spun my chair round 45 degrees, knelt in front of me and efficiently undid my belt and fly and dragged my trousers and pants down past my knees. Then she kneaded my already semi-stiff tool for a minute or so, her eyes fixed on it, and threw her head in a circle to shift her hair off her face before taking my dick into her mouth.

I gazed down in astonishment as this attractive business executive, old enough to be my mother, nestled her head in my lap and slid her lips up and down my shaft, her tongue stroking the underside and twirling around the head, one hand cradling my balls, gently squeezing them. Jesus, she was good! A couple of times it felt like I was on the verge of climax but she seemed to sense it and ease back a little, once actually releasing me from her mouth and just massaging the base of my cock with her fingers. She must have kept it going for the best part of ten minutes before finally I gasped "I'm cumming." I expected her to pull away, but she kept right on sucking and licking until I exploded down her throat, my hips jerking at her. She kept me in her mouth until I'd completely spent, then gently released me and went to her desk to get me a couple of tissues.

As she returned, I just couldn't resist -- I reached around her waist, pulled her to me, fumbled a couple of buttons open on her blouse and excavated one of her gorgeous boobs from her bra. I closed my lips around it, flicking my tongue across her small cherry nipple. She seemed complaint enough, holding my head to her, stroking my hair and even sighing appreciatively. After a minute or two she pulled away and rearranged her clothing.

I would have loved to fuck her but I could sense that wasn't on offer. I did think of inviting her to dinner but before I had chance she mentioned she had to get home for her son's 12th birthday party that evening! She closed the interview by saying now we had "oral agreement" -- I wasn't sure if she intended the pun -- she'd have the contract drawn up and get it brought round to my hotel in the evening. Okay, I'd just blown (if you'll pardon the expression) about £200 of my bonus, but at that moment it felt worth it. As Marta showed me back down to the reception area I got the distinct impression from the cheeky grin she gave me that she had a fair idea of her boss's negotiating technique!

Back at the hotel I had a reasonable dinner -- some sort of chicken stew with lots of root vegetables -- then, after a drink in the bar, I went back to my room and watched an American news channel, with a bizarre show presented by a Briton who seemed to be gargling his own spit as he talked. By 10pm the contract still hadn't arrived and I was beginning to feel distinctly pissed off. I sniggered as I thought of penalty clauses I could introduce -- that Ana had to let me shag her from behind over her desk, that sort of thing. I decided to go to bed and chase it up if it hadn't arrived by morning. I was just down to my boxer shorts when there was a knock at the door. Cursing, I dragged on the hotel's complimentary dressing gown and peered through the spyhole, to see Marta standing there. Knotting the belt on the gown I opened the door and she apologised for the late hour and handed me a large brown envelope.

I pulled out the contract, glanced briefly over it, turned to tell Marta I'd sign it in the morning -- and found her standing with her coat and outer clothing pooled on the floor, and her arms reaching behind her to remove her bra! Seeing the stunned look on my face she grinned and said, "I am, I think you say, incentive bonus?" I guessed this was Ana's idea, and began to tell the girl she really didn't have to go through with it, but she replied "It's fine, there are not many jobs where I could get so well paid, and anyway, I like sex." She glanced down and giggled - "I think you do too." I followed her gaze and realised that, without me even noticing, my cock had started to stiffen, and found its way past both the boxers and the dressing gown!

Marta slipped out of her white thong panties and stepped across to me. She pulled me head down to hers and kissed me, tongue thrusting into my mouth, one arm around my neck, the fingers of the other hand grasping my cock. Her body, in stark contrast to Ana's, was ghostly pale, but no less attractive for that. Her tits were little more than bee stings, but they had lovely long brown stumps of nipples and I twirled one between my fingers, my other arm around her waist. She gasped the moment I touched her nipple, and I realised they were a sensitive spot for her.

She eased the dressing gown off my shoulders and crouched to remove my boxers. I thought maybe she'd suck me while she was down there, but instead she pulled me by the hand to the bed, a nice double thankfully, and pushed me into a lying position on my back. Then she knelt astride me, her tiny feet either side of my head, her gorgeous bum and pretty pussy inches from my face. Her snatch was furry but trimmed -- she was clearly a natural blonde, though her pubes were a shade or two darker than her head, drapes not quite matching the carpet as an American friend of mine would say. I gasped with pleasure as, for the second time in seven hours, a beautiful blonde in this welcoming foreign land started to suck my cock.

I pulled Marta's pussy onto my face, eased her lips apart with my thumbs and stoked my tongue the length of her gash. She almost screamed with joy, though she didn't release my dick from her mouth. I sunk my tongue deep inside her and began to rim her pussy lips with my fingers. She lasted less than a minute, I'd barely begun to massage her clit before she jerked upright and began to wail towards the ceiling, effectively sitting on my face. I tasted a richer juice on my tongue and felt her pussy walls clench as she wildly gyrated on my tongue. Then, with a final huge sigh, she fell forwards into my midriff.

Unable to help myself, I gripped Marta's cute bum cheeks in my hands, thrust them apart and buried my face between them, screwing my tongue into the puckered rose of her anus. She giggled at that and pushed back at me, then continued to suck me off. She wasn't as skilled a cocksucker as Ana, nevertheless she was effective. I lay back and sucked and licked her toes for a few minutes, massaging one foot with my fingers, until, with a warm glow of pleasure, I came in Marta's mouth; like her boss, she swallowed the lot.

For the next few minutes I sucked Marta's sweet long nipples while she stroked my hairy chest, which she seemed to really like. When I felt ready I started to position myself on top of her, but instead she pushed me onto my back again. Then she produced a condom from somewhere and rolled it down my length, straddled me, and plunged herself down on my cock. She rode me wildly, like a cowgirl taming a bucking bronco, her powerful thighs driving her, and I gripped her slim hips to keep her in position. She pulled fiercely at her own nipples and rolled her head in wild circles, eyes screwed tightly shut, constantly muttering something in her own language.

At the last moment I decided to take charge and rolled Marta onto her back, thrusting into her with all my strength, she screaming with each deep penetration. I think she came just before me -- with a final shudder she suddenly went stiff and raised her legs straight into the air, her pussy tightening around me. I managed about two more strokes before I shot my load into her. We lay for a few minutes, me kissing her neck, she stroking my back, my flagging cock still inside her, her legs tightly locked around my back. She declined my offer to stay the night -- even just to sleep -- but she accepted my mobile phone number and, with a cheeky grin, said she'd always wanted to see London. Anyway, I signed the contract the following morning, got a couple of hotel staff to witness it, and dropped it off at the main reception of Ana's company's office on my way to the airport.

Marta and I have been living together for three years now. She loves London, and really enjoys her job as manager of a branch of that same American coffee house. She's much improved at giving head these days - or perhaps I just enjoy it more because it's her. It turns out it wasn't Ana who set me up with her, it was entirely Marta's idea. She does enjoy getting my juices flowing though by telling me how, to relieve Ana's stress at work, they used to go down on each other in her office...but that's a whole other story!