tagErotic CouplingsPleasing Ms Lewis

Pleasing Ms Lewis

bynortythorts©

All characters are fictional and over 18 years of age.



Although it was a scenario that they had acted out several times, he still felt excited as he approached her office door. Fay was in her mid-forties and a middle manager in the company. He held a senior position, though she was not directly under his jurisdiction. They had flirted at an office Christmas party and ended up sneaking back into the workplace while everyone else got drunk in the bar. They had quickie sex on her desk. It had been evident even on that occasion that she liked to be in charge. He had never found much appeal in male submission until then (though, like many men, he secretly liked the idea of female subservience!) Not that he considered it a fetish; it simply added variety to sex.

The relationship he was currently in was new and as yet half-casual, so he did not consider it unfaithful to carry on with Fay – or Ms. Lewis, as he called her during their encounters.

He usually liked women to be reasonably busty, a B-cup minimum, preferably C-cup (like his current girlfriend) or more. Fay was very small-chested, an A-cup. But there was something inherently sexy about her. Maybe her slender frame and her long shapely legs (they were halfway between plump and skinny, that is to say near-perfect!) were simply a refreshing change to his usual preference. Perhaps the fact that she was a dozen years or so older than he was made her seem so sexy. Partly it was the smart but modest way that she dressed.

A large part of her sex appeal for him was her face, though. She was attractive rather than beautiful or even pretty. Her eyes were quite pale and she had reddish-brown, straight hair that was cut fairly short. Her modest lips were slightly glossed in a shade of ping that contrasted nicely with her skin without being too brash. She had a naturally rather aloof facial expression. This proud air had undoubtedly helped her career – though she was conscientious and thorough in all she did, and had earned her promotions. But her manner made her inscrutable, and gave her an advantage in meetings.

More recently he had realised that it made her appear powerful. And Ms Lewis liked to feel powerful.

He knocked on the office door and went in. She was sitting at her desk facing the door and reading a magazine. She was wearing a mid-blue dress with buttons from the neckline to the hem. It was tight enough over her little breasts for their alluring size and shape to be visible. She was holding a cigarette to her mouth. Her pink lips were pouting around the end of the cigarette. She made a point of looking at her watch before looking at him disdainfully.

"You're late," she announced. She did not raise her voice or even speak harshly. She merely said it as a statement, a fact that he needed to take note of.

He closed the door and walked towards her desk. Her face was expressionless and indifferent as she looked at him before looking back at her magazine and inhaling on her cigarette.

"I... I'm sorry Ms. Lewis. I..."

"I don't want excuses. I can always find someone else to fucking do this if need be, you know. And to have your job."

He blushed with delight at her strong language and commanding tone.

"Yes. Miss. Sorry, Miss."

"Just get on with it."

She drew deeply on her cigarette and swung her wheeled chair sideways and away from her desk. He knelt before her. His hands were trembling. He stroked her thigh through the soft, warm fabric of her dress. It felt slightly silky to his touch. He glanced up. She was still looking at her magazine and smoking her cigarette.

He undid the bottom three buttons of her dress and peeled it open. He kissed her legs slowly. They were bare and her skin was soft. He placed his quivering hands on her hips, then, becoming bolder, on her flanks. He rubbed the material of her skirt and felt it with his fingers. He ran his tongue up and down her leg just below her knee and unfastened another two of her dress buttons. He heard her turn the page of her magazine, and as she withdrew the cigarette from her lips they made a sort of soft kissing sound. She exhaled slowly, and the blowing sound of her breath aroused him somehow. He worked his mouth a little higher and pushed her dress open with his lips.

He licked her bare pale leg, running his tongue up and down and swirling it in circular movements. Her thigh was firm and warm, and her skin was soft and smooth. He kissed and licked the inner edges of her calves and the bony front of her legs. Every few moments he planted slow lingering kisses. Still her face betrayed no emotion. Still she drew on her cigarette, inhaling and exhaling slowly and loud enough to be evident without being over the top. Again her subtly glossed lips made a little kissing sound each time she withdrew the cigarette. A thin veil of smoke surrounded her face as she read her magazine. It was a fairly familiar scene by now, but he loved her feigned indifference to his attentions, and the way that even her smoking had an air of eroticism.

He caressed her knees where her silky dress had parted and looked up at her small breasts. They looked firm and pert under the blue fabric of her dress. He could just see a narrow strip of bare skin between two of her buttons, and a hint of the white lace of her bra. He heard the page of her magazine turn. He glanced up, but she did not look back at him. She merely inhaled slowly on her cigarette then, a few moments later, exhaled the smoke. The sounds, and the movements of her cheeks and of her mouth as she did so were very arousing. He felt the stiffening of his erection as he wondered how it would end today. Sometimes she allowed him to have sex with her. Sometimes she didn't. The choice was hers alone. She liked to have the control, and she enjoyed his uncertainty of how it would end. It was part of the game – and of the appeal - for both of them.

He slid two fingers between two of her dress buttons and brushed his fingers very lightly up and down her satin-smooth lower thigh. He inched his hand to her inner thigh and scratched it gently with his fingernails. He did the same with his other hand on the back of her firm thigh inside her dress. To his delight, although she gave no overt sign of pleasure she drew more deeply on her cigarette. He nuzzled her lean thighs through her dress, enjoying the feel of the warm, silky fabric against his lips. He kissed her bare knees where her dress lay open. He poked his tongue between two of her dress buttons and flicked it against the skin of her thigh. She breathed out deeply, even though her cigarette was away from her mouth and she was not exhaling smoke. He tried not to smirk. She had hinted at her pleasure.

She picked up the magazine and placed it loudly on the desk. This was the pre-arranged signal for him to give her breasts some attention. He was partly annoyed and partly aroused by her refusal to speak or to ask him to do this or that, but such was the deal. Play by her rules, or don't play at all.

And he did like to play. Besides, this was not the only sex he had. His recent girlfriend enjoyed sex as much as he did, and sex with her was very much a mutual pleasuring and true lovemaking. What was happening right now was simply sex with one partner calling all the shots. And, if he was honest, it made a pleasant change not to have to be in charge in the workplace, to hand over to someone else and simply do their bidding. He remembered once seeing a television documentary about men who enjoyed submission and even pain. Many of them held positions of responsibility and enjoyed the reversal of role in sex. So the documentary and some of the blokes interviewed (some wearing leather masks!) had said.

She averted her gaze but continued to smoke as he inched his hand up over her silky dress to cup her little left breast. He squeezed it playfully and found her nipple. He rubbed it with his fingernail, thrilling in the sound of his nail against her dress as much as in the feel of her nipple as it began to tauten. He pressed his hand firmly over her breast and rolled it round, then gave it a playful squeeze. He felt her hand come down on his wrist, slapping it quite sharply. He looked up, surprised. She usually enjoyed having her breasts squeezed. She glared back at him.

"No squeezing. Fondle them, but no squeezing! Show Ms. Lewis some respect!"

"Yes, Miss. Sorry, Miss."

"You will be. I can always find someone else to do this if I need to. There are several other blokes who would do my bidding – and a couple of women, too, come to that. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Miss."

"Good. Carry on, then. But..." she said, as she glanced at her watch. "But do TRY not to take too long. I have a meeting with one of the directors in half an hour."

He felt a shudder of delight. It was now just after six-thirty in the evening, and everybody else had left for the day, but the fantasy of having to pleasure her against the clock was an added delight, an extra demand, an extra taunt.

He continued to kiss and lick her thighs. She parted her legs – the unspoken signal for him to proceed further.

He unfastened the next few buttons at the front of her dress, and flicked it open to bare more thigh. Her thighs were well toned. He traced his fingertips up and down the tops of them, barely touching them, teasing her with the lightness of his touch. He gently scratched her soft skin with his fingertips and nails, then gently kneaded her firm flesh.

He glanced up at her proud, expressionless face, her piercing eyes, her modest pink lips and her well-groomed, reddish-brown hair. She had resumed smoking her cigarette and was gazing intently at the page of her magazine. She glanced at her watch again, raised her eyebrows and tutted. Then she drew on her cigarette and lowered her gaze to her magazine again. Again the sounds of her sucking in the smoke, the slight kissing noise as she withdrew the cigarette, and the blowing out of the smoke made him harder.

Her feigned contempt fuelled his desire, too. He knelt right in front of her and gazed up her dress. This stage always aroused him. She was not wearing any knickers. He knew that she must remove them just before he arrived, but he fantasised that she was often knickerless under her work clothes throughout the entire working day. He tried to imagine her in the meetings that she chaired, bare-crotched and with her juices running in anticipation of his ministrations. In his mind he taunted her with the terms that suggested themselves for a woman who would behave in such a way. But he kept silent.

He saw her glance at her watch once more.

"Just another twenty five minutes till that meeting," she said, impatiently. "And bear in mind I'll have to bloody leave here ten minutes before that. So that just leaves fifteen minutes, doesn't it? I think you'd better get a move on, don't you?"

"Yes, Ms. Lewis."

He tugged her legs apart, not roughly, but suddenly enough to make her give an involuntary gasp. He licked and kissed her inner thigh, but inched higher. He sucked her fleshy upper thigh, aware of her pussy-musk. He stroked her swollen, verdant mound. It was soft and spongy to his touch. He watched and felt her reddish-brown, silky pubes entwining his fingers, and he felt her tense with delight and anticipation. Fleetingly, and with a very light touch, his fingertips brushed her slit and her pouting pussy lips.

He glanced again at her haughty face. She did not avert her eyes, and seemed determined to hold his gaze and to show no sign of emotion. She exhaled smoke from her cigarette, blowing it down towards his face. Her pretended contempt and indifference to the obvious pleasure he was giving her both aroused and irritated him. Moreoever, he knew that once outside her office she would ignore him completely, even if she passed him in the corridor. This was an important way of preserving discretion, of course, and he was more than happy to give no indication to any other colleague that there was a sexual bond between him and Ms Fay Lewis. But while he had to resist the urge to acknowledge her, she seemed to enjoy it.

He took her long, slender legs in his hands and draped them over his shoulders. Her dress rode up to her waist and exposed her hairy crotch. Her pussy was slightly open and the folds of her lips were very alluring. Her earlier jibe came to mind. He wondered which male colleagues would allow themselves to be taunted as he did. More importantly, he wondered whether there really was a female co-worker who would gladly do what he was now doing. He tried to picture this or that one, kneeling before Ms. Lewis' office chair and gazing at her reddish-brown hairy pussy before performing oral sex on it.

With his left hand he kneaded her breasts – but avoided squeezing them – and gently pinched her hardening nipples through her dress. He licked up and down her inner thigh and moved ever nearer to her musky slit. He placed his hand on her mound and eased her pussy open. He moved nearer and sniffed her aroma deeply, loudly, obviously. He looked up. Even though this was what she had said she expected of him she was looking towards the window, her cigarette still in her hand. He poked out his tongue and dragged it slowly up her pussy. When he reached her hood he gave a little swirling movement. She gave a sharp intake of breath but still gazed towards the window aloofly.

He longed to know whether today she would suck him until he came or whether she might even allow him to penetrate her, but for now he focussed on the job before him.

He pushed her turgid puffy lips from side to side with his tongue. He slowly dragged his tongue up and down her slit, but withdrew it before he reached her clit. He did this a dozen times or so, sometimes pausing a moment or two before delivering his next tonguing stroke, to build her anticipation. He felt her quiver involuntarily in response, and he felt a surge of delight at the effect his attentions were producing. He sucked her musky lips loudly. He blushed with embarrassment at the lewd sound, but it also excited him. Although her aloof expression hid it, he knew that it aroused her, too. The knowledge made him feel that he had some power in the situation after all, despite her seeming control.

Ms Lewis gave a low whimper and a slight thrust of her pelvis. The backs of her shoes grazed his back through his shirt. He looked up. She had stubbed out the cigarette and although her head was still angled towards her gossip magazine on her desk, her eyes were closed. Her expression appeared aloof but it somehow looked discreetly blissful. He tugged on her lips, pulling on them and watching them snap back into place. From time to time he paused for a few moments before resuming. He felt her tense with anticipation. He licked her. He sucked her lips noisily again, making rude sucking and slurping sounds that he knew aroused her as much as it did him. Tantalisngly briefly and lightly he swept his tongue over her hard, sticky clit. Her soft, aromatic pubes brushed his lips. One hair detached and stuck to his tongue, and he quickly removed it. He liked her verdant, reddish bush but wished that she trimmed around her lips for his comfort. But he dared not ask, of course.

Still no whimper or murmur of pleasure escaped Ms. Lewis the Ice Maiden, nor did any word or sound to encuurage him and convey her approval. He looked up at her face. She looked into his eyes with her inscrutable, piercing ones. She frowned.

.

"Never mind looking up at me!" she scolded. "Just get on with what you're bloody doing. And I don't have all the time in the world even if you do!"

He smirked a little, as, despite her harsh facial expression, her voice was now a little strained. He resumed teasing her with his mouth, alternating between sucking with his lips and licking with his tongue. He thought again of one female co-worker or another doing what he was doing, then he thought how nice it would be of one day the roles were reversed and he was the one commanding Ms. Lewis to give him oral sex and to take his nasty load over her proud face or in her mouth. He was fully hard already, but his erect member gave a little salute at the prospect, however unlikely.

He prised her pussy further open and swirled his tongue around the raw pinkness. He jabbed his tongue against the opening of her hole, then returned to her hard clit. He frigged it hard and slowly with his tongue and sucked it into his mouth. At last a low gasp escaped her, and a stifled groan. Her pelvis shuddered several times in succession. He risked another look at her aloof, expressionless face. She had put the cigarette in her ashtray and had closed her eyes. Her hands were gripping the arms of her chair and her arms were tense. He smiled to himself again, feeling that despite her arrogance and aloofness, he was actually the one wielding the power.

He felt her thighs clasp his neck and squeeze him rhythmically. He also felt her thrust purposefully reservedly against his face. He said nothing but in his head he was saying, "Beg me, bitch, or I'll stop! At least give a grunt of approval or I'll walk out and you'll have to finger-fuck yourself if you want to come!"

He pinched her swollen nipples quite hard. Her breathing became faster and more ragged and he pressed his tongue hard against her clit and frigged it. She put her hand behind his head and held him tight. Her eyes were closed, but her aloof expression was now replaced by a grimace of naked lust as she ground against his face, clasping his neck with her thighs and the back of his head with her hand. Her mouth was closed, but she was giving low, rhythmic grunts and panting as she neared her climax. The backs of her shoes hit his back in synch with her grinding against his face. The pace and force of her heels through his shirt increased. So did the pressure from her dank, hairy pussy against his face. Than he felt her shake and mash herself against him as her orgasm overpowered her.

Ms. Lewis held him tight against her perspiring, musky, mound until she was done, then relaxed her grip. She looked away, lit another cigarette, and picked up her magazine.

"I suppose you'll want a wank now," she said over her shoulder. "I'd like to say I find it pretty disgusting hearing you puff and pant," ("that's a bit rich coming from you, you snotty bitch!" he thought), "and hearing you pulling on your dick. On the other hand I like to know that I make you hot and horny. Don't you bloody dare get any on my clothes though, you dirty bastard..."

"Can I..." he pleaded.

"Oh I suppose if you MUST see my tits you'll have to, then. But don't you dare bloody touch them..." she responded harshly, though her breathing was still uneven.

"Er... do you have any tissues, Ms. Lewis?"

"Yes I do, thank you," she responded, sarcastically.

"May... may I borrow one?"

"BORROW one?" she repeated scornfully. "BORROW one - to give back when it's full of your nasty spunk?

"No, Ms. Lewis. I meant please may I have one?"

"No."

"But..."

"But bloody what?" she chided. "You have a handkerchief, don't you?"

"Yes, but... I might need to blow my nose later."

"Well you'll just have to hope it's fucking dry by then, won't you?" she scolded.

He gazed at her as she unbuttoned the neckline of her dress. It was only buttoned now over her belly. It looked ruder than if she was naked. She tugged her blue lacy bra up to expose her lovely, firm, little orbs with their hard, pale pink nipples crowning them. She held the magazine in front of her face.

He stared at her pouting pussy, and at her small breasts. He took his handkerchief out and unzipped his trousers. He pushed them down to his knees, along with his underpants. He stared at her bare thighs and pussy and at her breasts as he wrapped his handkerchief around his erection.

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