Secretary African Style

She duly slurped away. Very nice it felt, a wet tingly touch. Did it properly too - ran her tongue round and round the ridges and alternated that with probing the little hole. Remarkably experienced or just creative?

"Stroke my cock a bit," I said, "Not hard - I don't want the pistol firing yet."

She extended a hand round, surrounded my cock loosely with her fingers, and stroked it till it was as hard and distended, trembling like at tuning fork.

Not to waste the hardness I got up. A depressing distraction - I had a condom ready on the desk and needed to peel it on - could not risk a paternity case. "Get those knees into your armpits again." Looking at her doing as she was told kept me stiff. I seized the cushion off the seat of the chair she had sat in, and noticed a wet patch on it - showed again that she had had some success, maybe some appetite. I shoved the cushion under her bum as she got it up in the air again. Then sank myself over her, body sloped and rigid, arms extended each side of her head, the knob of my cock hovering just above her cunt.

"Open your eyes," I said, for the were firmly shut, "Look me in the eyes." She did, resentfully, but not flinching, seeing it through.

"Open your cunt." Not easy as her arms were looped around her knees, but she managed it. I pushed my knob into her entrance.

"Now, get a grip on those knees. Open them wide. Get that bum up." She did.

I gave a sudden hard shove and was deep in her, staring her in the eyes as she winced and took it. Of course it's not the same as the soft caress of a cunt on a naked cock. But then that was the advantage of the position I had her in. The best for pounding, for the all-out assault which pleases the spirit and the cock alike. I grabbed her knees myself, leant my weight on her to force them even further back and even more open, and she gave a moan. "Keep looking," I said, "Look me in the eyes." I wanted the look of her acknowledging it, acknowledging she was in my power. Her bum was flat out below me, her cunt open and offered. I thrust hard and fast. Every thrust I banged against her thighs and her bum, and felt my tip touch her cervix deep inside. Every time I slid out I felt her lips start to close around me before I shoved in again. Faster and faster, harder and harder. That lovely feeling when I knew for sure I was going to come, and soon. The base of my cock swelling, the pressure at the root, then the surge up the shaft as I came deep inside her. A lovely thick rich come that ebbed slowly. I slumped on her. Motioned her that she could let go of her legs. Lay quite a while, enjoying her body under me, the feel of her breasts under her blouse.

I pulled out, slumped into the armchair myself. I peeled off the full condom, knotted it.

"Here," I said, "Take this and flush it down my toilet. Then make us a both cup of coffee while I get my energies back. Stay dressed as you are."

She grunted as she wobbled up off the floor on shaky legs. She popped into the toilet next to my office and I heard the flush. Then she went through to get to the kitchen, clicking on her high heels, a fine sight, her bare bum under her tailored jacket.

I wondered if she would run away, with clothes or not. But back she came in due course, and with a pot of coffee and a couple of cups, not just one for me. Indicated a real willingness to collaborate, I thought. She poured.

"You can sit in my chair," I said, "Wheel it round."

Mine was a standard black office affair. Curious reversal of roles, me in the armchair and she slightly higher than me in my own. She sat politely with her legs crossed and cunt our of view. Nice thigh though.

"Say something," I said.

"Nothing to say," she said sulkily, but sipping her coffee.

"Anything, you said you'd do - that could include conversation."

"Conversation! Funny sense of humour."

"OK then - what did you like least and most in all of that?"

"I didn't like any of it."

"Least, and least least?"

"Having to lick you - disgusting. Least least? Over your knee. Bearable I suppose."

"Not getting fucked, either way, then?"

"What's a fuck? I switched off."

"Well, you didn't half switch me on."

"Glad you enjoyed it then. Can I go home now?"

Funny, but I was hoping she had enjoyed it, or parts of it at least. That's how it is in stories, isn't it? The girl starts by hating it and ends up creaming herself. This one was determined to go through with it and equally determined to have nothing more to do with it than she had to, emotionally speaking. Unless it was more that she didn't want to admit to anything- after all she had managed to get her juices flowing. Either way, so be it. No reason for me to be through with her yet though - chance of a lifetime, and might as well make the best of it.