Your Poor, Aching Feet

My mess. But no, your hair looks great and anybody who walked in would see a museum graphics professional with a potential donor. And I'm there with my pants around my ankles and my shrinking cock hanging out of my underwear.

But we're happy.

Are we in a hurry?

A little bit. Those art patrons demand my presence. Any minute now I expect to hear a knock on my door and somebody saying, "Are you in there? Are you OK? Martha Stewart wants to compliment you downstairs on your curating, and she has her checkbook out!"

All kinds of nice things are getting whipped out. I've already made my museum deposit. I suppose the only bank you could take it to would be the sperm bank.

I'm liberal, but that's not a kind of wealth I want to spread around. I'm greedy. I'll keep it all to myself.

That's the plan. Now, if I recall, speaking of wealth, you have a certain gold mine that needs some TLC. I wouldn't want us to return to the reception without it being explored. There must be some riches in there ready to come to the surface, with a little attention.

Your pickaxe is a little wilty by now. Can you manage to dig around?

A miner always has more than one tool on his belt. I can think of several. What's your preference, my dear? How are you feeling now, our clothes all askew here in your office with the moonlight pouring in.

I'm pretty excited. That foot massage got me tingly all over. But I'm a little chilly. Can you warm me up?

That's a great idea. I sit down on your chair. I'm glad the beach towel is on it -- I'm drippy and male still and I wouldn't want to stain your Aeron chair, which I know helps you be creative. I pull you to me. You snuggle on my lap, flesh to flesh. I slip your panties off and your dress covers us, your bottom warm and soft against my thighs. Maybe the pickaxe won't be so wilty after all. Let's give it time. You're leaning against me with your arms around my neck. This feels good. Are you warming up?

Yes. You are so hot. It's like sitting surrounded by hot water bottles, in a good way. I can feel the heat radiating off you. I could drape wet clothes around you to dry them off. The human clothes dryer.

Very energy efficient, but only under special circumstances, like after you raise my temperature. I'm not like that all the time, you know. Only a special gal can crank up my body temperature.

I crank it up with your special crank. The heat is taking the chill away. Your arms fold around me so I feel enveloped, safe. We're kissing, lightly. You have a good male taste, with a little overlay of the shrimp downstairs. Our tongues touch. You stroke my neck so I move closer to you. You arrange my blouse so it covers my shoulders again and that keeps me warm. It feels a little strange to be sitting in my office with no panties on.

I thought you do that all the time.

Only when you visit me. I see my panties on the floor, a little puddle of silk. If I need to put them on fast, I know where they are. You're shifting around in the chair, your cock throbbing a little. You move a little so your fingers can reach under my dress. Then I feel your hand on my thigh. You're tracing up and down like you were before. I like that and you're not being too slow about it, either.

I think we're turned on enough to get past the preliminaries. Not entirely, but we're ready.

You're such a feast spread out. I could lick you, I could finger you, if we waited long enough I could get hard and be in you. We could do all kinds of things. But we can't take too much time. The office has so many hard surfaces. Don't these things come with a couch? Or is that only in the executive suite?

Not in my office. We need more time and more towels.

Now I'm feeling a little stymied. I certainly can't leave a damsel in sexual distress. That's just not right.

No, it's not.

I could bend you over my knee and spank you.

That's not going to get me to come. More the opposite -- try that and I won't come, but I WILL go!

How wet are you by now?

I'll check. Pretty wet.

That's good to know. You snuggle on my lap some more and left up. You get yourself centered. I feel your fingers around me, that female instinct for guiding the male home. Pursing your lips and closing your eyes in concentration, you lower your bottom down. Down a little more, too the right. You are holding my cock just right, straight up, and then I feel your warm wet tight flesh touch and snuggle and enfold me. Funny, how I am so aware of your knees at this moment, how they touch my sides and seem to hold me steady. Then I'm aware how connected we are. I'm in you. Your hands touch my chest through my shirt. You've got me hard again and we've docked.

Sex dock-ters, that's what we are. You'll need to wash your Dockers after this.

Maybe not. I might keep them for a special sniff now and then. I know, I'll wear them to the house when I pick up my son. You think his dog would notice?

I'm noticing, and that's what counts. I love the feeling of being connected like this. You're warm and pulsing in me. With my legs to your side my clit feels very open and exposed. I lean forward to kiss you. My breasts strain against my lacy bra when my chest touches yours. Then you wrap your hands around my back to pull me closer. Your little thrusts upward give me a shiver, as you wedge a little deeper in me. I take your hand and put it where your cock and my cunt meet. I guide your finger to my clit. We lean back from each other so you can see us. Down there, tangled up in hair and come, is where all the nerve endings meet. I move your fingers on me. You like that. I close my eyes and feel your fingers working on me, slowly.

It's not like we have anything else to do now.

This feels good. It feels like you're all over me, beneath me and above me and on me and in me, all at the same time. Your fingers form a "V" around my clit and steadily move up and down around the skin. Not on the clit, that would be almost too sensitive, but teasing its sides, slipping sometimes on to the top of my thighs, pressing my pubic bone. It's like 10 hands on me, feeling my everywhere. My fingers touch your cock when it goes in me and the sensation of hard and soft together is wonderful. We fit so well together there.

Tongue and groove, the carpenters call it. I'll get my tongue in your groove soon enough. My mallet in the groove is working nicely at the moment.

I'd like to have your tongue and your mallet working on me. We've done that before.

That would take more acrobatics than we can handle in your Aeron chair -- best to be lying down for the advanced stuff. Even sitting down, I can be flexible on you.

Your hand reaches underneath so you've got fingers on my clit and then fingers stroking my ass. I'm so open now. You run them over my cheeks, lightly then firmly. You're very naughty, you know. And I like you that way. Mmm, that way does feel good. I can feel myself pulsing, opening and closing, like some undersea flower. Your fingers are getting closer together as you caress me from both sides. My cunt and my rump are both tingling now. I wiggle around so you can touch me harder. You get the message. You're probing me, making me wetter. Your wet fingers are pulling on my cunt lips, stroking my ass so I almost can't stand it. And all the time I'm pushing down so your cock goes way up into me. I'm getting a little delirious. My innards are tightening around your cock to I can pull it into me.

I can barely tell where I end and you begin. We're that intertwined. Lips and tongues touching, my cock straining up into you like a . . . what? A totem pole? A Saturn booster rocket? A giant head from Easter Island?

From Hanukkah Island.

Yes! That's it, the giant head from Hanukkah Island is poking way up inside me. It escaped! That sounds like a great museum exhibit. Erotic art from the mythical land of Hanukkah Island. The land of Jewish sensuality.

Right, a giant head in your petite flower also from Hanukkah Island. They both escaped and made their way to the museum. I think that describes your office. That's all I see right now, through my foggy glasses. The office is getting very hot. Hot office, hot bodies. It's a hothouse for your Hanukkah flower.

Hot and hard parts, some of them.

Yes, hard and soft and open. I try to imagine the view from below, you sitting on my laps, my fingers all over you, circling around and making you nutty. We've got the show on the road and something tells me we're getting close to the grand finale.

I feel myself slowing down. I'm not bouncing so much on your cock. I've almost stopped. We just rock together, like birds flying together. Your fingers are slowing down on my cunt lips, a lingering rhythm of touch that presses into my clit, guarding it, pushing it out. Your other hand underneath find a place and you press me with a thumb, an all over feeling I've never had before. I'd blush if I thought about what we were doing, but I'm beyond feeling silly or embarrassed. I just feel. And I feel totally in the moment. There's just you and me, our bodies, our breaths. Your fingers in me, my cunt in you. I like that idea. I'm as much in you as you are in me.

I'm very into you. Wherever I can be in. Everything is moving slowly. Your lips press against mine, urgently. Your arms wrap around my head and back. They press me to you and I feel like you're swallowing me up. My face, my cock, my fingers, everything is merging into you and you, the flower, devour me wherever I touch you.

A wave starts to shake me. My cunt muscles tighten, my ass tightens up, I go from being soft to rigid. I'm drawing your cock as far up into me as I can, your tongue, too, and then I'm coming, waves rippling through me, so I'm turning inside out. I'm just melt and freezing at the same time.

Your cunt is like a vise around me. And your ass grabs my hand. You're so strong when you come. It must give you superhuman strength.

All I can do is hold on and moan and kiss you hard, really hard, to keep from going crazy and yelling out and getting all the guests running up. That would be embarrassing, to have everybody banging on the door and asking what's going on, "Are you OK?"

Are you OK?

I'm great. You know just now to move your fingers after I come, to keep stroking me but not so hard as to make me jump. I get little extra come waves when you touch me and cup me. Your hand covers my cunt. It's warm and protecting. Your other hand holds my tush cheek and I can feel your heat coursing all over me. Let me nestle against your chest. Ahhhh, that's better. I'm relaxed from head to toe.

Those toes, that's what would get us up here in the first place, you needed your foot massage after a hard night at the museum.

You got hard. Then you made me soft and melty.

I did my own melting, butter all over the place.

But no spots on us.

I would wish we could leave this reception and go home and put on our jammies and do this all over again. Once you get me thinking, I wouldn't be able to stop.

We'd know the reception would end soon. We'd get cleaned up and stuff ourselves with more sushi and I'd circulate a little longer. Sushi's an aphrodisiac, you know. So we'd eat a lot and get your stamina back. We'd have come too far from Hanukkah Island to stop now.

It would be time to get dressed?

I guess so. I'll be ready to go corner Martha Stewart and get that checkbook out of her pocketbook.

We're all making our donations for the cause.

We've had our big show at the big shoe show.

Let me slip your shoes back on.

Now that's service with a smile. I'll have the happiest feet in New York that night.