After Hours

It was late.

The glaring fluorescents had dwindled and died, replaced by the single 60 watt that stood guard over his cluttered desk. The sounds of industry had faded to a steady, isolated humm of air conditioning and the growl of a vacuum in the exterior hallway. He was alone, or so he thought.

"I had to come", she offered in hushed tones, afraid to shatter the pristine stillness that the moment offered. "I was just leaving, packing things away at my desk...and there you were. May I come in?"

He nodded, offering her the single empty chair which flanked his desk, but she moved instead to the leather couch along the wall and settled herself uneasily upon it.

"This couch always draws my attention," she murmured abstractly. "It has so many possibilities, you know." She added, flushing at the thought. "A place to kick back, a restful moment in the middle of the afternoon...somewhere to..."

But she couldn't finish. It was too much. Wasn't it?

She had his attention then, the wide stance she chose to assume offering him a quick glimpse of her lacy undergarment as she made herself more comfortable.

"What do you do here at night, after the others have gone, Gene?" [May I call you that? It's after hours you know. I'm off the clock now.] "Do you stick to business as the clock keeps ticking away? Do you work, Gene, or do you dream? Do your fantasies intrude at times like this? Do I?"

He dropped his gaze then, following the line of her hand as she stroked her thigh....the long, red nails that so often caught his attention during their regular 9-5, creating minute furrows in the thin fabric of her skirt.

"Sometimes," he admitted. "Yes, sometimes you do."

His tiny, flawed admission seemed to open new channels of communication, for she then leaned back on the tooled leather and relaxed her stance even more.

It was a thong, he guessed. The brief strip of lace that caressed the span between her sex and her ass seemed to narrow and vanish as it neared her buttocks, wedging between her rounded orbs in ways that caused his body to quicken. He'd wondered about that.

"I fantasize sometimes too, Gene...here, in the morning when I bring your coffee, then later as I wonder what it would be like to..."

Again she paused, her bravery faltering. Had she imagined it all? Should she turn and retreat to the outer office, to the safety of her desk? But no, she'd come too far. She'd called him 'Gene', a fatal breech in protocol. She was committed.

She swallowed hard. Time to move on. [Move it or lose it. Isn't that what they say?] "I've always wondered how this leather would feel on my bare skin, Gene. Would you mind if I tried?"

He laid his pen atop the desk then, his briefs forgotten. Then silently he nodded his consent. "No, not at all. Please, be my guest." He offered, his body warming to the concept. "Get comfortable if you'd like."

A slow smile crept over her features, a moment of uncertainty, and then she rose and lifted her demure skirt until it pooled around her waist. Finally, taking her place once more she sighed.

"Yes," she whispered in hushed tones. "This is good. I knew it would be, Gene. Thank you for allowing me that liberty."

Again he nodded, his maleness coming to the fore. "Get as comfortable as you wish," he offered, his eyes taking in the moist, dark line that accented her panties. A garter belt...he'd never imagined that she wore one! Now, he'd never visualize her in anything else.

"May I take off my heels, Gene? By the end of the day they're sheer torture, you know. It would be a relief..."

"Of course," he replied, the epitome of good manners. "Get comfortable, My Dear. After all, you're among friends. No need to stand on ceremony."

She crossed her legs then, lifting left over right until the fine lace of her panties shifted and a glimpse of pink, wet "tongue" peeked beyond their confines. A tiny tug, and one red stiletto fell to the floor. She shifted then, causing her panties to imbed themselves deep within the shaven slit that so drew him.

His body lurched, and as the second shoe plopped silently on the carpet he felt the burden between his thighs begin to grow uncomfortably.

"My stockings...they'll be ruined like this, Gene. May I...?"

Again he nodded, eager in his acceptance. "Of course," he replied. "On a secretary's salary stockings like those must be expensive. I wouldn't want you to ruin them."

Again she smiled, then rising she trailed her hands over her abdomen, her thighs, until they came to rest on the clasps of her garter belt. She bent low, and lower yet until the fullness of her breasts filled the cleavage of her thin, silk blouse and threatened to spill out of their brief confines. He was mesmerized.

"Would you help me, Gene?" she asked huskily.

Help her? Help her...?

Oh, the garter belt! He drew his tongue over his lower lip.

"It would be my pleasure," he responded, preparing to rise. Instead she crossed the floor and circled his desk until he could smell the aroma of her sex and feel the heat radiate from between her thighs. Then turning she indicated the clips which stretched across her buttocks from their long, elastic tethers and formed the last restriction to her release.

"Here," she motioned, her hand stroking her rounded flesh. "I can't reach them. Would you...?"

Immediately he set to work, his fingers tracing the taut line of elastic until they cane to rest at a place just below her right buttock, near the hollow delta of her thighs. "Like this?" he murmured, the backs of his fingers grazing the furrow of her ass. "Hold still now while I get the other one."

But she disobeyed! Instead she opened her legs, bending away from him until her 'nether-tongue' came once more into view between her naked thighs.

"That's good, Gene. Those are so hard to get by myself. Do you find that some things are like that, Sir...hard that is?"

He noticed her subtle shift to the more postured mode of address, to the accepted formality of the workplace, but her tone spoke otherwise.

"Do you like my ass, Sir?" she questioned, taking her boldness to a new level. "Sometimes I imagine you're watching me as I leave your office...watching my ass. Do you like it?"

"Of course!" he asserted, running his fingers between the fullness of her thighs. "You're a fine piece...you have a fine ass, My Dear. What's not to like?"

She grasped the edge of the desk, her breathing becoming labored and thighs shaking at his touch. Then, placing one stockinged foot atop his desk she began to carefully peel the patterned silk down her thighs and off the tips of her toes.

Her aroma grew stronger, more sensual as her body shifted and she brought her remaining foot to rest between his thighs, repeating the gesture, her toes nudging his burgeoning fullness.

She paused...an invitation?

The inadequate line of her panties appeared binding then, on closer inspection. They seemed to beckon to him, like a dark arrow pointing from the waistband of her thong across her vulva to become lost in the moist slit below. He slid his fingers below the crotch and released them from her hidden confines, the slick wetness of her body still clinging to the lacy fabric.

She surged into his palm. "Oh...thank you, Sir," she breathed, pressing his hand against her pubis. "Thongs just aren't meant for comfort, I guess. They're always riding...up. That feels...much better."

The abandoned bands of her garter belt brushed insistently against his groin as she moved, the metal clips bobbing maddeningly against his fullness. She smiled.

"Are you like this...behind your desk, during the day?" she asked, her eyes taking in the tautness of his slacks. "Do you become aroused when I sit in the chair and cross my legs for you?"

Had she noticed him watching her then? He remained silent. What would she do next?

"Sometimes I wet my panties during the day, Sir", she offered boldly, her restraints abandoned. "When I'm sitting there, taking notes...I become so wet I'm surprised you haven't noticed! I always wonder if I've left a wet patch on the seat after I leave. Do I, Sir? Do I leave my mark on the furniture?"

He thought back to the many times he'd discretely glanced into the darkness between her thighs as she scribbled on her pad, the times the dim shadow of moisture had remained long after she'd retreated to her sanctuary in the outer office. Yes, he'd noticed. Of course he'd noticed!

"Like now, you mean?" he questioned intimately. "Were you wet like you are now?" he repeated, his index finger nudging beneath the wet lace.

She closed her eyes. "Yes...like that," she agreed. "Just like that, but then I could only imagine what it would be like, of course."

"And what do you imagine, My Dear? He prodded, his finger slipping into her wetness. "This?" he questioned as he pressed his digit deep inside.

Her knees shook visibly then, and she faltered against him.

"Yes...oh YES!" she choked, her hips rocking to urge him deeper...and deeper yet. "I imagine this...and us...and the feel of leather beneath me..."

Unsteadily she retired once more to the couch in an effort to prevent her total and shameful collapse. "I imagine you stripping my panties from me...here on the sofa," she offered heatedly. "That you ask me to touch myself for you."

Then, as if to punctuate her statement, she slipped her hand between her thighs and dipped a single finger into her vagina.

"And what am I doing during this solitary intercourse," he asked, his eyes riveted on the fluid motion of her finger. "Do I...participate in some way?"

"Oh yes!" she choked, the effort to speak becoming almost more than she could bear. "You...stand...here."

She indicated a place between her feet, an invasion of her intimate space, an open invitation.

"And...?" he prodded. "And then what happens?"

"Then..." she flushed, "You tell me to unzip your fly and take your...penis into my mouth."

"And...do you?" he questioned eagerly, rising to take his assigned position between her feet. "Do you take my cock into your mouth? Do you suck it until I'm ready to burst upon your tongue?"

"Oh yes," she sighed. "It's the best part of my day! It's so...intimate. I always have to lock myself in the john when I get to that part! To...you know...touch myself," she admitted guiltily as she began to stroke the line of his fly.

"May I, Sir?" she pleaded.

"Of course, My Dear, take it out and then open your blouse. Release your breasts for me. I have fantasies too, you know."

Her eyes widened. He had fantasies too? Perhaps she'd bitten off more than she could chew! And so, fingers faltering, she carefully released the band of his slacks and lowered his zipper, reaching inside to find his hot flesh and enclosing it in her grasp. Gently she stroked, feeling it quiver against her palm, until finally she drew it out.

It was then he stayed her hand. "The blouse..." he reminded her, his fingers tracing the edge of her cleavage. "Now."

His tone had changed, she noticed, more insistent, more dominant. He was in charge once more, and their foreplay had taken on a new profile.

She sighed, then leaning back against the sofa she slipped her buttons from their holes and parted the thin silk of her garment, exposing the brevity of her front-hook bra. Then with a brief flick of her finger her breasts surged forward, full and unfettered, their nipples dusky and prominent.

"Yes, that's it." He nodded approvingly, pinching her swollen buds between thumb and forefinger. "That's it." And with that he slipped the clothing from her shoulders until it came to rest around her arms, binding them to her sides.

A moment of panic assailed her. He had changed! The balance of power had shifted and she had lost her advantage. Could she now control what was to come?

Briefly she struggled to raise her arm, to once more grasp his sex in her trembling fingers, but the silk confines of her sleeves held her at bay.

"Use your mouth," he ordered. "Learn to rely on your mouth if you want to continue."

And so she did, parting her lips to engulf him, her tongue swirling around his member as he twined his fingers in her hair and held her fast.

It was in that warm, wet place that he thrived and his impressive organ grew to enormous proportions. Her jaws began to ache, and she soon found it difficult to accommodate either his girth or length.

It was then she began to pull away, to relax her endeavors between his legs for a moment, but he had other ideas. She had pursued him...seduced him, and now there was a price to pay.

"No!" he barked. "Lean back. I want to fuck your mouth."

Startled, she paused, her lips going slack as she pondered her course of action. But she had not long to respond, for in a few blinks he had pressed her back against the sofa and brought his left leg astride her cheek, inserting himself deep in her mouth once more as he began to thrust in earnest.

Again she struggled against her silk restraints, this time in an effort to control the deepening penetration of his body into hers, but once more she found it impossible.

Then, with one last thrust he released her, reaching between her legs to wrench the pitiful excuse for panties from her and tucking her skirt upwards into her belt.

"Stand up," he directed, his tone brooking no resistance, "...and spread your legs. Let's see how wet you are now!"

Red-faced she did as she was told, rising in her immodest dishevelment and spreading wide her slick thighs for His pleasure. Her belly quivered, and her nipples blossomed. Was this what he wanted...what he'd always wanted?

In one quick move he turned her, and bending her low over the arm of the sofa he thrust his right hand between her legs, the fingers of his left fondling the exposed expanse of her breasts.

She gasped. It had all gone so wrong...or was it so right? She had planned a late night seduction, an exploitation of her feminine advantage, but things had gone seriously awry! The upper hand was His now, as it was during their working hours. Her waking fantasies had become a reality, and it was the insistent probe of his rigid member between her legs that finally brought home the fact of it all.

Instinctively she attempted to close her legs, to slow his advance. But once more her efforts were foiled, for he had placed himself between them, his feet holding hers apart, his free hand pressing now on the small of her back to give himself greater advantage.

And then she felt it, his engorged cock pressing insistently between her labia, forcing aside the rubbery flesh until it found her source of heat and penetrated it.

She gasped! So hard, so forceful! Struggling she wriggled to free her hands once more, to gain some semblance of control, but it was not possible.

Deeply he began to rut, driving himself into her belly as he hunched over her heaving form, his hands groping her breasts, twisting her nipples into hardened knots of desire. Briefly she fought against her own arousal, one last act of defiance, but it was futile. She was lost, and he had won. The visceral nature of her sex had betrayed her and she desperately cried out for more.

Jaw set in a lustful grimace, he had no intention but to comply. But, as she pleaded for him to continue he backed away, then raising his aim he parted her buttocks to expose the puckered star of her anus.

At first she thought his intention was oral, but as she felt the rigid heat of his cock against her narrow passage she began to writhe.

"I-I...can't!" she quailed. "I've never..."

But it was too late, for her virginal orifice was virginal no longer. With an urgency borne of the moment, he impaled himself, driving deeply between her buttocks as she whimpered beneath him.

Struggling, she tried to dislodge him, but his hand on the back of her neck removed her options. She was held fast, penetrated in a way she had never intended...and it aroused her.

Deeply he hammered, his free hand now snaking around her belly to stroke the fullness of her clit, to solicit her cries of ecstasy as he took her from behind. Each time she constricted her muscles to force him from her, he stroked the hardened mound of her flesh once more until the battle was won and he was able to hilt himself in her tight aperture once more.

Finally, with a monumental thrust he flooded her, filling her bowels with his boiling spunk until it gushed from her body and fouled her thighs.

Crying out and throbbing she sank to the floor before him, her body twitching with unspent arousal.

"Now...touch yourself," he ordered, slipping her arms from their silken restraints. "Spread your legs and show me how you please yourself! Do it well, and maybe I'll allow you to complete your task!"

Allow her to complete...? Had there been any doubt? Apparently there had!

Frantically she penetrated her labia with her forefinger, stroking her clit as she closed her eyes to the world about her, her body growing instantly rigid as her barely suppressed intent rose to the surface once more.

He smiled, and straddling her body he began to stroke himself as well, feeling his shaft once again thicken and quiver with its heated offering.

Suddenly she began to shake, throwing back her head as she flowed into her palm and screaming her climax into the room.

That was all it took, for immediately he joined her, shooting his creamy burden squarely into her face, inundating her delicate features with his slippery ejaculation until it ran over her lips and down onto her naked breasts.

She gasped, eyes widening in shock, then ran her fingers through the viscous mess in an effort to clear a path.

"Lick me clean, My Dear," he directed. "You've done so well tonight, you wouldn't want to fall short at this point, would you?"

Desperately, she wanted to remove herself to the bathroom...to clean his spunk from her face and wash the sticky mess from between her legs...but stay she did.

Obediently she took him into her mouth once more, laving his limp flesh with her tongue until it lay pink and clean between her lips.

"Very well done!" he complimented. "I'm impressed! Now go clean yourself and I'll see you in the office tomorrow. Be sure to be here bright and early, My Dear. We have a lot of work to get done."

She began to rise then and move toward his private bathroom. "And Sarah," he added, "...plan on overtime....LOTS of overtime."

She blushed. It was going to be hard work from that point on.

And then she smiled. Working beneath Gene had its perks.