Always Wear Lipstick to Work

"Consensual, intimate details are none of my business," she says. "But my job is to ensure quality performance from all employees. So I'd like to keep inquiring, if you don't mind."

"Sure, of course."

"Has any of this occurred in the office place? I'd like to know if there are any potential conflicts that may arise. You won't get in trouble. I'll keep this discreet."

Should I drop the bomb on her? I take a few moments to think and Dr. Guillard is waiting for my response. The elements in my heart want to come out, to reveal themselves and thrive in the open.

Finally, I decide to push things further. Part of this is Dr. Guillard's fault, after all.

"The first time I kissed Alice was when she wore red lipstick," I say, before sticking the ultimate jab to the psychologist. "The red lipstick that YOU gave her. I saw Alice leaving your office and she seemed different. When I stood close to her I realized what happened. I asked her about the red lipstick. She'd never worn lipstick before. Alice said you gave it to her, that you put it on her lips.

I continue, "A fire burned inside me, and the fire was the same color as the lipstick. Without a doubt, I had to have her. I knew she'd be mine that day. When we had privacy, she asked if the red lipstick made her more beautiful. She asked if it was okay to keep wearing it. I told Alice that her lips would be trained soon. The look on her face was priceless, I'll always remember it. Her jaw dropped and I could just smell her pussy, better than any perfume on the market.

I continue, "Late that afternoon, when employees started going home, I asked Alice to stay a little longer. We were in the midst of a multi-million dollar acquisition and I needed the help. The workload was legitimate, but the excuse was bullshit, I had other employees assigned to the job.

I continue, "We went to the storage room and I planted kisses across Alice's neck, and when she was primed, I gave her a sweet tongue kiss. It was pure romance, despite the boxes and supplies that surrounded us. My intern was swept away. But as she soon learned, romance isn't my thing. Kisses are nice, but my favorite is pussy licking. I taught Alice how to use those lips. She got on her knees and I exposed myself. It was Alice's first taste of a woman and she was nervous, but she's a natural. I gave her instructions on how I like to be pleased. Imagine those sweet lips of hers, pressing against my labia and clit. That red lipstick made it divine. I went home with Alice's lipstick kisses on my mound. I even took a picture of it, so I'll always have that image.

I continue, "That's been our relationship ever since. We work, we play, I teach her things, when there's enough privacy, she puts on a fresh coating of that Dior lipstick and goes down on me. I'm a generous woman. I go down on Alice, too. She tastes sweet, you know. She's succulent. I stuff my panties in Alice's mouth or else she'd scream. Her body shakes violently and she bites down on my panties when she cums. I love eating her out."

As expected, Dr. Guillard is speechless by the revelation. I'm flattered that I'm (probably) the first person in her career to leave her speechless.

"It's inappropriate to give that much detail," she says with a deep gulp.

"What's the matter? Did that catch you by surprise? Are you stunned that your red lipstick played a role in Alice's development as a sexually submissive young woman?"

Dr. Guillard pauses, holding a straight face. "I knew it was possible."

"Was it something you hoped would happen?"

"I hoped for Alice to find herself. To be an independent-minded person in the corporate world. Looks like I've made a miscalculation. By encouraging Alice to be more confident in the workplace, I've inadvertently driven Alice into your arms."

"To her knees," I clarify.

She clears her throat. "We should end this session. Thank you for the candor."

I understand why Dr. Guillard is kicking me out. I went too far and she's morally conflicted about her role in this situation. What an absolute turn-on.

When she opens the door, the sound of a bustling financial firm enters the once quiet room. Now we have to be careful about what we say, or else people can hear these forbidden secrets.

I put my hand on Dr. Guillard's shoulder before she leads me out.

"I'm a subtle operator," I say, keeping things vague. "I've been doing this a long time and I know when women are interested. So, are you interested?"

My hand slides down her arm, prompting her to step back and clench.

"Thank you for coming. I appreciate your time."

Her loss... for now...

Call it a weekly meeting to improve the work-life balance. Call it a session to increase productivity and foster a positive mindset. Call it whatever you want.

I get on my knees and Ms. Sanchez lifts her skirt. No panties underneath. She's sitting down on the couch with an expectant look on her face. We're in the psychologist's office and this is my 'performance review' to make sure this relationship runs smoothly.

Dr. Guillard is watching with keen eyes. It's definitely embarrassing having these two prominent women staring at me. The pressure is high and triggers a sense of anxiety. This is what I've agreed to, this is the life I've chosen.

I live to serve. That's the truth. I'm not supposed to say these things. I'm not supposed to admit it, or even think such thoughts. But it's the truth. My truth.

Landing a full-time job means I have a career path in this competitive city. A job here also means that I'm on my knees for Ms. Sanchez whenever the opportunity arises. My boss likes a certain way of being licked and I pride myself on being able to provide the best orgasms.

Being good wasn't an easy road. It took a lot of practice. At her suggestion, I have a supply of fresh peaches in my apartment, and each night I cut a peach in half to practice oral sex. It's a great way to train my tongue, along with getting fresh nutrients and fiber. If I had to compare, Ms. Sanchez tastes better than any peach.

My mother would go berserk if she knew that my tongue is gliding up Ms. Sanchez's labia, making her clitoris aroused. I've always felt guilty about that because my mother and Ms. Sanchez remain close friends. My mother enjoys getting updates about how I'm handling myself in a busy financial firm, and in exchange, Ms. Sanchez is happy to give me endless praise.

This may sound like a gross abuse of power, but I can assure you, dear reader, that's far from the truth. As I'm eating Ms. Sanchez with vigor, I wonder who's getting more pleasure. Me or her? She moans watching me perform. Her body twitches with each flick of my tongue, each suck from my lips. I give the best head, according to her.

But is she really having more pleasure than me?

Ms. Sanchez is gearing up for an epic orgasm, making an elegant mess in my mouth, enjoying the heavenly bliss that follows. The natural order of things. However, the feeling she receives may be fleeting. She's a busy woman and she'll be hustling after her cum. Will she remember me at night?

On the other hand, I will obsess over this after work. I'll go back to my crummy apartment and make myself cum, over and over again, replaying this event in my mind. When I lay down in bed before sleeping, I'll replay this moment again, wondering what I could do differently. How I can improve my evolving head technique. Surely there are new tools I can add to my repertoire.

That's what it means to serve. I'm going down on Ms. Sanchez and there's a burning sensation between my legs. The room smells of my dampness. I've learned to take pride in my blatant arousal. I also consider it a gift to Dr. Guillard because my fragrance is unique.

Ms. Sanchez always quivers before she cums and that gives me notice that my mouth is going to be flooded. It's my cue to swallow, to make sure I don't choke. Although she tastes good, the true pleasure I get from this is what her cum represents. It means I've given her the ultimate physical pleasure. It means that I've served her to the best of my ability. If I touch myself at this very moment, I could cum just as hard. That's how aroused I am from swallowing her delicious cum.

When I pull my mouth away, a string of saliva and cum hangs from my lips, and I'm treated to the sight of my work. Ms. Sanchez is a wreck, like she just survived a horrible accident, eye glazed, back hunched over. Her pussy fluids are dripping onto the floor and I grab a tissue from the table to clean the mess I've caused.

And then there's the red lipstick. It marked her clitoris with the shape of my mouth. It's a badge of honor. I get a twisted sense of delight, knowing that for the rest of the day, Ms. Sanchez will see the shape of my lips whenever she has to use the bathroom to pee. A gentle reminder that I did that.

Dr. Guillard 'thanks' me for the review. I've passed with flying colors, she says. When I look at the psychologist, her face is red and her legs cross. I recognize her body language. She reacts the same way that I react in these situations. There's no doubt in my mind that Dr. Guillard will finger-fuck herself after we leave. Probably for the days to come. She'll smile whenever she sees me.

Ms. Sanchez also thanks me, followed by a kiss on the lips. She stands while I remain kneeling and she fixes her clothes to look presentable. Of course, she leaves my lipstick kisses across her clitoris, labia, and crotch. As I mentioned, she'll be seeing those lipstick marks when she has to go pee. She fluffs her hair and smiles down at me.

I leave the office alongside my boss and we go separate directions. Our primary objective is to avoid raising suspicions. Ms. Sanchez glows from the power of an orgasm, and if we're walking side-by-side, it's a bad look. Way too obvious. The best office sex is secretive and intense, which she's teaching me.

The End

always remember ~~ you are important

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