Carnal Knowledge in Corporate America

He asks deliberately, "you like being fucked so hard" in a tone completely engulfed by lust and far removed from his ordinarily calm, demur manner. He pulls almost all the way out and shoves it back in – again and again. I am, for the moment, his completely, unmercifully butt-fucked and in heaven. As I stare out of the glass into the open space, Chris pushes harder and knowledgeably pounds my prostate as my eyes roll back into near unconsciousness.

Eventually, Chris' pole can no longer hold back the flood and mutters something about coming. With each load of hot, thick cum he releases, he shivers. He holds the last stroke deep in me and collapses forward atop me. We stand there naked, both leaning on the glass before the unknowing world below, 500 feet in the air, with Chris' cum-slathered dick plowed deep inside me. We try to find normal breathing.

We finally stand, but immediately collapse in each others' arms on the sofa. We passionately embrace and kiss to share our appreciation of what we have accomplished together.

Finally, we stand and dress, and as we do Chris looks at me.

"Please don't tell anybody about this. I mean..."

I hug him tightly and speak gently into his ear. "Our secret is safe."

Well, there you have it; one of the better days in my life. Chris went back to his abode and poured himself into his studies with a new appreciation of human anatomy. I slyly grin at the remarks by a good friend the next day about the greasy body smears all over the glass, suggesting that I must have properly instructed the hot, new receptionist on answering my calls.

And you? Looking up from the freeway at my building, you mutter "I always knew what hypocritical fuckers you are on the other side of the glass." And while your small dot of a car glides along in the distance, I think in reply "fair enough, but if you worked just a little harder, you could be up here in the glass box too."