Colleagues with Benefits

You sigh deeply as you step from the Uber, hauling your heavy backpack with you as you emerge onto the busy street, the sounds of engines accelerating and horns blaring coming to you from the major roadway nearby. You wave to the driver, thanking him for the trip, and turn to face your office block as he pulls away from the roadside and into the afternoon throng. You exhale again. It had been one hell of a long day. Unresponsive servers, problematic software, troublesome computers, and topping it all off, hellish clients. But at least you have something to look forward to, waiting for you in that office, you hope, feeling yourself twitching in earnest even at the thought of it. You shake it from your mind for the time being, however, and gather yourself.

It wasn't much; a modest building nestled in behind an apartment block and a multi-story, multi-generational office complex, part old 50's building, all red-bricks and arched windows, and part ultra-modern additions, itself all glass and white-on-black aluminum and steel. The result was a three-way-sandwich of cover that shaded the once garden shed (or perhaps servant's quarters?) in near all-day cover, and an office that looked decidedly out of place. It housed little more than a makeshift boardroom separated from a squad of desks by an added glass partition. There were even old-fashioned shelves and fixtures still on the walls, half of them painted over. And one of those desks was yours.

You turn the handle and find the door open. A good sign, you think to yourself as you step inside, hoping that one person, and one person alone, is waiting inside. You grin as you see her arm through the doorway.

'Hey!' You say as she turns, smiling at you.

'Hey.' She responds, pushing her chair back with her knees as she stands, stretching herself out in long needed respite from the lengthy sit. You pass her and toss your bag down, slumping into a couch chair that sits beside the desks. You're hopeful, but even now, even after having successfully triggered it three times by this point, you're still afraid one of these times it's not going to work, and you're going to be left sitting there like a HR-meeting-to-be.

She seems to be looking at you as she reaches for her laptop, sliding papers off the old MacBook's closed lid and reaching for the power cable. For all you know, she might just be checking that it's plugged in. Or...

'Well,' you begin, 'I can't say much for their infrastructure. Their server was outdated and showing a BIOS fault, half their desktops still use hard drives, and don't even get me started on the boss. He--and his feral little PA--were like two angry cats, just looking for something to scratch and hiss at.' As you speak, you shuffle your thumbs around the waistline of your pants, lifting your tucked-in shirt from its rather sweaty grasp, eyeing her as she opens the lid and begins typing something. You'd take this as a bad sign, but a moment later, she reaches for her own waistband and begins pressing the button through the front of her pair of jeans, quickly and immodestly slipping her flat palmed hands around her own waist as she begins shimmying them down, over her bubble-like rear end. You stiffen even as you reach for your own fly, watching her undress as casually as if this were part of the everyday workplace routine.

Only you knew that it practically was part of the everyday workplace routine.

It had taken a few months to get to this point, but you had known you wanted her even since your first time meeting her, when she had been far more dressed up than this jumper-and-jeans getup. It had been at a function put on by her--and your--boss, presenting the IT stack his company offers. He had been in a neat blue and silver suit, and she had worn an embroidered white dress, her hair up tight in a circular shape on her head. You shook her hand, heard her introduce herself as Samantha, felt her cool fingertips in your own warm palm. Her figure had practically been all you could look at, and a month later you began working in their team, freshly employed. She was still as good looking in an off-green jumper and jeans as she was in that dress, and you knew you wanted in, badly. You took your time, working away until you could gain access to her computer, sneaking onto it when she went out for lunch one afternoon. You installed the program that you had paid way too much for online, watched it disappear from existence on her system, and removed your USB from the computer's interface, hoping beyond hope that it would work.

At first, there had been no way to tell. Her outward attitude had been as normal as ever, but you gave it time. More time than you were told you needed to, just to really let it sink in. It didn't help that you could only watch her closely for any reaction to the program when no one else was in the office, not to mention when you were in the office, running all over the place seeing clients as you often were. And then, finally, nearly six months in, the time came. You were alone together in the office, knowing the boss wouldn't be back that afternoon. It had been the first chance you'd had in months, long past the initial point where she should have been ready. You stepped from your desk, eyeing her closely, looking to see if she might respond...

Samantha slips the jeans over her hips and down her thighs, bending over as she discards the material on the floor around her ankles. 'So, how did it go? Did you get the problem solved?' She asks you, as casually as if you were both sitting across the coffee table, apparently unaware of her body's actions. She puts her hands either side of the jumper she has on, criss-crossed in front of her, as women across the world are given to doing, and in one fluid motion, pulls the off-green fabric over her head, her unkept shirt pulling across her chest as she does so. You eye the breasts beneath it, knowing what hides there as you reach for your fly and lower it, pressing your own button free and quickly slipping your trousers over your hips, revealing yourself in your underwear, a bulge already growing between your legs. You had nearly forgotten what you had been talking about as you watched her undress.

'Yeah, we made it work in the end. Had to rebuild the server profile from the ground up; resyncing the network, reinstalling the management software, and even the domain link was gone.' As you speak, you unbutton your shirt, pulling it open as you finish undoing the buttons, allowing your chest to breathe freely at long last. You're sweaty from your day removing and reinstalling servers, carting around faulting laptops, hoisting desktop computers to and from desks, and doing about a hundred other intensive tasks - but what you're about to do isn't going to help with that whatsoever. 'But in the end, Frank wrote a script for the domain stuff, and I managed to recover the network configs and reinstall them. Once the network was back up, we could sync their computers to the server much more easily.'

As you spoke, Samantha repeated the gesture of removing her jumper once more, now using it to pull her decidedly casual "T-Swift" shirt over her head. You trail off as you look at the cleavage now presented between the cups of her black bra, your cock starting to take over the task of thinking. You watch her hands slide back down to her hips, passing over her curves as her thumbs hook into the modest black fabric there and begin to draw it downwards. Her eyes still stare into yours, two small black orbs of intensity that, in any other circumstance, would have almost been grilling. They were; but exposed as she is, and preoccupied as you are, their focus is lost on you. Your gaze flicks down to the silhouetted shape of her body as it reveals itself between her thighs, and the last vestiges of professional strength ebb from your mind as you slip out of your head and into your body. You reach for your underwear and draw it away as Samantha picks up her MacBook and walks up to you, now almost completely naked save for the black bra which keeps her breasts at bay. It was the same black bra she had been wearing the first time.

She was gorgeous. You knew she worked out, yes, but holy smokes, you thought as you watched Samantha's jacket slip from her arms, she was hot. She stepped from her own desk, moving towards you as she began to unbutton her shirt, allowing your hands to slip between the slackening folds of her clothing and over her breasts. They're soft, warm, intense. They feel like two round pillows and fit perfectly in your hands. Samantha seemed unphased even as you squeezed each in turn, cupping them both and running your fingertips over the flesh of her bosom. She just continued to stare into your eyes, her face blank. If anything, she looked--quizzical, or inquisitive, as though she was curious as to what you would do with her next. Nothing in any part of her attitude told you she did not wish for you to continue, and you did not stop.

Her shirt fell free from her body, and you pushed it from her shoulders, watching her chest press forwards as her arms went back. The only thing that forced your touch from those two perfect bulbs was the intimation of something greater, which beckoned you from below, and as your hands descended towards it, hers pulled free the grip of her pants, allowing them to slacken for you so that your searching fingertips could slip unrestricted over her soft navel. Your touch met warm fabric as your fingertips slid along a gently curving shape, the shape of her most sacred space, until they met a heated, slightly damp core that seemed to welcome your touch in ever closer, ever deeper. You could feel her wetness, feel the warmth emanating like vaginal exhalations as she breathed, as if her second set of lips were panting in time with her first. You watched those upper lips part as she gasped slightly at your touch, the edge of her teeth appearing between them, and couldn't resist. As your touch pressed slightly harder into her sex, you put your face against hers, and felt the soft touch of both sets of her lips at once for the very first time.

Samantha's naked body nears yours and you ready yourself, making sure you're in a good position as the nearly naked woman steps casually over your legs, straddling you. You keep your chin out of the way as she transitions to kneeling on the sofa either side of you, feeling the warmth of her hairless calves slipping against your much hairier thighs as she shuffles into the space directly above your body. You're throbbing already, despite not even having touched yourself yet, but you don't care. You know as well as your body does that it yearns for what's about to happen. You've had a long, hard week, and now you're going to work all that stress out on a wonderful fuck.

'So, our to-dos.' Samantha says casually even as she works herself into place, inches above your body, the setting far too intimate for a workplace discussion. She speaks as if this is the most normal thing in the world. Go Russian malware, you think to yourself as you reach between her straddling thighs to hold yourself upright for her.

'We had: one, restore server functionality. Two, check network connectivity, including additional networks. Three, check user device connectivity--' she stumbles for a moment as her body begins to lower itself. By now, you're used to how she sets herself up, and you've got yourself pointed exactly in the right direction. In moments, you go from feeling her body around yours, to feeling the damp extremities of her pussy parting over your erect helmet as she sits atop you, your manhood pressing into her tight entranceway with an easy, constant pressure. You let out an uncontrollable groan, and her voice falters, one hand grasping your arm to stabilise herself as she feels the penetration with every bit as much pleasure as you do. Fuck, you think to yourself as you feel the warm embrace of her love-cave descending slowly along your length. THIS is what you've been needing!

'Three,' Samantha resumed, not stopping her slow descent even as she lifted her MacBook up into place, sitting its corner on your upper chest and opening the lid to type more notes out, 'check user device connectivity, to... Toooho confirm network functionality. Four, ffuhirmware update all non-critical deviuhnces, and five, check-mmh-check-unh-check in with s-staff for any further uhn-points.'

Her speech is bouncy and disjointed now as she speaks through slow lifting and descending motions, her body working to raise and lower her along your cock in a tender, torturously slow pace. You push up into her, feeling yourself extending to nearly the furthest of your reach as she descends again, your stiffening length pressing against her tight walls. You're not usually one for quick releases, but after the week you've had and the intensity of her cunt, you're not sure you'll last until the really heavy stuff. You don't care; sex with Samantha has always existed in a sort of negative space, a void. Her subliminal commands, programmed into her mind through months of surreptitious hypnotic and indoctrinating images and sounds overlayed on her screen and played through her computer's headphone jack thanks to the malware you purchased online, had made sure that she would always be willing and ready to perform as if it were a normal task, so trivial and non-important that she would hardly even notice she was doing it. It was good stuff, too; Samantha was always ready for it, never asked or waited for you to initiate, and was always tight and wet. It was like a personal living sex doll - a real life one. It was every bit as good as it had been the first time you'd taken her fully.

The kiss quickly grew more passionate, and you were surprised to feel her tongue naturally slipping from her mouth and into yours, experience guiding her from allowing the rough edge to ever scrape against your own, keeping it as soft and supple as her pussy felt. You could feel her hips rolling slightly as your fingertips pulled the fabric of her panties aside, and a slight bubble of air passed from her mouth into yours as she sighed in response to your bare touch on her folds.

She was as wet as she could be, and you could hear the soft sounds of her body moving beneath your touch as your fingertips began to curl into her depths, slowly at first, then deeper and deeper. She moaned softly, needily, a throaty sound rather than from her mouth, spurring you on as you twisted your touch further between her lips. You could feel her tight entranceway around your fingers as it gave way to a somehow tight yet spacious interior; the depths of her pussy. It felt impossibly intricate, as if thousands of individual sections were all reaching in to grasp your hand in a slick, warm embrace, and yet inexplicably simple, the simplicity of one singularly purposed, specifically built space. You knew without shadow of doubt in that moment that you needed to be inside her, whether or not her induction had made sure she was ready for it.

You led her by her cunt, as if pulling her, hooked inside her body. She followed you without resistance, her eyes locked on yours, waddling slightly around the half-removed pants and your hand. You reached for your own waistline, grasping at your belt, smiling gladly as you saw her hands come up to assist you, allowing her to do most of the hard work in unlooping your belt, and allowing you to focus on sawing your fingers slowly back and forth in her pussy, watching her placid features as she began to breathe more and more heavily, gasping at the pleasure you brought her. A few seconds later, your trousers fell from your waist, and three hands made quick work of your underwear, those quickly joining the discarded pants. You lowered yourself onto the chair, feeling your length pressing up against your navel as you descended, but you didn't care. All you could think of was that it was mere seconds away from being buried inside Samantha.

Samantha lifts her MacBook from your chest and rests it on the headrest of the chair, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the headrest either side of your head, repositioning herself for better motion and greater pleasure even as she begins to pump herself back and forth along your length with greater intensity. You don't care; the position puts her breasts directly in front of your face, and you delight in reaching up to grasp them, easily sliding your hands into each cup and lifting the two mounds from their embrace.

Samantha's breasts are as complimentary to her figure as the rest of her shapely, gently curving body. They are a perfect size; big enough to be full and round, filling out a proper bra, but small enough to remain perky and separated, as if each is a small balloon suspended on her chest, doing their best to resist gravity's pull. Leaned forward as she is over you, and resting atop her bra, they look perky and tight, pushing up towards your face. You groan as you feel Samantha's cunt tighten around you in ecstasy, and feel a wave of ejaculative pleasure rush through your body, signifying the impending orgasm your body is building to.

Taking her left breast in your hand, you lift it to your mouth and press the soft nipple between your lips, gently scraping your teeth over the flesh without biting as you touch the tender region. Samantha gasps above you and you close your lips, suckling gently on the nipple as Samantha quickens her pace, a gentle slapping now emanating from where her backside meets your thighs with each descending pump. Tired as you are, you allow her to do most of the work, enjoying her ministrations as she manages to work nearly your entire length with each motion, never rising high enough to free you from her vaginal grasp, while always going low enough for you to feel the touch of her upper edge on your navel. You intend to help her out, too, you think to yourself as you picture what's hiding beneath that very upper edge, but not just yet. You're preoccupied with two other erotic objects first. Grinning to yourself, you slip the now erect nipple through your teeth, just enough that she should feel the slight scrape and squeezing pop as it passes through, and switch to her right breast, once again taking the cold flesh up in your mouth and converting it to a warm, stiff mass. Samantha just gasps and moans as she types away on her MacBook, her brain completely disconnected from her body's current occupation, still attentively working. You can't figure out how she can think to write while a fuck like this is going down, but figure, not for the first time, that you have the expensive malware to thank for it. You remember being similarly shocked the first time you had slipped into her wonderful depths, even more nervous about the hypnotic malware's effects than you were today.

You grunted as you felt Samantha's weight descending over you, feeling the intimacy of her touch all around your body - her calves, her thighs, her torso. You slipped your hand along her side, feeling her shape in your palm even as your other hand continued to twist inside her body, now pressed up between her legs and your own. You looked down to see your stiff manhood standing to attention directly before her body, your arm right next to it as it reached down to her wet cunt. She looked down too, seeing it for the first time. You were scared for a moment that she might break, that her programming might fail, and that she might wake up with you lying here, compromised in this way - but she didn't. Instead, she tucked a strand of her black hair over her ear and bit her lip, looking up at you as she rocked her hips into your touch. You felt her pussy twitch and tighten as she saw your length, and knew it aroused her even more. Looking to her body, from this angle, you could see her directly behind your length, almost as if you were looking at a side-by-side comparison of the two compatible body parts. From where you were sitting, it looked as if you might extend half-way up into her stomach. The thought did nothing to dissuade your as you felt her begin to shuffle upwards, her body rising up in readiness, needing it; needing you.