Griff and Georgie: Dinner and Drive

Thanks to Mistress_Joli who wet my appetite (and how!) with "Griff and Georgie: An Office Romp". Read it—you won't be disappointed. This is a corresponding story. Perhaps there will be more episodes based on further collaboration. Let us know what you think.

* * * * *

One floor above me works Harvey Jameson, a businessman who knows how to close a deal and hire an attractive assistant. I'm a firm believer in both propositions from first hand experience, if you get my drift, or my name's not Griff Hawkins. His assistant, Miss Simpson, or Georgie as I've come to know her, has had some interesting times with me. That young lady certainly shows attention to detail, I'll give her that; she knows when to be discrete and when to throw all caution to the wind. There's a lock on my office door for that.

Now Harvey, he can smell a business deal a mile away like a bloodhound on a mission. He's not quite so good when it comes to noticing details about women. Oh he knows how to butter up a client something fierce, man or woman, but he hasn't noticed my affair with Miss Simpson yet and that's just how I mean to keep it. Oh, he knows I have an eye for her but he doesn't know just how far the two of us have taken things.

I have nothing whatsoever against Miss Simpson save for one thing which I'll elaborate in a moment, but I will say she's one smart cookie and doesn't miss a beat when it comes to both the business and the personal. Take my ties for instance. She made sure to gain intimate knowledge of my preferences and I have to admire how she has fulfilled my desires; whenever Harvey takes a shine to drop me a business present she picks out something mighty pretty that suits me to a tee. And as another example, take her underthings. The moment she found out I was likely to again rip off her panties, she obliged me by dressing in the cutest little things you ever did see. My oh my, that Georgie girl has a figure that sometimes drives me near insane.

She's without doubt the most sexy, most beautiful woman I've set eyes on. And that brings me to the one little thing that I do hold against her: she's a tease. There have been times when I'm sitting in my office holding a business meeting with clients, after one of Miss Simpson's lightning visits to drop by for a moment and impart business information or to drop off some papers, and she never fails to incite my deepest desires. I find it hard to concentrate after she's breezed through.

It was on one such day that I decided it was high time to teach her a lesson; not a bad lesson mind you but a lesson in teasing, pleasure and release, and that she was not the only one who could tease. Therefore I summoned her to my office late in the morning after just such a meeting. It was on a day when she had worn some deliciously lovely shoes highlighting her oh-so-sexy legs and had paraded them in front of me prior to the meeting but without sufficient time for me to do anything about it.

"Miss Simpson," I said when she entered my office, "please have Harvey read this memo and give me his thoughts. As for you, be ready to be picked up for dinner at six, and you can busy your imagination about what I have planned following that."

She closed my office door behind her and walked up to my desk.

"Griff, you have such a wicked smile on your face this morning. You must have something special in mind." She licked her red lips in her peculiarly suggestive way.

"Oh, indeed."

"Are you going to give me a hint of what's in store?"

"Miss Simpson, isn't it time you were going now?" I said with a glint in my eye.

She planted a lips-parted kiss on my mouth with more than a hint of tongue and was about to escape when I caught her back to me in a strong embrace. I could feel her breasts pressed against my chest while we kissed again, languidly, our hot tongues probing slowly as my hand rose behind her to clutch that wonderful round derriere and press the cleft of her thighs into my groin. I released her and showed her to the door, and noted with satisfaction that she seemed a bit weak in the knees.

* * *

The clock on the afternoon wall of my office seemed to tick in slow motion as I willed the hands around and around, thinking about that gorgeous face and smile one floor above me, relentlessly attached to the most desirable breasts, legs and thighs imaginable. Finally it was time to leave the office; I changed from my suit du jour into a pinstripe accompanied by shiny Italian leather shoes, added a hint of aftershave to my throat and whisked away in my convertible to pick up the waiting Miss Simpson. I arrived on the dot of six and she was ready—and boy was she dressed to kill in a black slip of a dress that didn't reach the knees and barely covered the tops of her gartered stockings. It had a daring neckline too.

"You like fruit, don't you Georgie?"

She was clearly nonplussed by this opening line as I guided her into the passenger seat and closed the door.

"As in a banana?" she said, giggling, after I revved up the engine and pulled away. I could see this would be a long evening.

"I know a particular banana you love," I said, changing lanes and accelerating, "but I had in mind something else, perhaps cherries or plums."

She thought that over and shot me a look.

"Griff, I can see you have definite ideas."

As I drove, I put my arm around her, snuggling her shoulder into me and let a finger drop lightly to the curve of her breast at the edge of the dress fabric. Oh yes, I had ideas all right.

We drew into the parking lot of an Italian restaurant we'd visited once before, and I could see Georgie was pleased since the previous time the food had been good. As I recall, the dessert had been better, with a long slow tongue savoring my shaft with a drop of whipped cream from a can squirted onto the head of my cock by a girl with a deliciously dirty sense of arousal.

On this occasion we were seated in a dark back corner, and I insisted on sitting side by side with Miss Simpson instead of us facing each other.

"Aren't we full of surprises tonight," she said after the waiter had taken our wine order.

"Wait and see," I replied, slipping a tiny ice cube out of my glass. Holding Georgie's eye to tease her, I put it on my outstretched tongue and lapped it up, then tried to sound very innocent.

"We're both grownups," I said, offering her a slice of bread that had been brought to our table. "I think we should discuss sex openly and without regard to the customs of normal dinnertime conversation in an establishment like this. For instance, Georgie, tell me truthfully, what technique would you like me to use when licking the oh-so-sensitive spot between your legs. I've had you suck me so often that I forget I rarely return the favor."

At that moment a waiter appeared with our wine and I could swear Georgie lit a shade of red, but the shadows in that part of the restaurant hid the greater part of her face. I swirled the wine in the glass, dipped in my nose and then took a sip. I nodded to the waiter who retreated discreetly.

Georgie took a sip of wine and then put down the glass firmly and took my arm, half whispering into my ear.

"Well Griff, the first thing to remember is that my clit is very sensitive and that you shouldn't pay it too much attention at first. Taste my outer labia and draw your tongue against me only lightly to begin with until you hear in my voice that I want more."

Her palm rested on my growing cock. My palm rested under the tablecloth on the edge of her dress with one finger lightly over her panties.

"Like this?" I said, moving my finger in light circles and brushing the fabric where I knew her clit would appear when it was swollen.

She gasped a little and reached for her glass of water. "Yes. Oh yes. Like that."

"I'll tell you what I would do then," I whispered back, not stopping with my finger. "I would lightly draw the length of my flat tongue against your cunt from top to bottom, increasing slowly in firmness, letting you feel the heat of my tongue flow to your pussy lips and pink clitoris. My wet tongue would slip inside you every once in a while to savor the juices rising from your core and drink in the delicious scent of your wetness. I would make an 'O' with my lips and suck your button ever so softly into the heat of my mouth, allowing you to feel the moistness of my soft lips. As I felt your clit swell I'd begin to suck a litter harder allowing the suction to pulse in time to your heartbeat, in time to your thrusting against my mouth..."

I stopped talking and simply kept stroking. My nose could almost detect a hint of the liquid perfume welling up from deep inside her.

"What next?" She panted in a whisper. There was an ache in her voice.

I gave one last stroke and withdrew my hand. She would have to wait.

Her eyes flicked over to me with a look of mixed agony and desire for wicked revenge. She gave my cock a squeeze and tried to control her breathing just as the waiter brought our entrees.

She ate her meal with an undisguised tendency for her tongue to take the flesh from the fork.

"Don't worry," I said to her looking her full in the eye, "you'll get your meat tonight."

For some reason we both ate more quickly than usual, though I tried to slow things down by suggesting dessert, but Georgie would have none of it.

"I think we should have dessert elsewhere," she said throatily.

"My place," I said.

The drive was some distance and the temperature had dropped, so I put up the top and we got into the car. As soon as we pulled away, Georgie reached over and undid my fly, undoing her seatbelt. I could see what she had in mind.

"Miss Simpson!" I said firmly. "Put that seatbelt back on this instant. And spread your legs."

She did as she was told and at that moment I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out a cherry. It was red and it was ripe, and I popped it down, under her dress and inside her panties before she knew was happening.

"Griff," she choked, "that's cold." But it wasn't cold for very long as my fingers rubbed it against her opening, up and down. Before I knew it, pop! It was inside her pussy lips with my finger pressing it up and rubbing in against her straining nob.

I circled the convertible around and began to drive out of town, edging onto the highway while Georgie ground into the cherry. She was getting so wet that the cherry was no longer large enough, but I was prepared. I pulled out the cherry and popped it into my mouth. She watched, not seeing my hand reach for the other fruit in my pocket, the plum. In no time its cool flesh was up against her open legs as if a large cock head were straining for entrance.

She shook off her shoes and planted her stockings against the windshield, crying out with a hunger that would not be denied. The plum was not a tiny one: it ground against her soaked pussy until her opening yielded and the warm fruit made entrance, followed by my fingers. She ground into it like there was no tomorrow while we sped up the highway under a moon enveloped by clouds.

"Ohhhh, Guhhh, Aggghh," I heard her pant before a frenzied clench of passionate guttural ecstasy.

I ate the plum, looking over at her. There was fire in her eyes. I could see that she wasn't satisfied yet.

We were in a secluded, forested area now, and I pulled over the car to the side of the road.

Inviting her out of the car, I undid my belt and let out my thick, hungry manhood. I pressed her back against the hood, ripped off her panties, and pressed up, up into her waiting flesh. I could feel the succulent folds of her tight cunt suck me inside with that first thrust. I waited a moment, luxuriating in the feeling of being up to the hilt inside her goddess-like spread legs.

"Please," she begged, "Griff, please. Hard."

I began to withdraw and then move back inside her, but instead of complying with her demand, I thrust in only part way three or four times and then suddenly pumped my entire cock so deeply into her that the head met her cervix.

"Griff!" she panted, "Griff," again and again as I repeated the half pumps and then the full, deep thrust, but I wasn't ready to go over the top yet.

I had to have her breasts. Still deep inside her. I pulled down the neckline of her dress and tongued a nipple. It was tight and hard, and I took it between my teeth, not exactly biting, but squeezing, and alternately sucking. Then, pinching the first nipple, I took the other into my lips, all the while feeling the thickness of my pink, pulsing penis increase inside her with each full thrust. I felt her body convulse two or three times before I lifted her legs over my shoulders and filled her tight, clenching pussy full with the meat of my cock.

Up to that moment she had been under my control, but at that moment Georgie looked me in the eye and squeezed the muscles of her thighs.

"Feel it," she said in the sexiest, dirtiest voice you can imagine, "feel my pussy."

I almost emptied myself right then and there, so powerful was the image: tight nipples showing in the curving, plunging neckline of a black dress and wet, succulent thighs, naked and full with my cock, below her garter belt.

Instead, I pulled out and turned her over, giving her a slap across her divinely curved ass.

"Wretch," she said, and struggled, but I held her.

"Fille facile," I whispered harshly, jerked down her stockings, pressed her onto her stomach against the hood and spread her naked legs. With one hand reached in front, I rubbed her clit with a large finger while the length of my cock took her from behind with rapid, full strokes.

Her breathing ascended in a crescendo once again, and I could feel the explosion ripple through her whole body from heat to toe. Moments later I came too.

It was the kind of orgasm where both of you can feel the steaming, ejaculating head spurting its hot liquid, deep inside.

We lay there in a heap, exhausted for some moments. Finally she turned around.

"Well," she said, "we still haven't made it to your place."

"No," I said, smiling that still hungry smile and licking my lips pointedly with my tongue. "And I have a taste for juice. Pussy juice."