Guilty Pleasures Ch. 12

"There might be some budget requirements," Freddie put in, tentatively but hopefully.

Thalia just cocked an eyebrow at that, then slid fully into the room. "How about I save you memo-writing time and you guys just tell me about it briefly while I'm here," she said, walking the length of the room to grab a spare chair from against the wall. She pulled it over to shove herself right up next to me at the head of the table. She didn't displace my position, but she was right there next to me.

She was wearing one of her best new suits--one of the more form-flattering ones, and one with a skirt. I got a nice view of her legs as she settled in right next to me.

I twitched the side of the suit coat I was wearing across my lap casually. The table didn't hide my situation from Thalia's sudden new viewpoint.

Like an angel from heaven, Thalia took control of the meeting with invisible reins. She coaxed a concise, five minute outline of her idea from Carrie Anne, who alternated between enthusiastic advocacy for her idea, and shooting adoring glances in my direction. She knew how easy it would have been for Freddie, or especially me, to claim credit for what she had come up with. Instead, I had put her in the spotlight with the President.

Teacher's Pet was beside himself with irritation. Teacher's Pet could suck it.

Thalia asked two questions, the answers to which encapsulated an hours worth of rambling discussion. Then I saw her look down at my paper with my tiny little agenda on it in front of me. My tiny little agenda that had consumed two hours of eleven highly-paid employees', along with two senior executives' time this afternoon.

My tiny little agenda with only one item checked off, and a sea of frustrated doodles surrounding the second, untouched item.

Effortlessly, she brought up that second item, while making it seem like I had, and we banged it out in record time.

Recognizing a gift when I saw it, I quickly adjourned the meeting before Freddie could try to metastasize it further. Carrie Anne, who might be a nerd, but who also saw career-enhancing opportunities when she saw them, volunteered to write up her idea that evening and shoot it to Freddie and me, so we could forward it to Thalia with our 'enhancements'. She said all this smoothly while Thalia was still right there.

Somewhere, in this little code geek's background, probably an uncle or aunt, there was an Operator who had taught the girl well...

I shooed my team out swiftly, telling them to either get back to work or go home. The half that should have gone home trooped back toward their cubicles. The half that should have stayed and gotten some work done, headed for the exit.

Sigh.

Most of Freddie's team took their cue from my instructions and filed out as well. Freddie himself fled, pursued by two of the biggest offenders in the time-wasting nature of this meeting. Suddenly, I was alone in the room, cleaning up the space. My name was on the reservation, after all.

Thalia had stuck around, looking amused.

"Thank you," I said fervently. "I worship the ground you walk on." I would have not gotten out of there before 6:30 as best, I realized.

Thalia snorted. "It's my superpower," she shrugged. Then she smiled oddly. "And I thought you worshipped the ground your accountant girlfriend walks on."

My accountant girlfriend? Oh, she had met Monica, that one day at lunch, hadn't she?

I actually blushed a little. "Monica? Um, she wasn't my girlfriend back when you had lunch with us that day."

"Status change since then, hmm?" Thalia laughed. "Ah, well..." she sighed and wafted out of the door. I watched her waft. It was a helluva waft. And really, since when was she wafting again?

And, 'Ah well...'?

*

I called Monica from my car as I raced home.

"I'm on my way, delicious," I said when she answered.

"You have surfaced!" she said merrily. "I considered starting without you, but it is no fun telling sexy stories to a vibrator."

Vibrator? That was a new thing for her to talk about...

"Well, I think we both have some sexy stories to tell this evening," I grinned into the phone.

"Oh really? Do tell! Who?" Monica asked, all innocent.

"Don't pretend, wench! Carol let me read your texts with her," I snorted.

"Busted," Monica laughed. "But that was naughty of her to show off our conversation to you!"

"She was being terribly sweet about making sure there was no way she was screwing up anything between the two of us," I said, fondly.

"And once she was done being convinced, I assume she continued being sweet to you?"

I just laughed smugly. Jesus, now I was being goddamned smug about banging these girls...

"Just you coming, right? No work buddies tagging along from whatever meeting from hell you were stuck in?" Monica asked.

"Fuck no! Not given what I have in mind!" I shook my head, a useless gesture when on the phone. "And I really am sorry. It was my own meeting and it still got out of control. I had to be rescued by Thalia."

"Oooh! If no work buddies, are you bringing Hot Boss home with you?"

I hung up before the conversation had me too distracted to safely drive.

I was still too distracted to safely drive.

I pulled into my garage and entered the house. There I found Monica on the couch in the living room with a still nearly full glass of red wine and Wheel of Fortune just coming on the TV.

The juxtaposition of her casually watching game shows with her casually lounging on the couch, wearing the not-for-public-viewing robe we had bought for her to have at my place was immediately threatening the structural integrity of my trousers.

The robe concealed absolutely nothing. It was more like an almost invisible emerald cloud around her body. The fact that she sported only a very nice, if tiny, pair of panties underneath just made her twice as raunchy as if she were completely naked under there. It was the first time I'd seen her wearing it properly, and I instantly resolved to sneak back to the store and buy it for her in the other two available colors.

Wordlessly, I started to undress myself, right there in the living room. I took care with the coat and trousers at least. If I yanked them off, I'd have had to have them pressed again at least.

"Wine or beer?" asked Monica, siding to her feet. Oh, she had matching green heels on too!

"Beer," I mumbled with effort, eyes locked on her as I struggled with my tie.

She turned and wafted into the kitchen.

It was a waft that put Thalia's, in that concealing business suit, to shame. But Thalia's had still been a very nice waft...

I was down to my boxers by the time Monica returned, my beer even poured into a frosty glass from the freezer. She walked toward me, picking up her wine along the way. She was letting those four inch heels do everything to her walk that four inch heels can do to a woman's walk, and my iron hard-on was back in force.

She handed me the beer, we toasted wordlessly and drank. We drank in each other too.

I lifted a hand and trailed the back of its fingers down and over a green-skimmed breast, reveling in the hard bump of her nipple pressing against the sheer fabric.

Monica reached forward and cupped the tent in my underwear, humming in appreciation. Then she set her wine glass down as she flowed to her knees before me. She tugged on my shorts, and slipped them down, leaving my cock waving happily in the breeze.

"You know," she mused, "you have never been very forthcoming with details about any of the girls. I hope you know that you are going to be very detailed about Carol this evening..."

I let her ditch the underwear because, well I was tired of even the loose boxers constricting my erection.

But, I had other ideas.

I actually stepped back a half step before she could lean in on my cock.

"I did, in fact, warn her that I was going to give you a literal blow-by-blow of what we did," I chuckled. "I think it turned her on a little, and weirded her out a lot. But I'm going to put a pin in that tale for now." I grabbed her hand and pulled her back to her feet, then walked her toward the couch. I sat on the cushions on one side, and Monica accommodatingly sat beside me, a little deeper on the couch.

"For right now, I demand to hear about the repair, refit, and rehabilitation mission, successful or not!" As I spoke, I tightened the bow in the sash holding the robe closed at her waist, so it would not come free. Then I gently tugged the lapels of the garment wide, exposing an expanse of cleavage. Her nipples were still only visible through the green haze, but I had her looking even more sexy now.

Monica giggled, then started to get into her story. Just convincing the poor kid to give himself another chance with her had been a chore, and Monica regaled me with the tale with good humor. For my part, I slid off the couch and spread her knees slightly.

I lifted one magnificent leg and ran my cheek along the side of her foot in that amazing high-heeled pump. The storytelling we were engaging right then was my biggest kink, our biggest kink. But as far as other kinks go, I honestly do not see foot fetishes as part of my stable of deviancy. That said, I was quite turned on by those shoes at that moment, and they deserved a little love.

A little. I needed to start working my way up that leg. And that leg just kept getting better the further I went, of course.

"I finally, finally... oh that's nice, finally got his pants down and my lips wrapped around that huge knob... get on with it will you, please? And damned if the poor boy just went off again! If he had a second's warning himself, I'd be surprised."

I tugged the panties aside and dipped my tongue within her. Monica crooned as I delved into her already crazily turned on pussy.

"There... still was not a problem with volume or flavor, for... ohhhhh... for that matter," Monica said, gamely keeping her story going as I worked. "But the poor... ungh, beautiful boy looked like he was going to open a vein. Oh, fuck yeah, just like that!" She paused for a moment as I briefly addressed the wonder of her clit. But only briefly, I knew there had to be more story. Hopefully a lot more story.

Gathering her wits as I reverted to teasing around her hips and lower belly with both mouth and fingers, Monica continued. "I had to physically hold him there, he wanted to bolt so badly. It took liberal application of naked... mmm, nice... naked Monica to his person to keep him in the room, and to... oh, do that again, please... to convince him that I wasn't upset. Also, it took a little work to convince him that his member was not down for the count.

"But not that much work," I suggested, letting my fingers trail up and down her slit, just barely touching. "Naked Monica, topically applied, should make Viagra look like a placebo!"

"Thank you," she grinned down at me, grooving for a moment to my work, instead of her story.

"And how did things turn out?" I asked, before letting my tongue dip to follow the strokes of my fingers.

She didn't answer directly, but resumed her story. "I tried a simple handjob next, figuring it would give me the most control, and just kept bringing him to the edge, then backing him off. And I did it over, and over, and over, and over..." She seemed hung up on what I was doing with my tongue... So I stopped doing it. "And over, until he started managing a decent interval between pauses," she finished, glaring at me. She knew what I was doing.

"When I first tried to add... a little tit action, rubbing my nipple against that beast, I almost lost him in the very first... second," she murmured, her eyes mostly closed now in remembrance and from pleasure. "But the boy held on, and held on all on his own. That felt really good, and you could tell he knew he'd done it too." I pressed my fingers inside her, curling them up and stroking the roughness of her pleasure spot.

Monica gasped, and started talking a little faster. "After a few more minutes, after he'd... shown me he could handle, uhrm, a few licks on the head, he moaned and said, 'I've just got to come!' Rather than slow down this time, I jacked harder and pressed him back between my boobs, telling him to give it to me."

I pressed gently on her gee, and suckled hard on her clit. Monica shrieked happily, and then started babbling through her orgasm with phrases like, 'all the spooge', and 'painted my tits' interspersed with utter nonsense.

When she sagged, I lifted my head and smiled at her. "So you did it!"

"The boy did it. I just coached him," she panted, the smugness in her voice warring with the modesty of her words.

I let my fingers rise from inside her, and lifted my face from her slit, but I stayed in the neighborhood, tracing the outlines of her hips and navel, audibly inhaling her scent.

"Oh Christ, you aren't done, are you?" Monica asked in a voice that was half despair, half jubilation.

"Neither are you, are you?" I asked. "With the story?"

Monica sagged back against the couch and sighed. "Of course not. The selfish part of my motivation the whole time was wanting to make sure that I would at least have time to work that whole thing inside me before it went off."

"And you managed?" I asked, sliding up to lay my body atop hers as she reclined on the couch.

"Oh yeah," she sighed, while I nuzzled the side of her neck and let my hand slide inside her robe.

"And how awesome was it? Are big dicks really some kind of next-level experience?" I asked, finding that I was genuinely curious, and not (very) jealous. Okay, I was prepared to be jealous.

Monica just sighed and pressed her chest forward into the palm of my hand. I went back to nuzzling. My fully hard dick (and its ordinary dimensions) pressed tightly against her thigh.

"I think you could say that they are their own thing," she said, after due consideration. "I mean, it was fun, and made for its own set of sensations. I won't turn another down in the future, but I also don't need a steady diet, either. That is for sure!"

"I hope not!" I chuckled.

"Dipshit," Monica said, slapping the back of my head affectionately. "Of course, your dick is the best dick..."

"Of course," I added.

"Well, it is," she said with gratifying certainly. "And I am definitely on Team What You Do With It Is What Counts, regardless of your own very satisfactory dimensions, Clark." She moaned softly as I began to lick her throat. "But, yeah, if another wonder dick comes along, I'm going to certainly see what it can do."

"Ah ha!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm busted," Monica laughed. "Just like, if some opportunity with manongahelas even bigger than Wanda's comes along, you won't, um, dive in?"

"Busted as well," I said. "But now it is time to tell me about getting railed by the man-horse!"

"Eh," Monica said, with a genuine off-handedness. "Like I said, it was a unique sensation. And it felt good, don't get me wrong... amazing in some ways. And he did last at least a little while. But he obviously couldn't know what he was doing yet, because I was the first female he'd ever gotten it fully inside. Unfortunately, that inexperience meant I never got close to an orgasm."

She sat up, with a naughty gleam in her eyes. "I'm much more interested in how the meal I had delivered went!"

I chuckled and went into my story. For much of it, we just cuddled, hands all over each other, but in a mostly low-level, erotic sort of way. Neither of us were getting serious again yet.

"So you had seriously never fucked her face to face?" Monica asked, as I described the fun of sinking into Carol while I bit her lower lip.

"No, actually," I said. "That girl seriously likes it from behind."

"My naughty little buddy," Monica chuckled, shifting against me in a more purposeful manner than she had been exhibiting for a while. "So you finally got to see her O-face? What was it like?" Her hand stole down, and for the first time in quite a while, she wrapped it around me, rather than just caressing my length.

"I did not," I snorted, suddenly a little crabby that I had not. "The girl is committed to being in a rut about how she ruts. After only a few minutes, she was crawling out from under me and heading for the stairs."

"Heading for our bed, was she?" Monica asked, and I took note at the way she worded that.

"No, just headed for the stairs," I smiled.

"You fucked on the stairs? On the landing, you mean?"

"No. On the upper run. We went up around the bend so the Amazon driver wouldn't see us through the sidelights of the front door if he showed up with a late package."

"How does fucking on the stairs even work?" Monica asked, suddenly very invested in the tale.

"It was..."

"Show me," she said, pulling me to my feet and dragging me toward my stairs.

Now I was suddenly very invested in the idea of a demonstration, even if...

Monica let her robe slip off as she bounced up the stairs, around past the landing, and lay back on the upper run, eyes gleaming at me hungrily.

"If you want the demo, you gotta remember," I began.

"Oh yeah, Carol is in a rut..." Monica laughed, and rolled over onto her belly. Her arms crossed in front of her on a high step, hands on opposite elbows, and her sleek, curvy ass wiggled invitingly at me.

Here we go again, I thought, as I climbed over her. I let my eager cock drag back and forth over her butt, and along her crack for a glorious bit, before I pushed her legs a bit further apart and nestled my tip against her labia.

With a single slow stroke, I entered her. She was tight as always, but wildly turned on, and I was able, with only some resistance, to delve into her without a whole lot of delay. "Oh, fuck yeah," Monica crooned.

I resumed my story as I thrust into her. Doing it on the stairs was seriously hot.

It was also seriously uncomfortable, just like it had been with Carol, and was brutal on my knees...

"It's great, right?" I said, pausing my story to just revel in the way my cock was burying itself right at the moment. "But..."

"Yeah, it is not a comfortable screw, is it?" Monica replied, still wiggling her ass hard back against me as I thrust.

"Nope. But it does have its merits," I went on, slipping a hand around and under her. Her breasts swayed freely between the edge of one stair and the next, and it was fabulous to be able to reach in and grab her like this. And the 45 degree angle at which we were lying was so very unusual.

"Oooooh, yeahhhh," Monica moaned as I teased a swaying nipple. Her forehead bent to press against the edge of the top stair. "Serious... unnh... merits."

I was letting the story lapse for a bit, far more concerned about preserving my knees, and not crushing Monica against the edges of the risers. And mostly concerned about making sure the head of my penis was stroking her internal pleasure center with each shallow stroke, a task that was absurdly easy in this otherwise awkward position.

"Clark?"

"Yes, unh, Monica?"

"Did you finish in her like this, or is there more to the tale?"

"No, this... is how we... finished here," I grunted.

"Good! Then forget the story and finish this amazing but... seriously uncomfortable fuck, would you. Come in me, Clark. Do it hard. Then you can get the fuck off of me, okay?"

I just chuckled. I existed to do her bidding, so I was glad to come. But she was coming first...

Okay, we came close enough to simultaneously that it didn't matter. What mattered was that neither of us could really think clearly for a while in the aftermath, barely able to figure out how to disentangle ourselves and sit on the stairs, cuddling against each other.

"During that tale," I said, finally gathering my wits, "you said something that made me think. You called it 'our bed'."

"I'm sorry," Monica began.

"I'm not!" I said swiftly. "That is our bed. Ours alone. Whatever fun we have with others, it should not be in that bed."