London Calling

"Tell me what you need, Charlotte," he said.

"I need to cum," I softly groaned.

"I think you know how to ask," he replied.

"Please, Andrew. I need to cum," I said more loudly this time.

"That doesn't sound as sincere as it should, Charlotte," he said, pressing his fingers inside me with more strength, his free hand holding on to my hip for leverage. He was looking straight in to my eyes, and somehow his eyes still displayed calm while I figured mine must have looked a glazed-over mess.

"Andrew, please. I need you to make me cum. I need it," I began to beg.

"Now that's better," he said calmly.

His fingers deftly worked faster and harder, my head thrown back, my right hand inadvertently moving to my breast. I caught a glimpse of him watching me manipulate it. My breathing was ragged, the groans rhythmic. I'd never felt a sustained build up like this before and it was unreal. There's no other way to describe it.

"My dear, cum for me," he whispered closely to me. "Let go. Cum for me."

He kept the pace of his fingers, but brought his lips to the tops of my heaving breasts, gently sliding them across my skin. He nipped at my jaw line, and I could feel his wet hot breath on my neck. I needed him to kiss me, I longed for it, but he didn't. He kneeled there and waited for me to cum on his hand.

And cum I did.

My hips bucked against his hand, thankful for his strong grip on my hip. My chest became flushed, nipples as stiff as I thought possible. My hands were stretched behind my head, gripping on to the chair. I tried to keep my eyes open, my eyes on him, but I couldn't. The waves seemed to be never ending. First a huge wave, flooding my body with a rush of endorphins. Then smaller waves that felt better than the first. They kept coming as he kept manipulating my cunt.

His hand slowed, and the sparks slowed with it. My legs twitched slightly, and when his fingers pulled out of me, their wetness was unmistakable. He continued to make a large circle on the outside of my pussy with his hand flat against me, as to redistribute blood flow as well as keep me from passing out.

"Now that is a very good girl," he said to me as he wiped his hand on my stocking, marking the fabric with my own cum.

As he began to stand up, I looked up at him. I was still waiting for my kiss.

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Once standing, Andrew walked in to the bathroom and washed his hands. I sat properly and waited for my breathing to return to normal. When he came back from the rest room,

he took his grey suit jacket off and hung it on the back of a chair.

"Now, help me out of this shirt," he said.

I started to walk over, my gaze averting his. Once I stood in front of him, he took a moment to slide the tips of his fingers up and down the tops of my arms and my shoulders. I could feel his breath on my neck again and smell the whiskey.

"Take off my tie first. Then each button one at a time," he instructed.

I did as I was told. Carefully removing his black tie and placing it over the suit jacket. His white dress shirt was crisp, well pressed. I moved closer to start at the top button and my hands were shaking. I stepped a bit closer and, to my delight, could feel his hard on straining against his grey trousers. It did not make my hands shake any less.

I undid each button, one by one, until I reached the top of his trousers where the shirt was tucked in. I hesitated.

"You're not finished," Andrew said.

I pulled the shirt-tails from his trousers and completed undoing each small white button. I removed his shirt and folded it over the jacket and tie now on the chair.

"You do very well in following directions, Charlotte. And as you can see, it pleases me a great deal," he smirked, alluding to his erection.

In all of our months exchanging emails, pleasantries, and mild flirtations, I'd have never guessed this would be what awaited me when I agreed to the meeting. I wouldn't consider myself the type to participate in this game. I'm a feminist, after all.

"Get on your knees when you remove my trousers, Charlotte," Andrew instructed as he removed his undershirt and then shoes.

I did as I was told, falling to my stocking-covered knees. I looked up at Andrew, the bulge in his pants more noticeable, and glorious, from this angle. My hands trembling, I undid his belt and began to unbutton his pants. One of his hands moved to my still pinned-up hair, stroking gently. Then, that same hand moved to my chin, lifting it up a bit so he could look me squarely in the eyes, the green of his very noticeable in the dim light of the room with the lights of the city below us showing through the window.

"Do you know, ever since we first began our exchanges and working together, I've thought about that mouth. So quick with the retorts, so eager to banter," he said. "I thought about how that eager mouth might look around my cock."

Even though I was a bit taken back by the directness, those words sent that tingle to the pit of my stomach signaling anticipation. My hands, and eyes, continued removing Andrew's trousers, displaying his conservative white boxer briefs. They did nothing to hide his arousal, a bit of moisture clinging to the fabric where the tip of his cock pressed.

He stepped out of his pants and I did my due diligence in placing them on the chair with the rest of his clothing, returning to my position on the floor in front of him. I slid my hands up the leg of his boxer briefs, enjoying how the bit of light showed me the color distinction between the white, my skin tone, and my dark red nail polish. I slid my hands up towards the band of the underwear, but not before sliding my fingertips gently over the fabric covering his dick. I traced the length of it and saw his stomach twitch, pleased with myself that I could elicit such a response. Once I pulled the garment down, his cock sprung free from its confines.

My sly smile did not go unnoticed.

"Do you like it, Charlotte?" He asked. "I bet you've been thinking about this as well, correct?"

"Yes," I replied.

"Continue," he tasked.

He stepped out his boxer-briefs and I tossed them to the side.

"Now, you know better than that," he gently admonished. "Put them where they belong."

I did as I was told, adding them to the pile of clothing on the chair, then returning to my knees in front of him.

He just stood there, looking at me.

Watching. I slid my hands up the backs of his legs, my breath hot along the length of his cock. I looked up, waiting for a signal that I could proceed. It seemed like a million years before he obliged my crude need to taste him.

He reached down, and unpinned my hair, the dark waves falling over my shoulders giving me a shiver.

"Lovely..." he remarked, trailing off. "Now, continue."

I brought one hand up to grip the base of his cock gently -- I liked watching it twitch in the air with my touch. I tilted my head and slowly took the flat side of my tongue and slid it up the length of his cock while looking up at him. I couldn't help but smile as I parted my wet lips to take the head of his dick in my mouth. I gripped tighter at the base, my palm pressing up on his balls. The low growl he let escape indicated that I was off to a good start.

The precum that began to drip out of the tip of his cock was easily spread down the shaft with my free hand, making it slick. I could see the thin sheen due to the light coming in through the window. It was magical. I slid my hand up to meet my mouth and began to twist my hand around the shaft while I sucked on the head with more intent. I saw the muscles in Andrew's stomach clench more the deeper I slid my mouth down his cock. I was more eager to please him than I thought possible. The lack of panties meant none of my own arousal was absorbed by fabric and instead, stayed there, cooling in the air as quickly as it was developing.

He moved his hand to stroke my hair, his eyes softening. I know that I had found the pace and grip he needed to finish off in my mouth, so I went after it. His hand gripped my hair a bit, moving with me as my mouth slid up and down the length of his cock. My tongue flirted with the head, swirling and flicking it, eliciting more precum and more moans.

"Good girl," he complimented. "I'm going to cum on your tits, on that black lace, just like you deserve for handling my cock like such a slut."

Slut. I'd never been called that. It meant so many things, but in the moment, I felt like it was powerful. Like I owned my desire, owned my want. So I leaned back, presenting my full breasts to him, the lace accentuating the top curve of them. The lace was such that one could clearly see my hard nipples pressing through if they looked. I hoped he had looked.

I leaned forward, my fist sliding up and down the shaft, my thumb rubbing the underside of the head on the way up, and my free hand gripping his hip. Andrew's hands were still by his side and his breath quickened. He was clearly trying to exhibit self control, but I knew he was on edge and needed the release.

"Fuck..." I heard him mutter under his breath, likely not meant for my ears.

I looked up, my eyes locked on his, the only sounds in the room were his quickening exhales and the slickness of the saliva/precum mixture as I pumped my fist at an even pace along his cock shaft.

"Cum on me," I said. I could tell he was not expecting that.

"Please, cum on me..." I repeated, more softly this time.

"And why do you think you'd like that?" Andrew questioned.

I hesitated to find the answer he was looking for.

"Because you are stupidly turned on by all of this," he said, struggling to keep the words in. I could see the muscles in his legs tensing and knew I he was purposefully containing himself. "Turned on my being treated this way by a man you don't really know, but who knows what you crave?"

"Yes," I said, cocking my head to the side, a wide smirk across my lips.

The animalistic groan that escaped his mouth was unlike anything I remember hearing before. It was like he had finally found the release he was looking for, and I felt immense pride that I was able to elicit that response.

"Oh fuck, Charlotte," he grunted as the first two jets of cum met the tops of my tits, the first one higher than the second. A still surprisingly strong third and fourth stream landed on the black lace and my stomach, respectively. His hand rested on my shoulder lightly as I continued to gently stroke his still-hard dick. I didn't move, relishing in the feeling of the warm, but cooling, cum dripping down my skin as if it was marking me.

We were both silent for a bit. Me, still on my knees, and Andrew, regaining his regular breath.

"Well, I owe you a proper hello," he commented, holding out his hand to help me off the floor. He pulled me in close and kissed me. The kiss I had been anticipating for weeks, our mouths hot and the whiskey lingering on his tongue was sweet. I never wanted it to end.

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