tagRomanceOffice E-Males

Office E-Males


Hi Jane: Yes I know, another boring email from your friend Sarah stuck in cubicle land with all the other rats. The only thing that keeps me going is extra strength coffee and checking out Jon's tight ass whenever he walks by. It makes me weak in the knees. I picture him naked, running my fingers through a hairy chest, sucking - oh well, too much detail there, eh? Tomorrow I am going to wear the hottest, sexiest thing I own and just plain attack the man. What have I got to lose?

Sarah Dear: You had better NOT spare ANY details! I want them all honey. I am woman married to a man with ED, so if you do bed this hunk, I want to hear every glorious detail and live vicariously.

My lil darlin is home and needs to be driven to soccer practice. Damn. I love her, but the life of a chauffeur is vastly overrated. You be sure and write.

Hi Jane: I wore the sheer red silk blouse, my tight knit black skirt and boots. I looked smokin hot. Even Dweeb Greg from accounting said I looked fantastic and blushed when he said it. Figures I attract dweebs. I am a dweeb magnet. Still, nice to hear a compliment now and then. I'd almost forgotten what it was like. I've been in such a rut. Well, a rut of another kind on order soon maybe! I won't see Jon until later. Will keep you posted.

Oh Jane: I am an ugly, fat, failure. I felt hot, sexy, confident. I coulda had a smack down with Angelina Jolie and won. Then I turned the corner towards the coffee niche and Jon was feeling up the accounting temp, Cynthia's, perfect round little ass. I pretended not to notice. I just poured myself some coffee and left. I wanted to cry. I walked back to my cube and Dweeb Greg was there with some sales projections so of course I couldn't even cry. Figures.

"You look down Sarah," Greg said, "I can't imagine why."

Greg can't imagine why. Of course not. He's probably only had sex once in his life. He's my height, bland eyes, bland hair, bland features. He probably blends into the couch when he's home. I doubt even his wife notices him.

I tell you Jane, I am a sex starved goddess and that damn Jon is going to find it out one way or another. Meanwhile, I need to finish reviewing the sales reports, while wearing my nicest red lace bra and silk panties. All dressed up and nobody to ask to the party.

Hi Sarah: Hang in there. You got both beauty and brains. If Jon can't see that, then you need to find yourself somebody else or I will find you someone. I love setting people up. Though I know you still haven't forgiven me for that blind date with Matt's golfing buddy. I promise no drug addicts this time! Seriously, how was I to know.

Hi Jane: I forgave you for Bob ages ago. I haven't forgiven him though. I mean the guy stole my car. What a wacko. Anyway, there is a retirement party/happy hour for one of the AV guys tomorrow. Jon will be there. I plan on swallowing my remaining shyness and pride, act like a thoroughly modern woman and just ask him over to my place for drinks. Then whatever happens, will happen. I don't know, maybe its a hormone thing, but I lust for him like an animal. I can feel the sheer deliciousness of his warm body pressed up against mine, tasting his lips, letting my fingers trace patterns along the back of his neck and down his back, unbuttoning that shirt, licking his nipples, unzipping those pants, and then excruciatingly slowly wrapping my mouth around his cock and giving him the most ecstatic experience of his life. Once again too much detail? This is what happens when the last time you had sex was 6 months ago and it lasted 6 seconds with some guy whose foreplay began and ended with one utterance of "Oh baby."

Well Sarah: Honestly girl, I had to go change my damp undies after reading your last e-mail. I am dragging Matt to another Dr. about that ED or having an affair. I can't take it. What I wouldn't give to have a man look at me that way again. It makes me ache, thinking of the mutual slow fondle, the searching tongues, me tasting him as he tastes me. (Meanwhile, I have 36 cupcakes to frost, 3 loads of laundry to do, and Matt's mother is coming over for dinner- which is going to mean I buy a lot of pre-made food on the way home from work to pass off as mine. Thank God for CostCo.)

Oh Jane: This you will never believe! I decided to head over to the gallery at lunch to take in the Callas exhibit, (still an art history major at heart), when Greg asks if he can come along.

"Sure, why not?" I said.

I wanted to go alone, but truthfully, Greg is good company. He was surprisingly insightful at times. On the walk back, we are talking non stop, (ok, I was doing the talking), when all of a sudden he reached over, grabbed me around the shoulders, pulled me towards him and kissed me.

A hard, long and slow kiss. He smelled earthy and tasted of coffee. His beard scratched against my face as he moaned "Sarah, Sarah" in my ear.

"What the hell are you doing?" "Wow, oh wow," and "You are a married man," ran through my head but didn't make it to my lips.

Before I could manage a coherent utterance, Greg took my face in his hands. I waited for him to mumble an apology – married man, lust got the better of me, yada, yada. Instead, calm, clear, his dark eyes riveted on mine, he said, "I am glad I did that. I've been wanting to do it for a long time."

Another one of those kisses followed. I finally came to my senses and pulled back. Though I will admit to you Jane, it took considerable effort. "We need to get back to the office," was all I could think to say.

Greg is not my type as you know, but it was a very strange experience. And I have the after-office party where I intend to ask Jon, who IS my type, back to my place today, no matter what. It was one hell of a kiss Jane.

Dear Jane: WHERE ARE YOU? I need help here and you aren't answering your phone. Greg wants to see me after work and before the office party so we can talk over what happened. He is coming over to my place at eight which gives me enough time to get home, do a quick change for the party, have the little talk with Greg about "being just friends," then arrive at the party fashionably late.

Hi Sarah: Wow! So is Greg married or not? Walk into that party like you own it. Wear that black jersey knit that hugs your curves like a second skin. I wish I could be there to watch it all unfold. I have a voyeur streak in me a mile wide. Good luck!

Hi Jane: My lucky day. I must be wearing sex perfume. I walked over to Jon's office just to see if I could entice him into thinking about me a bit before the party. I didn't get past "Hi!" before that TV handsome hot body leaned in close, and well, stared appreciatively down my blouse as he put his arm around me.

"Going to Dan's retirement party?" he asked. "Maybe you and I should meet up before, or even leave early, those things can be so boring. Have a drink or two somewhere?"

I tried for a throaty sexy voice and, being nervous, ended up sounding like a frog chewing glass. Jon didn't notice. "Sure, I only live a few blocks away, why not drinks or something at my place?"

Ah, sweet success. I will soon be dating a Ken doll. If I had the Malibu playhouse, I'd really be set. Would you consider changing your name to Midge?

Hi Sarah: What's happening? No e-mails? The party? The Ken doll?

Sarah Dear: I'm getting worried. Just let me know you made it home from the party ok and are just sleeping it off this morning, with or without Jon.

Hi Jane: Sorry. I have been otherwise engaged. And no, you wouldn't guess.

I am propped in bed with a cup of coffee made by my lover. I am exhausted but feel like the most contented cat in the world. Awesome sex will do that to you. He's out getting croissants and a newspaper so I only have a few minutes.

Greg came over. Eight p.m. on the dot. I said "lets be friends."

Greg murmured "Lets." Then he pulled me in to him and another one of those kisses followed. Kisses that swallowed me up. Kisses that made only him and nothing else in the world seem real. I tried to remember how long it had been since someone had kissed me like that. Never. He pulled me harder against him, the man worked out – who knew? I felt his rock hard cock pressed into my crotch. He played with my hair and ran his tongue and teeth in a half kiss and half bite down the back of my neck that sent shivers through me and made me dizzy. Small spasms moved down my legs. I pressed harder into him. He groaned from somewhere in the back of his throat, an animal sound of desire. I licked the hollow of his neck, and breathed him in. My fingers went to the buttons on his shirt and the tangle of hair at the top. His hands slid against the silk of my blouse setting my skin on fire. In the deep recesses of my mind I heard an alarm. Then it got louder.

It finally startled me out of my daze and out of Greg's arms. It was the doorbell. I moved like a robot to open it and find my Greek god Jon standing there, a perfectly carved marble statute staring at me with those sea-blue eyes. My ship had come in. Greg was prelude maybe? I didn't know. I was a bit confused.

"Hey babe, I thought you and me had an early pre-drinks date to the party," he said, "change your mind?" His gaze then rested on Greg. "Oh hey, didn't realize you had company. Hi Greggy. Is it a threesome then?"

"Hello Jon" Greg said. "It appears you started partying a bit already. Sounds fun, but I am not really into threesomes, I was just leaving." And like that, Greg walked out.

Me and my man at last. Though Greg was right, Jon had a drink or two before he came. And he wanted to make love now. On the couch. He put his hand inside my shirt, cupped my breast, circled my nipple with his finger.

"Lets get you undressed," he whispered. Words I had been dying to hear.

My nipples were as hard as a rock. I could feel them sliding deliciously against both Jon's hand and the satin of my bra. But Greg had supplied the foreplay. It didn't feel quite right. I wanted to be all Jon's, not half. I suggested we put in an appearance at the party, then have our own private party after.

At the party, that slutty Cynthia and damn near every other woman there made passes at Jon. Goes with the territory when you date someone like Jon I guess. Greg was there also and seemed to find the whole thing amusing. I wanted to slap them both.

After about an hour I told Jon I was done. He had a drink in his hand and didn't seem to hear, so you know what Jane? I left. On my own. Just like that. Me leaving Jon. I couldn't stop thinking about Greg anyway. Why did I keep reacting like a mindless bimbo whenever he kissed me. My skin was still seared from his kisses. I did hear at the party that Greg has been separated from his wife for more than a year, so at least I can sleep tonight without being racked with guilt.

I was half undressed when that damn doorbell rang again. I pulled on a robe. It was Jon. Hmm. Maybe leaving him was a good idea. Maybe he'd see what he lost. Only you know what Jane? When I opened the door and saw him there, I realized, I didn't really want to see him.

"Jon, go home," I said, and turned to shut the door. He grabbed for my robe and drunkenly shoved me to the couch.

"You didn't wait for me," he said, "We were going to party."

"I'm sorry Jon," I protested through clenched teeth, "you're not really my type."

"I think you will find I am your type," he said and reached inside my panties. I pushed against him. He shoved his fingers inside me and pinned my hands back with his free hand. I was in mid-scream when Greg sprinted in.

It was over pretty quickly really. Greg yanked a very surprised Jon off by the shirt collar, asked if I was alright, and none-to-gently escorted Jon to the sidewalk. He then called a cab and put Jon in it. Greg had fortunately followed Jon back from the party to see how things stood and heard my scream. The rest, well, you will have to wait until later. I hear Greg coming (and I intend to hear us both coming again very soon)!

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