Please, Miss, Please May I Cum?

Leaning back in my creaking office chair, I stare blankly at my computer screen, according to the small digits on the bottom right, it's 3:01 PM. Sighing, I fidget, willing the numbers to count quicker. It's Friday afternoon, and I have zero interest in pursuing any of the emails that litter my inbox. At 5pm, it will mark the end of my first week, and I've enjoyed it. My workload is light, and the tasks are easy, something I'm happy about after spending the last 10 years working a high-stress city job.

The normally busy office has a relaxed atmosphere, and today its empty, as most people choose to work from home on a Friday. So, my decision to stare into space goes unnoticed as I settle into the fabric, content to continue my musings. As usual, I think about my new boss, Sasha, something I've been doing almost exclusively this past week.

I'd first met her in my interview, and I had been surprised to see that she was only a decade older than me. Something I found interesting as she was the co-owner of the company with her husband. Sasha was stunning, with golden-brown skin and thick black hair she'd had tied up in a messy bun. She was the definition of a hot mess and something about her had made me feel instantly drawn to her and I knew she was a woman I wanted to serve under.

"Elle, hi" she had gushed reaching out an elegant hand, her rich voice dripping through me like honey.

"Hi" I had babbled, suddenly self-conscious.

As we sat down in her office, I'd tried to assemble myself into the assertive professional I normally was, but there was something about her that had me squirming in my seat like an embarrassed schoolgirl.

I knew I'd performed acceptably during the interview, but my carefully planned out veneer had crumbled at her mere greeting and my face heated at my desk now remembering. At the end, she had stood up and I'd shamelessly let my gaze study her as she rounded the desk to walk to the door.

She had worn a tight black pencil dress paired with some Louboutins that had sent a thrill through me. I'd had a Louboutin obsession for as long as I'd been working and made sure to always keep my collection up-to-date. I knew instantly that if I got the job, I'd make sure that I wore a pair every day, just for her.

Her body was delectable, tight, and slim with an ass that told me she worked out. I sat in shock at my attraction, which soon turned to embarrassment as I realised, she had been waiting for me to leave. Jumping up, I had grabbed my bag and left with an inarticulate goodbye.

As soon as I had gotten back to my apartment, I'd closed the door and leant against it. Slipping my hand into my skirt I had traced my fingers over my pussy, massaging myself through my panties. My fingers had slid against the wet material as I slowly rubbed.

As I rested my head against the door I pictured a different ending to the interview, one that had her locking the door instead of opening it. One where she had sauntered to the desk and spread her legs, ordering me to eat her. The image alone had almost made me cum and unable to tease myself any longer, I'd pulled the lace to the side and slid my fingers into my core. I'd ridden my hand hard as I fucked myself not lasting long before my knees had given way to a violent orgasm.

That night, I'd fucked myself in the shower, on the sofa, at the dinner table and multiple times in bed, each time thinking about Sasha spread wide for me as I licked, sucked and nibbled every inch of her body. By the time I drifted into a heavy sleep, I knew I could never see her again, but also wished I would.

Most of this week had gone the same way, every time I'd been in Sasha's orbit, I'd been awkward and uncomfortable and had gone home, spread my legs, and pleasured myself until I was a sticky sweaty mess. Every orgasm only satiated me for a few minutes before my need built once more. I was rabid in my need of her.

I'd met her husband, Harrison on my second day and as I had expected he was as handsome as his profile portrayed; tall, rich, well built and domineering. I hadn't paid attention to much of what he had said to me, instead choosing to fantasise about getting on my knees and taking his thick cock into my mouth until I'd gag on its hard length as it fucked the back of my throat. I'd worship it just because it had had been in Sasha's cunt. My envy was shameless.

Today, Sasha had been at a client's office, and I had no idea if I was to expect her back. All the same, I made sure to wear a suitable outfit for her, choosing a tight-fitting pencil skirt, long sleeved, low cut bodycon top and of course some sky-high Louboutins. Before leaving this morning, I assessed myself in the mirror and I looked good.

Standing at an average height, I maintained a lean physique through regular exercise and a healthy diet, accentuated by the soft curves of my hips, ass, and breasts. Regular waxing ensured my skin remained smooth, and my face was framed by my full brown hair that cascaded freely down my back. My sharp, thick eyebrows, plump lips, and soft brown eyes put me above average in the looks department.

The main door to the office opens and Sasha breezes in. Her flawless face is punctuated with drawn eyebrows and flushed cheeks, her perfect teeth chew her bottom lip in frustration. She looks around and a confused expression softens her features as she notices the empty space before comprehension relaces it, it's Friday.

Her shoulders relax as she looks at me, and she unsticks her teeth from her lips as she smiles "Hi, Elle." My stomach flips at the attention.

"Hi, Sasha!" I squeak breathlessly, and I begin to feel my face heat.

Sasha observes me and I shift in my seat, uncomfortable in the spotlight as her eyes flick down to my feet. Appreciation crosses her face when she observes my Louboutins. I'd give them to her on bended knee if she told me to.

As her eyes settle back on my face, the silence stretches between us, a living, breathing elephant in the room, as we both wait for the other to speak. A lump forms in my dry throat, and a tight pressure on my chest renders my lungs useless. In a frantic search for something--anything witty to say--I notice the clock on the other side of the office. Its ticks, usually undetectable, now boom loudly, each tock a pointed reminder of my floundering thoughts. Desperate, I downgrade my conversation choice to the weather, only to discover with dawning misery that I can't even remember the season we're in, let alone the specific outlook for the day.

The warm office air feels thick, coating the inside of my mouth as I realise, I've been gawking at her, mouth agape in silent panic. My face flushes with heat as I snap my mouth shut, the clack of my teeth a sharp punctuation to the awkwardness.

"So, uh..." I start, my voice cracking, as I make a pathetic, aimless gesture, trying to grasp at any topic that might fill the silence. But I trail off before a coherent thought forms, my clumsy attempt at breaking the silence scorching itself permanently into my bones.

As the silence becomes a physical pain radiating through me, Sasha gives a small, unsure smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes, shifting her weight to the other foot.

"Well, work calls," she murmurs, glancing at her watch. Her voice is tight, her discomfort evident not just in her tone but also in the quick, uneasy shift of her eyes. With that, she turns on her heel and strides towards her office. I watch her go, waiting until she's disappeared into it before I allow my body to slump forwards in defeat. Emitting a humiliated groan, I press my hot face into my ice-cold palms.

Time passes slowly and at 3:45pm I stand intending to make myself another tea. Walking towards Sasha's office I hesitate, taking her in as she bends forwards looking at some papers on her desk. Her hair falls over her shoulder and I picture what it would look like draped over my thigh as she runs her tongue against my pussy. I clear my throat, pulling myself out of my fantasy before I allow my need to render me speechless again. Tapping on the glass I motion to my mug, the universal sign for 'Do you fancy a drink?'

Sasha looks up, her initial surprise melting into a warm smile as she recognises me, nodding enthusiastically despite the lingering signs of frustration on her face -- a detail I catch only because I've been paying so much attention to her.

After preparing the drinks, I tap lightly on her door before entering with her mug. As I step in, Sasha leans back from her desk, enveloping me in the warmth of her smile again. The gesture twists in my stomach, igniting a hot energy that spears directly to my pussy.

"One coffee," I say, managing to keep my voice steady as I place the mug on her desk. Only the slightest tremor betrays my nervousness.

"Thanks," she sighs, her gratitude palpable as she takes the mug and sips. Hesitating, unsure whether to leave, I find myself rooted to the spot, as usual my brain and body fail to collaborate when in Sasha's presence.

"Sit," she gestures to the chair opposite hers, her voice gentle. Nervously, I comply, pretending to adjust my skirt as an excuse to look down, avoiding her gaze. In the silence that follows, I can feel her eyes on me, heavy with an unspoken question, until she finally breaks it with a soft, inviting tone.

"So, how was your first week?"

A sense of relief rushes through me at the question, one I can answer. Looking up, I smile "It's been great, everyone has been so welcoming".

"I'm glad to hear that, I know starting somewhere new can be quite stressful" as she speaks, she stands up and walks around to my side of the desk, leaning against it.

My heartrate increases at her proximity, and the intoxicating scent of her perfume binds my warring mind as I struggle to keep it on professional subjects. The pull to reach out and touch her is overwhelming, and I clench my fists in my lap at the effort to control the urge. I want to run my hands over the hips that are currently level with my face. Gulping, I attempt to drag my stare away from the curves, the image of the subtle arch of her pussy mound, displayed due to the tight pull of her skirt is tattooed onto the back of my eyelids and I wet my lips unconsciously as I exhale a shaky breath.

With a Herculean effort, I pry my gaze away, intending to meet her eyes. But, my attention inadvertently catches on the top buttons of her shirt, as my eyes trail upwards. I momentarily lose my breath, noticing the buttons are undone, revealing the hint of a sheer black bra beneath.

My mind short circuits, sending bolts of molten lava to my pussy now drenched from the sight, as it conjures the image of Sasha writing on my tongue, her shirt hanging open displaying her beautiful dark nipples as she comes undone above me. Reflexively, I squeeze my knees together as I try to relieve the ache that's built to a painful pressure in my cunt.

Sasha's lips part slightly, a delicate blush spreading across her cheeks as she watches the movement. I notice the subtle change in her breathing and a shiver runs down my spine as the air, charged with a zapping energy, needles across my skin.

Gripping onto the fraying edges of my sanity I search for any topic to break the silence engulfing us and this time, I manage to croak, "Um, how was the client meeting?"

Sasha visibly relaxes at the broken tension, and straightening she answers with a roll of her eyes, "ugh, horrible as usual." She moves around to her side of the desk and with it I heave a subtle sigh of relief as her overwhelming presence lessens its hold on my senses.

"Sebastian is a pervert and an idiot," she continues "he's only in his position because his daddy owns the company and dealing with him is like trying to humour a toddler." Her frustration from earlier shadows her face again, and she begins to chew her lip at the statement, lost in the memory of her meeting.

A creeping shame fills me at her words, and I answer earnestly, "I'm sorry you have to go through that." I hate that she has to deal with a creep, and I hate that deep down, I'm no better than the man she's speaking of. I'm probably worse.

"It's all part of the job," she sighs shrugging "plus, they pay us good money so business is business."

"Can't Mr. Woods deal with him?" I offer.

"Hmmm" Sasha muses tapping her painted lips. My gaze lingers for longer than polite. "He could, but you catch more flies with honey than vinegar, and Harrison is most definitely not honey".

I smile, unsure of whether I can join in on teasing her husband. "Besides," she persists "Sebastian is still playing ball because he wants to fuck me, so I'll keep him hooked." She playfully waggles her eyebrows as she adds "I don't think my husband is his type."

At her words, every other thought falls away into nothingness. Every fantasy I'd had over the past week involved that filthy word falling from her sensuous lips and now it hung in the distance between us, taunting me. An involuntary gasp leaves my mouth at her emission, and I freeze in horror at the revealing plea in its timbre.

Sasha's reaction is immediate, tilting her head she watches me with narrow eyes that turn heavy as she pieces together my involuntary response.

We both stare at each other, but unlike earlier, the air is charged with an electricity that has me both liquid and steel in my seat, breath and heart hammering a chaotic rhythm. Sasha keeps me pinned under her heated gaze and the ache between my legs begins to pulse and pool as she holds me in assessment.

There is an unmistakeable predatory glint that speaks of hunger. Terror and thrill run riot in my body, threatening to tear myself in two, I'm so overcome with the tumultuous emotion, I don't realise I'm grinding my legs together again, this time more fervently as my pussy becomes slick with need until it's too late to stop the movement.

My terror at making a move and being denied gnaws at my soul but my need for Sasha to act, to take control and command me to get on my knees and pleasure her clashes inside me, rendering me unable to think or move, I can only wait for her to choose. So, I wait, clutching my shaking knees with trembling fingers.

Sasha's hair cascades like silk over her shoulder as she adjusts her posture, sitting with a newfound assertiveness. A dark smirk plays across her lips, transforming her gaze into something intense and penetrating. As she observes my discomfort, there's an unmistakable shift in her demeanour as even her soft curves seem to sharpen, a shadow of dominance cast across her features. The Sasha before me is devastatingly seductive, a stark contrast to the gentle beauty I had become obsessed with. This Sasha was more intimidating, more enthralling.

Sasha's eyes slide deliberately slowly over my body, eating their way to my breasts, where they focus on my nipples peeked through my top. The material grates against my heightened skin as I breath rapidly and I supress a groan at the sensation as it shoots straight to my throbbing pussy. The urge to lean back, spread my legs and cum to her hard stare is overwhelming and my nails bite into my flesh as I hold my hands in place.

She continues her languid consideration, and she shifts in her seat, her mouth falling open as she exhales quietly. Finally arriving back at my face, she continues to watch me. Her body is leaning forwards towards me, and I notice her own nipples are peaked against the tight-fitting material of her shirt. The tension is suffocating, and each aching pulse of my pussy drenches my thong in more of my cum.

Clearing her throat, Sasha whispers, "Thanks for all your hard work this week." The sincerity in her simple sentence slices through the dense atmosphere we're ensnared in, dispelling the tension as if it were smoke.

"No, no problem," I stutter, my words trembling as much as my hands. I shake my head in a vain attempt to dispel the lingering fog of our charged encounter.

"You can clear up for the day and take off early," she suggests, her smile returning as if to erase the last few minutes of our interaction.

"Thanks," is all I manage to choke out, my voice barely above a whisper. I stand, my movements stiff and robotic. I'm both eager to escape the stifling atmosphere of the office and reluctant to leave, disappointment swirling sluggishly through me.

I can feel Sasha's eyes on me as I return to my desk, and I send a silent prayer up to the heavens that there isn't a wet patch in the shape of my pussy on the back of my skirt. How the hell am I going to make it all the way home before I explode? Maybe I'll fuck myself in the car. I'd already done that three times this week, each time thinking about the woman currently staring a hole into the back of my head.

In a daze and desperate to get out from the intensity of the office and my emotions, I grab my handbag and head out of the building. I only stop to take a breath when I get to the car and realise my car keys are in my coat pocket, that I've left on my chair, in the office, with Sasha.

"FUCK" I hiss, rubbing my forehead and stamping my heel on the tarmac. The last thing I want to do is go back into the office and face another intensely awkward encounter. I groan in embarrassment at the thought. What if she thinks I'm finding an excuse to come back? She already thinks I'm socially inept, and there's absolutely no chance she won't have realised I'm attracted to her after THAT, whatever 'that' was. I couldn't handle the added humiliation of Sasha thinking I'm a desperate stalker too.

I contemplate getting an uber to avoid the situation entirely, but the carpark closes for the weekend, and I need my car. Furious and dreading the next 10 minutes of my life, I turn and power walk back the way I came, hoping to get it over with quickly before I have the chance to fuck anything else up.

The lift silently carries me up to the 10th floor, its doors open with a soft ping. I tiptoe to my desk hoping I can be in and out without Sasha noticing me. As I get closer, Sasha's door looms ahead, conspicuously open. I pause, hidden just outside of her line of sight, debating my approach. As I contemplate my next move, a quiet moan drifts from Sasha's office.

Acting on an instinct I didn't know I had, I find myself stepping forward, now standing at the threshold of Sasha's office. All breath leaves my lungs in a silent exhale at the scene before me. Sasha is lying on the sofa. Her normally pristine skirt is haphazardly bunched around her waist, and her legs are spread open. Her Louboutins press into the fabric of the sofa as she arches her back, lost in pleasure. Her shirt is undone, as her elegant fingers play softly with her nipples through her sheer bra.

My sharpened senses focus on Sasha's body, greedily lapping up every freckle and flawless pore of her. Her breasts are exactly as I had imagined them, pert, soft and the perfect handful. Her manicured fingers circle her clit slowly with her other hand. Her toned stomach is taught as she moves sensuously beneath her fingers, hips roll in a leisurely rhythm as she grinds herself against her fingers and then into the sofa. I watch enraptured as she tortures herself. Her panties have been moved to the side, and I shudder at the thought of how desperate for release she must have been to have not taken the time to remove them.

My gaze lingers on Sasha's pussy, waxed with the exception of a small landing strip of dark hair on her mound, exactly like mine. Its pink, swollen with desire, and already leaking cum out of her lovely cunt.

Nothing in my fantasies compares with how perfect she is, and my body slips into the room of its own accord as though being drawn by a siren. Her hair is splayed on the cushions, her head thrown back in ecstasy, and she bites her lip, another moan escaping her.