Red Panties

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You're already inside the shop when I enter.

I see you --tight t-shirt and loose jeans. I'm on my lunch hour, dressed my basic office attire.

You are seriously studying a box in the section marked bachelor parties.

The sales girl approaches me. She and I move back to the "toys" section of the shop.

I can see you're trying to be casual as you move closer to hear our conversation.

"So why aren't there vibrators in camouflage or gunmetal gray or something that a guy might enjoy."

You must have been straining too hard to hear. A shelf of bottles collapses.

The sales girl and I come to your aid.

She is not happy --we can both tell. But when I look to your face, you aren't watching the sales girl picking up dripping bottles. You're looking at me. Or, not exactly at ME.

I've squatted down to help pick up the bottles, but in my attempt to avoid sticky lube all over the floor, my stance gives you the perfect view.

Under my snow-white skirt, I'm wearing blood red panties. I wait for you to finally look into my eyes.

You know that I know what you were looking at.

"Did you want some lube? Looks like I can give you a discount from this mess," the sales girl says to me.

"No. Lube is not something I need," I say back. But I don't take my eyes from yours. I can practically feel the heat radiating from you.

You stretch out your hand to me, helping me step over the sales girl, as she puts the last unbroken bottle on a lower shelf.

"Paper towels," she says as she moves to the back room.

We are alone in the shop.

"Did you, um, lose your choice?" I ask, pointing down to the swirl of colors on the floor.

Your head shifts back and forth with the smallest movement. Your eyes haven't left mine.

Now I'm flushed. Boy is it a bit warm in here (thank goodness I don't say that out loud).

You take the purple vibrator that is still in my hand. You look at me.

Umm. "Well maybe I just..."

You chuckle under your breath and set the vibrator on a nearby table. You have a very nice smile. It starts out as a confident, almost cocky, smirk but then lets go into a bona fide teeth-showing smile.

But that's not what makes me think you're sexy. It's that you're still holding onto my fingers. You're caressing them with your thumb. I wonder if you even know you're doing it.

And when your eyes return to mine, they have gotten very dark. Are you thinking naughty things? Yes, yes, you are, aren't you?

We should be making small talk at least, shouldn't we? But neither of us says anything.

Finally you take in a deep breath and that smirk returns. You put your hands on each of my shoulders.

With your eyes keeping mine in a locked gaze, you bend at the knees and let your hands slide down my arms, to my waist, to my hips, and to the edge of my skirt at mid-thigh.

I don't know where this is going, but I'm positive I need to hang on for dear life.

You slide two fingers back up my thighs-under my skirt. I suck in my breath, No words. What-what language is it that I speak again?

Ever so slowly a flash of red appears wrapped under your fingers as my panties slide down my thighs and past my knees. You stop at my ankles.

With a wink from you, I step out of them.

The sales girl mutters as she reappears and rips paper towels from a roll. The door jingles and a trio of customers enter the shop.

You stand up and move your hands to my waist, turning me and guiding me behind a chest-high rack of porn DVDs.

We both face the customers and our heads give a quick nod as they glance our way. They move to the other end of the store along with the sales girl.

You move closer to me, pressing your chest-and other things-against my back.

I can feel your breath on my ear and your hand runs up my back, then moves my hair away from the nape of my neck.

I try to move my hand between us, reaching for your cock, but you push hard against me-pressing me against the DVDs. I grab the rack with both hands to prevent it from falling over.

Your hand-the one biding its time at my waist, slides down my hip to the edge of my skirt. The other hand shifts me on my feet, so my ass is directly over your hand.

There is no slow or subtle movement. All at once, two fingers are inside me. Stroking in me. Pumping in and out of me.

I grip the rack tighter, trying with all my might not to moan out loud. DVDs shake loudly. The trio is laughing, holding handfuls of dildos. We are irrelevant.

You slowly pull your fingers out of my pussy and run the juices along my neck, then kiss and lick every last drop.

This is my chance, although I'm only working on half-sanity. I reach behind me and grab for your cock again. I feel the bulge, but my hand is ripped away, caught in a death-grip. You turn away from me and I have no choice but to walk toward the shop door with you.

The sales girl looks up as you slap down bills on the counter with a quick point to the forgotten fluid mess on the floor and we're out the door.

I look up and down the street as you walk briskly. I press my free hand on my skirt, trying to make sure it doesn't ride up in my half-walk, half-run. My red panties dangle from your vice-grip hand.

I'm not sure you know where you're going. There aren't any taxicabs around.

Finally you pull me in front of you as you push us through a moving doorway.

It's an office building. The lobby seems to have lots of hustling and bustling going on.

One of the security guards gives you a nod and we pass through a bank of elevators to the last one at then end. The glass sign above shows the number for the destination floor etched. 77.

There is no bell or button, but the door slides open and you pull me in with you.

My body crushes against yours as the door slides closed. The elevator rises on its own.

I look up to your face, but you are looking up. There is a small digital screen counting the floors by tens. 30 -- 40 -- 50. Is that my heart pounding or yours?

I want to speak but I'm unsure what would come out. A whimper? A squeak? I stay silent. As do you.

Finally, the digital counter reaches 77 and the door slides open.

Your eyes return to mine and you gently let go of my wrist. You back out of the elevator, my red panties still in your hand, leaving me to my own decision.

The seconds count away as we stare at each other. It's like the last moments before the wires are clipped to diffuse a bomb.

The door starts to close. I step quickly onto the 77th floor.

We walk into a reception area, office workers move from one hallway down another. The receptionist smiles, but quickly returns to her computer.

Off to the left there is another hallway. It must be the executive area, the walls have luxurious paneling. You move down the hallway, not looking back.

Of course I follow. The receptionist glances at me, but says nothing. My heels click down hall after you.

The hallway leads to only one door. You enter, stop, turn and wait for me to enter. The smile returns.

You swing my red panties from one finger.

I go from scared, to thrilled, to curious in a nanosecond. I step in, smile, and close the door, then feel for the lock and turn it.

You don't move, so I step around you and take in the office. There is a small round coffee table with three leather chairs in one corner and a library of books along a nearby wall. Lawyer? Tax man?

At the center of the room is a large desk-deep mahogany. I'm betting it belonged to a former president. Only a fountain pen and an iPad sit atop the blotter.

Then I turn to the window. Ceiling to floor glass shows off the most magnificent view of the city. The river flows along one side and the park takes up much of the view on the other.

I start to speak, but you move behind me and gently take each of my hands.

You place each hand against the glass. I pull one back. You slam your hand over mine and back against the glass.

I am very certain that I am not to remove my hands from the glass.

I feel the zipper of my skirt move. I can't hear it --my heart is pounding too hard in my chest, but I feel the fabric shifting.

You place your hands flat on my hips and slide the skirt to the floor.

You press against me and run your hands around to my breasts. You tease them through the silk of the blouse and my bra.

Your hands move under my bra to my nipples, caressing, then pinching them. My head falls back against you as I push my breasts into your hands.

I hear a pocketknife click and my blouse and bra are soon shreds on the floor. I am nude. I look at you in the glass reflection. I can see your eyes appreciate every inch of me.

You stand there for the longest time. Not touching me, just looking.

I squirm and shift in my heels. You squat down and tenderly take off each shoe.

And then you see it. My juices are dripping down the inside of my thigh. You lean in with your tongue and you clean me from the inside of my knee up to the lips guarding my oh, so wet pussy.

My heart is beating out a pleading rhythm and FINALLY, you taste me.

The rough texture of your tongue parts my lips and slides from my clit downward into my hole. I can't hold back my moan and I push my pussy into your face.

You grab my ass cheeks and enthusiastically eat me out. You squeeze my ass and pull each cheek apart. The cold office air tickles my pussy from behind. And then your fingers do.

Your tongue, attacking me from the front and your fingers from behind send me to the edge of the cliff. One of your fingers starts to make circles around my asshole.

"Oh my god," I growl. Your tongue hammers me until I-I can't hold on.

My breath catches and the most guttural sound comes from me as I cum. I squirt and cover you with my juices. I slap my hands against the glass, pushing the walls of my pussy tight, forcing out all the cum I have inside me.

My body shudders and I can no longer stand. I topple and you catch me in your lap as we both land on the floor.

When I can focus again, I realize that I am completely nude and you are a t-shirt and jeans. I pull the shirt over your head.

Wait you're in a t-shirt and jeans.

"This is YOUR office, right?" My eyes dart from wall to wall.

You smirk at me and look at the pictures scattered amongst the books. I see you in the photos and take a relaxing breath. I also see a man who looks just like you-EXACTLY like you. HE is in a suit and tie. You look like you just got off the bus from Nepal.

"This-this is your brother's office?!" I try to push my way to my feet, but I slide on the cum-covered marble floor.

You tighten your grip on me and press a finger to my lips. You smirk again and devour my mouth with kisses. Where are we again? Nothing- I can think of nothing other than your mouth and how it feels on mine.

And what your fingers are doing to my clit. Rubbing it, teasing it. Sliding one finger between my labia.

"Oh -- you're going to make me cum again!" I say as I tear way from your kisses.

You nod, smiling. Yes, that is the plan-I understand. And I do I cum again. Longer this time. You hold me in your lap as my entire body convulses. I squirt and squirt -- I am not in control. You are. With your slightest touch on my clit, I gasp for breath, scream, and every muscle in me contracts.

After what seems like hours of orgasm. I am sweaty and exhausted. You pick me up and sit me in a chair next to the coffee table.

You cover me with a small blanket. Where you found it, I have no clue. My thoughts are scattered-images of your eyes, your mouth, and your touch. I'm leaking all over this fine leather.

You sit across from me-shirtless, and watch me recover from having all of my molecules incinerated by burning orgasms.

The sun is going low across the city. The skyscrapers make long shadows. I walked into that shop at lunchtime. Hours ago.

I am smiling.

"How do you do it?" I ask. "How do you wreck a woman and not come unglued yourself?" "Here you sit, all composure and serenity. I don't even think you're hard."

You tilt your head at me, one eyebrow rises quizzically. You lean over and take off your shoes and socks. Then you stand and unbuckle your belt.

I let the blanket fall as I move to you. I grab the end of the belt and slide it out of each loop. You move your hands behind your back and I am finally gaining some strength. And control.

I unbutton your jeans. They're all buttons. Old school. I like. I push the jeans down --slow- and your hard-on springs out to me. So, you are hard. And growing harder I can see.

I get down to my knees and pull off your jeans. Your bouncing cock is inches from my mouth. I want to take you I my mouth, but I remember the shop and how you jammed your fingers into me without so much as a how do you do. It was hot as hell.

So I don't --I don't take you into my mouth. I stand and push you back down into the chair.

I straddle you. Your hands move to my waist and I throw them off me.

"No, no, no," I shake my finger. "Now it's my turn."

I position your cock and take you into me in one hard push. I try to hide my pleasure but it fits so tight, I shake in exhilaration. I hear your moan as I reach the bottom of your shaft.

I lean forward and brush my hard nipples across your face. I grip the back of the chair and lean back, thrusting my pussy forward, rocking on your cock.

Was that a whimper? How about if I do this? I grip the base of your cock and begin rolling slides. I move so the head of your cock just begins to leave my pussy and I slam back down, pushing my pelvis back-grinding on your cock. I can see- I can see you're white knuckling it now.

Up and down I move, forward and back. I move faster and faster and when I hear your breathing stutter, I slow down, tormenting you --I hope.

Again and again, I do this, 'til your eyes roll into the back of your head.

I don't think you can take it anymore. Your hands grab for my hips, but I launch off of you, strings of your pre-cum and my juices connecting us though we're feet apart.

As the strings collapse, I can see that there's not a chance you can stand up. You breathe hard like you've run a marathon.

I finally hear you speak. Just one word.

"More."

Your voice is so deep, so animal and primal, I can feel my pussy twitching in response.

I walk back to you, but this time I turn around. No games anymore, you grip my hips and smash me down onto you.

We both groan. Nothing is slow now. I move my feet up on your legs and you thrust from below --a jackhammer pounding into me. We fit so well, that every sensor inside my pussy is alive and screaming.

Then I'm screaming. And cumming and cumming. I don't stop until you cum. I slide off of you and turn around, licking up all your ejaculate. But you don't stop.

You push me down on the floor and plunge into me, pushing my legs over your shoulders. Your hands move all over me. Pinching my nipples rubbing my throbbing clit. You kiss me and bite my lower lip.

I start cumming again-I think. I can only see starbursts in my eyes and some language (not my own) is gushing from my mouth. I try desperately to grab onto the legs of the coffee table, but my hands are slick with cum and every pounding stroke you give me slides me farther away from the chairs.

Every nerve and muscle in my body is jerking and clenching and releasing at rampant speeds. Finally your scream collapses on my own.

Then you collapse on top of me. With only the threads of strength I have left, I push you off. I curl up into a ball next to your equally spent body, my hand on your chest. You are spread out like a Da Vinci's Vitruvian Man.

When I wake, the city lights are blinking at me. I am covered by the small blanket. A glass of water sits within reach. I sit up and drink. The gallons of cum we shot are gone from the floor. And the chairs.

Even I've been wiped clean.

My skirt is neatly folded on a chair. The shreds of my blouse and bra in a plastic bag next to it, and a trench coat is draped over the arm. My heels are neatly waiting on the floor.

I am alone.

I put the skirt in the plastic bag, put on my shoes and wrap myself in the trench coat.

I'm not sure whether I should be smiling or crying. You left me alone.

Whatever this was, it's over now. We are strangers again.

I walk to the window and take one last look at the city. I head for the door.

On the door, an envelope is taped just above the lock. Inside are a key and a phone. I push the button on the phone and there's a map with an address already programmed in.

The phone buzzes. I push the message icon. An image appears.

Red panties.