Six Foot Pam

Before he can catch a breath, Pam is right on top of him. Her palm presses to the wall next to his head and her face is lowered, hovering over his. All Slava can manage is not to whimper, but he can't help curling a little under her. The woman's body chases his, lowering her frame, not letting any more than a small strip of space between them.

"Don't worry," Slava feels the warmth of her breath on his lips, "we won't do anything that you wouldn't like." Then she closes the gap between their mouths.

It's rough, aggressive even, the kiss she's giving him, and he opens up his lips almost immediately, fearing that otherwise she might bite him. Pam pushes her tongue straight in. It pulsates inside his mouth, sliding on top of his own. He feels that he should reciprocate but can't exactly figure out how to with the kiss crushing the back of his head into the wall. Slava doesn't know what to make of this at all--only certain thing is that his erection has become painful by now.

Trying to breathe through his nose, Slava slowly raises his hand up. His fingertips flutter in expectation, the tickling in the nerve endings sending a crawling impulse up his arm. But no sooner that he can graze the side of Pam's breast, she grabs his hand and yanks it up. She pins it against the wall, just next to his face. Her palm presses on his pulse, just strong enough to be threatening and Slava can't hold it anymore and moans into her mouth.

With one hand still keeping his in place, Pam raises the other one to Slava's collar. Few flicks of her fingers and the first button is open. She moves down, undoing the buttons one by one. She stops half way and Slava's chest heaves as two of her fingers slide under the loosened plate.

Then she grabs at the lapels, with both hands, and tears them apart, exposing his chest.

Slava feels his heart drop to his stomach because, lets face it, there are no pecks to speak about. But Pam smiles appreciatively as she swipes her hand on his skin.

"That's why I like blonds," she says, tracing the line of sparse hair with her finger.

She leans down and kisses him again, but this time, it's different--her tongue seems more playful, wriggling inside his mouth. Slava tries to chase it, but it eludes him, retracting, then darting in again, snaking around his gums. At the same time, her fingers caress his breast in ever smaller circles, until they stop at his nipple. Pam flickers her tongue on his lips and, ever so slightly, twists the nipple until it perks up.

"Admit it," she whispers, "you've been thinking about it before."

All Slava can do is to sigh and Pam pinches harder. "Yes," he squeals out.

"Naughty boy," Pam releases his nipple and her hand snakes lower onto his abdomen. She presses her palm to his stomach before sliding it further down to cup his crotch. She doesn't apply any pressure, in fact, she barely touches him at all, but Slava gasps again.

"Did you fuck your hand while thinking of me?"

Slava winces and tilts his head back, grinding it to the wall; his crotch pushes up into Pam's palm. She flattens her hand and he ruts.

"That's right," he hears her voice. "Through your trousers, like a little boy."

Suddenly, Pam takes her hand away. Slava doesn't even have time to whine before she grabs him by the nape of the neck and jerks his head up. Her face is so close that all he can see clearly are her eyes, everything else is smudging, dissolving fuzzily into the background.

"And in these fantasies of yours," her voice flows to him, blurred and soft "have I ever taken it into my mouth?"

His fingers flex and shoot up to grab her; then, some life-preserving impulse curbs the movement and he curls them back into fists that he presses into the wall behind his back. He grinds his teeth, trying to suppress a moan, and it takes all the strength that he had--with strange light shining in his eyes, his head slumps forward, landing on Pam's chest.

"Always," he pants into the crook of her neck, gulping in her warm scent, while his body shakes in her arms.

Pam leans down and nozzles his ear. "Ask for it, then," she whispers.

Slava clenches his teeth again. "Please," he whimpers.

"Please what?" Pam nibs at the cartilage of his ear, tickling it with her tongue.

Slava moans, taking air in. "Please, blow me," he stutters out. "Suck me off."

He feels her hand on his shoulder, gripping, then is jerked back as Pam pins him back to the wall. Suddenly, everything becomes sharp again and he sees her hair, tousled around her neck, and that her cheeks are slightly reddened. And her eyes, staring right into him.

"You really have a dirty mouth," Pam says. "I was expecting something like please, kiss it."

Then she takes her hand off his shoulder and Slava feels tugging at his waist. The belt buckle clanks, there's a gritty sound as the zip goes down, and she pulls his trousers off

Pam pushes his legs apart and kneels between them, lowering herself like a crouching animal. Her ass soon sticks out higher than her head, stretching the fabric of her skirt and blocking everything else out of sight. Slava pants audibly, his whole body one taunt muscle, as he watches her regard the bulge pushing up his underwear. She pulls at the waistband, languidly, until his hard-on bobs out. It's so stiff it almost hits her in the face and she bars her teeth at it, playfully. Slava tries to stabilize his breathing as he bulges his eyes at her and is hit by a sudden realization: his dick, right next to Pam's cheek, with the gland pushing half way out of the foreskin, it really doesn't look that small.

He doesn't have time to revel in it, though. Before he can blink, Pam takes his cock between her fingers and pulls down the skin, liberating the head completely. She opens her mouth and sticks out her tongue, tracing and wetting her lips, then engulfs it.

Slava inhales sharply as his stomach tenses. He expects it to be rough, painful even--instead, Pam closes her mouth softly, halfway on his rod, enveloping him in warmth. She makes a few gentle, sucking movements with her lips, but holds her head still. She starts shifting her body; one arm winds around his leg, while the other hand presses down on the lap, opening his legs further. Slava realizes that he's seen this before, in porno's, and that this is the way men position their female partners before eating them out.

By now, he must moan lightly every time he takes a breath. All this time Pam doesn't pick up the pace--she just keeps gently suckling on his dick until she is finished stetting his legs exactly right. Even then, she moves up ever so slowly, stopping when she has the gland in her mouth. She licks the head a few times, right across the slit, then around it; starts descending. Still, she stops half way again. Seemingly oblivious to Slava's grunting, she languidly presses her tongue to the underside of his dick, then rolls it, massaging him, making circles until her tongue pushes past her lip. She extends it further, licking his underside, creeping forward towards his balls.

Slava feels her, it seems to him not only on his dick, but with each centimeter of his skin, his largest organ, now flaming up. Pam gets lower, and the shallow pressure, almost painful, nested between his loins pulses, blazes up towards her mouth. When she halts again, something wrenches him on the inside, painfully, like an animal trashing in the pit of his stomach and, in one second, his hips buckle up and his cock hits the back of Pam's throat.

It doesn't stay there, though. Locking his loins, Pam slides up, fast, only a shining afterglow of her spit left on the length of his organ. The moist skin starts to burn exposed to the air and Slava wants to scream. He whines and wrenches in Pam's iron grip instead, while her lips stop at the very tip of his glans, threatening to slide off completely.

Slava pries his eyelids open and looks down at her. She stares back at him, her eyes open wide, one brow slightly up, as if in reprimand.

'P-please,' Slava gasps. 'Please, queen, let me finish!'

Second one of Pam's eyebrows travels up and there's laughter in her eyes again. Slava takes a shaky breath in anticipation, but her head doesn't move. He concentrates so hard on the lips grazing his swollen tip that he doesn't notice her hand crawl up, until it's on the level of his face.

Slava sees her two fingers extend and point at his lips. As soon as they press, Pam's mouth slides forward as she takes him in a little deeper. The fingers tap, urgingly; he understands, but hesitates. Pam tightens her own mouth under the glans and he capitulates, parting his lips with a grunt.

He takes her fingers in, to the last knuckle. It makes him gag, but he feels Pam move at the same time. As her head goes up, she retracts her fingers; going down she pushes them back in. And she's going for it now, picking up pace, fucking him from two sides, her mouth sliding on his dick, her fingers on his tongue. Slava moans around her digits with each of her moves, but it's not enough, he needs some outlet for the pressure that keeps building up in him, so he starts to suck, push his tongue between her fingers; Pam clasps her palm tight to his chin, stroking her fingers in and out, fast.

Slava is so close that he feels the tension will shatter his bones but he can't get there, because Pam will still not go deep enough. He would give everything to rut, to ride it out on her face, in her hand, on her lap, God, if Pam would tell him to fuck her handbag he would do it if he would only be allowed to come inside there. The muscles in his tights and buttocks start contracting causing him to twitch pathetically, up, but not enough; he is giving out a continuous cry by now, muffled by her hand on his mouth.

He barely feels the fingers being pulled out; what registers is drool trickling from his parted lips, down his chin. He keeps moaning, his head dropping to the side, completely concentrated on Pam's fast, short strokes, never going further than half of his length. And that's exactly where she stops, at the precise moment when Slava feels her wet fingertips between his asscheeks.

Same deal as before--open up or forget about it. Slava doesn't even look down on her anymore; with eyes screwed shut and moaning under his breath, he presses back. She pushes and, as her fingers slide in, her mouth slides down. She has him in a vice and squeezes. With a slight shove, her knuckles hit his ass; at the same moment, his dick pushes into her throat. And then he starts coming.

Everything disappears, there is no floor under him, no lift, no building that it is in, no offices, computers, even no Pam and his fear of her. There is only him emptying, shooting into the tight warmth.

Slava might have passed out. When he regains clarity, he is stull shuddering. The feeling of his dick being released makes him open his eyes. Pam is rising, her expression deadly serious, concentrated, with her lips pressed tight in a line and he understands: she didn't swallow. She still has his load. Now her face is at the level of his, eyes locked. She stops close, so close her nose actually pokes his; then she looks down and spits, onto his chest, between the open lapels of his shirt. Slava feels the cum, warm like her mouth, splash on his skin, and he gives out a last, small whimper, like an animal squished to death.

He feels like he could lie like this, feeling his cock soften, until the end of times, but sharp noises from above wrench him out of it. He blinks and sees that the lift doors are shuddering. He finds his pants by grabbing around--the panic is too great to actively search. Fleetingly, he registers Pam straightening out her clothes, wiping lipstick that has smudged in the corner of her lips. Pulling his trousers on, he realizes he forgot about his underpants, so he stuffs them in his pocket; the moment he closes his shirt on the wet stain on his breast, the door parts with a screeching noise.

Slava turns away. He hears Pam behind him. "Yes, yes, thank you," her heels clanking on the floor outside. What follows is very much a blur, scrambling out of the lift, some words not really exchanged but spoken, then walking, fast, and shreds of Pam's voice reaching him: "...hard time. Claustrophobic, I think."

He runs out. He walks, around, and around, trying to dissipate some of the heat from his face, but all he achieves is his hands going ice cold. Finally, he finds his building, his office, goes in. Straight to Jeff's desk.

Jeff looks up from his screen, watery eyes bulging from above his glasses. "Slava? You alright, man?"

Slava feels the twisted bundle of his underwear down in his pocket. There are small bruises forming on the insides of his tights, where he was held down, and a dull ache in his anus. He has cum trickling down his chest, the gluing his shirt to his skin.

"I would like to ask for a transfer."