The Temp

"Oh, my god," she cried out and Roger felt it in her ass, the tightening, the quiver that came from her hot, secret center as her puckered little hole drew up. It clenched shut and vibrated and pulsed around his finger. Every nerve was alive and every breath was a cry as her orgasm began there. It rushed forward, it pushed through her hips and rose up her shaft. He could feel the vibration of it in his throat as the girl cried out again, "Oh, my god," and a spurt of hot cream entered his mouth.

She tasted like a girl too. Sweet and milky, even her climax was delicious and fruity and carried with it the sweet scent of flowers. Roger brought his mouth up to the head of her dick and drank and swallowed mouthful after mouthful of her delectable cum. He rooted and milked every last drop from the girl's beautiful dick. Her legs shivered and he felt it in his bones, her cries came and went like a heartbeat and her little sighs were glorious as he drained her exquisite cock of every bit of the sweetest cum there had ever been.

It wasn't until he stopped that he knew what happened. It wasn't until after he slid his finger out of her silky, pink crevice and released her soft, small dick. He watched it loll and snuggle in her loose sack once more and Roger realized that his own dick was softer now as well. He'd cum in his pants. He pressed his forehead to her belly as he felt the waves course through him. He was covered in sweat and her love scent and foamy with his saliva that gushed from her asshole. "Oh, my god," she repeated but this was just above a whisper. Roger wrapped his arms around her hips and held her close. He shivered and felt like he could drown like this, in her scent, in their pleasure. It was something entirely new and although he usually hated change, this was something he didn't think he could live without now.

The problem was that he had no idea what to say after.

He never did before either, in his brief history as a single man. What had it been, almost forty years, since he had an orgasm with a virtual stranger? Roger got to his feet and went to his desk. In the bottom left drawer, he had an old sweatshirt that he kept there in case he spilled coffee on his shirt. "Here, you want this?" he asked as he handed it to her.

"Thanks," Gloria accepted it and wiped herself up with the sweatshirt. She had already begun to redress and once she slipped on her see-through panties, he knew that this was goodbye. "I have to get home," she said in a small voice that brought the intoxicating fantasy back to earth with a crashing reality. "My boyfriend's coming over."

Lucky bastard, Roger thought but realized that he was going to be late for taco night and nodded. "Well I don't want to get you in trouble." She passed him the damp sweatshirt once her underwear and bra were on. He luxuriated in Gloria's scent as he wiped his neck and his hands. She buttoned up the dress and smoothed it down into place, as if the only possible giveaway of what had just occurred were a couple of wrinkles.

Nothing earthshattering.

Roger straightened his tie once more before he turned his office light off. They walked in unison down the hall and then turned toward the door. Roger pressed the code for the security system an waited until the door clicked, just to make sure that it was locked, just like he did every night. Gloria didn't say a word until they were outside. "Well, good night," she called to him but this wasn't her honeyed voice that tugged and teased. There was no kiss, no tender words. He couldn't help but notice that there was no mention of doing this again either and Roger was surprised at how vulnerable he felt as he watched her walk away.

"Good night," he called after her, wondering if he was as obviously gaga about her as he felt.

***

The next day was just as humid as the previous day. Everything was covered in warm condensation and normally Roger would have grumbled about the temperature as soon as he realized how hot it was going to be.

Not so today. This morning, there was a spring in his step and he couldn't stop smiling.

He felt his heart beating faster as 8:00 approached, as if it were able to read the time. When Gloria hadn't arrived by 8:04, he was more than a little anxious. A minute later and Roger scowled at the computer screen. He really hated people that weren't punctual but considering what had occurred the night before, he didn't think he could ever reprimand her for anything. He had lost all authority, he chided himself. With every last droplet of cum that he'd drank down, he had become less of a boss and more of a lover.

A lover who was already pining away for more. Christ, he was already jealous of her boyfriend and eager for a second and third chance. He'd stayed up most of the night, too wired to do anything but see her pink lips in the dark. He had envisioned her coming on his dick while he jacked her off. That is, if she would let him put his big, ugly monstrosity in that most delicate of sanctums. He'd imagined what heavenly sensations would run up and down his body if his cock were buried to the hilt in her glove tight, little asshole.

Roger had cum again, just to that image, in about three strokes. After he had seen the wet spot in the middle of his visitor's couch this morning, he knew that he could cum again looking at it, let alone smelling it.

At 8:10 there was a knock on the door. He turned, ready to smile at the curly-haired girl of his dreams but the smile was frozen into something that he was sure looked quite surly. "Hey, sorry I'm late," she looked like a toad so he had gotten his wish. "I'm Marjorie. The agency didn't call me until like thirty minutes ago." She was short, squat, her throat was thick and fleshy like a bullfrog and her eyes were alarmingly large.

"Where's Gloria?" he asked, trying not to explode.

"I don't know," the temp shrugged, "Sorry, they sent me instead."

"Fine," he was sullen and his heart hurt in his chest and Roger, for the first time since he'd started the damn company, wanted to go home rather than work. "Go get some coffee or something while I get some things sorted out," he waved her off. He didn't want to look at her.

He wanted the girl with one dimple back. He wanted to see her smile at him and stare into her eyes through those thick lashes. Maybe later, when no one else was around, he'd kiss every freckle across her nose while his busy hands cupped her bottom and pressed her hips into his erection.

Once the temp was out of sight, Roger opened his desk drawer and found the sweatshirt that they had wiped up with last night. That was all it took, a waft of her nectar rose and mixed with the air. The scent drew him back into the daydream of her open arms and quivering thighs and her delicious ass and her perfect cock.

What had happened last night? What had he done wrong? Well, besides sexual harassment and probably every other not safe for work activity that they warned you about in those inane online classes that they took once a year.

Hadn't she enjoyed herself though?

Women, Roger thought and shook his head as he scrolled through his emails. He had probably offended her in some way, perhaps it was just the lack of conversation afterward. He was clueless but women, at least all the women he had known, always assumed the worst. Instead of thinking that the man they were with was simply spellbound and enchanted, tongue-tied and drained of everything but pleasure, they always seemed to think that it was something sinister. As if a man could ever be calculating right after an orgasm.

Here was an email from an address he didn't recognize. He clicked it open and smiled instantly as his frozen heart began to thaw. "Please don't be upset that I'm not coming back to work there. Last night was wonderful and I would love to see you again, but not there. I just don't want to cause any trouble. If you would like to call me, my cell is 312-555-0110. XOXO, Gloria."

His hand darted out for the phone before he'd even thought about it. Wait, Roger told himself as he froze in place. Last night was one thing but she was right. The dreamy, gypsy girl in the ruffled dress, the magical girl with one dimple was actually being quite logical.

It was wonderful, but to continue? To go from a spontaneous, once in a lifetime, dream come true, explosion of passion like he'd never known before to what? An affair? With a girl who was probably all of nineteen?

He had to think about it.

At least that's what he told himself anyway, as he punched in the numbers.