Uncharted Territory Pt. 02

With a shrug, Ron lifted the spread that she lay on and doubled it over to cover her, planted a kiss on her cheek, then departed—but not with out a big smile on his face.

He had done it again, he realized. He had satisfied another woman, an older one at that, just with his abilities. Heading for his SUV, the spring had returned to his step.

* * *

Wednesday started on another high note, but as the day wore on, so did Ron's confidence. He was encouraged by his performance last night, but nagged by the thought that Chelsea had obviously been so horny that it really hadn't taken much skill to get her off—even three times. Still, it was a step in the right direction.

Of further concern was what to do or say when he saw Chelsea today: compliment her on a great fuck last night, pretend like nothing happened, or just react to whatever she did? He also wondered what he might have gotten himself into. Was this just a one night stand: two ships passing in the night? Or did she expect it to happen again, and if so, how soon and how much? Another chance romp would be delightful, but he didn't want to carry on an affair with a married woman.

Fortunately, Ron had no reason to visit the executive suite all day, so he thought he might have been home free—or at least, postponing the inevitable. That is, until he received a call to go up and take a look at Debi's computer. Debi was the junior of the boss's two administrative assistants, one of those hot twenty-somethings and probably the only one whose body could give Chelsea some serious competition—which was undoubtedly why she worked for the boss. Debi was also British, and her accent alone was a turn on.

So now, not only would Ron have to interact with Chelsea, but he would have to give his attention to Debi instead. This could be troublesome.

However, when he stepped into the executive suite, neither of the ladies were present. He walked over to the boss's office to see if either was in there. Chelsea unexpectedly came out, and as though knowing he was there, cupped his balls through his pants and said, "Looking for me?"

Almost choking, Ron's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as he glanced at the door to the boss's office.

"Relax. He's gone for the day," Chelsea giggled.

"I have a request to look at Debi's computer," he stuttered.

"She'll be back in a minute," Chelsea advised, cheerfully.

Well, last evening had certainly done her a world of good, Ron thought. Finally composed, he noted that fact.

She smiled warmly. "That was awfully sweet of you to cover me. Sorry I fell asleep on you, but I haven't had such a good night's sleep in ages. You're just what the doctor ordered. What's the matter, cat got your tongue?"

"No, I just wasn't sure what to expect when I saw you today," he answered honestly.

"Well, you put the same bounce in my step that you've been having. It's amazing what a little good sex can do for you."

"That's all it was?" Ron asked in mock disappointment. "Good?"

"You know it was better than good. I hope we get to do it again sometime. But until then, don't wait around. That was a chance get together."

"Chance? I got the impression it was planned all the way."

Chelsea chuckled. "I had no idea you would come to the bar."

"You would have just found someone else."

She almost took offense to that statement. Her strong disagreement came across in her voice. "Well, I don't know what you think of me, Ron, but that was the first time I have ever done anything like that."

"I'm sorry," he quickly mentioned, "I didn't mean—"

"I know. I'll allow you that one. Despite what I might have led you to believe," Chelsea explained, "I do love my husband. While he might not be worth a damn in bed, he's a good man and a good provider and I wouldn't leave him. You're different than all the other schmucky guys and you came along at a time when I needed something he couldn't give me. Was it wrong? Probably. Would I do it again? In a heartbeat. Why? Well, don't let this go to your head, but you're very good in bed. I meant it when I said I hope we can do it again sometime, but until then, let's just leave it at that."

It almost stung like a reprimand, but he let it go. "Will it change our working relationship?"

"Not unless you change it." Chelsea leaned in and kissed him on the lips. "Now I've got to go pick up my husband at the airport. Keep your tool sharpened." With that, she swatted his crotch, causing him to jerk back, then turned, grabbed her purse off her desk and left.

Ron shook his head. Damn! Between last night and just now, if those weren't two of the strangest exchanges ever. Talk about uncharted territory!

At that moment, Debi appeared. Ron had to take a moment to reconsider his earlier thought about Chelsea being able to stand up to the junior assistant. The statuesque brunette was taller than her co-worker, but built almost identically with large breasts, yet not so much as to be disproportional. He legs were shapely with very well-defined thighs that might be considered by some to be a bit pronounced, but somehow looked sexy to Ron. Her short skirt and low cut top wrapped it all in an eye-catching package. Apparently, the boss went for a certain look. She sat at her desk, her skirt revealing even more of those wonderful thighs, which she made no attempt to conceal.

Pulling himself together, Ron asked, "So, what seems to be the problem." He stepped closer to her desk.

Instead of sliding her chair in to reach her keyboard, she simply leaned over, reached out and tapped a key. He got a good look down her top. They were everything he thought they would be. "I get this message." He loved her accent.

It was a message that said a network wire might be unplugged. Quite often, it meant nothing, but he still had to go through the motions. "Well, let's check the obvious."

He got down on the floor on his back to slide under her desk where those incredible legs normally resided. Uncrossing her legs, wider, he thought, than was necessary, she eased her chair back but not much, just enough for him to crawl under to reach the back of her computer which stood on the floor in her leg space. He reached around to feel for the Category 5 wire. He happened to glance in her direction, noticing her legs were still spread, and from this vantage point, he could see clear up her skirt. For a moment, he thought it was too dark because he couldn't see any light colored panties at the end of the tunnel. Then it occurred to him that maybe she was wearing dark ones. He was about to give up the sophomorish exercise when he thought he saw something glistening. All at once, he realized he was seeing a drop of moisture from . . . her pussy? She was wearing no undergarments and she was . . . getting wet.

It was that moment that Ron discovered her cable had become slightly dislodged, but he was too preoccupied to re-seat it. He also became aware that he was sporting a serious hard on, though he didn't know how long he'd had it. He didn't think she could see him watching her from her angle, and he could only imagine what scene she was faced with, but certainly the lower half of his body and a mountainous bulge in his pants had to be a huge part of it. Still, she did not appear to be moving away. Could that possibly be what was making her juices flow?

The question now was how long did he let this little escapade continue? He detected more moisture between her legs—or was it wishful thinking. Had to be because he surely felt something wet oozing from his cock.

Debi leaned down to see him, adding her generous tits to his depth of field. Another drop in his pants. "How's it coming?" she asked.

"Coming might be the operative word," Ron uttered, not loudly.

"Excuse me?"

Okay, he couldn't keep this up; well, he could keep it up as long as she remained in that position. His mind was going soft. Quickly fixing the wire, he asked, "Did the message go away?"

"Yes, it did," she answered, as though impressed that he could plug in a wire. Of course, she didn't know it had been that simple. Should he let on?

However, it apparently wasn't over yet. The next thing he knew, something was rubbing his cock through his pants. Tilting his head, it appeared to be her bare foot.

She saw him look up. "Sorry. I . . . I was wondering if it was real."

Now, it was his turn to say: "Excuse me?"

"Well, you know, some blokes . . ."

"Did you think I maybe had a banana in my pocket?"

"No, no, but some guys just have a little weeny. I wanted to make sure you had a real piece of banger."

"A what?"

"Sorry. What you call sausage."

"Oh, and why is that so important to you?"

"So that when I do this—" she reached down and unzipped his zipper "—and then do this—" she fished out his steel spike "—I won't be disappointed. Because when I do this—" she was now on her knees swallowing his cock "—I want prime steak, not ground meat." She went right on devouring his cock, wetting every inch of it. All the way down to the base she would go, then up to the tip, lathering the mushroom, tonguing the slit. On it went for several minutes as Ron relaxed, enjoying the blow job. It was so pleasurable and she was so good at it he was in no hurry to come.

However, the routine suddenly changed, but before he could be disappointed, she tilted his cock toward his stomach, continually and gently stroking it, then leaned in and took his nearest ball in her mouth and sucked on it like it was hard candy.

Uncharted territory, to be sure, but what an overwhelming feeling. Forget wanting to hold off his orgasm, this was making it almost impossible not to. And when she repeated the action on his other testicle, the first shot of semen burst into her hand, which was around his glans as though she anticipated his climax would happen when it did.

"Mmmm, steak sauce," Debi murmured, redirecting her mouth to the spurting head. She'd already rubbed a fair amount of it all over the top of his cock, then she swallowed the remaining few jets as they blasted right into her mouth. Finally, she licked all of the smeared stuff off of his shaft and her hand until both were clean.

Ron slid out from under her desk and what had to have been a bizarre scene: him lying on the floor halfway beneath her desk and she on her knees giving him oral sex. He wondered if something had happened to him prior to last weekend. Had he hit his head or had someone slipped something in a drink? First, Jenna, then Chelsea, now Debi; why was he suddenly so lucky with sex? Was he giving off some aura that only horny women could see?

"Well, that was fun," he commented, lamely, for lack of anything better to say while zipping back up.

"What time do you get off?" Debi asked, like a cheap pick-up line.

"I think I just did," he quipped.

"I meant, work."

Ron glanced at his watch. "Coincidentally, I just did."

"Want to do something?"

"Like?"

"More of what we just did," she answered with a shrug—not one of indifference, but rather one of uncertainty about how to ask.

Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, Ron had to ask anyway: "Why me? Why now? I've worked here for years."

Debi hung her head, somewhat embarrassed. "I hate to answer a question with another question, but why do you want to know? Most blokes would be glad just to be asked."

"As am I. Let's just say I've had a couple other curious opportunities this week, which I've never had before, and as far as I know, I'm the same person who left here last Friday."

"On the contrary, you're not. You've got a bounce in your step, you're more friendly, witty. A lot of us have noticed."

"So, because of that, you . . ." Ron let his head bob from side to side a few times, then nodded to the floor by her desk.

"Do you mind if we continue this conversation on the way out?" She gestured her head toward the boss's office. "Wouldn't want him to call and get stuck here."

"Of course," As they left the executive suite, Ron reminded: "So, you were saying?"

"You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"Debi, I'm going through a divorce and I've learned some things about myself this week, which might explain the changes everyone seems to have noticed. So, I guess you could say I'm on a journey to find myself. Most of where I've gone has been uncharted territory. What you have to say might be a further clue."

Debi nodded her understanding. "I . . . I . . . I've actually had my eye on you for quite some time, but Mother Superior wouldn't allow me to pursue you."

"Mother Superior?" he repeated.

"Chelsea. Look, she's a wonderful person, but more often than not, she acts like she's the boss. The trouble is, she has the boss's ear."

"Whoa. Go back to Chelsea wouldn't allow you to pursue me," Ron said, totally confused. "What exactly does that mean?"

"Don't take me wrong. We do get on very well. And I've made comments after you've come up in the past about how handsome you are or the bulge you sometimes sported. Sometimes, I was more descriptive—which I won't embarrass myself by going into. Then, after one such remark, Chelsea straight up said it was okay for me to admire from afar, but to leave you alone. If I didn't know better, I would've thought she wanted you all to herself."

Ron chuckled to lend credence to the better she thought she knew. Except that, in reality, Debi might not have been far off. It explained some things, but also raised another question. "What suddenly changed?"

"I'm really not sure," Debi answered honestly. "I mentioned my little computer problem and that I was going to call you. And I might have—" she cleared her throat, but it seemed more a cover-up "—made some other wishful statement and she said you were going through a divorce and could probably use the right kind of female companionship, so I should disregard any previous suggestions along those lines she might have made. So, knowing you were on your way up, I went to touch up, and when I came back, she was gone, you were there with the most inviting bulge and here were are."

Taking several seconds to digest her story, Ron finally said, "So, I guess the question now is, where are we going?"

"I could really go for some pizza," Debi said very animatedly.

Ron frowned. "I thought we were going to do more of what we had done?"

"We are, love." She leaned closer to him as they walked out of the building as though not to be overheard—though no one was around—and whispered, "I'm going to fuck your brains out. But first, we need food to build our strength."

It gave Ron a hard on, so he said, "Okay."

"How about Mama Rosa's?"

"Not familiar with it."

"My, God, it's the absolute best pizza. It's not far out of the way. We can pick it up."

"And take it where?"

"Well, I have a roommate, but I'm not ready to share yet. Your place?"

"Why not?"

* * *

"Oh, my God, you've got a fireplace!" Debi noted with great excitement when they entered Ron's apartment.

He and Dana had sold their house as neither wanted the memory of it. They also made certain to find apartments far away from one another, and as Dana leased one nearest her family, Ron had the rest of the city to choose from. So, he selected a very nice one.

"I love a nice fire," Debi went on. "Do you suppose we could light one? They're ever so much fun to stretch out before."

Ron shrugged. "I guess it's cool enough." It was that time of the year, autumn, when the days were warm and the nights were cool; tonight was one of those. However, at this point, if a fire was all it took to put her in the mood, he'd light one and turn on the air conditioner if it got too warm.

By the time she went into his kitchen to pour them each a glass of red wine and came back, Ron had a nice, warm flame burning. He had taken a seat on the sofa, but she sat on the floor against it on the end nearest the fire. Pushing the coffee table out of the way, he slid down to join her, handing her a piece of pizza. After his first bite, he had to admit that it was one of the best he had ever had. She'd had no regard for her skirt when she plopped down, it was well up exposing nearly all of her thighs. Knowing it would be coming off before long, he was less inclined to steal glances, but it was still in his nature to do so here and there.

"So, how long have you been in the United States?" Ron asked casually while they munched on the pizza.

"Three, four years I should think."

"Why here? We're probably a little out of the way for foreigners. Why not New York or Chicago or someplace like that?"

"Actually, I did start out in New York. I was working in London and met this American chap who was doing business with my employer, told him I'd like to come to the States. He actually offered me a job. It sounded legitimate so I took him up on it. He paid my way, but he expected quite a bit more than the job required, if you take my meaning. Then I met our boss, who was doing business with my American company, and he offered me a job here. I'd never heard of this town or his company and thought I might be in for the same treatment. But we talked about it and he swore it was all on the up and up. So, I took the chance. He turned out to be a man of his word."

"That's interesting," Ron commented. "I've heard some stories about his escapades with women."

"And they're probably all true," Debi acknowledged. "But he doesn't mix business with pleasure. And as far as I know, and I feel fairly comfortable in saying, he doesn't screw the help. He just likes to have attractive women around. I overheard a conversation once with a friend of his who had popped around for a visit. The friend asked why he had so many hot women working for him. The boss explained that whenever he had a situation in hiring employees where two applicants were equally qualified for the job he always gave the advantage to the beautiful woman."

Ron chuckled. "Well, I guess you have to have some criteria." They each finished a slice and washed it down with a sip of wine. "So, are you actually from London?"

Debi turned to lean up against the hearth and was now facing Ron. She had already kicked off her shoes, and with her skirt near up to her crotch, he could easily spot her still uncovered, still wet pussy. "For all intents and purposes, yes. But technically, I was born near Greenwich, you know, where the prime meridian is, the world's timekeeper, where Henry VIII was born and all that. It's what you yanks would probably call a suburb."

"Do you still have family there?"

She wrangled her foot between his legs and, once again, used her sole to play with his cock, but this time, more in a fidgeting manner. "Yup. Mum and dad, two sisters and other assorted relatives. They all thought I was bonkers coming here, but I think they've accepted it now. Do you have a nice, fluffy comforter? I'd like to get comfortable here in front the fire."

"I do." Ron stood, having to adjust his penis, then walked into his bedroom to get the comforter off his bed. For a second he toyed with the idea of slipping into something "more comfortable" himself, but he really didn't know what that would be.

When he returned to the living room, Debi had already slipped out of her clothes. He moved the coffee table even further out of the way and spread the comforter on the carpeted floor. She wasn't shy about stretching out on it, on her back with her legs spread and up, bent at the knees, allowing the warmth of the flames to tease her already heated pussy.

"Ah, dessert," Ron remarked, pushing her back a little from the fire and dropping to his belly to sample her delicacy. It was a sweet and creamy aphrodisiac. He savored her sugary juices as his tongue explored every millimeter of her womanhood. She tasted different than Jenna and Chelsea, but no less appetizing.