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Surface Tension

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This may or may not have happened



You greet me at the door dressed in a simple business shirt, skirt and heels. Your stockings cover your bare legs in appropriate tan shading. Your hair is tied up in a ponytail and your glasses frame your modest daytime make-up. Yet you have decided today not to wear your panties or bra.


I appreciate your neatness with a kiss. My hands cup your chin, but they quickly move down the smooth cotton shirt to your thinly covered breasts. I feel the nipples harden to my touch. My lips follow to your neck as my hands continue down to your waist, one moving to your tight ass, slipping under the skirt. The other pushes you against the wall. My hardened penis bulges in my pants against your warming naked labia, pinning you against the wall. My hand raises your leg to wrap it around my waist.


Breathing deeply, I mention your tardiness with your work as I nimbly unbutton your shirt with one hand. Your breasts are exposed and I attack your nipple with my lips. You nod in agreement. We both know you have to be punished.


I carry you over to the desk and plonk your cream peach ass onto the desk. I sit down on the chair, my hands pushing your knees apart. You lean back to take your punishment as my head disappears down to your pink shaven pussy.


My lips start with yours, my moist tongue rubbing up and down, then intrepidly entering the pleasure domain. I probe, you respond with a moan and your own moisture. My tongue slips up and down, delving further in. Your muscles respond, and I reward your reaction as I find your clit. It throbs gently and engorges, waiting for me to swirl my hot tongue around the sensitive button. Warmth spreads from your loins, the flow of moisture increases as my tongue laps your lips and clit. I flick it fast and quickly, the friction making you hotter and a tingle begins. It soon spreads as my relentlessness continues. The build up is familiar, and soon overwhelming. Within minutes its out of control, you breath in as the flooding sensations engulf your mind and body. You explode and release a gasp.


I am not done. I stand, grab you by the hand as you regain your composure. I make you sit on the couch. You know what to do. The hands unbuckle the belt, I shed my own shirt, you release my enraged member and take him by the neck. Your lips open, I sigh softly as your apply your tongue to my stick of passion. Saliva drops down my cock, your eyes are closed as your go about your business. I guide your head to the pace I want, you almost gag but your throat opens up and accept the thrusting, turgid cock passively. I call you a slut and a whore. You are to be punished.


I suddenly stop. A condom appears, I roll it on as your stare. "Turn around," I say. You turn around and kneel on the couch. My hands runs up your ass, flipping the skirt up. My pelvis touches your cheek, finding range and distance. Then I enter you. I slide in effortlessly, but your tightness still offers a gratifying amount of resistance. Hands on hips, I begin the ride. Long and slow at first, but with a consistency that ensures a pleasurable amount of pressure. You lean forward. But I prevent you from relaxing by grabbing your ponytail. You arch back, my other hand still guiding you down onto my shaft. I slap you on the ass infrequently as I control the rate in which I make you slide down on my cock. I tell you to moan, which you comply. Again I am calling you names. You do not disagree.




We switch positions, with me on the couch and you straddling me. My lips find your nipples as you industriously ride yourself to the same warm tingling sensation. My hands range all over your body, the cotton of your shirt rubbing over your nipples, the smooth nylon stockings encasing your pistoning thighs. Your urges increase the pace. The tingling builds.


But again, I change the scenario. My arms encase you, and still buried deep within, I deftly flip you onto your back and mount you. Your legs encase my hips, I control the pace again. My body presses firmly down, arms around your shoulders. I thrust in hard and fast. You open your hips to me, accepting me deep within. I alternatively kiss you deeply and attack your neck as I thrust and pound. Faster and faster. The pressure is constant and intense, and this time as the warmth builds I relent and allow you to be overwhelmed.


It builds and burns hot as I thrust and grunt. Your legs cajole and tighten, trying to force the pace. The speed is enough though and your moan slightly as the heat builds, then consumes you. I utter some vulgarities, but you ignore them as you are flooded with sensation. I finish in synchronisation, and grind to a halt as everything suddenly stops. Minutes pass. Then I get off you.


I clean myself up as you lie prone, exhausted but thoroughly satisfied. "Good girl," I say. Then I am gone.


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Apologies for the rather tacky adjectives and phrases, I was trying to assume a persona.

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