Written by mighty quinn

5 Feb 2011

A late night at work

They were colleagues but worked in different offices. They had only spoken by phone. Tonight they would be holed up in a hotel room, working on a big project. She arrived at the hotel after he did and she checked in and rang his room.

Their phone conversations over the few months since he started working for the company had been professional, if a bit flirtatious. They had an easy chemistry between them, and it did not take long for some sexual innuendos to creep into their phone calls and text messages. She felt a bit guilty as she was happily married, but she did not think her husband would really mind. They had a great relationship (and sex life) but he was a bit of a flirt himself, and he even confessed to her one night that he fantasized about her being with another man. Her new colleague had a sexy voice, but she could not pinpoint exactly what was sexy about it. The intensity and frequency of phone calls increased as the date neared, a date that they had both, unbeknownst to the other, marked on their calendars.

He answered his phone on the first ring and told her to come by whenever she was ready. They were going to be working late, and he suggested she come over in whatever clothes she usually slept in. He hoped he was not being too forward.

She changed into her “pajamas”. She did not think much of them, but they drove her husband crazy. She wore a white men’s dress shirt and black cotton pants. She forgot that her soft brown areolas could be seen through the white shirt, or did she? She also brought over some wine. “What the hell”, she thought, “if we’re going to be crunching numbers all night, we might as well have something to drink”. His door was just a few down from hers. She knocked, and then her jaw nearly hit the floor. Was this who she’d been talking to for the past few months?! He was hotter than she imagined, than she hoped for. He was tall, solid, olive skinned, dark hair, blue eyes, and was wearing a ribbed tight cotton shirt and boxers that went down to the feet. His eyes dropped from her beautiful face (resembling a young Marisa Tomei meets Sandra Bullock), her dark hair, to her breasts, muscular legs, and back up again. “Come on in”, he finally gulped. She regained her composure, stepped past him and into the room. His papers were spread on the table and she sat down at the desk. Her heart had leapt into her throat and started stampeding in her chest. She suggested they open the wine and get to work. He sat across from her and slightly to the side. He strategically positioned himself slightly askew from her so he could peek in a get a glimpse of soft perky A cups between the buttons on her shirt. She knew exactly why he sat where he did, and she did nothing to cover herself up or change her position. She stole glances at his abs and chest formed under his shirt. He was at once disappointed, surprised, and excited to see her left hand adorned with a wedding ring. She had never mentioned being married.

After some time, and some wine, and some silence, and some laughter, she began to discern a slight accent in his voice. He sounded like he was raised in an accentless part of the States by a French father and a Spanish mother. It became more pronounced, and hotter, the more they drank. It soon became apparent that neither of them was focusing on their work, though they spent most of their time with their heads down staring at the papers. She constantly bit her lower lip, and she would look at the same line of numbers for much longer than it took for her to understand what she was looking at. He kept moving his eyes from the papers, to her shirt, and back again. The tension in the room built like a constantly stoked fire, and it was getting just as warm. Finally, he put his pen down and stood up. Her breathing immediately increased, her chest started to heave, and her heart beat even faster. He stood there for a second, looking at her, and then to her disappointment, walked past her and into the bathroom. She almost got up to leave. If they weren’t going to work (and they weren’t working), she might as well go, get herself off and fall asleep. But she decided to stay a bit longer.

He closed the door and looked into the mirror. His mind was racing, he could think of nothing but bending this ravishing beauty over the bed and taking her ferociously. He thought she felt something for him too, but he could not be sure. She was married for god’s sake! He decided he had to do something. He took out his cock and began stroking it. It was instantly hard. He thought of putting it insider her and he came in about three strokes. His semen shot straight forward like a bullet from a rifle.

Meanwhile, she sat back in her chair and put her pen down. She was disciplined enough to keep her hands from reaching down her pants, but not enough to keep them from pressing on her clit outside her pants. She was hoping this would calm her down some, but it had the opposite effect. The voices in her head were begging her to leave and call her husband, but the voices in her loins (which mentioned that her husband would love hearing about what was about to happen) won out. She was immediately flooded and the flame insider her, fueled by lust and conflict, only grew hotter.

When he emerged from the bathroom, he looked sweaty and overheated. He approached the desk, but instead of sitting back down in his chair (and unable to fight his urges any longer), he came up behind her, put his strong hands on her muscular shoulders, and started to massage her. She immediately fell almost into a trance. These were some experienced hands. Then, slowly, he reached down and began unbuttoning her shirt. He expected a protest as each button loosened, but it never came. Soon he was massaging her bare, firm breasts. Her nipples became rocks in his hands. She put her head back against his washboard and moaned softly. He continued to knead. Without thinking, she turned towards him and was faced with the hole in his pants from which she could free his immense manhood. She reached in and pulled. It was sturdy and ready. She placed it, tip to testes, in her mouth. She could take all of it, which amazed him. Few women had performed such a feat. He knew that if he let her masterly tongue stroke his shaft, and knead his sack, that he would blow his load in seconds. He could easily recover from one orgasm, but not two. He removed himself from her mouth. He would cum, but not yet. She stood up, her shirt fell to the floor revealing her breasts, tight stomach, and swimmer’s back. She reached down and slid her hands up his muscles removing his top as she went up. She worked on his pants. They fell easily. He slid his hands down her sleek thighs and she stepped out of her pants and thong which was soaked by now. She led him to the bed, and bent over, as if reading his mind. She wanted him to enter her. She wanted him bad. Her husband and she had a great sex life, but her travel schedule was such lately that they had not been intimate for weeks. She wanted him to grab her hips and rail her mercilessly. Instead though, he started kissing her neck and back gently, tenderly. He was teasing her and it was driving her crazy. He slid his tongue down her perfect tan back, not drenching her with saliva, but caressing her with his tongue and lips softly and gently. She expected him to begin his ascent once he reached her tailbone, but kept going down. His tongue lingered between her buttocks at the very top. She became even more alive. Finally, he slid back up. “Now” she thought, “here it comes”. But he had something else in mind. He knew exactly what she wanted and it took all his might not to give it to her. He knew his teasing her was only making her hotter and hotter. He reached for her perfect breasts and started to rub and massage. His humongous cock, rock solid, slid down between her cheeks. She began to fear he was going to place it insider her into uncharted waters. Her fear only added to her excitement. His tip lingered right near the entrance to her tightest regions. She swallowed hard and prepared herself for what she thought was coming next. She was not sure she wanted this, and she was pretty sure that if he put himself in that area, she would split in two. The sensation from the pressure of his cut tip was frightening and exquisite. Little did she know that he had other intentions. He expertly massaged her sphincter muscles, and poked himself in just a little bit. She moaned at the sensation, but he knew that the anticipation would be better than the reality (at least for her). As he was maneuvering behind her, she began to think “if he fondled my clit right now, I’d probably explode”. As if right on cue, he reached down and started to rub her erogenous zone. An orgasm, that felt like it was months in the making, exploded like fireworks from deep within her. She rode his hand, which pushed his cock harder against her tight sphincter, which made her rock harder with each passing, sensually sinful wave.

Finally, and almost after blowing his load right between her tight muscular buttocks, he released her. She climbed, hands and knees on to the bed. He could wait no longer. He plunged himself insider her loins and began to pump away. She started moving in rhythm with him. They instantly became one simultaneous rocking motion each always moving in opposite directions. His enormous cock filled every inch of her and penetrated her deeper inside her than any man had ever been. His testes slammed against her throbbing clit, sending her into a state of frenzy from which she thought she’d never return. He could feel her squeezing him with amazing strength. Her hands started to ball up the bed sheets and she held on as tight as a rock climber hanging from a ledge. They slammed against each other like a piston in a racing engine, releasing months of built up tension and excited energy. Their orgasms started growling and yearning for release at the same time. She had never been pounded in such a way inside and stimulated in such a way outside as to have an orgasm start flooding from both places at once. He had never had his cock squeezed so hard that, if he closed his eyes he could have been convinced that her hand was wrapped around him instead of her glistening folds. The sensation went up and down shaft as he rammed in and out of her as fast and as hard as he could. He had sensed where her G-spot was, and used the thickness of his cut head to rub against it. The intensity of the whole experience soon began to well inside them. Their orgasms started to climb to a mountain-high crescendo. Both felt like their insides were on fire, and that their skin was being doused with cool pure water. The glistening of their sweaty bodies, and the musty odor that filled the room did nothing to soothe their quivering, throbbing loins.

He could hold out no longer. He shot from his inner regions to her inner regions. It was the very definition of a sweet release. She had more discipline (slightly) and she wanted to be sure that he was finished, but still hard, before she let herself go. He kept moaning and thrusting, his hands gripped the flesh of her hips so hard he left marks. She then came. She let her sphincter muscles loose and then slammed them together again. When she did, her juices shot from her like a Vegas fountain. She moaned, came, rocked, and gasped all at the same time. Finally, she descended back to earth. He emerged from her and they were both shaking and exhausted.

That was the last thing she remembered. She woke up in her own bed the next morning, warm and fulfilled. She reached for the phone, and rang her husband.