To Work Perchance to Fuck

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The setting is mundane. A business meeting. You’re sitting across the table from me. There are a few other people in the room and someone’s talking. Can’t remember who or what it was about. At one point I drop my pen on the floor and stoop down to pick it up.

While I’m down there I glance up and see your legs under the table. I notice your knees move ever so slightly apart, just enough for me to see that you have no underwear on, before you close your legs once more. I blink, not quite believing what I’ve just seen, and return, slightly flushed, to my chair. I look at you across the table. You return my gaze with a look of amusement, and then focus your attention on the discussion once more.

For the rest of the meeting I keep thinking about the vision beneath the table. By the time things wrap up, I’m nursing a substantial erection. Everyone gets up to leave, but I stay sitting, not quite knowing how to move without showing off my bulging trousers.

Then you say “Martin can you stay for a minute, I’d like to talk to you about the marketing plan.”

“Sure” güvenilir canlı bahis siteleri I say, trying not to sound relieved. Everyone else files out of the room, and the door is closed.

You look at me, and then, quite deliberately knock your pen onto the floor with your arm. “Oh dear,” you say.

“That’s ok,” I say, swallowing hard. “I’ll get it.” And for the second time, I get down under the table.

That was the first time we crossed the line at work. Your shuddering orgasm. Gripping my head between your thighs. Your scent on my chin for the rest of the day. From that point on, it became an exercise in manufacturing opportunities to have sex at least once a week. Whenever I got a one-on-one meeting request from you, always in the meeting room at the very end of the corridor and at the very end of the day, I knew what you had in mind.

There were other times too, unplanned. Like the time we had to work together on the proposal that was run out of the Sydney office. There we were in Canberra on a drawn out teleconference ending güvenilir illegal bahis siteleri in recriminations at 10pm, with a document that needed to be re-written by the next morning.

We were alone. You stood at the whiteboard in a panic and started frantically storyboarding the new version of the document, talking at a hundred miles an hour, but I wasn’t following you at all. I was staring at your ass, at the visible lines of your underwear and the perfect outline of your hips.

When you turned around I was right there, shoving you against the wall as you stumbled in your heels. My body pressed against you, pinning you. My hand under your blouse on the bare skin of your waist. The other gripping your hair. An unapologetic bulge pressing against you. Heavy breathing into your neck. Frantically you lifted your skirt… God we fucked with fury that time.

You really pushed the envelope when we travelled together to Sydney to that conference. It was the first night and there was a drinks event at the hotel. I was there talking to some güvenilir bahis şirketleri people I met at one of the sessions. You were talking to a young guy at the other side of the room. He left and you walked over to me, whispering in my ear: “My room, five minutes.” Then you kept walking.

When I knocked at your room door a few minutes later you answered, pressing your fingers to your lips to silence me. I followed you into the room. On your bed was the young guy you were talking to in the bar. He was naked, hard-on resting on his belly. You knelt between his legs near the bottom of the bed, grasped his erect penis in your hand, and before you took him into your mouth, you reached back and hitched up your skirt at the back to show me what I was there for.

That really turned me on. I couldn’t get inside you fast enough. I think all three of us came together that night, crying out in unison. The next morning you didn’t say a thing. It was almost like it never happened.

Then one day you didn’t show up to work and the staff were told that you’d resigned. I found out later that you’d been fucking the HR manager too. Rumour had it the Managing Director had walked in on you while you were tied to his office chair getting a throat full. Work was less interesting without you, but I was certainly less distracted and more productive.

Until the new girl arrived.

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