My Confession in His Office That Afternoon

I had already told you part of what was going on between him and me, but that afternoon in his office was when I understood just how completely surrendered to him I was. I’m not going to use his real name or identify the exact place, but I will say something important: we were both adults and knew perfectly well what we were doing. He had been inviting me to visit him for some time whenever I had a free moment, always on the condition that I let him know beforehand so I wouldn’t interrupt a meeting.

That day I couldn’t hold back any longer. I sent him a message, he replied that he was alone, and I took a taxi with my heart racing. I wore a short denim dress I liked because it hugged my waist and made me feel pretty, and underneath I had on simple underwear, nothing special, although inside I was trembling as if I had chosen the most provocative outfit in the world.

His office was nearly empty at that hour. The hallway was silent, the lights were on, and the door to his office was ajar. When I went in and saw him behind the desk, sleeves rolled up and wearing that calm smile of a man who already knows what effect he has, I couldn’t contain myself.

—I missed you—I said as soon as I crossed the doorway.

He got up immediately, came toward me, and hugged me tightly. He kissed my temple, ran a hand down my back, and let out one of those phrases of his that completely undid me.

—Come here, beautiful. You have no idea how badly I wanted to have you close to me again.

The kiss didn’t come immediately. First he held me, looking at me as if he wanted to burn my face into his memory, and brushed a lock of hair away from my face. Then his mouth found mine, slowly, with that confidence that made me go soft. I pressed myself against his chest, wrapped my arms around his neck, and immediately felt my body respond. Not even two minutes had passed and I was already hot.

He led me to the leather sofa beside a low table. He sat down and gestured for me to settle on top of him. I didn’t hesitate. I spread my legs and sat astride his thighs, facing him, hugging him around the waist. I noticed his breathing grow heavier as soon as I began moving against him.

—You drive me crazy like that—he murmured against my lips.

I wasn’t doing much, barely rubbing my pussy against the fabric of his trousers, but it was enough to feel him hardening between my legs. His reaction turned me on more than any words could have. I lowered my head and kissed his neck, trailing slow touches with my mouth while I rocked against him at an increasingly deliberate rhythm, seeking friction exactly where everything inside me was beginning to throb.

—Look at me—he asked.

I obeyed. He held my face between his hands, brushed his nose against mine, and kissed me with tongue, sliding it in slowly at first, then deeper, as if he wanted to teach me how to answer him. I opened my mouth and let him do it, finally moaning softly into the kiss when his hand squeezed one of my buttocks over the dress.

—You look so beautiful on top of me—he said. —So close, so needy.

I was flushed, nervous, and wet. The combination made me feel exposed and powerful at the same time. I started unbuttoning his shirt, one button at a time, my fingers clumsy with haste. He didn’t help me; he preferred to let me do it while kissing my shoulders and neck, while running his hands up and down my thighs and spreading them a little farther over his legs.

—I want to see you—he said. —Stand up.

I stood, and he slowly pulled the side zipper of my dress, savoring every second. The fabric fell to my hips and then to the floor. I stood before him in bra and panties, my skin prickling from the air-conditioning and from the way he looked at me. He didn’t take his eyes off me for a moment.

—This is how I wanted you standing in front of me—he murmured, spreading his legs on the sofa. —Come here.

He drew me closer with one hand on my waist, and with the other he slowly lowered my underwear, sliding it down my legs until it rested around my ankles. I felt a hot flush of embarrassment as I stood exposed before him, completely open to his gaze. But there was nothing mocking in his expression. It was pure hunger.

He leaned in and kissed my belly first. Then my navel. Then he moved lower without hurrying, as if savoring the journey. When his face was right in front of my pussy, he inhaled deeply and released a low sound that made me tremble.

—Fuck… you’re already wet.

He stroked me with his thumb between my lips, just one pass, enough to gather my wetness. Then he brought his finger to his mouth and sucked it while looking at me. My knees almost gave way.

—I knew you’d be like this—he said. —Come here, let me taste you properly.

He spread my legs with his hands and pulled me closer. His tongue’s first contact was gentle, one long lick from bottom to top that drew an awkward gasp from me. I gripped his shoulders so I wouldn’t lose my balance. The second time he flattened his tongue more and ran it firmly over my clitoris. That was when I really moaned.

—That’s it… like that—he said against my skin before burying his face between my thighs again.

He started eating my pussy with a dedication I had never known. It wasn’t a couple of timid kisses or a quick game. He opened me properly with his fingers and licked every fold, moving up and down, insisting on my clitoris until it was hard and sensitive. Then he alternated slow sucking with quick flicks of his tongue that made me writhe.

—Don’t move so much—he ordered, holding my buttocks. —Let me work you.

I wanted to obey, but it was almost impossible. Every time he sucked the swollen button between my lips, my pelvis moved forward on pure reflex. He was making a mess of me. I felt the wetness running, my breathing cut short, my head empty. Nothing existed except his mouth and the delicious embarrassment of standing there while he devoured me as if he had no hurry for anything else.

He slowly inserted two fingers and curled them inside me. I let out a louder moan and dug my nails into his shoulders. His tongue kept working above while his fingers moved in and out at a measured, wet, obscene rhythm. Every thrust was accompanied by the sound of his saliva mingling with my arousal.

—That’s how I like you, wide open for me—he murmured. —Fuck, you’re so hot.

I couldn’t even answer anymore. I barely managed to say his name between gasps. He began fucking me with his fingers a little faster, without stopping his sucking on my clitoris. The combination shook me completely. The sofa creaked, I trembled on my legs, and I felt my orgasm surge suddenly, like concentrated heat in my belly.

—I’m going to come…—I said, almost voiceless.

He didn’t pull away. On the contrary, he held me more tightly and doubled the pace. His tongue punished my clitoris with brutal precision, his fingers kept plunging all the way in, and I came standing up, with a broken moan, squeezing his head between my thighs while my whole body throbbed. My legs went weak and he held me so I wouldn’t fall.

When he lifted his face, his mouth was glistening. He looked at me with almost arrogant satisfaction and smiled. My cheeks burned with embarrassment and pleasure.

—Now sit down—he told me. —I want you to help me with this.

He stood in front of me and unbuttoned his trousers. I sank back onto the sofa, still breathless, watching as he lowered the zipper and pulled out his hard, heavy cock, already glistening at the tip. I swallowed. I had played with it before, had touched it, but that afternoon I saw it differently, perhaps because I had just experienced my first powerful orgasm in his mouth.

—Are you scared?—he asked, bringing it toward my lips.

I shook my head, although of course I was nervous. Not because I didn’t want it, but because I wanted to do it well. I wanted to please him; I wanted to feel that strange power of bringing him pleasure. He caressed my cheek with the back of his hand and brushed the tip of his cock against my mouth.

—Open—he ordered softly.

I opened. The head went in first, hot and wet, and I wrapped my lips around it. The taste turned me on even more. I started slowly, licking the tip, tracing the rim with my tongue, sucking carefully while stroking him from the base with my hand. He closed his eyes and released a hoarse moan that gave me confidence.

—That’s it, fuck… just like that.

I took more. I eased it in little by little, sinking it as far as I could without gagging, drawing it out slowly and going back in. I didn’t have perfect technique or vast experience; I had hunger, desire, and my attention fixed on every one of his reactions. I followed his breathing, the pressure of his hand in my hair, the trembling of his thighs.

He grasped the back of my neck without roughness, simply setting the rhythm. I accepted his guidance and began sucking with more determination, hollowing my cheeks, licking the shaft on every upward stroke. When I ran out of air, I pulled my mouth away and gave the tip wet kisses, then the frenulum, then the side. After that I lowered my tongue to his testicles, took them one at a time, sucked them, and went back up.

—Fuck, what a mouth you have—he said through his teeth. —Don’t stop.

I didn’t want to stop either. I liked having him like that, looking down at me, completely hard, with that mixture of tenderness and lust on his face. I ran my tongue along the entire length and then swallowed him as deeply as I could again. This time he pushed only once, carefully, and the hit against my throat made my eyes water. Far from making me uncomfortable, it turned me on even more. I felt a wet rush between my legs.

—Good girl—he murmured. —You suck my cock so well.

The words went through me. I tightened my grip at the base and sped up the blowjob, moving my head up and down while my tongue caressed the underside. Saliva began to run down my chin. He looked at it, uttered a curse between gasps, and put himself back in my mouth as far as he could.

—Fuck, look at you… so completely surrendered.

His breathing changed. I noticed it immediately. It became shorter, tenser. The muscles in his abdomen stood out, and the hand in my hair tightened just a little. I knew what was coming, but I didn’t want to pull away. On the contrary, I opened my mouth wider and sucked him harder, stroking the part I couldn’t cover with my lips at the same time.

—If you keep that up, I’m going to come in your mouth—he warned.

I looked up at him and nodded. I think that image was what finally broke his control. He pulled out just a little, dragged the tip across my lips, and pushed back in. I received him with my mouth open and kept sucking while he moaned my name.

The first spurt struck my tongue, warm. Thick. Salty. He released a deep growl and held my head while he continued coming. I swallowed what I could without pulling away, feeling every pulse of his cock inside my mouth. Some escaped at the corner of my mouth and spilled over my lip and chin.

—That’s it, take it all—he gasped. —All for you.

When he pulled out, he was still trembling. I had semen in my mouth and on my face. I ran my tongue over my upper lip, then the corner of my mouth, and saw him watching the gesture with a dark, proud look, as if seeing his cum on me excited him even more than coming had.

—Look at the mess you’ve made—I told him with a nervous smile.

He chuckled under his breath, took my chin, and ran his thumb over my cheek to collect a white drop. Then he put that finger in my mouth. I sucked it without taking my eyes off him.

—Now clean it properly—he said.

I obeyed. I went down again and licked the tip, the shaft, and the base, slowly gathering what remained. I kissed his testicles and his damp pubic mound too. He wasn’t as hard anymore, but he was still sensitive, and every touch drew a small shudder from him. I liked caring for him in that moment after his orgasm, cleaning him with my tongue, feeling his hand stroke my hair without hurry.

Afterward he lifted me from the sofa and hugged me, naked from the waist down. I rested my face against his chest while he pulled up my underwear and helped me with my dress. It all felt strangely intimate. More than his cum, more than the blowjob, even more than his tongue between my legs. There was something about the gesture of dressing me again that filled me with a different kind of warmth, a vulnerability that wasn’t purely sexual.

—I wouldn’t have taken you any further here—he told me quietly, arranging my hair. —Not in an office, not like this.

I knew what he meant. Between us there was still that tension of what remained to be lived, of what we hadn’t crossed yet. And precisely because of that, that afternoon marked me so deeply. There had been no penetration, but there had been a level of surrender that left me trembling for hours.

We sat on the sofa for a moment, now more or less composed. He gave me water, I drank with my mouth still sensitive, and we remained looking at each other in silence. The office was still just as quiet, as if nothing had happened, and yet the air smelled of sex, skin, and my still-fresh arousal.

—When you write to me tonight—he said, brushing my knee with his hand—I want you to tell me how you got home. Whether you were still wet. Whether you thought about my tongue. Whether you touched yourself again in the shower thinking about this.

I didn’t have to promise him anything. I already knew I would. I only kissed him again, long and softly, still tasting a little of myself in his mouth and a little of him in mine.

I left the office with shaky legs. In the elevator I looked at myself in the mirror and straightened myself as best I could, but my cheeks were still flushed and I had the look of a woman who had just been fucked, even though technically that wasn’t what had happened. In the taxi, every bump brushed against my sensitive body and forced me to press my legs together. Between one traffic light and the next, I put my hand on my thigh and knew immediately that I was still wet.

That night, when I was alone, I slowly undressed in front of the bathroom mirror and relived every minute. His tongue opening me, his fingers moving inside me, the way he had made me come standing up. Then I remembered the weight of his cock on my tongue, the tremor before he came, the hot semen filling my mouth. It took me no time at all to put my hand between my legs.

I touched myself thinking about his voice ordering me to open my mouth. Thinking about his hand squeezing the back of my neck. Thinking about that “good girl” that had left me drenched. I inserted two fingers and rubbed my clitoris in the same rhythm with which he had licked me, faster and faster, until I came again with a muffled moan so I wouldn’t wake anyone.

Then I wrote to him. I wasn’t discreet or sweet. I told him everything, in detail, just as I’m telling it now: that I could still taste him, that I had come remembering his mouth on my pussy, that I had swallowed every drop of his cum with a pleasure even I hadn’t expected. It took him a few minutes to reply.

His message was short: “Next time I’m locking the door the moment you come in.”

I squeezed my legs together when I read it. And yes, I got wet again.