What My Mouth Did to My Boss That Night

It had been far too long since the last time I sat down to write, and I apologize for my absence. But here I am again, eager to share another one of those experiences that still gets me hot whenever I remember it.

For those who don’t know me: I’m a woman in my early thirties, I’ve been working at a consulting firm downtown for a few years, and I have a very particular weakness. I’m fascinated by oral sex—I’d rather suck cock than receive it—and what really turns me on is feeling someone use my mouth like a pussy, fucking it without asking permission until they come deep in my throat. It’s not something I tell someone on a first date, but it’s who I am. And that night at the office, someone who never expected it found out.

The man I’m talking about was one of the department heads, a guy around forty-eight, married, with that quiet confidence that comes with age. His name was Damián. We’d gone out a couple of times after work, nothing more than a few drinks and conversation, getting to know each other a little. But I noticed how, glass after glass, the questions became more personal. And above all, I noticed how he kept staring at my mouth whenever I spoke.

At first I pretended not to notice. I kept the conversation going about work, the projects, the people on our floor, while inside I registered every detail: the way he lingered a second too long whenever I laughed, the way his gaze dropped to my lips and rose again, pretending he hadn’t done it. There’s something addictive about knowing you’re being silently desired. And I deliberately drew it out, never giving him what he was looking for, leaving him to stew in his own imagination.

I knew perfectly well what he was imagining. And far from making me uncomfortable, it amused me. I liked thinking that this serious man, the one who gave orders in a measured voice during meetings, went home and jerked off thinking about my red lips tight around his cock.

One afternoon he asked me to stay a little longer. We were waiting for confirmation from an important client who could only call after his workday, so we had to stick around until late. I took it as something normal; nothing else even crossed my mind. Almost everyone had already left; the lights on the floor were dimmed and the hum of the air conditioner was the only sound.

It was around eight when we took a break. We sat in the little meeting room with two coffees, and the intimate questions came back, just like they had in the bars. This time, though, I was the one who steered the conversation where I wanted it to go.

—Do you like this shade of lipstick? —I asked, tilting my head slightly.

It was an intense crimson red, the kind that leaves a mark on everything it touches. Damián fell silent for a second and then the compliments came pouring out: that any color suited me, but that this one especially gave me a mouth that was hard to ignore.

—I bet that mouth works wonders —he said, sizing me up, looking for an opening.

I wasn’t going to waste it.

—Maybe —I replied, shrugging—. You’d have to find out whether you like my naughty side.

Nothing more was needed. He leaned in and we began to kiss, slowly at first and then with hunger. His hand slid up my thigh, over my skirt, while the other squeezed one of my tits through my blouse, searching for my nipple with his thumb until it hardened against the fabric. I kissed him with my tongue shoved deep inside his mouth, feeling him breathe faster, feeling all the control he displayed in meetings slipping through his fingers. I bit his lower lip and he let out a low growl, grabbing me by the waist with both hands as though he were restraining himself from throwing me onto the table.

—I wish we had all night —he murmured against my ear—. You’ve been catching my attention for a long time.

I checked the time. It was eight-thirty. We had half an hour before the call, and half an hour was more than enough for what I had in mind.

—We could play a quick game before nine —I suggested, looking him in the eyes—. Trust me, you’ll like it.

He had no idea what I was offering him.

He agreed, slightly bewildered, still not quite understanding. So I climbed down from my chair, knelt in front of him on the little room’s carpet, and tied my hair back in a ponytail with the elastic I always wear around my wrist. That gesture said everything. I saw the exact moment he understood, that mixture of disbelief and desire on his face. The ponytail means I’m serious, that I want my hair out of my face because I know they’re going to fuck my mouth.

He unfastened his belt and lowered his zipper. When he pulled out his cock, I had to admit it was bigger than I’d imagined beneath those immaculate suits: thick, heavy, with veins standing out underneath and the head already slightly wet from having held himself back for so long. Without rushing, I took it in my hand, weighed it, squeezed it up and down in my fist, slowly, feeling the skin slide over the swollen head. Damián let out a low, restrained sound, as if he were embarrassed to enjoy it so quickly.

—You’re already leaking —I said softly, running my thumb over the tip and spreading the pre-cum over my lips like gloss—. Looks like you needed this.

Once I had him hard as a rock in my hand, I leaned in and began with soft kisses, barely brushing the skin with my mouth. And that was the best part: with that crimson-red lipstick, every kiss left a distinct mark. I kissed the head, then the side, then ran my tongue down to the base and licked his balls too, from bottom to top, neatly stamping my lipstick onto every inch. Within seconds his entire cock was covered in red prints, as if someone had drawn a map with my mouth, and seeing him marked by me turned me on even more. My pussy was soaked inside my panties, and I felt it clench on its own every time he moaned. His moans became less and less restrained.

—God —he whispered, gripping the edge of the table until his knuckles went white.

I opened my mouth slowly and let only the tip enter. I closed my lips just behind the head and began making circles with my tongue over the frenulum, unhurried, enjoying the way every muscle in his body tightened. I sucked just the head, tugging with my mouth as if it were a lollipop, then stuck out my tongue to lick around the rim before taking it back in.

—What a delight —he said, and I had only just begun.

I took it out of my mouth, gathered a good mouthful of saliva, and let it fall onto the tip slowly, never breaking eye contact. The white strand slid all the way down his cock to his balls, and I spread it with my hand, massaging him slowly from top to bottom while continuing to suck only the head. It was as though no one had ever done anything like that to him. He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a broken groan that echoed through the empty little room. I loved having that power, being the one in control even though I was on my knees with a cock in my mouth.

—Look at how you’re dripping —I told him, smiling with my lips shining—. All drooly for you.

By then I was completely turned on, soaked. I took him all the way in, halfway at first, then a little farther, feeling the head touch the back of my palate. I pulled him out, put him back in, setting a slow rhythm that made his eyes roll back. I sucked on every downward stroke, hollowing my cheeks, and squeezed his balls with my free hand, playing with them gently between my fingers. Damián’s eyes were closed and his head was thrown back, trying not to come too soon. But I didn’t want him to hold back. I wanted him to lose control completely.

I wanted him to fuck my mouth. So I took his hand and guided it to the back of my head, leaving it there, giving him permission without words. It took him a moment to understand, but when he did, something in him changed. I placed my hands behind my back, laced together like a punished little girl, and surrendered to him setting the rhythm with my head.

—Like that, slowly —he said through his teeth, and began to guide me.

His fingers closed around my hair, gripping the ponytail as though it were a handle, and he started moving me, carefully at first, testing me, sinking me halfway, pulling me out, sinking me a little deeper each time. When he realized I could take all of him without complaining, he gained confidence and began seriously fucking my mouth, with even thrusts that made my nose bump against his belly. He whispered filthy things in my ear, phrases he never would have imagined himself saying during the day.

—You’re a devil, Mariana —he murmured—. Look at the way you eat my cock. You’re one tasty slut, that’s what you are.

I simply obeyed, letting him reach the back of my throat, feeling the head of his cock pass my uvula and cut off my air for an instant with every movement. Every time he buried himself completely, I made a guttural sound, that obscene glug-glug that comes out when you really swallow, and it drove him crazy. That sensation—the feeling of being completely unable to breathe and then getting it back in a sudden gasp—was exactly what I liked most in the world. I was floating. Saliva escaped from the corners of my mouth, strings ran down to my cleavage, my eyes watered from the effort, and I didn’t care about anything. I could feel my mascara running and it made no difference. Let it ruin my face. That was what I was there for.

After a while like that, he stopped and pulled it from my mouth in one hard motion. It was drenched, gleaming, with the red lipstick smeared everywhere and mixed with saliva. He held my chin between two fingers and studied me, breathing hard, as if he were only just realizing who he’d been working with all those months. With his other hand he slapped his cock against my cheek, against my lips, leaving more glossy residue on my skin.

—You like this, don’t you? —he asked, his voice hoarse—. You like being treated this way, tell me.

—I love it —I replied, sticking out my tongue and offering it to him flat like a platform—. Keep going. Use me.

He smiled crookedly and put it back in my mouth, this time without letting me do anything at all, handling me as he pleased. He grabbed my head with both hands, one on either side, and began fucking my mouth at a steady pace, deeper and deeper, less and less gently. I could hear my own noises, the wet slaps, his growls, and I felt used exactly the way I’d wanted to be since my first drink at that bar.

I lost track of time. I don’t know how many minutes we stayed like that, him controlling the rhythm and me letting myself be carried away, focused only on his breathing and the heat of his hand at my nape. The little room smelled of cold coffee and something else, that dense mixture of sex, saliva, and held-back semen that forms when two people let go. Through the window I could see the lights of the buildings opposite, empty offices identical to ours, and the thought that anyone might look over and see me on my knees sucking the boss’s cock made me even hotter. I slipped one hand under my skirt, pushed my panties aside, and touched my clitoris while he continued fucking my mouth. I was so wet that my fingers slid on their own, and I used every thrust that made me swallow to press harder against my clit with my fingertip.

When I felt him getting close, when his breathing turned into disordered panting and I felt his cock swell even more in my mouth, he pulled away and began stroking himself with his fist inches from my face, quickly and tightly, the tip aimed straight at me.

—Stay like that —he asked, almost voiceless—. With your mouth open. Let me look at you.

I stuck out my tongue and waited, my face tilted up toward him, my eyes half-closed, offering myself like a plate. I heard him release a long moan, held back for far too long, and then felt the first jet of hot cum splash across my cheek, followed by another on my forehead, another on my tongue, another on my chin. Judging by the amount, by the way it came out in thick, heavy bursts, it was obvious that he hadn’t let himself go like that in a long time. I closed my mouth around the tip to suck the last drops from him and swallowed them while looking at him, letting him watch the cum run down my throat. Then I licked his entire cock from bottom to top, cleaning it, taking off the last trace. He stayed still for a few seconds, catching his breath, one hand still resting on my shoulder and the other still loosely holding his cock.

I looked up and smiled at him, still on my knees, my face painted white and red.

—So tell me —I said, running a finger over my cheek to gather a string of semen and bring it to my mouth—. Does my mouth make delicious mischief or not?

—You’re a goddess —he replied, laughing through his exhaustion—. Go freshen up; they’ll be calling any minute.

I got up and went to the floor’s bathroom to fix myself up. I took my time in front of the mirror, touching up my makeup and recovering the composure of the serious consultant everyone knew. I washed my face, fixed my hair, and repainted my lips with that same crimson red I’d left smeared all over his cock. I could still taste semen on my palate, and feel the throbbing between my legs from the orgasm I’d bitten back in silence. By the time I returned, my lipstick was flawless again and no one would have guessed a thing.

The client called at nine-oh-one, right on time. Damián answered in his usual calm, professional voice while I took notes as though nothing had happened. But every so often our eyes met over the screen, and we both knew that door was already open. That we would almost certainly do this again, and that next time I wouldn’t settle for just my mouth.

That’s all for this story. I have to confess that reliving it to tell you about it got me very hot, so I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. I’d love to read your comments about what happened that night. I’ll be back with more soon. In the meantime, I’m sending you some kisses, and you can decide where to put them.