His Indecent Proposition

By: Aphrodite Hunt



She whimpers, and he takes it as a signal to drive himself into her harder. And all the while, his fingers worry her tender nub of a clit. Harder and faster, and faster and harder, until she’s panting, and whimpering, and moaning, and crying out loud, and babbling “please please please please” over and over in some sort of senseless evocation.

In her simulated darkness, there comes an explosion of color and non-color, of sight and sightlessness, of sound and no sound. She feels herself rising and falling and expanding and falling off the edge as her climax takes her. A hard surface slams against her breasts, and she understands that she has fallen on her belly, and his hands are buoying her hips up. The crest continues to float her up. And she feels a hot spurt flood her pussy, and it’s deep and oh so satisfying. It fills and fills her until she’s brimming, and spilling it over her rim, and she feels it trickling down her inner thighs and down, down, down to her knees.

Oh, oh, oh, oh!

He’s panting hard too. He squeezes her buttocks as his orgasm abates. His breathing slows, and he finally pulls his cock out of her wet, wet pussy.

He slides his hands over her back and breasts. With a sharp tug, he whips her makeshift blindfold off.

The ceiling light floods her eyes, and she squints in the sudden brightness.

“You can go now,” he says. “Come see me first thing in the morning.”

“Y-yes, sir.”

She’s trembling, and so he helps her off the table. Her ass is smarting and his semen is still trickling out of her pussy. She can scarcely maintain her balance as she gets down on her feet. She almost topples over in her heels, but he grabs her waist in time.

She’s face to face with him. Breasts to naked chest. She gazes into his shimmering blue eyes. His face is flushed and his lips are parted, and his brow is just as sweat-dripped as hers. A look of clear and sudden confusion graces his handsome features.

She so badly wants to kiss him.

Her hands go to the back of his head of their own volition. She’s pulling his head towards hers before he can react.

Her lips graze his, but he pulls his head sharply back before she can deepen the kiss.

“No,” he says. Then, more firmly, he repeats it. “No.”

“But why?”

His rejection sends a splinter of pain into her heart.

“I don’t kiss. Let’s leave it at that.” His tone is flat.

He pulls farther away, leaving her rudderless and bereft and just as confused. He turns his back on her and begins to gather his clothes. She feels that she has glimpsed a moment of rare vulnerability, something he has never revealed to anyone in the office.

Something made him this way, she’s certain. He’s such a compelling enigma, and she can’t help but be drawn to him.

“Put your clothes back on, Susan Chalmers,” he says. “I’ll keep those panties of yours as a souvenir.”

“Yes, sir.” There’s nothing she can do but obey.

Once they have both dressed, she turns to face him again.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, sir.”

“Yes, tomorrow.” He has recovered his full composure and he is his confident, magnetic self once again. “I enjoyed that, Susan Chalmers. We shall try something different tomorrow.”

“Yes.” Her bare buttocks flinch under the material of her skirt where it brushes her skin.

She leaves, not trusting herself to look back.

She knows her dreams tonight will be all of him.

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