My mood since I arrived home had been as stormy as my blue eyes. You know based on my texts through the day what happened, where I spent my day, and in general why I have reclused myself into the office in the house. You finish cleaning from dinner and head upstairs to get ready for bed, the door to my office is as closed as I have been since I arrived home. And you notice that my suit isn’t hung up.
Sensing that while I have expressed a desire to isolate myself to avoid conflict and unwarranted vitriol expulsion that my needs are for my sweetness to tend to me you strip off your work clothes and standing in the bedroom admire you figure but ultimately decide that while the cute cotton undies look good on you that tonight warrants a bit of extra effort. Sliding them off and removing your bra, you again glance into the mirror and ponder just presenting yourself unclothed. But again, you decide that there needs to be something more tonight. You walk into the closet and open your intimates drawer and begin to search until you come across the light blue intricate lace cheeky panties.
Against your milky flesh the pale blue lace just seems to marry itself. With a nod you begin to pull your hair back into a ponytail, as you know is my preference and then walk down the stairs quietly and open the door to the office that will lead to you being directly in front of me. While this is to be a surprise you don’t want to make me look for you when you enter.
My blue eyes are closed and I am sitting back in my office chair, headphones in my ears and lost in thought. My hands are busy rubbing my forehead, massaging it with my fingers. You quietly close the door and walk to the front of the desk where you kneel quietly.
You know I didn’t see or hear you come in based on my lack of reactions, but when I open my eyes it is almost as if I knew you were there, but not the reason. My blue eyes examine you before I return to work. You have solved the mystery of the missing suit. The jacket is strewn on the loveseat, my tie is on the lamp, and my dress shirt has been unbuttoned by three buttons revealing my stark white undershirt, meanwhile my sleeves have been rolled in a tight uniform way so it rests at my biceps. My shoes are beside the desk and you can see the playful socks that would confuse an observer of my demeanor and seem a contradiction to the day I had.
“Please Sir” you say, “may I do anything to help you relax, I know you are stressed and tense and want to help”
I shake my head, my eyes coming up to meet yours again.
“Then Sir, may I please stay and sit with you at least?”
Blue eyes raise again, the drawer is pulled open and I lay the blanket you know I use when I sleep in the office is withdrawn and placed folded on the floor beside where I am working. I return to my work without saying a word.
You move over to the blanket and kneel on top of it feeling the softness of the navy microfiber material. You breath a sigh of relief that the way it is folded affords your knees a lot of cushioning against the worn office carpeting. You sit watching me with your eyes analyzing the situation as your brain calculates options moving forward.
My brow furrows, you see the muscles in my forearms flex, and my fingers occasionally run through my short dirty blonde hair. The sighs become more audible. And yet I am so engrossed in my work you aren’t even sure I would know if you were there or not.
You know as a matter of course that I am not normally someone who enjoys being touched, and that you have the most liberal of rules regarding when you can touch me. You also know that tonight is likely not a touch me at will night. But you decide to chance it. You quietly move from the blanket and run your hands over my shoulders causing me to pause, then around the back of my neck and to my upper chest causing me to sit back.
I don’t say a word, I don’t shrug your hands off or remove them or react in any negative manner. And then you begin to unbutton my dress shirt more fully. With each button undone you are lower and lower, bent over my back and shoulders. Soon your warm breasts are pressed against me and your head is parallel to mine as you pull gently at the shirt and undo the last button.
You smile slightly to yourself as you pull back and remove the dress shirt, my arms compliantly move back slightly allowing the shirt to be removed. The shirt joins the suit jacket and you lean back over me your hands giving my shoulders a squeeze before separating and running along my shoulders to my upper arms and down.
This is going better than expected, you think to yourself. You smile at your sneakiness and knowledge of manipulating the situation. And then you feel brushed back as my office chair turns so I am facing you and my right hand reaches up and closes on your throat bringing you down to my level and leaving little more than an inch between our faces.
“You want to touch sweetness?” I inquire quietly but with a definite edge.
“Yes Mister.” You reply with a voice that is little more than a whisper, your eyes frantically search mine to determine how this is going to go, if you are going to be punished for touching when all the signs and hints said not to.
You are moved by my right hand back to what used to be my left side and standing above the blanket and with a firm pressure feel yourself being lowered back to your knees again. You see my left hand remove my undershirt and then unzip my suit pants.
Your breath catches and despite my not squeezing very hard you find it harder to breathe. My left hand withdraws from my pants freeing my hard manhood as my right moves to the side of your neck so that my fingers curve around the back of your head.
“Then you will do it on my terms, always on my terms, are we clear on that?”
You nod feeling the strength with which I am holding you tight, and then you feel yourself being pulled closer to my cock.
You open your mouth to comply and feel my thickness pressing against your open mouth as it slides deeply inside you. My right hand has made it to the back of your head and grasped a handful of your soft silky hair which I am clearly about to use. But even in this moment you allow yourself an internal smile because you have gotten to touch the untouchable.