Twinkling Heat

He told me would be leaving soon - a better opportunity had been offered to him, one he would be foolish to turn down.

I could feel my heart stop and my loins grow cold. All that time fantasizing only to find that within days, the object of my desire would become no more than a distant memory.

It was all I could do to keep myself from stomping my feet in a childish display of devastation. Suddenly I realized how ridiculous it was to live life so cautiously. Why had I never at least tried to glean some sense of interest or attraction from him? Why did I insist on living in my head?

I feared that he would be gone when I returned from the holidays, so concluded that there would be no other opportunity to let my feelings, however wanton they may be, be known.

On the last day before everything shut down I went to his office. The receptionist had decorated the area in an attempt to be festive. In the dim glow of the twinkling fairy lights I made him my offer. Not with words, but with actions.

He had greeted me cordially, looking slightly puzzled at my unexpected appearance in his doorway. I imagine I may have looked a little feverish and even crazed - so concerned was I that I might never see him again. I glanced behind me and shut the door. No need to put on a show for anyone who may still be lingering.

I presented myself to him as if to a king or god. An offering of a (somewhat tainted) sacrificial virgin - a trinket meant to divert, and hopefully please him at his whim and then be tossed aside.

I saw the shift in his eyes and stance as he grasped what was being placed before him. No longer was he the sweet, cordial co-worker. He had transformed into the beast.

He ordered me onto my knees in front of him - and of course there is no where in the world that I wanted to be more. He gently pulled my hair back and out of the way, then gave it an abrupt yank - further inflaming my passion. I could feel my hot juices pouring out of my throbbing cunt simply from that one gesture.

I undid his belt and zipper and tore down his pants and boxers - raking my nails down his thighs as I did so. His grip tightened on my hair and he let out a gasp. Then I took his cock in my mouth and sucked and licked as if it were my only nourishment in a sea of starvation.

I licked down his long hard shaft and drowned in his musky odor. Simply having permission to offer such ministrations was intoxicating.

I gripped the back of his legs and he arched his back against his desk. I could have gone on for hours, sucking his balls, teasing his cock's head with quick little flicks of my tongue, fucking him with my mouth...

Suddenly he yanked my head up by the hair and slammed me against the wall.

What bliss. As if he were reading my thoughts.

He ordered me to take off all my clothes before thrusting his tongue in my mouth. I quickly shed everything I was wearing and took off his remaining clothes for good measure.

He was all over me. One had yanking my hair back so hard my back arched. His mouth and teeth on my nipples, sucking and biting. And the other hand? It reached down between my legs - his thumb rubbing my clit, with a few fingers reaching inside to fuck me.

He drew back and took his cock in his hand - then slapped my dripping cunt with it - sending spasms throughout my entire body. He rubbed it back and forth across my slit as I moaned and shamelessly begged him to fuck me. Now. I could barely see straight - all I knew was what he was doing to my body.

He lifted me up and I wrapped my legs around his waist as he plunged into me. He carried me over to his desk and lay me atop his books and papers - my legs still around him as the thrust into me. He fucked me hard and fast the way I needed it. Our moans and grunts were no longer subtle - there would be no disguising what was going on if anyone was outside the door.

But all I could see from the crack below the door was the soft flicker of the twinkling lights...

Read on to see what my other dirty darlings are doing by the twinkling lights...
Amy:http://www.moresexchocolateandredlipstick.wordpress.com
Gray - http://mygrayline.blogspot.com
Veronica: http://anothersuburbanmom.blogspot.com
Dangerous Lilly: http://dangerouslilly.com
FG Sakes: http://fgsakes.blogspot.com/
Topaz: http://topaz-gemology.blogspot.com
BDenied: http://cuckold-husband-bdenied.blogspot.com
Salt and Pepper @ http://cellobiscuit.blogspot.com
Ronjazz: www.ronjazz.blogspot.com
Hubman:http://hubmanshangout.wordpress.com
Petal: http://secretlifeofaslummymummy.blogspot.com/
Autumn http://autumnmistspeaks.blogspot.com
Barefoot Dreaming: http://dreamingbearfoot.blogspot.com

And as always, our delightful hostess Kimberly: http://yourerrantwife.blogspot.com

Straddle

We had a meeting this week, he and I. Plus a few others who only served as an annoying distraction. I found myself struggling not to stare. At his lips. His hands. His torso.

He was in a state of delirious distraction - allowing me more time to sneak surreptitious glances in his direction. He's had a challenging few months, the entire time I've known him really. It seems unfathomable that our time together has been so brief. Thoughts of him intrude my waking hours, making our time together seem endless.

His composure amidst all that work has thrown at him is admirable, and brings out an oddly erotic response in me. I want to wrap my arms around him, and lean his head against my breast. And there, of course, is where my desire to comfort ends, and more selfish desires begin.

Rarely have I fantasized about sex at work - yet with him the two concepts are inextricable. Images of late night meetings in his office...a longing glance...leading to a less-than-innocent massage...resulting in me kneeling before him and sucking away all of his cares.

Most of my infatuations are fleeting - gone and incomprehensible when remembered later. But this one is driving me to distraction. His exquisite body seems to beg to be worshiped and adored, and I am more than willing to do so.

I want to hike up my skirt and straddle him in his desk chair. To lick his neck and nibble on his earlobe as I unbutton his shirt. To rake my nails down his chest and feel his growing erection pressing up against the flimsy silk of my moistening panties. To feel his hands run up against my thighs, under my skirt and slip in between my legs. Forcing me to stand up and remove my underwear - unzipping his pants, releasing his hard upright cock to play with as I choose.

I want to stare into his eyes as I position myself over him. To see that moment of pleasure as I lower myself - my hot wet cunt squeezing his cock and riding it hard. His hands gripping my hips and ass for balance as I thrust up and down. Relentless and taking exactly what I want from him.

Surely lusting after him for this long deserves some sort of reward - and nothing less than this selfish carnal rape will do for me.

Subtle

He was like something from another era. Or perhaps like what erotic writers describe as the perfect, yet succulently sexy romantic protagonist.

He subtly maneuvers you in front of him and opens doors for you. So unconsciously that you scarcely notice it until you realize that rarely do you encounter a man in this day and age who genuinely treats a woman with gentleman-like respect. Not put on or for show, but like he was simply raised really well.

Such behaviour could seem weak in a different kind of man. Like a mama's boy, or submissive. But not on him. He is sensuously diffident, yet composed. Intelligent and polite, yet exuding eroticism from every pore.

In an environment that allows one to quickly degrade to jeans and sneakers, he wears a shirt and tie. Thank God for that, because anything else would disguise that body. A body that begs to be unwrapped like a treasure.

And I really wanted to unwrap him. Any day that allows even a few moments in his presence is a good one. A day of delicious fantasy and warm wet thoughts caressing me like a physical touch.

Have you ever encountered a man who appears completely open and guileless? Almost innocent, and untouched by the usual baggage and hang-ups that most of us carry? Yet at the same time completely unselfconsciously seductive? One who gives off a sexual vibe in a raw untainted way?

One whom I suspect enjoys sex purely - who relishes in the activity for itself and is neither shy nor seeing the need for the insecurities that so many of us possess.

I could scarcely imagine how liberating sex with him would be. To be approached by someone with no hesitation or guilt about the act.

To feel his eyes on me, truly adoring and appreciating each curve, and noticing each subtle response. To have him grab my body and crush it to his - savouring each taste and breath.

It's rare to be with a man with genuine confidence and enjoyment in sex. Too often ego and selfishness get in the way. Or even worse, just plain lack of observation of their partner, nor any sense of rhythm.

Do men realize what kind of sexual aura they exude in the most innocuous of moments? The way they sit, or speak or how they respond in a meeting? A million little involuntary clues that reflect to a woman their most intimate behaviours.

Of course the possibility exists that I might be reading this man completely wrong. But I don't care. I want him. And the thought of him makes me hotter than most men ever have even whilst in the throes of passion.

Impatient

"What would you like to do to me?"

I crawled into his lap and gazed up at him with wide innocent eyes.

He stared at me in silence, looking torn between fleeing and devouring me.

We had flirted and teased for a while, being subtle enough to keep our egos protected, while still leaving open the opportunity for the other to respond.

I finally got him back to my place and onto the couch. But he did nothing. The feeling between us was palpable - the desire and heat. There was no doubt what we both wanted, so I decided to take matters into my own hands.

Again, the question had left open a range of responses - but the only thing I wanted to hear was some variation of his desire to tear off my clothes and violate me in a dozen different ways.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and began nuzzling his earlobe - gently licking and giving it a brief bite. I could feel his breathing speed up and his hand tighten on my thigh.

I sensed his torment as he struggled with propriety and his growing passion. With a sigh of impatience, I put my tongue in his mouth and pulled him on top of me. I could feel his erection as he ground himself against me and knew that I had silenced his internal debate.

Once he made the decision to continue, he no longer showed any signs of hesitation. His hands seemed to be everywhere at once - squeezing my breasts, pulling my shirt out from my jeans...

A moment like this is indescribable, coupled with a touch of surreality. To have wanted and fantasized about this experience so often and so vividly, adds a dream-like quality to each touch and sound.

For a moment there was doubt that the reality could compare to the countless climaxes created by the fantasy. But as the heat and wetness continued to build I knew that such a comparison was not only unnecessary, but also ridiculous. For in none of my most wanton daydreams did I capture the essence of what this man could do to me.

My imaginings were merely a tantalizing taste of the ambrosia that was being offered before me.

He continued to caress my skin and began to slowly undress me. Agonizing how he drew out each moment- not merely to savour it, but also to torture me with his seeming patience in the face of my eagerness.

He lingered over each curve and crevice on my body - licking and blowing soft kisses and tracing every line. It might have been a romantic scene if I had not, by way of contrast, begun quickly tearing off his clothing with no regard for damage to the fabric or care for where each hastily flung article landed.

Perhaps it was best that I hadn't lit candles to set the "mood."

What may have begun as soft-core erotica was quickly degenerating into a comedy. However he soon took the hint and appeared to acquiesce to my silent plea to pick up the pace a bit.

With my legs wrapped around his waist, he picked me up and carried me to the bedroom. He dropped me semi-gracefully onto the bed, pulled my legs over the edge and knelt down between them.

That was more like it.

He immediately realized that this was an unnecessary move foreplay-wise, as I was more than wet and ready. So he spent merely a few moments licking and sucking on my clit - thrusting his tongue in and out before he had me writhing on the bed like a cat.

But we knew what we both wanted. So he climbed onto the bed and scarcely had time to find a pillow before I pounced on him.

I had spent months mentally exploring and pleasing every inch of his glorious body - claiming it as my own to use as I wished. I wasn't allowing him any opportunity to hesitate, or God forbid, change his mind now.

I climbed atop him and started riding him like my life depended on it. Up. Down. In. Out. Hard. Fast. I saw his eyes roll back in his head and his fingers grip bruisingly on my hips. he certainly showed no inclination to escape. Excellent.

Up. Down.
I set an unforgiving rhythm that barely allowed him to keep up.

In. Out.
His breathing became ragged and our moans mingled together surely loud enough for my neighbours to hear.

Harder. Faster.
The bedframe slammed against the wall in time to our thrusting, adding a sense of urgency to the moment.

I felt him arch up against me and yell a final moan as he came in a hot gush.

I rolled off of him to allow him a moment to catch his breath. There was no way I was letting him leave yet. I was just getting started.