WARNING: Erotic content contained below.
“You’ve truly never done this before, have you?”
The question comes from Anita Thompson, falling from the rosebud that is her mouth, punctuating her bewilderment at me.
I do not answer her question immediately. I am still entranced by that mouth, which she has brought colour back to with the careful swipe of a lipstick. I find my consciousness flooded by the images of what that mouth has just done to me.
“Well, Harrison…” she’d said, as she drew close to me and placed her hand on my thigh. “This, Harrison, will make me very happy.”
“I – I…Look –”
“Come on, Harrison,” she urged, a coquettish smile flitting across her face. “You want my account, don’t you? You want my business, no?”
“Yes, I – we do, Mrs. Thom – er, Anita…”
“So you do this for me, and I’ll give it to you. Simple as that. No mutually beneficial agreement could be as satisfactory as this.”
“But I’m married,” I countered weakly, lifting my ring finger to show her the proof of my inaccessibility to her.
Her lipsticked mouth parted into a wider smile. “I’m not asking you for an affair, Harrison. I just” – she placed her hand on my crotch, causing me to draw in a sharp hissing breath – “want” – her fingers played on my zipper – “to know what this tastes like.” And she dipped her hand inside my fly. Her eyes widened theatrically when she encountered the turgidity inside. “My, my,” she said with a chuckle. “Somebody else doesn’t see your marriage as a problem, it would seem.”
“This is wrong…” I choked out, unable to fight her allure.
“You haven’t done this before?” she queried, cocking her head and staring quizzically at me.
“No, I don’t do this kind of thing…” I managed breathlessly.
“A lot of men like to say that to me,” she said, not wanting to believe me.
“Why? Why would they do that?” It was getting increasingly hard to focus on the conversation, because I was keenly aware of her hand clasping my penis, her thumb stroking the engorged head side to side.
“I suppose, because they think it makes me feel special.”
“So you do this a lot then…”
At this, she smiled – that slow, sensuous smile that spoke of a woman self-assured in her power. And then she murmured, “Why don’t you let me show you, and you can decide the answer for yourself.”
With a deft maneuver, she slipped my erection out of its confinement, and dipped her head downward. I had just a moment of clarity to comprehend what was about to happen. Just a moment, and then, that was blown to smithereens when the warm wetness of her mouth enveloped my penis. I drew in a sharp inhalation and involuntarily bucked my hip forward, welcoming that erotic invasion.
“Oh my God…” I gasped as I buried myself inside her mouth to the hilt.
She let me savour the feeling for a second, before lifting her head, and then going down again. The back-and-forth motion unleashed a wave of sensations that surged from my groin up my spine, fracturing into different directions and lighting up nerve endings as they went.
Anita licked and sucked at my erection, playing with the foreskin with her lips and teeth with the kind of skill that had me panting and lifting my hand to the back of her head. I dug my fingers into the oiled curls of her hair and thrust into her mouth. She choked and gagged, batting my hand off her head and lifting off my penis for a bit. The erection was about seven inches and quite thick. Too thick, it would seem, for her to deep-throat, but I didn’t have any concern for her discomfiture. What she was doing to me had started to drive me insane.
I grasped her head again, and dove in. This time, she gamely took it, lovingly bathing me with her tongue. I groaned. Her fingers skittered over the underside of my penis, cupping what she found and stroking them. I arched my back in silent approval. Her tongue slipped and slid over my member, faster, bathing the entire organ as her mouth moved up and down in a quicker rhythm than before.
And soon, I began to tense, as a loud groan escaped my lips. Her head bobbed up and down, faster and faster, as though she had sensed the commencement of my climax and was hastening its arrival.
“Oh God…Oh my God…” I panted, as my vision squeezed into a pinpoint focus, compressed by an onrush of sweet blackness.
And then, there was an explosion of light as my ejaculation erupted out of me. I muttered a harsh expletive as I jerked and spasmed on the couch in dry convulsions of the discharge. This went on for several seconds. And then I finally calmed.
And Anita was getting to her feet and making for a door in the corner of the suite I soon got to see opened into an adjoining bathroom. She disappeared into the small room, and for the next few minutes, I could hear the sounds of her repairing herself. I stood up, dug out my handkerchief from my pocket and wiped my penis clean before tucking it back in and setting about to readjust my clothing.
I was done moments before Anita reemerged. And then, she asked, “You’ve truly never done this before, have you?”
“No,” I say curtly, not quite meeting her stare. I focus instead on locating the necessary papers she is required to sign to finalize our agreement.
“How many kids do you have?” she asks, as she comes to sit on the sofa, maintaining the distance that had been between us at the start of the meeting.
“Four?” She gives a light laugh. “You are a truly busy man, no?”
“No, I’m just really big on family,” I rejoin, my manner curt. I place the documents before her. She lifts the pen.
“You are displeased with me, aren’t you?”
“No, Anita,” I reply. “I’m displeased with myself. All of a sudden, what just happened doesn’t seem worth it, no offense.”
She nods as she begins signing. “None taken. Always in the aftermath of the misdeed comes better clarity.”
“Who said that?” I question.
“I did. Just now.” She signs the last document, and drops the pen.
Our deal is done, our business relationship secured. My boss, the Head Marketing Manager, will be so proud.
I begin to restack all the papers. As I do so, I speak, “So someone from my department will get back to you when all this has been finalized through the proper channels.”
“I want you to call me back regarding that.”
I stop what I’m doing and look up to finally meet her gaze. Mine is resolute as I say firmly, “This can never happen again, Mrs. Thompson.”
“Never say never, Mr. Akajiaku,” she challenges.
That is the last exchange we have before walking out of the suite together. She is headed out anyway, and decides to share the elevator with me. She stands close to me, and I am made very aware of her presence. The atmosphere in the small space quickly becomes tense with unspoken questions and burning uncertainty.
The lit numbers at the top of the elevator doors drop from floor to floor.
She turns her head to me. I do not look back. I sense her stare moving over me.
“Please, don’t speak to me,” I grit out. I just want to get out of here, from around her. I stare fervently at the top of the elevator door.
“I just want to point out –”
“Please, there’s nothing left for us to say to each other,” I run roughshod over her words.
“Of course there isn’t,” she says. “Except for me to point out that your fly is still open.”
In that instant, there is a ding that accompanies the elevator doors opening, and I lift my startled gaze from my zipper which is gaping open, to the lobby, to meet two people I do not expect to see there.
I am @Walt_Shakes