Tendencies: Part Two

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His words crawled right between my legs and made my clit tingle. “Who said that I needed to be fucked at all?” My face burned as I shifted in my seat. The look on his face said it all. He knew me. Well. By this point, I guess that he should. He had been fucking me for three of the last four years that we worked together. Sex was great with him, it always was. Although we worked in different capacities, our roles were closely aligned and we collaborated on an almost daily basis in some way. He had a great sense of humor, a very high sex drive and his erection was often present during his visits to my office. We both valued discretion and he never questioned me or gave me a hard time about our unspoken arrangement. Over the years, we had developed a real friendship that allowed him to feel comfortable sharing about his latest conquests. He loved the thrill of the hunt and sought out sex starved, non-committal females almost exclusively. All of this worked out to him shoving his cock inside of me at least once a week in the privacy of my office. “That pussy sent me an email, so I figured that I’d better reply,” he whispered, as he chewed my lunch and organized his notes. I shot him a feigned looked of disinterest, “Oh, that spam mail. How annoying. Perhaps you need to check your settings.” We both chuckled and simultaneously shifted our focus to the meeting. Ninety minutes later, we publicly bid each other goodbye knowing full well that he would be coming to my office within the next fifteen minutes or so. Once I entered my office, I closed the window blinds that faced the chair that he liked to fuck me in, istanbul travesti and removed my skirt. I walked into the private bathroom in my office, and inspected my skirt while standing in my panties, stockings and blouse. I ran the water in the bathroom sink and located the stain he so graciously pointed out to me earlier at the meeting. The trainer’s semen had dried near the hem of my skirt and had most likely landed there while it was hiked around my waist. I recalled hearing that sperm could ‘live’ on fabric until it dried, and after two hours clutched to rayon, this batch was surely dead. I gingerly dabbed warm soapy water on the spot, rinsed it off, and watched the flaky white residue disappear. I hung my skirt over the handrail and hoped it would dry quickly. I walked back over to my desk and turned on a music CD that played through the speakers my desk top computer. As soon as I sat down in my chair, a text came through on my cell phone. “Open your office door. Now.” Without a reply, I tip toed over the plush carpet on my office floor and barely cracked open my door. I opened the door wider as I heard his keys approach. He slipped in seamlessly and undetected, and he closed the door behind him. He looked me over half dressed and a mischievous smile slowly came across his lips. “Getting started without me?” Laughing quietly, I walked back over to my chair and took a seat behind my desk. “Uh uh, that’s not where I want you and you know that,” he chastised.Withholding my secret, I dreaded having to tell him what was going on, but we were friends and we agreed to be upfront istanbul travesti and honest with each other. Being transparent made this thing work between us. However, that damn sure didn’t make it any easier. Shifting uncomfortably in my seat, I inhaled deeply before I began to speak. “Listen, we can’t fuck today. I’m happy to suck you off though, from start to finish.” Silence yelled as he stood there and looked at me. The stillness was as thick as the carpet beneath my chair, and far less contented. His eyes narrowed, and he searched my face for an explanation that I could not yet articulate. “Your period doesn’t stop us, it never does.” “I know….it’s not that,” I mumbled, as I avoided eye contact. He sounded a bit impatient, and pressed on. “Okay, so now that I know what it isn’t, how about you tell me what it actually is.” I struggled to find the words that still escaped me, and I saw his agitation grow. I had never modified our routine until today and I could tell that he didn’t like it one bit. “I got fucked today. Here, in my office. Before the meeting,” I blurted out. Without blinking, he replied, “I know that.” “You do?” I gasped, unable to believe what I had heard. “Yeah, and to be honest, it makes me no difference. I still want to fuck you.” Finally able to meet his gaze, “You can’t be serious.” He unbuckled his pants and motioned to the empty chair across the room. The fuck chair. “I am serious. Come over here and tell me what you did.” I rose from my desk chair and sheepishly meandered over to the designated area. I sat down in the only chair in my office istanbul travesti with no arm rests, knowing what would come next. He walked closer and stood over me looking down in a somewhat intimidating manner. He placed his hand gently under my chin and lifted my face to meet his. He freed his erection from his pants and let it dangle near my lips. I placed my right hand at the base of his cock, and my left hand securely under his sack. Both hands gripped him firmly. My throat dry with angst, I mustered a logical sentence while I began to stroke him. “I let him finger me…and fuck me.” His cock felt as hard as a flashlight in my hands. I leaned closer to his crotch, opened my mouth and licked a bulging vein that protruded on his shaft. He tilted his head back in anticipation of more. After a good harmonica job on all sides, I tightly closed my lips around his mushroom head and repeatedly pulled it taught between my soft full lips. “What else did you do,” he baited, while he stood with his feet apart. Quietly, and in between sucks, I caressed his balls and answered him. “I let him fuck me. Hard. In my cunt and asshole.” “You are such a whore, Trinity. I hope you know that.” He moved my hands from his cock to his hips. His hands cradled the back of my head and he fed his member into my mouth. He eased it deep into my throat, and then pulled it all the way out of my mouth. Each time he withdrew, I gasped for air and braced for the next feed. His cock quickly became drenched in my esophageal fluid with webs of saliva dangling between us.  “Did he fuck your throat?” He asked, as he demonstrated the act. Unable to talk, I shook my head ‘no’ in response. “Did he make you cum?” He asked, as his tip hit my tonsils. Another head shake that indicated ‘no’. He snickered as he looked down at me, “Pity, we need to fix that.” My watery eyes gazed up at him as he intentionally made me gag on his dick.

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