The Office Lunch


We had been seeing each other for some time now. I should say, literally, seeing, as it was as harmless as that. I was deeply and passionately in love with Sandy, but she, alas was married. Although she knew how I felt, for many months now we had just been having casual lunches. A while back we would go out to various parks and have nice comfortable talks. I enjoyed several foot massages and some hand massaging to release tension. Once I even massaged her back. And several time we shared a most delightful, but chaste and platonic hug. We both knew that there was more to our feeling than these "encounters" and we each, in our own way, hungered for more. But we were loyal, at least, physically loyal.

The unfortunate happenstance caused us to forgo our "outings." We were forced to limit ourselves to the local office grounds. But one day when we had a date planned, and we both needed it very much (the mental alleviation we each felt at sharing these few moments was monumentally heart-warming, it was nearly like our physical frustrations and, well, to put it bluntly, our horniness was partially slaked by these moments), it was raining. I wanted to return to "our park" for a rainy-day picnic, but her superior will (not only was she strong willed, but she was magnificently beautiful, a perfect and exquisite creature of grace, charm and sensual charisma like none I have ever known) prevailed and she suggested my office.

Now my office is small and cluttered. The only really recognizable features are the computer on a table beside my desk and the "guest" chair is in front of my desk. Sandy brought her lunch and seductively settled her lovely self in the chair so I could soak in her warmth and beauty. It was so tempting to close the door, even lock it, but the office wags would have had a field day. It was going to be bad enough with the occasional passerby, but we had no choice.

Lunch, itself, could have been uneventful, as sound would carry so we had to keep our voices low whenever we spoke of relevant things, like love and sex and the like; however, I found that there was just enough room beneath the desk modesty shield for me to reach her feet. A strategically placed box helped to cover up the erotic fondling that was to occur.

During one particularly passionate, albeit, low-voiced exchange about the charms of sexual intercourse, I accidentally bumped into her foot with mine. The result was not unexpected when a humongous size 13 encounters a delicate, sensitive, feminine bare foot. Although it was not truly serious I felt really badly and desired to rub it to ease the pain. Sandy would not even allow that to happen, but I decided to remove my shoes to prevent a recurrence.

Why it took me so long to realize that I could stroke her feet with mine I will never know. Sandy readily accepted this because no one could see. So now as we talked of sweet nothings I relieved my passions with gentle and erotic fondling of her feet. Oh, if the office only knew what was going on. But they didn't! This went on for a good ten minutes. I was having difficulty making coverup conversation as the stimulation was enormous. Here I was virtually making mad, passionate love with the most beautiful person in the world and I had to keep up the chitter-chatter. The desk covered up my erection well, whether my voice did or not is something else.

Then somehow the subject of computer programs came up. It may seem funny to be able to think of something like that on the verge of an orgasm, but it did, thank goodness. And why in the hell do I say, "thank goodness?" Well, my patient reader, I decided that it was time to show her one of my new acquisitions. Now I could have showed her some of the X-rated stories I had written or some of nude pictures, but I picked an innocuous program I work with and started it. Sandy obviously could not see from where she was sitting, so our mated feet were torn apart so that the rest of us could be closer together. She glided over to my side and slowly and erotically turned towards the screen and sort of snuggled up to me and my new friend resting idly, but expectantly, in my lap.

So let me describe the scene for you late comers. Here I was sitting at my desk looking a computer screen with an enormous boner sort of hidden beneath the table. (I must say, parenthetically, that my erection was hidden from the casual viewer, but Sandy was not a "casual viewer." To her, nothing about me was lost from her view, at least, I hoped.) Now I am no John Holmes, but with Sandy so close I sure felt I could give him a decent run for his money or whatever. The smile that crossed Sandy's lovely full and passionate lips almost caused me to lose my wad right then and there, as it said, "I like it that way." But let me continue before you the ever patient reader gets bored. And right, and I mean RIGHT, next to me stood the luscious, delicious hunk of femininity, just dripping with sensual passion. Her hips were so close to my face I could almost smell the aphrodisiac aroma from her genitals. In my mind I could and they drove me wild. She slightly bent down to point to the screen and rubbed her thigh seductively against my shoulder.

Expertly, we continued the idle chatter about computers and such. The occasional observer would not have noticed anything. "Love accomplished miracles," I always have said, and I sure was in Love, deep, wonderful LOVE with this perfect creature. It was only natural to share my joy of being with her so I reached up and put my arms around her hips. This and subsequent actions were, of course, carefully hidden from all who walked by.

At first, Sandy hesitated and moved away, slightly. Her instinct was keep her distance, probably thinking that she had encouraged something that shouldn't be encouraged. Her "encouragement" was not of her knowing. Just because she was what she was, a delightfully kind, gentle and sensitive mature woman in a most attractive package. All along I had been attracted to her even before she knew I existed. God surely had created some strange things in this world and many beautiful ones. But this time She out did Herself. (Some may think that only a male could conceive of the perfect female, but I say that men wouldn't recognize the "perfect female" if she were dropped in their lap. All they want is a good fuck. Only a female could imagine all of the delightful traits of her sex and wish to package just one.) But I digress again.

In the past I would have dropped my arm and let her "win" her battle of wills, but for some reason I was not going to allow it this time. My increasingly active lap-friend may have influenced me. Anyway, I tightened my grip on her hips and pulled her back against my shoulder. When I felt the resisting tension ease, I eased my grip. But my hand seemed to be detached. It soon began a slow monotonous "cruise" around Sandy's soft and lovely flank. Our hugs in the past had been waste-up now I was being treated to another delightfully curvaceous part of this enchanting creature.

With each passage I detected less resistance. Her right hand, which had poised near mine a few moments ago, gradually fell back to her side. I felt a distinct softening ripple through her. Cautiously, my hand felt it was nearer to me, to attempt to surmount the two exquisite mounds of passion. Sandy's luscious and sensuous bottom was one of her most outstanding features, and that is from a leg-man, who had long admired the slim, trim turn of her ankle. This lady embodied perfection enough for all normal fixations. Now, as in my dreams so many, many times I was softly caressing each contour of her posterior so cruelly trapped in a dress and underwear. This was a body that deserved to be set free (and she had sent me into a frenzy once when she said she loved to fish in the nude, I have still not recovered from those mind-boggling scenes). Anyway, I continued this exotic trip to never-never land until I thought I would physically wear away her clothes. The only noticeable reaction I could ascertain was a definite snuggling.

Gradually, my hand moved down and continued the caress on her lovely seductively curved thigh and down and around to her knee, the first touch of flesh, or near flesh, as her ever-present hose prevented me from fully touching the natural her. With ever so much delicacy I began a very slow and, hopefully, sensuous return trip up her leg. A quick stiffening and the return of her right hand stopped me about half way up her graceful thigh. Her hand rested gently on mine as if saying, "Hold up. I sure enjoy this, but it shouldn't happen."

For a brief moment I paused. With this pause, her body relaxed, but her delicate hand remained.

A co-worker popped his head in my office. We exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes. Her hand fell away.

Even before the interloper left I began once again the delicious climb of the stairs to heaven. This time I encountered no resistance. When I neared the summit of my climb, I slowed to "smell the flowers along the way" and I would have given anything to smell the wondrous aroma that surely must be radiating from the grotto of love, so near. Slowly, but surely, I continued my trek along those exquisite inner thighs of this goddess. Every time I felt Sandy tense, I paused and circled around in delight until this wondrous creature shared my delight. Then I continued my marvelous voyage.

When I encountered the apex and felt the multiple layers of artificial coverings my fingers rested to peruse. Further ministrations would be ineffectual for both of us. I considered asking Sandy to excuse herself for an altering of attire, you know, get "into" something more comfortable, but remotely remembering the location I chucked that idea. I was lost in thought and frustration.

Then a door appeared before me, a strange, but lovely door. I approached it in my mind and opened it. Revealed before me was the most beautiful and exotic garden anyone has ever beheld. All

colors filled my eyes and a million lovely smells clouded my senses. What had caused this? Well, my patient friend. A touch. Yes! A simple, genuine and honest touch. No I hadn't really seen a heavenly garden nor smelled one. I had felt the touch of Aphrodite, no it was more, it was the warm gentle passionate touch of Sandy on my thigh. The heat radiating from that one simple act filled me with renewed yearning and fervor to share my joy. As I clumsily fought the fold under Sandy's dress to strain to locate the tops of her hindering garments, the warm hand on me squeezed its encouragement. At last, success, I had found the end. Now the difficult task of lower this physical barrier without destroying anything and without causing undue disturbance that might cause an intruder to notice. Slowly and carefully I lowered her panties and panty hose in fits and starts, first from one side and then the other. Initially, a fraction of an inch at a time and gradually gaining confidence and experience I was able to move it a few inches at a time. At long last I had slipped the encumbrances low enough so that my delicious explore could continue. I trembled with anticipation and trepidation. Would she really stand idle by and let me continue? I had to wait only a few moments for the answer.

With exceedingly slow and gentle strokes I followed my previously traversed path back to the joining of those exquisite soft and satiny limbs. I could have simply followed the heat to the source of my desire, but I had other ways of searching and the probe itself, was not without elation. But I was further aided by the warm hand on my thigh. As I approached the toasty source the grip became stronger. When I finally reached the love's sacred sanctuary and just felt the moistness, the grip on me was of one possessed.

I just flirted with the holy grail, skirting its ripe lips in search of Sandy's holy scepter. The delight of the search was exhilarating. There it is! I had found the verge of Femininity, Femininity incarnate in this lush, magnificent and flawless body of Sandy. Three things happened at once: The shock of first contact shot electricity through my hand, Sandy stiffened in rapture and her hand moved and closed on my rigid penis, striving to free itself from its earthly bonds.

For a brief instant we were both frozen in time. Any casual passer would have just seen two ordinary people watching a computer screen. Only if they had heard the virtually inaudible groan of delight simultaneously spill from their lips would there have been the slightest suspicion. Fortunately, none did.

Their brief pause in their urgent endeavor was passed as my fingers gently caressed this enchanted tip. As I cuddled and embraced its firm outline a steady ecstatic moan could be heard. Without missing a single fond stroke, I slipped my unused fingers down lower to the chalice I so dearly craved to sip from. (If only,...., but that was not to be.) Her response was only the imperceptible whisper, "Please, please don't stop. Don't stop for anything. It is wonderful, so, very, very wonderful."

Needless to say, I was not going to discontinue my joyous petting, whether it gave Sandy pleasure or not and she knew it. Because all of this time she had courageously encouraged my erection by expertly stroking it in time with my ministrations. Her only pause was to quickly unzip my fly and release my steel-hard penis to be freely exercised by her delicate and sensitive fingers. On and on we went, our minds lost in each others finger-tip embraces. The only change was the steady increase in intensity as we approached our long-sought climaxes simultaneously. This was all we could share.

The enchantment my fingers encountered was indescribable. The hot moist chamber was so soft and inviting, inviting to more of me than was possible at that time. My poor surrogate-penis could only wonder at what might have been. The sensitive finger tips probed for more contact, deeper and deeper, but they could only proceed so far before my contact with Sandy's deserving clitoris would be lost. In they would slide delighting in their surroundings, the silky and pliable grotto made slippery and slidey by a delicious mixture of oozing secretions I longed to sip. The treasure-trove at the end of this exquisite tunnel could never be surpassed by the path itself. But the long search for the Love-prize, the mother-lode, was about to end with fulfillment.

Neither was Sandy's hand a substitute for her delightful vagina, but she sure tried. Not only was the stroking in harmony with our inner souls, but her finger tips continuously played the field, so to speak. No one part of my bloated stiff protuberance was free of her investigative touch. The sensations she caused were exquisite.

When I could no longer hold back I whispered, "We have arrived, Sandy. Come with me to Nirvana, enter Elysium with me." And we both shook in ecstasy and we climaxed exactly together.

As my seed flowed all over some papers on the floor, Sandy collapsed to her knees.

For many minutes we stayed still, basking in the brilliant, but soft, glow of joyous spiritual Love made tangible by our bodies.
 

Then after the glow had abated somewhat we both realized our predicament. Our unabashedly Loving smiles to each other quickly faded as we struggled to pick up the loose pieces. In surprisingly short time all appeared normal. The floor had been cleaned up, the clothes replaced, as needed, and our countenances restored to near normal.

"What's new?" Sam said as he bustled in unannounced. In unison, we replied, "Nothing, what's new with you?" And laughed the relaxed laughed of truly at ease and satisfied with themselves, which they happened to be.

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