Her Buring Desire - Sex Stories

Her Buring Desire

... are still s**ttered across the other table but I am sufficiently hidden from sight. He closes the door and retreats back into his office, most likely assuming that I've stepped out to use the bathroom or acquire food. I quietly make my way back to the door and its glorious peephole. I hear the sound of his belt being loosened faster than my eye can focus. With one hand, he slackens his belt, unbuttons his jeans and draws the zipper down over what appears to be an enormous bulge in the front of his pants. I am mesmerized, having never seen a man's penis in person before besides my father's, which only occurred on a handful of occasions and was always accidental, and never erect. Mr. Thompson reaches into the front of his jeans and pulls it out. I gasp and then freeze, afraid he might have heard me, but he is preoccupied, making encouraging, breathy noises into the phone's receiver. He strokes his cock, which is long, thick and smooth, almost picture perfect. No stranger to the internet, I have a general idea of what an ideal erection is supposed to look like: tan at the base, growing pinker towards the head. The head itself is bulbous but not overly so, big enough to intimidate a novice, yet, my eyes are glued to it. From what I've read and from what my friends have told me, I can deduce that he's uncircumcised, but that the foreskin is wrapped quite tightly around his shaft, peeling back behind the rose-colored head with ease. I want to wrap my fingers around it. I want ...

... to feel it inside me. Mr. Thompson continues to run his hand up and down, gently stretching the foreskin, whispering, "Mmhmm" and "Go on," as he squeezes and milks his now formidable cock. I wonder if it's warm and what it tastes like and, before long, I find my hand cupping my entire cunt area over my skirt, clutching and rubbing in rhythm with his slow, deliberate strokes. "I'd like that," he growls, breathing heavily. "I want to taste that pussy; shove my tongue in all the way right as you're about to come." I can barely contain my own rapid breathing as I slide my hand under my skirt, finding my knickers damp and my clit so hard that I can feel it through the thin fabric. My God, this man is so beautiful and obviously an attentive lover, the way he talks about going down on this woman. I want him to go down on me. I want him to plant his mouth on my cunt and let his tongue roam over my most sensitive bits. He proceeds to pump his cock, lingering on the now glistening, pink head every few strokes, his pelvis thrusting upward into his palm. His eyes are closed and his mouth slightly open, as he pants and moans for the woman on the other end of the line. For a brief moment, I hate her, whoever she is and then, in a split second, I am so overwhelmingly grateful to her and whatever she's saying to make him put on such a gorgeous, inadvertent display. "Yeah, I know how you like it," he says. "You want me to bend you over and fuck you from behind, as hard as I can. And, that's ...