WORDS: 2600+
DIALOG: Uber Minimal
BUILD-UP: Minimal: Dives Right In
NARRATION: 3rd Person (She/Her He/Him They/Their/Them)
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It doesn't matter that she didn't know his name, all that matters is that when she saw him, she wanted him. As a woman who gets what she wants, nothing was going to stop her from having it. He works with computers and she works with the assholes who sign the paychecks- running interference mostly.
They call her a negotiator but when it comes to the cock, she never has to. She waited until just before he was coming back from his lunch break, then escorted herself to his cubicle, and right under his desk. She didn't have to wait long before he returned and dropped unceremoniously into his chair, kicking his legs under the wooden surface, and barely missing her body before dragging himself closer to the furniture piece.
He managed to get a sigh in before her hands slid up his thighs, moving them farther apart so she could kneel carefully between them. To her delight, his thighs tensed under her hands and a sound of alarm escaped him as he shoved partly away from the desk. The man was stopped by the grip of her fingers and the brush of her lips to the inside of his right knee, through the trousers he wore. The touch was tender, longing, and unmistakably feminine; she moaned shamelessly but quietly in response to the sound he choked back, that stretched his pants tight.
Teeth, gentle but firm, raced across his inner thigh, drawing a wet line toward the growing hardness she neglected to touch. The Negotiator could feel his tension and hear his breath as he sat there, trembling under her hands which slid higher now that they had the silent agreement for him to remain put. She mused that he might even be afraid it was a dream, one he didn't wish to wake from, while yet knowing by experience it was all too real.
The woman allowed her curious nibbles, through the fabric of his pants and along his inner thigh, to take the time she needed to free his belt from the buckle, unbutton his trousers, and unzip them. She pulled his shirt free and tickled his lower abs with her fingertips, toying with the fine hairs trailing down as she fingered into the waistband of his boxers a moment. The excitement of his anticipation was palpable through the fine tremors that ran through his body, and throbbed through his thickening cock so close to her face.
Without warning, her mouth covered his erection through the light cotton blend as though she simply couldn't wait to free his manhood from the cloth before gorging herself upon the heat and hardness. She gently raked her teeth along his length in her thrill, with a throaty chuckle of pleasure allowed if only to vibrate across him. It was quite worth it when he gasped and gripped the desk above her head with such unexpected, instinctual force.
Ask any man, she thought, and he will tell you the best blow job is a surprise. A generalization, she knew, but one she had wanted to put to the test for some time, only too pleased by her subject's bodily admissions. The woman let him feel her moan against his cock with added pressure from her lips, as if she were weak with desire herself and simply couldn't hold her head up for that moments audible release of excitement.
He was like a rock before she urged his pants open and ran her lips across his boxers. He was positively raging now. Lifting her head just enough to actually survey the revealed landscape, she took a deep breath of him in the process. Navy blue pin stripes in cool cotton with a soft slit rather than a button or pouch. Delightful.
She smiled and dared to run her tongue under the gentle fabric, barely gracing the hot blooded flesh underneath and feeling his hips jerk in surprise and desire. Her hand lifting barely fast enough to stop her head from hitting the underside of the desk, but she grinned against his cock, whispering thickly; "Down boy."