Since Peaches and I hooked up in a long evening sex session at work that first night, we added sex play to our nightly work routine. Now it was: Work, Food/Booze, Work, Sex, Home, and Repeat. We were both getting home later at night, closer to midnight, but our morale improved.
Our sex consisted entirely of rubbing, kissing, licking and sucking. Peaches had grown particularly fond of what she came to call "treats" - my tongue ravaging her teenage ass from behind while I rubbed her clitoris with a thumb from beneath. On occasion, if it were done just right, she would have a squirting orgasm. Goddamn that was hot. We hadn't worked our way up to full sex yet. We made it a little over two more weeks before actually having intercourse. That finally happened in a uniquely Peaches-esque fashion...
It was around 10 pm, time to wrap up for the night, when Peaches appeared at the door to the conference room where I was still working during our late night sessions. She was wearing nothing but a freshly pressed men's blue dress shirt. It looked suspiciously like one from the collection I kept in my office to change into for dinner meetings with clients. Of course, the shirt looked better on her. Its blue picked up the sky blue of her eyes. Its first few buttons were undone enough for me to see the upper swell of the enormous D-cup 18 year-old breasts that were disproportionately large on her petite, 5'2", 110 pound body. I hoped to see those boobs completely uncovered someday; Peaches had remained coy on that particular front. How she rationalized letting me stick my tongue up her bottom while steadfastly concealing her chest from me was a mystery I puzzled over often. The bottom of my shirt hit her several inches above the knee and I was treated to a mouthwatering view of her tanned teenage thighs.
She was also carrying a large easel and a flip pad. I watched with interest as she entered and set up the easel. She turned the flip pad forward and shot me an impish look. I opened my mouth to ask what it was for when she impatiently tapped the front of the flip pad with a black marker. The flip pad read:
Silence please.
She flipped the first page up to reveal the next page.
Good evening. Please remove your pants.
I followed the directions, barely fighting off a laugh at the absurdity. The leather conference room chair felt funny on my bare buttocks.
She flipped again.
You and I...
(here, there were 2 helpful stick figures drawn below - the first had 2 large circles on its torso, the second had a thick line descending from between its legs.)
Flip.
...are finally going to...
Flip.
FUCK.
(this was written in enormous balloon letters that Peaches now energetically underlined with the clutched black marker for emphasis).
Flip.