“You don’t appreciate me,” she pouted, casually thumbing my cock.
“What?” I stared at her, confused. We were in my office, as usual, and the afternoon sun through the half-open blinds covered her body in a latticework shadow. The chiaroscuro effect left her eyes and mouth hidden while my cock, gently cradled between her thumb and forefinger, stood out obscenely in stark relief.
“You heard me.” Her mouth spoke from shadow.
“Annette, honey.” My voice sounded entirely too loud in the stillness of the office. I lowered it and tried to sound matter of fact. “You’re a whore. I pay you. That’s how I show my appreciation.”
“It’s not the same thing.” She lowered her head and her tongue snaked out, rimming the edge of my mushroom helmet. Too quick for me to read her expression, her eyes flashed at me like an accusation. I couldn’t tell if she was being serious or not.
“Are you telling me that I’m not paying you enough?”
Her eyes retreated back into the shadows while her thumb massaged the trail of saliva she had left behind. She didn’t answer me directly.
“Do you know, “ she murmured, “that you have the most perfectly shaped penis I’ve ever seen?”
I stared at her.
“Oh, don’t let it go to your head,” she chuckled. “I didn’t say ‘biggest’”. Her thumb kept working, lightly but deliberately, as though she were oiling a treasured heirloom and trying not to mar the finish.
“What do you mean, then?”
“I mean that it’s perfectly shaped.” She shook her head. “I’m not sure how else to describe it. Everything about it is in perfect relation to everything else: The length, the thickness, everything. And the doctor who cut you was a fucking artist. This thing should hang in the museum of art, so that all women could enjoy it.”
“You do want more money, don’t you?”
“Alan,” she sighed, “you are so stupid.”
Bewildered, I sank back into my chair. The sensation of her thumb on my cock made it hard for me to think. My knob was turning a dark shade of purple and becoming more and more sensitive. No question about it, Annette was skilled at her work. One of the perks of my job was a large office with a window offering a nice view of the harbor. Oh, yes, and a door that locked. Of course, my secretary had a private entrance but she knew better than to interrupt one of my “meetings”.
Annette always dressed appropriately for business and today was no exception. She wore a navy pinstriped jacket with a matching skirt of moderate length. But underneath the jacket her blouse and bra were so sheer as to reveal the darkness of her areolas, and her skirt hid only a garter belt to support her stockings. Now, as she knelt between my legs, her jacket had been removed and carefully hung over a chair and her skirt rode high enough on her legs for me to see the gentle sweep of her ass cheeks. I reached down to caress the tawny flesh on the back of her thigh and she slapped my hand away.
“Not yet.”
My cock had now reached a level of sensitivity that was almost painful. Each swipe of her thumb caused an involuntary spasm in my body, as if she were administering a shock from a mild cattle prod.
At last she seemed satisfied with the state of my erection and lifted herself up from the floor. She hiked her skirt up and slid one leg around behind me. For a few moments she performed a delicate balancing act, like a dream of gravity in suspension, with her glistening slit poised just inches above my jutting pole.
“I would advise you,” she said softy, “not to move until I give you permission.” Her eyes, now freed from their shadowy prison, stared at me intently. The inside of my mouth felt dry and parched. I barely managed a nod.
Her luscious pussy, pink and distended at the folds, ruby dark where the blood rushed, slowly descended. I heard her breath catch as my burning cock seared her outer lips. Her eyelids fluttered. Wet, but not slick, her flesh clutched at mine and clung, denying me entrance. Her tongue swept over her lips, moistening them.
“It’s okay,” she whispered. “Just wait.”
We sat together, joined but not joined, her powerful legs like a vise around my waist. I waited breathlessly for her honeyed walls to loosen and let me in. The head of my cock, numb from her exertions, pulsed silently in time with my pounding heart.
“You see,” she managed between breaths, “the other thing I love about your… uhhhhhhhh…cock, is that it is sooooooo thick!”
She shifted her ass slightly and gained an inch of my meat.
“Whoever said…‘size matters’…ooooooh…should have said, ‘thickness counts.’”
Another inch.
“Christ!” Her breath scalded me. “If I only had a…uhhhhhhh…cucumber this thick, then I wouldn’t…need…you!”
