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Continued:
I was enjoying the slow, languorous grind, my body glued to
his, the feel of his steel-hard penis pressing into my belly. I moved against
it, making small figures of eight with my pubic bone. I was in control and
loving the feelings generated in my sex, the heat, the ripples of anticipation.
I had the upper hand, teasing, torturing. Until I felt his touch on my bare
skin. I stopped moving then, my heart pounding, wondering how far he’d go. My
mind was racing, formulating a plan, but all the time silently begging him not
to stop. I heard his gasp when he realised that I was naked under the dress and
then he stopped moving too. The crowd of dancers brushed against us, but we
were like stone. And then his fingers danced around the swell of my buttocks,
one finger plunged between them and I froze, my decision made.
I grabbed his hand and walked fast across the room, almost
running in desperation. There were people in both directions in the corridor.
Which way to go? I took a gamble and turned left, almost dragging him along
behind me. I turned left and left again, striding in whichever direction seemed
most empty. Then we were running, hand in hand, almost blind to where we were
headed, turning doorknobs, making fast exits, searching, searching until we
almost fell through an unlocked door.
We were in the kitchen. Cold, gleaming, brushed steel.
Empty, sterile surfaces. I hardly noticed as he kicked the door shut and tugged
at me, crushing my lips with his, bruising me as his tongue delved into my
mouth. I was gasping for breath and pulled away. I backed up against the cool
of the metal sink and parted my legs. I slowly lifted the slit in my dress to
one side, revealing the triangle of pussy hair. I licked my lips and beckoned
to him.
Y
Darlene just stood there, legs wide apart and slowly, oh my god, so
painfully slowly lifted the dress to one side. The sequins gleamed
brightly like embers of fire shooting out around that dark, mysterious
mass of pubic hair. I could only stare. My cock was screaming commands
at me, but my feet wouldn’t listen. Then she crooked her finger,
calling to me and it was like she was pulling on an invisible leash.
The next thing I knew, I was there, right in front of her and she was
tilting her ass towards me, lifting her leg around my hips and I could
see the glistening, red wetness of her pussy lips. I needed rescuing.
From 'Office Politics'
by Lani Douglas in Hot Chocolate 1
© Lani Douglas
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