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The best advice I can give to a lonely woman on Valentine’s Day is to stay the hell away from those “Singles Parties” that someone always, without fail, gets the bright idea to host every year. Maybe there is a one-in-a-million chance you can find a soulmate (or at the very least casual sex), but if you’re like me that longshot is pushed aside by an unchanging human tendency—drowning one’s woes in free champagne. Last year, the host being good-natured and quite liberal with his supply of drinks, I firmly told myself that I would be a vibrant, quite irresistible flirt and attract the attention of some good-looking guy.
It took me about twenty minutes for me to realize that maybe there were good reasons these men were single on Valentine’s Day.
Okay, so maybe I’m no catch either, but …well, let’s just say that one guy told me he works as “an adult entertainment cinematographer and visual technician” (i.e., creepy fuck who gets paid to videotape naked women), which wouldn’t have been so bad if he was attractive. It might actually have been a turn-on. But the thinning hair, glasses, turtleneck and patched slacks was kind of off-putting. He slipped me a business card, flashed me an unnerving smile and stalked off. I stared at it incredulously. As soon as I looked up I saw the same guy slipping his card to another man wearing a baseball cap and a denim jacket. That was about the time I decided my best bet lay with the champagne.
Needless to say I got piss drunk and ended up passed out on the host’s couch (who also happened to be my boss’s secretary’s friend, so you can imagine the fun I had the next day), still half-hoping that somebody would at least try and take advantage of me. Unfortunately, I was well aware that I had easily crossed the line between ‘willing’ and ‘pitiable’. Being drunk in a room packed with creepy, pathetic men in their early forties and not being hit on the entire night isn’t exactly a boon to your self-esteem.
Even despite the spectacular failure of last year’s outing, I was still tempted to give it another shot. However, common sense prevailed and I decided to at least spend the night geared towards something productive, and my thoughts strayed to more than a few looming deadlines. On the drive to the office I at least managed to half-convince myself that I was a vibrant, career driven woman instead of a loser who was, once again, dateless on Valentine’s Day.
I know some people might be able to find a humorous take on the situation and, to my credit, I felt I was putting forth at least some effort into trying to be positive. But still, I couldn’t help feeling a few pangs of loneliness as I drove uptown, everywhere I look seeing bright lights, the flamboyant decorations and advertisements put forth by hopeful merchants. My tires rolled to a stop as I approached a red light, and as I glanced out of my window I saw a couple making out like two teenagers against a building. The man had his hands pressed up against the girl’s shoulders; she seemed to be busying herself well enough, because she had one of her legs wrapped around his ass and pulling him into her. It was a little rough—perhaps a passerby would have had the nerve to politely enquire if the woman was all right. But all of the happy couples aflutter with lofty fancies of romance, gazing into each other’s eyes as they strode down the street arm in arm, didn’t seem to notice.
I sighed, looked away from the scene and reached for the knob on the radio. I was greeted by the sound of old-school guitars and British voices that I couldn’t at once place. Then,
“One, is the loneliest number that you’ll ever—”
“Ugh!” I slapped the power button on the radio in disgust.
I got through the rest of that depressing drive by reconciling myself to staring straight out the window as the streets zoomed by. I turned back to the radio, cycling through the stations until I found a hip-hop station. Loud beats and lyrics about murdering a gangster’s mother blared through the car. It was, as far as I was concerned, trash—but at least they weren’t love songs. After about twenty minutes I pulled up to the vacant parking lot of Incommunate, the ‘cutting-edge’ network communications industry where…where…well honestly I’m not quite sure what the company does. All I know is that my job consists of summarizing computer problems for my boss in reports and filling out endless stacks of inane paperwork. Feeling a touch of rebellion, I took my VP’s parking spot.
I walked through the empty ground floor, past the vacant receptionist’s desk, and rode the elevator up to the IT department on the fourth floor. In the ten years I’ve been here I’ve managed to get my own office, but not much else. It was the only minor status symbol my monotonous life afforded me. A bell rang–the elevator doors slid back, revealing the dark shadows and silence in the sprawling mess of cubicles and desks. I struck out on a hallway to my right, my footsteps echoing in the silence, unlocked the oak door to my office and sat down at my desk.
Okay, I told myself. This is fine. I am strong.
I spun around in my office chair and removed a massive stash of papers from ataşehir escort bayan my filing cabinet, then dropped it on my desk with a thud that echoed through the whole building. A few swirling dust clouds rose up from my mahogany desk.
I pushed the stack onto the corner of my desk, removed the first sheet from the pile and placed it face up on my desk. I grabbed a pen, ready to get down to business as a strong-willed, independent person.
But it was no use.
I desperately tried to concentrate on the words in front of me, but a second, much stronger pang of loneliness and subdued frustration seemed to bubble to the surface. I bit my lip and swallowed. What was wrong with me? My eyes seemed to sting and swell up.
Just as I felt the tears build up in my eyes against all efforts, the distant clang of a door startled me out of my reverie. I sat up sharply. The sound was followed by what could only be approaching footsteps.
I frowned, momentarily relieved of my sadness by curiosity. I wondered who else could be here, then reflected it was more than likely the janitor. I sighed, picked up my pen again, and tried to return my attention to the document in front of me.
Okay, I thought, Standard Technical Requirement Application oh what’s the POINT?
I threw my pen down on the desk in frustration and buried my head in my hands, finally succumbing to the emotional overload I had been feeling not just today, but the result of something that had been buried for months. I was staring at the cold reality of my life in the face—I was thirty-four, unmarried, I hadn’t had a boyfriend for months, and now I was spending Valentine’s Day at my office filling out useless documents for useless projects, and I wasn’t even succeeding at that!
I gave a quiet, muffled sob as I felt a few tears trickle down my eyes and drip through my fingers. The rational part of my mind was already reproaching me, but I didn’t care. I needed some release.
Much to my surprise, my sobs were suddenly interrupted by a soft knock on the door. My head snapped up.
“Come in,” I said, my voice throaty and uneven.
The handle turned, the door slowly swung open and in entered Jim Cage, my boss. He gave an apologetic smile as his eyes took into account my bedraggled hair and smudged mascara.
“Sorry,” he said, in what I took to be a consoling voice. “I thought I heard someone crying.”
I was mortified. Jim’s tone was sincere enough, but I couldn’t help feeling like a four-year old at the moment. I hastily reached up to brush the ruined makeup off my face and assume a businesslike voice.
“No, no,” I said, even though he must know I was lying and there were still tears on my cheeks. “Just thought I’d stop by, you know…sort some documents, catch up on paperwork.” I congratulated myself on being able to retain at least some poise, but that self-gratifying thought was interrupted as I gave a mighty hiccup. Jim smiled.
“Well then, I think you’re due for a coffee break.”
Fifteen minutes later I was sitting opposite Jim in the coffee room, holding a mug of coffee in one hand and a small wad of tissues in the other. Jim had been very consoling, although I had barely given him the chance to say anything. As soon as we sat down and he tried to make polite small talk, the repressed tears came back in a fierce, embarrassing rush. I told him everything, starting with my last ex-boyfriend, to the disastrous party last year, to dozens of catastrophic blind dates arranged by well-meaning friends, to my constant feelings of loss and confusion. Jim sat there, occasionally making an assenting comment or giving a nod of his head, but otherwise silent.
“…and that’s how I ended up here,” I finished into a continued silence. Not knowing what else to say, I just shrugged my shoulders and took another sip of coffee.
“That’s quite a story,” said Jim.
I smiled. “You could say that much, I suppose,” I said, feeling a sudden warmth towards him for his patience and the quiet interest he seemed (or pretended) to show in me. I found myself for the first time looking at him as a person, rather than my boss.
Jim wasn’t bad looking by any means. He was a few years older than me, had wavy brown hair parted back stylishly, and seemed to resonate an aura of not what you could call sexiness, but rather a compassionate and thoughtful understanding that was attractive in its own light. His high cheekbones rested just a little below his heavy brown eyes, his face was mostly unlined with just a few creases showing as he approached middle age. There was some stubble on his slightly rugged face that might have been the result of complacency rather than a deliberate attempt at an image, but I still found it charming and even sexy.
“But if you’ll pardon me for saying so,” said Jim, “I’m rather curious at your willingness to give up so easily. There are an abundance of men that you would call, from your own term, ‘creepy fucks’, but there are a good deal of men who would be happy to have a woman such as yourself.”
I looked at the floor but it didn’t stop my face from beaming; I flushed and grinned at escort kadıöy the floor like a shy schoolgirl.
“Thanks,” I said, composing myself enough to at least look Jim in the eye.
Jim nodded. “I mean,” he said, “there are quite a few qualities in you that, if you’ll allow me, quite distinguish you from other women.”
His good-natured and innocent compliment was very touching. But I felt a faint stirring of some long-subdued playful coyness, even a brash desire to be flirtatious. I cocked my head at Jim and tried to look interesting. “Like what?” I asked.
Jim’s eyes drifted to the walls around him as he sat back in contemplation.
“Well…” he began, rising up from his chair and stretching his arms, “quite a few things, actually.” He walked forward a few paces and casually sat down on the couch next to me. I felt my heartbeat quicken.
I felt myself lean back against the armrest as Jim slid his arm over the top of the couch in my direction. “For one thing,” he continued, “you posses, though you may not think it tonight, a true composure of mind in the workplace.”
“R-really?” I asked, not sure what to make of that statement or even entirely sure of what it meant to begin with.
“Quite,” said Jim. He steadied a hand on one of the cushions as he leaned in closer, almost on top of me now. “For another, I’ve always quite admired the work you’ve done here.”
This was a much easier compliment to comprehend and therefore one that I took to heart. I flushed again; my eyes dropped to Jim’s chest.
“And finally…” Jim muttered as he let his body slide over mine. His rugged face was inches from mine. “You do have…” His head moved in decisively towards mine, his deep brown eyes filling more and more of my vision. “Quite an extraordinary beauty…”
There was a brief moment, just for that one second, when a rational part of my brain interrupted with all sorts of logical reasons about why this was a bad idea. But then Jim slipped one of his masculine hands onto the back of my head, his fingers lightly toying with my blonde hair, and drew me up to him. I closed my eyes as his lips pressed against mine, and in that moment my rational thoughts–along with a host of pent-up worries, frustrations, and inadequacies—vanished. I was left only to succumb to desires I had gone far too long without feeling.
I moaned as I felt Jim force his tongue between my ruby lips, swirling and swabbing the inside of my mouth. Our tongues mingled and pushed against each other. His warm tongue slid and flicked on mine, slowly gyrating as his hands slipped down to grip my hips. His strong hands lifted me, pressing me into him. I felt his erection through his pants press up against my crotch. I felt a second rush of passion; my slender hands reached around to cup his muscular toned ass and pull it into me.
Jim broke away slightly, his lips moving forward to give a last gentle suck on my tongue. Then his head moved back and his lips moved towards my neck. I gave a small sigh and tilted my head back as his mouth gently caressed my neck. He kissed the underside of the exposed flesh, extending his tongue to gently sway it from side to side as he tasted my creamy skin. I felt my chest heave up as my breathing sharply increased.
Jim lifted a hand to my chest and gently laid his fingers on the outside of my breast. With a final gentle kiss on the folds of my throat he lifted his head up and straddled his knees around my legs. His large hands, working with a deft skill and dexterity, unbuttoned the cotton folds of my blouse and spread it apart. I hadn’t been wearing a bra. The full, exposed breasts lay bare, my pink nipples fully erect. Jim lowered his body down—I gasped in anticipation as he closed his eyes and parted his lips. His mouth closed around the outside of my breast; he swirled his tongue in slow, sensual circles around the firm lumps of flesh. His other hand reached up to fondle my other breast, spreading his fingers as it formed a gentle grip. He lightly applied pressure as he caressed me, his palm slowly grinding against my outstretched nipple.
He flicked his tongue in a slow, maddening circle around the outside of my areola. Each time, just as I thought he would give it the attention it so desperately needed, he changed direction and his mouth moved off to taste a new region. I was just beginning to think I wouldn’t be able to stand it any longer when in one single, soft stroke, Jim flicked his tongue upwards, his warm flesh brushing against my nipple. I moaned—much louder than I had intended or expected. His hand brushed down from my bare chest down to my legs. There was a burning ache between my loins. Two of Jim’s fingers slipped onto my crotch, pressing my skirt into the folds of my already damp pussy lips. He drew back and ran his fingers in soft circles around the inside of my thighs, but before he could move up any further I reached out and took a hold of his wrist. Jim looked up at me in surprise.
I sat up, my breasts bouncing forward with the movement. Jim furrowed his eyebrows in mild curiosity, but I didn’t think words were necessary. I pushed a hand against his muscle-bound maltepe escort chest and let the fingers of my other hand graze against the obvious, bulging erection in his jeans. He groaned as I gave it a gentle squeeze overtop the tight denim, and he got the idea and sank back onto the couch. My hands trembled slightly as they fumbled with the clasp of his jeans. I undid the zipper and spread apart the folds, the crotch of his boxers sticking up, tent-like. I hooked my fingers around the hem of his jeans and boxers and slid them down past his legs. His thick cock sprang upwards, and I gazed at it in wonder for a moment. It had been a long time since I had felt or even seen a man’s cock.
I looked up at Jim as I reached out and wrapped my fingers around the base of his cock. I moved my head down, parting my glossed lips just enough to slip the tip of Jim’s throbbing erection into my mouth. Jim moaned, closed his eyes and laid back as my lips formed a tight seal on his shaft. I slowly jerked my hand up and down in unison as my head bobbed up and down, letting my thumb press upwards in slow circles on the underside of his cock.
My hair tumbled slightly as my head moved up and down on his shaft in a rhythm, sliding my lips farther down each time. I reached over with my left hand to fondle his balls, massaging and rolling them between my fingers. My hand slid up from the base of his cock to the middle as I slid Jim’s cock out of my mouth. With my palm I gently pushed the base of his cock upwards, sliding my tongue in one motion all around the underside of his shaft. I opened my mouth and took Jim’s sac into my mouth, letting my lips slide around the skin covering his balls. With my tongue I rolled and bounced Jim’s balls inside my mouth, closing my eyes as I savored the taste of him. It had been so long since I had given a man head, something I had constantly fantasized about in my room when I would masturbate and literally ache with my craving for cock
I drew my head back as I let both of Jim’s saliva coated balls drop out of my mouth and roll off my tongue. I twisted my wrist slightly to get a sideways grip on the head of his cock as I clamped my mouth around the base. I started moving my head from side to side, my warm, wet tongue sliding back and forth over the side of his cock, flicking my tongue up at intervals.
I slid my mouth back to the tip of Jim’s cock, sucking on it gently before drawing my head back. I slipped my tongue out between my lips and coated it with a few gentle strokes on his throbbing tip, before sliding my hands up his thighs to take a firm grip of both his hips, using my head to steady myself as I slid my mouth over almost the whole length of Jim’s shaft. With an effort, I slid my mouth over the full length of his shaft until his soft pubic hair brushed against my upper lip, the head of his cock just barely touching the back of my throat. I extended my tongue to lick his balls while his shaft was still filling my mouth. I looked up at Jim from the top of my vision, fluttering my eyelashes a little.
I spread my fingers as I let them slide down and grip Jim’s thighs. I pressed my wet lips as tightly as I could against Jim’s shaft as I slowly moved my head back up one last time. He groaned and I felt him breathe in sharply. I looked up at him again—he was gazing down at me with furrowed eyebrows, his chest heaving. Knowing he was close, I enveloped his cock in both of my hands. With as much coordination as I could, I began to jerk them both up and down in unison, spreading and twisting my fingers as I did so, stimulating every inch of him that I could reach.
“Uh…” groaned Jim, tilting his head back over the cushy armrest. “I’m…coming…”
I flexed my wrists slightly, letting my grip twist and slide over his cock as I jerked him up and down with both my hands as fast as I could. With a loud moan, I felt Jim’s cock throb and tighten as thick, white globs of cum flew from the tip of his cock. I closed my eyes and extended my tongue. I continued jerking him off as the last of his cum shot out and splattered on my face and tits. A few drops of cum dripped and rolled down my torso. I reached out with one slender finger, scooping a small amount of cum on the tip of my finger and inserting it into my mouth, cocking my head and looking up at Jim as I did so. Jim groaned again as he struggled to recover his breath.
I let myself sit up and slide backwards a little, still aching between my legs although I couldn’t help a small, self-satisfied smile from creeping on to my face. Jim moved in and kissed me passionately, my cum-coated lips pressing against his as our tongues roughly gyrated and spun together. I reached down and brushed Jim’s now flaccid cock. I could already feel Jim’s broad, masculine fingers tease and stroke the inside of my thighs—I naturally parted my legs, inviting him. Jim broke away from me and looked me in the eye as his head slowly dropped down. His vision dropped as he slid onto his knees in front of the couch. His deft hands, moving quickly and skillfully, unfastened my skirt. He tossed it carelessly aside, my scarlet thong exposed and damp. Jim hooked two fingers around the skimpy string surrounding my hips and pulled it down slowly, letting it slide off my legs and feet. My wet pussy lips were unfolded, the soft, pink interior exposed. Jim’s head drew suddenly closer in between my legs, I could feel his warm breath on my clit…
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