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Oca 13

The Erotic Encounters of Melinda and Christian: Part 1

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Ass

Christian Delivers The Passion Melinda Needed. I normally hate delivering the sappy gifts and trinkets between husbands and wives. Not that I am bitter or anything, I just find it absurdly ironic how much men and women light up over the delivery of gifts. If they really cared they’d find time in the day to deliver it themselves, or just give the gift when they’re at home together. Of course, it’s about the spectacle. All of their loved one’s coworkers get to bear witness to this “grand” gesture that proves that they really love their significant other. Perhaps they do and perhaps I simply over-think the whole thing. From time to time I get a particular brand of this delivery, a half assed effort for even a half assed gesture. Some cheap pieces of fabric stuffed with polyester in an attempt to mimic some animal that wouldn’t even be fit for a WalMart claw machine, or dollar store brand chocolates along with a card that looks as though it’s leftovers from a bulk set bought ages ago. Honestly a waste to spend money on the delivery service, but hey I don’t take the money, I just have to hand over the carefully cared for and insured garbage to those unlucky people who have to iron on a phony smile so as to not let on their mate is an inconsiderate ass. As I arrived at the floor the delivery was directed to, I snuck a quick peek at the surely laughable message in the card, it was as lame as I would imagine, “Hapy bday babe.” Probably written absentmindedly when our desk clerk, Claire, often has to suggest to the dolts that, “A personalized message will bring a much broader smile to your loved one.” I was half way across the office space when I noticed how deserted the office was. Luckily, it made it easier to find the receiver, and would spare this woman any potential embarrassment. I spotted the small glass walled office istanbul travesti of Melinda and gently tapping the open door to alert her to my presence. As she lifted her head from her small pile of papers, I instantly took notice of her beauty. Her short blonde hair, pale blue eyes behind her nerdy glasses, gorgeous lips, all were a prelude to the rest of her amazing body that came up from behind her desk. She was trim, but not some bean pole, maybe 5′ 10″ in height. She wore a loose and flowing white blouse, tucking into her crimson red skirt that ran several inches below her knees, but a severe slit that split the skirt on the left side up to her mid-thigh. When she walked toward me the slit gave me an incredible view of he black stockings that ended at the thigh where the slit ended revealing the clip for the garter belt that held the stockings in place. I managed to glance at her wonderful body and return my gaze to her eyes without being too obvious. I introduced myself and handed over the flimsy stuffed bear and card. Recognizing the disappointed look, I offered my apologies and joked that I would understand if I didn’t get a tip. Melinda sighed and told me apologies weren’t necessary, John, her husband, is like a child who gets a laugh from an adult. He gave her the cheap gift several years ago and she politely expressed appreciation, and so, he just gives her this every birthday afterward. When she turned to discard the present in her waste bin I heard her mumble something unkind, and remarked how ripped off she was to be married to an incompetent boy. Nervously, and because my mind had wandered to sex, I offered that at least, I hear the boyish ones are only good for one thing anyway. To which she scoffed and then let out a few short burst of laughter. She then unloaded a istanbul travesti volley of grievances with her husband’s bedroom buffoonery that almost made me feel for the guy, but I quickly dismissed that as I caught her gaze. Her face was glowing with pent up passion and lust, her words, though harsh, were filled with the quiet pleadings of a woman who only achieves orgasm by way of a vibrating lump of plastic. Something about her beauty and knowing how sexually unsatisfied she was made my heart beat faster. My mind raced with dozens of small erotic acts I’d do to her to build her lust, the words I’d whisper while I penetrate her to awaken her sexuality. I suddenly became aware of my cock pressing desperately to escape my briefs and shorts. Before I could make a move to conceal it, I noticed Melinda’s eyes locked on my crotch, her mouth slightly parted as though she were going to drool. I couldn’t believe it, this gorgeous and vibrant woman, neglected by her pathetic husband, and with only the mere sight of my bulge, she looked as though she was going to drop to her knees and feast on me like she’d just been released from prison. I certainly wasn’t going to let this opportunity slip by me. I don’t generally pursue married women, but when the other guy is so neglectful, their wife can be heated by a strangers bulge, the marriage was dead long before my cock got stiff. I moved my hand to my crotch and gripped the hard outline of my cock and stroked up the length. Melinda broke her gaze and rushed to her desk to sit down. She kept trying to make eye contact, but couldn’t resist drinking in the show I was putting on for her, which I took up a notch by pressing my hand into my pants to make the entire length of my cock visible beneath the fabric of my shorts. She muttered a weak apology, istanbul travesti but as I moved forward I hushed her and said, “Don’t apologize for John, he should be the one quelling your desire for hard throbbing cock.” Melinda inhaled sharply and that’s when I noticed her right hand clumsily seeking a path to her surely hot, throbbing, aching, and dripping wet pussy. Her left hand was gripping the edge of her desk, turning her knuckles white. It was clear that this woman needed to be fucked and used, violated and abused to quench her lustful cravings. I grabbed her left arm and asked if there was a room where we could ensure privacy. She muttered, “C-copy ro…ommm.” I pulled Melinda to her feet, and when she let out a low groan of disappointment at being torn from her sexual reverie, I pulled her in close enough to feel my bulge pressed against her and kissed her deep and long. One hand still holding her left arm and the other I used to run the length of her back until it came to cup and squeeze her supple ass and spurred her into action. She made a bee line for the copy room, my hands still gripping her. When we entered the copy room Melinda immediately closed the door and with a strength that must come from her frustration, she moved a six foot filing cabinet in front of the door. I thought it was pointless, as a blockade would be as damning as actually witnessing the unprofessional conduct we were about to commit, but clearly Melinda didn’t think of it or care. She quickly dropped to her knees and nearly ruined my belt in her attempt to free my aching cock. I decided to take charge of her before she did damaged my uniform, or worse my cock, in her haste to finally satisfying the lust pent up in her. I grabbed her by her hair and forced her to look up at me. She gave me a sad look, but I ignored it and firmly said, “Stop it, you’re acting like a bratty little bitch who’s so concerned with what she wants she doesn’t think of anything else.” She frowned and tried to look away. I held her hair and forced her eyes to me. A slight grin gave away that she liked a rough hand tempering her unbridled lust.

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