She would have taken me up on my offer and come to my office to get ready for the gym.
Her husband, waiting patiently in the lobby as always, would wonder why she was late, again, but he wouldn't complain. He never did. She had lots to do each day, and because of our time zone difference with HQ, he knew that a lot of her work happened after 3:00 pm.
What he didn't know, was that she was in my office getting ready, getting naked, getting ravaged.
Dressed in conservative black slacks and a cream colored sweater over a cream colored tank top, she was the poster child for boring corporate America. That made her boss happy, an 65 year old dowager on the verge of retirement who missed the good old days every day. But under those slacks was the first hint of her real nature.
Bright pinks, hot reds, silky blues, lacy purples, barely-there black, see-through whites, and playful yellow wrapped sensuously around her smooth-shaved body. Totally waxed, buffed, smoothed, and exfoliated she was my bald princess. Puffy lipped, erotically wet, juicy and luscious, fragrant and tasty she was mine.
She stepped in to my room and locked the door. "He's in the lobby" meant that we had 10 minutes to play, to taste, to touch, to begin, to finish, to love, to want, to have and to hold.
First off were here sensible flats and slacks. I dropped to my knees and helped her step out, pushing her backwards in to my chair as soon as her feet were clear. The sweater hits the floor next, followed by her silk-thin tank top. No bra is needed with her 34A breasts and her always aroused nipples. They stand perky and proud.
Down to only her sheer purple thong she slides down in the chair and opens herself to me and I eat. I lick, I taste, I drink like a man rescued from sea. Her arousal grows quickly as the anticipation has been growing since a stolen kiss at noon.
"Pull them off" and I do
"In, In, In" and I am. She thrusts against me angrily, hungrily, and I answer in kind. Her orgasm is sharp and harsh, her fingernails leave their mark and my DNA under her tips.
Still panting, she stands and dresses quickly, pulling on the sensible underwear that he will help her out of at home. A large wet spot forms instantly, and she rubs it for my enjoyment.
"Thanks for the warm-up" is all she says as she leaves my office door open.
I call down to the lobby and tell my brother that is wife is on her way and apologize for keeping her late again.