Confessional

To be fucked by you is the best thing I can imagine. To be fucked by you, with my cum dripping down my legs, intermingling with the spilt wetness created by your fervent mouth upon my cunt spilling onto the counter below me is the best thing I could ever imagine. To be stretched out across the desk that separates us, reaching up on tiptoe with the arch of my feet just getting tighter as you lick my cunt and bring me ever closer to orgasm is what I think about in meetings when you catch my eye, sitting there in knickers that are stretched taut over my lips and damp from fantasies.

I'm sat here thinking about how cold the marble of the table would be against my nipples and forehead when you pushed me down. Thinking about that hand curled possessively around my shoulder, body pressing into my back as you lean over biting my neck just above the collarbone, made all the more evident by my breath caught up in my throat as your other hand slides one finger lazily through the heat between my hips; this finger never quite dipping into the slit between but just rubbing, rubbing the tip of my clit that reaches out for you filled with blood and my heart beat.

I imagine you moving your hand from around my shoulder; reaching round to cup my breast with fingers splayed open, catching the engorged nipple between the knuckles of your first and second finger, tugging at it in a fluid motion and capturing my gasp quickly with your other hand, still wet from my cum. Your fingers rolling my nipple while the thumb grazes the edge of its darker areola, tracing the distinct line that rings it. As you are doing these perfect things to me my heart would beat faster under your palm, rushing to meet you and turning my breast pink beneath your oh so clever fingers. The blush that blooms under my shirt now when I picture this trails itself across my chest as if reacting to your fingers, fingers which are smoothing a sheet of notes in front of you.

I want to reach over the desk, skirt hitched up by the movement and whisper to you exactly how I much I want you, lips parted and tongue teasing out the words describing how hot you make me, dripping with the need to convey how often I picture those hands stretched out before you cupping my chin with fingers wet from my excitement. How I want you to drag your first two fingers down over my top lip, capturing my cupids bow for a moment between them as you continue down, pulling my bottom lip out and opening up my mouth. Fingers transgressing from the outside and pushing in, my mouth wet with excitement and tongue reaching out to meet you, lips closing around you. Sucking your first two fingers in while your hand props my chin up, forcing me to meet your face and see how much you want me. I imagine you pulling back those beautiful fingers as I push forward, desperate not to give up my prize but kissing their tips as you pull them away. I imagine those fingers wet with my need being pushed through your hair, disrupting your professional appearance as you struggle with your own need.

I want you to see my need across the table, to reach out to me as you do in my fantasies wrapping arms around my waist and mouth plundering mine. I want those arms in rolled up shirtsleeves to drop down and capture my arse, cupping it and pulling me tight against your body so I can feel exactly how much you want to push me down and slide yourself into my dripping cunt. In my fantasies I picture myself with a hand round the back of your head as you kiss me, raking my fingernails through the short hair at the back setting your nerve endings on fire and causing your cock to jump up against me, exciting me further. I dream about taking control, about placing my lips next to your ear and whispering to you about how it is my turn now, hearing you catch your breath as you picture all the things that those words could mean. I imagine dropping to my heels and grabbing your cock through the fabric of your trousers, feeling it pulse with need, using my fingernails to trace that sensitive spot where the head meets the rest of your cock and feeling your hand tighten its grip on my shoulder, hitching up my bra strap and causing the lace to catch on my engorged nipple, our gasps of indrawn breaths mirroring each other.

I imagine the look on your face as I slowly and methodically undo the clasp and zip of your trousers, holding eye contact with you trying to convey the multitude of filthy thoughts about us I'm having. When you're stressed there's a vein that starts to throb beside your eye and I'm picturing it now, beating in time with your heartbeat and in time with the twitches of your cock, with each throb expanding the patch of wetness on your underwear caused by your leaking precum. I long to push down your trousers and push my face against this patch, smearing your precum against my cheek and licking your cock, the fabric rough and salty against my tongue. This is the moment where I would hook my fingers into your pants, yanking them down in my desperation to taste your cock properly.

There is no time for playing now, your cock inside my mouth just as I pictured your fingers earlier, pushing deep and lips closing around and tightening up, encompassing you in hot, wet, need. In this fantasy you come quickly, no more than a few pumps and you would be filling my mouth, one hand whose fingers dig into my shoulder leaving half moons of pleasure/pain on my skin and another wrapped around the back of my head with nails mimicking the same nerve-exciting touch I dreamt of giving you earlier. In my fantasy I need you to moan now, a sound ripped from your center pulled up through your chest and bursting out of your mouth. You grunting out the word fuck would make my cunt clench, my knickers sodden with pride knowing that it was me you wanted so badly and it was my hands wrapped around the base of your cock and lips around the end that was tugging out this response from you.

I want you so badly.

So, I sit here, cunt tightening around an imagined intrusion and breath caught in my chest.