The Sky Bridge

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Stacy dresses appropriately for work and is rewarded.
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An instant message flashes on my computer screen. It's from Stacy, and she simply states "Good morning. I'm appropriate."

My cock stirs. I type back "Show me."

I close the window and return to the client in my headset droning on and on about the losses in his investment portfolio. It's the same conversation I've had 30,000 times over.

"Why am I paying you to lose my money?? I could do just as well on my own for free!"

"You're exactly right, sir. If you're only focus is the losses of the third quarter, you could have fared just a bad. But you're not taking into consideration what we have done for you in the last four years: we have increased the net value of your account by $43k through strategic investing and risk management during the worst economic event in 80 years..."

"You should have made me $100k!"

"Is that a serious comment, sir? I think you should be aware that..."

As my words drift off across the line to berate an idiot in a customer friendly way, I am distracted by movement behind me. I swivel in my uncomfortable office chair to see Stacy standing seductively with one knee slightly bent and her hands behind her.

She was "appropriate," having followed my instructions to the absolute letter. Her brown hair hung lightly on her shoulders, playfully framing her face and seductive smile. Per my instructions, her thin blouse was white and tucked into her grey skirt. She wore no bra, and her breasts hung proudly, naturally. The color of her nipples demanded attention as they pressed through the fabric. Her skirt was of the color and design befitting a professional woman in a professional office environment. It hugged the curve of her hips. It was a second skin, and it was evident that panties were not a part of the ensemble. Her slender legs were smooth and ended in a pair of black "Fuck Me" heels. Those were her idea; she knows much I like them.

I finish my statement and mute my headset as the client continues to prove his ignorance. I can't take my eyes off of her. Her tits have captured me in their gravitational pull.

"Wow. You look even more stunning than I envisioned. I like you like this. I'm glad you realized my note was not a request," I say softly. "How do you feel?"

She leans forward and fakes a smile. The low cut of her buttoned blouse exposes her tits as they push the shirt away. "I might as well be naked!" she whispers sheepishly. "It's a little humiliating."

I turn my headset back on. "Yes, sir. I understand your point of view. Rest assured, I am here for you."

Muting my headset, I turn back to

Stacy. "And rest assured, you'll be there for me". I move my hand deliberately from the armrest to me trousers and squeeze my rigid cock. It's outline is unmistakable. Her eyes take it all, just as she knows she will. "Meet me in ten minutes at the conference room on the sky bridge.

"No, sir. I do not believe that the Communists have overthrown Christmas..."

-------------------

Her back is to me when I enter the board room. Stacy is leaning against the conference table and watching the a few sporadic worker bees shuffle their way into the building to start their day. From three stories up, the pressed suits and fine clothes of the robots seem insignificant through the enormous plate glass widows that create the south wall of the room.

Stacy knows I am in the room. She doesn't turn to meet my gaze. I watch her body tense as she stands, her back still to me.

"Take me how you want," she says nervously. She knows her role. She knows what she must do. I know her heart is racing in anticipation like a child at Christmas. She plants her palms against the window, arching her back and spreading her feet as far as her skirt will allow.

I walk briskly to her and press my pelvis to her. Stacy instinctively grinds into my hardness. I reach around and cup her tits, massaging them firmly. My eyes gaze out the window at the oblivious employees walking below as I kiss her neck. Stacy sighs and purrs.

My hands drop the hem of her skirt and I pull it up to her waist. Stacy's shaved pussy is exposed to the public below. She grinds her pelvis harder against me, and I can feel the folds of her labia through my trousers as her juices leave her mark. I explore her with my fingers. She lets out a loud moan for more.

My passion overcomes me as I almost rip my zipper trying to free my cock. Finally, after an eternity of fumbling, my cock is at the entrance of Stacy's womanhood. Her glory. I can feel the humid heat of her lust on my sensitive head.

I push her against the glass with my cock.

Stacy moans even louder into the glass as she's filled. Her tits mash into the cool glass, making her sensitive nipples harder.

Thrust after thrust, we grunt and moan in unison. The musk smell of fucking fills our nostrils and the front of my trousers begin to dampen with her juices. Stacy reaches behind her to grab my ass and encourage me to go faster.

"Hurry," she says, "I'm almost there...and someone is watching...!"

I look over her shoulder to see a man stopped at the edge of the landscaping, watching our erotic scene in the air. Another woman stares in disbelief by the gazing pool.

Faster and harder I drive into my lover, motivated by our voyeurs. Stacy's moans turn to squeals and grunts and pleas to a higher power. Her sloppy cunt convulses in orgasm, her cum soaking my clothes. The searing heat of her orgasm pushes me beyond my control and I splash deep into her womb. Stacy holds her stance as I finish, basking in her high.

Slowly, I pull from her. Stacy turns to face me. Her deft hand gently wipes the mixture of our juices from my still-hard cock and brings it to her lips to savor the intermingling of our fluids. I grab her face with both hands and kiss her for the first time. Our tongues passionately dance the last waltz of satisfaction and pleasure.

"I'm glad your note was not a request," she says.

Finally we separate and Stacy pulls her skirt down as I return my manhood to sleep.

We laugh like children at the growing crowd below, thankful for the anonymity of distance. With a promise of a later encounter after work, we leave to return to our respective desks feeling better prepared to meet the day.

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