Crazy.

As Mistress and Slave lay on my office floor yesterday afternoon, pants, tights, boots strewn around us, catching our breaths,  my colleagues chatting on the other side of my unlocked door, I tried to reconstruct how this craziness had happened.  In retrospect, it was a confluence of events that led to Mistress and Slave fucking like demons possessed in the staid confines of my corner office.

Event One:  Yesterday the ring of my cock cage just did not want to stay on. I had it tightly in place shortly after I woke, but somehow the cold weather caused my two tender balls to sneak back through the hard steel ring into their refuge as I sat working on my homework. Was it because ‘Nilla had failed to post the type of story that gets my blood flowing over my cappuccino in the morning? I do rely on her for some inspiration, as an alternative to say, the Wall St. Journal. (If anything would make one’s equipment duck and cover it would be the Journal).

Event Two: I polished off my morning homework just in time to wake the teens and join Mistress in bed, where she was waking from her long night’s sleep. We followed our morning ritual: her reading while I worshipped, then she allowed me to take her to our mutual pleasure. When I explained my “ring emergency”, she must have been still on a post-orgasmic high.

“You can pass on the cage today, Slave. I may want to have access to your cock when I visit this afternoon.” 

Hmmm. Of course, I gladly accepted this boon.

Event Three: Later that morning, my gmail inbox delivered a little gift from ‘Nilla: a cunning and very hot story derived from the adventures of Mick and Molly, featuring a submissive Molly in an incendiary red dress, an arrogant Dom marching her off to meet her “fate”, and a frustrated, cuckolded Mick, aching inside his cage. Yum. That story definitely raised the temperature in my office.

Event Four: Mistress arrived after a lunch engagement with a very important man, dressed as our reader(s) have come to expect: black dress down to mid-thigh, just tight enough to display her luscious curves, black tights, black boots. After we talked about her lunch meeting, I flipped open my laptop to show her ‘Nilla’s story.  Her well muscled thighs squirmed a bit in my desk chair as she worked through the tale.

The stage had been set.

As Mistress read, I pushed the blue upholstered chair against my door (no, it doesn’t have a lock). When she stood, I pulled her into a tight embrace. Both of us seemed unusually needy. As we kissed my fingers found their way between her legs. Already damp. Mistress squirmed in that delightful way against my hand.

I steered Mistress toward the door, not breaking that embrace. Helping her sit, I fell to my knees, burying my face between her legs as her hands clenched the hair at the back of my head. Before pealing back her tights I took some time drawing her juices through their sheer fabric. I like the way Mistress pumps herself ever so gently against my mouth, trying to contain her need.

When it was time to slide her tights down to give me better access to those damp folds, Mistress urged me to take off her boots. I unzipped them, and slid them off, spending a few moments massaging and kissing her feet. Yeah, they were a little stinky, but very sensuous as her toes squirmed between my teeth.

Moving my mouth up her legs to the juncture of her thighs, I feasted on her, nearly pulling her out of the chair as I found that special place with my sucking lips. Mistress had to take care not to bang her head against my office door as she came for me.

Once she was satisfied, she directed me to stand.

“Aren’t you glad you don’t have your cage on today, Slave”, she said, as she unfastened my belt, unzipped me and let my pants fall to my ankles.

“Oh, yes, Mistress.”

She took me in her hands, then her mouth, her lips and tongue slowly building me to a point of no return.

Then she stopped.

“Where do you want to fuck me, Slave?”

We considered the option of bending her over my desk. But it was too messy with all those papers strewn about.

We settled on the floor, where I spread a firm logo blanket leftover from some silly promotion. Useful for office sex though.

I helped Mistress to the floor and joined her. As we could hear my colleagues pass by outside the door I slid on top and inside her.  Oh… so …nice.

There is something about floor sex….no give at all. Mistress’s body so soft and receptive, but held firmly in place by the hard floor. There we were: My dress shirt and tie still on. Her dress hiked above her hips. Moving against one another with determination, knowing that this needs to be a quicky before some “helpful” assistant decides she  has to talk right now about an “important” development.

“What would they think?”

Mistress asks between her little gasps of delight, referring to the chatting minions on the other side of my door.

“Well at least you are my wife. It’s not like I am harassing an employee. The worst they can say is, ‘Mick must really like that hot wife.’”

We giggle.

Not long after that, Slave explodes, collapsing next to Mistress on my office floor.  We do not linger, but reluctantly reassemble our grown up costumes.  Mistress was soon polished and ready for her next meeting. Slave needed a nap.

Crazy.