Tuesday, 7 June 2011

An Overdue Encounter

An interesting little aspect of Emily's job led to a somewhat erotic encounter on Friday afternoon last month, something I should have written about then.

Emily's boss, Adam, is based in another city and visits here a couple of times a month, usually spending the day with her.

A couple of months ago when he was up here, Emily was all, "Adam this", "Adam that," "Adam said this," and "Adam said that." It got to the point where she said, half joking, half serious, "I'm sorry, I have not seen you for two days and all I can do is go on and on about Adam." That apology ended with a kiss, some time on the couch talking over some wine, and a wonderful foot massage (I gave the massage. Funny how that works.)

Oh, the interesting aspect? When Adam is here they usually meet at a hotel downtown, whether he is staying the night or not.

Yes, before you ask, it's innocent (well, I assume or assumed, anyway.) The hotel has meeting rooms and training rooms, and more often than not, Emily is not the only one going to the meeting.

But that doesn't mean my mind doesn't fantasize.

I mean, fuck, SHE MEETS HER BOSS AT A HOTEL a couple of times a month.

How am I supposed to keep an innocent mind with that nugget of information floating around my brain.

So, Friday afternoon. It started with Friday morning when I was in bed reading my email on my iPad and Emily walked into the bedroom from the closet (big walk-in, where all clothes are so she gets dressed in there) to pick her watch up off a side table.

"Fuck, Em," I blurted out almost dropping my iPad onto the floor.

"What? Oh, this? You like," she asked, striking a pose in the light pink lingerie--bra, garter belt, panties--and nude stockings she was wearing.

"Of course I like," I said, reaching for her with one hand which she quickly and deftly slapped away

"Stop," she laughed, "I don't have time, silly, besides I didn't wear this for you."

"Who for," I asked, half accusing, half wondering what devilish game she was playing.

"For me, silly," she said, deflating the fantasies already spinning in my pretty head. "I have an important meeting this morning, you know nice it is to feel pretty and confident, I wanted to look really sexy today." Well, I actually did, being a sissy myself.

"Oh," I said reaching for my iPad again, "I don't remember seeing anything on your calendar." We share google calendars, so I know what's on hers and vice versa.

"Last minute," she turned and walked back towards the closet, "Adam emailed me last night after you went to sleep. He came down here last night and I'm meeting him in his room at the Hyatt at 8."

Well, my mind that had shut down just a second ago was not spinning furiously.

"What," she asked when she walked back into the room putting a pearl earring into her ear.

I just looked at her, dumbfounded.

"Wait, silly, you aren't...I'm sorry, sweetie, I totally wasn't thinking. That sounded strange, didn't it. I'm wearing pretty lingerie and meeting my boss at his hotel room and you immediately start thinking it's something dirty, of course. I should have known," she shook her head and walked back to the closet. "I mean, you're not thinking I wore this for him, are you?"

Well what the fuck else would I be thinking? Seriously? As if she didn't know, as if she wasn't doing this on purpose.

"Wearing pretty lingerie because I want to look sexy for him," she called from the closet.

When she walked back into the room, she was wearing a blouse that was slightly, though not inappropriately, low cut. And a skirt that was short, above the knee. "I'm bad, aren't I?"

"Yes, Emily, how the fuck am I supposed to concentrate today?"

"Well, not by imagining me fucking Adam's brains out," she leaned over and kissed me on the forehead, "when I meet him at a hotel wearing such pretty lingerie."

"Em, you're a bitch," I said, meaning it, totally meaning it.

And her bitchiness got worse starting at about 7:50 when she texted me.

"I feel so fucking sexy!"

Then at 7:55.

"I think the valet thought I was a hooker!"

And then at 7:58:

"About to knock on his hotel room door. Mentally picturing myself as a $1,000/hour call girl. I'm so hot."

Then one more.

"Fuck, I am sooo dressed the part! I'm also soss wet, if he comes on to me, I'll never be able to say no to him, love. Never thought to bring condoms to a work meeting! Oh, well, here goes..."

I didn't hear from her the rest of the morning or over lunch or in the early afternoon. She did not answer my texts or my phone call. That's not all that unusual when she is working, but fuck, all that did was make me think of her all fucking day. Pun. Fucking day. Made me think of her fucking, all day.

At 3:00 I got a text from her. Finally.

"Are you busy this afternoon?"

"No, why," I responded, fingers trembling.

"I want you in my bed looking pretty in lingerie in 45 minutes."



It took twenty minutes to drive home; my secretary probably never saw me leave the office so quickly. Another twenty minutes to put on something pretty, put on some makeup, and get into bed and wait for Emily.

She walked into her bedroom and immediately got a grin on her face. "Wonder what I've been doing all day, sissy?"

"Yes," I nodded.

"I mean, besides spending the day with my boss in a hotel room?" She was starting to undress, the reverse of what I saw this morning, first taking off her blouse, slowly, as if stripping, then her skirt, allowing it to fall to the floor.

I noticed right away, I suppose being a sissy, I have an eye for that sort of thing. This morning, her panties were under her garter belt; now they were on top. She saw my eyes, saw what I saw, saw what I recognized.

"Hmmm," she giggle. "It never fails to amaze me...or turn me on...the stark contrast between a feminine sissy laying on the bed, her small, little clitty hidden away, and naked, masculine, man."

"You're mean!"

"Am I? Isn't that what you want, my pretty?"

"Yes," I admitted as I had so many times before.

"You want to hear a story?" She looked down at her waist. "About how a woman's panties get over her garter belt?"

I bite me lip. "You're not just going to get in bed, are you?"

"Oh, Sara, you know me better than that...and I know you better too." She went to her closet and came back with a pair of panties in her hand, from her hamper, I assume. "Here," she said, tossing them to me, a perfect shot, landing them on my face. "Use these on your arms." She motioned with her arms over her head, indicating I was to bind my wrists above my head to the headboard, something she had me do now and then, something I eagerly did, submissive at heart as I was.

"So the woman decides she wants to look extra pretty, nothing special, she just wants to feel pretty so she wears a garter belt and stockings and matching bra and panties...kind of like this," she models at the end of the bed. "And this woman, well, say she's got a meeting with her boss, at a hotel, completely innocent, of course, but she wears kind of a short skirt (she looks down at her skirt on the floor) and kind of a low cut blouse (she looks down at her blouse on the floor) and when she knocks on his hotel room door she has this strange feeling, suddenly imagining herself as a call girl...

"And impulsively, just before the door opens, she undoes one more button on her blouse, she knows she's being naughty, she's in a relationship, but her boss, he's so handsome, so masculine, and she just can't help it."

Emily walked over to the bed, sat down next to me, rested a hand on the smooth, shaved skin of my thigh. "Do you like my story, sweetie?"

"It...its interesting."

"Hmmm," she drew little circles on my leg. "Just wait, it gets better. See, when her boss opened the door, he hardly looked at her, he was reading some papers for their meeting, invited her in without so much as a second glance, which kind of upset her since she feels so sexy and what call girl isn't even noticed?

"So she comes in and, almost pouting, instead of sitting at the table, or even the couch, she sits down on the bed and isn't careful to tug at her skirt, doesn't care, and lets it ride up her legs knowing it will expose the tops of her stockings and knowing that her boss, when he turns around to look at her, won't be able to help but notice her legs and her breasts, from the way he's standing and the way he looks at her and flirts with her. With me so far?"

"Yea," I clear my throat, "yes."

"Finally, he looks up from his papers and I...she...can tell from the look on his face that he's surprised. He looks at my...I'm sorry...her legs and then her breasts and just stands there, mouth open. I...he mumbles...we...he says...we can't...what, she asks uncrossing and recrossing her legs seductively."

Emily climbed up onto the bed and straddled my legs and it was a good thing I was bound, loose as it was, as I would have attacked her for sure.

"Should I continue, sissy?"

"Yes, yes," I beg, humping, wanting her to continue moving on my body, continue with her story."

"Well, she sees the look on his face and knows exactly what he wants no matter what he says and she wants it to, so in a moment of boldness, says to her boss, yes, yes you can...just this once."

She moved up; her panties grazed mine, teasing me, barely touching me.

"Should I stop?"

"No, no," I practically yell.

"She excused herself and went to the bathroom and undressed; she carefully undid her garter straps so she could take off her panties, and walked back into the bedroom now feeling completely like a whore and not caring, just wanting it, cock, cock."

She leaned down towards me, her breasts touching my chest through the soft cups of my chemise. "Do you know why she wanted cock," she whispered in my ear.

"Why," I groaned.

"Do you know why she needed cock?"

"No, no, why, please Emily!"

"You know why, sissy, but you like to hear it, don't you?"

"Why, why!"

"Because she doesn't get it at home, sissy, that's why she's there pretending she's a call girl begging her boss to fuck her."

"Ohhhh," I moaned as she teased me with her "story".

"Fuck me, she begged him, fuck me, fuck me," she said, rubbing her panties on me, ensuring I was close to bursting.

"Please, Emily, please."

"Please what, sissy?"

"Please fuck me," I whimpered, wanting her, needing her.

"Oh sissy, my silly sissy. She didn't spend all morning fucking her boss, enjoying real cock, to come home to something like this."

"Em, dammit, please!"

"Oh sweetie, sweetie, when a woman's been fucked all day, she's swollen and sore and doesn't even want something small and soft inside her. What she wants is her tender, sweet, submissive sissy to lick her and pamper her and clean up after her."

As she said this she was working her way upwards so that her panty covered crotch was coming closer and closer to my face.

"Isn't that what YOU'D rather do if I spent the day getting fucked by a man?"

She lowered herself to my open mouth, what else would I want to do but lick her and taste her and submit to her?


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