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F.M.B.
Date: 8/19/2015, Categories: Straight Sex, Author: BelleFleure, Rating: 2, Source: LushStories
reply was swift this time: “My hot little pussy getting cold feet?” “It's not like that.” “Then I'll see you at 7:30. Wear something classy and short. No underwear. And your FMBs." Oh the boots, the fucking boots. How could I resist? The remaining texts described what he'd do to me in increasingly graphic detail, to the point I started turning red at my desk. Kept checking over my shoulder to make sure nobody in the office could see what he'd sent and in the end had to leave to cool down. Knew I should delete the messages, but the conversation was too delicious for that. I re-read its entirety a few times during the afternoon, each iteration rekindling the heat and wetness at his use of the words "caress", “ravish”, “kiss”, “shove”, “lick”, “ice” and “spank”. The whole sexual spectrum was represented, from love to lust and beyond. I'd been a shaking wreck ever since, adding precious little value to the company's bottom line, my imagination taking over instead. The lift pinged obediently, silver doors sliding open to reveal the empty interior. I entered, watching myself every step of the way in the mirrored upper half before reaching for the control surface and keying my destination. The doors imprisoned me, and even though the lift descended steadily, my stomach remained on the fifteenth floor. The lack of control was suffocating, yet somehow liberating. Everything about the evening was his choice, from the swanky location right down to the very clothes I was wearing. And ...