His Hands


When my client called and asked me to come to an all day meeting, the only thing I could say was “Yes sir. What time does it start and what do I need to bring to be prepared?”

The meeting, which was 2 days later, was truly an all day event. It started at 8AM at his office and proceeded to another location finishing at 4:30 PM. There were over a dozen people in a long conference room talking about the various aspects concerning the project. Sometimes the discussion was one group conversation; sometimes we broke up into two or three subgroups. Everyone was dressed in ties and suits or dresses. We covered several important topics, resolved several “open issues” and avoided major personality conflicts. For the most part, things went off really well.

The client, the project and the meeting were successful. My part and involvement in the meeting, however, lasted less than five minutes. So, as far as my productivity was concerned, my day went from critical input and decisions to hopeful learning to a complete waste of time. I guess the only good from a situation like that is my mind has time to wander.

With over 6 hours of idle thinking, the human mind can think of several different things. First, I’ll start to think about all the work related things that I could be doing. This will be followed by what I need to get done as soon as I get back to the office: answer email, return calls, etc. Then there will be a list of things I need to personally do: wash laundry, clean house, etc. But like most people, my mind will eventually wander to sex and fantasy. Being one of 2 women in the meeting, there were several “potential” candidates around the room to select from as my fantasy object.

On this particular day, my mind focused on my client. In my fantasy, he reminds me of Robert Mitchum. He’s around 45 – 50 years old, wears glasses, short wavy hair, somewhat tall and a bit thick, but not fat. I like to think of him as a rugged nerd. He has a desk job, but in the evenings and weekends, he works on his ranch, which is outside of town. He does a lot of work with cattle and sheep and considers this to be his true passion.

Because of these two completely different types of work, I always let my focus wander to his hands. They are thick and the palms and fingers are calloused from years of outdoor work. The nails, though, are short, clean, and have a slight manicured look to them. In business settings personal presentation is not only important; it’s critical. I’ll watch him use his hands to describe finer details or point out something on the layouts that may have been missed.

While watching him use his hands, I will always wonder what those hands must feel like. Against my own soft, feminine hands are they hard and rough? Do the pads of his palms feel thick and strong, like the hands of a man who has worked for years outside? How would those hands feel against my naked flesh?

As I continue to stare at the way his hands move to illustrate his point, my fantasy will start to kick into full gear. I’ll start to imagine him asking me to stay after the meeting. He’ll ask me to stay late and help him develop a strategy for a new development plan, something that would be just the two of us, working together.

After everyone has made promises for follow up calls and emails, then general talk and chat follows. Afterwards, everyone else leaves. He comes over to where I am sitting. My head is down, leaning over a pad of paper expecting him tuzla escort to give me some general directions that would be best written down for later use. As I am ready to write, he leans over me. He’s so close to me that I can feel his breath on me.

His cologne smells musky and mingled with his odor. It intoxicates me and my eyes are half closed as his lips gently run across the line where my shoulder meets my neck. He brings his hands over my writing hand to take my pen away. His lips brush against my ear as he tells me we’ll be working on something a little more ‘hands on’ than that.

His hand, which has been resting on my own hand, will come up my forearm and reach across to my other shoulder to turn me around. I’ll swivel around, and he’ll then take both of my hands and place them on either armrest, he’ll lean into me and give me a slightly rough open mouth kiss. He’ll come to a full standing position and move my hands to either side of his waist. My eyes will be squarely level with his groin area. My hands, now, move with a mind of their own.

I’ll bring them to his belt and unbuckle it. I’ll unbutton the top button on his trousers and pull his pressed laundered shirt out. My hands will run under it up his stomach and chest. I’ll feel the hair on his chest and run my fingers through it. Feeling the course hair, I’ll find his nipples and squeeze, pinching them. I’ll roam all over his chest and belly, trying to feel every inch of him at once.

He’ll then take my hands out from under his shirt and gently raise my hands and myself so that I am standing and leaning against the conference room table. He’ll place my hands on either side of me, with a look, an understanding, where they remain there while he moves his own hands by unbuttoning and opening my blouse and front hooked bra.

He runs those hands up my torso, to my breasts, and I am able to feel every thick joint of his fingers. In my mind, I can feel my nipples harden to the point of being almost painful as the little jagged seams along his palms catch against my own dark brown crinkled skin. His fingers are thick and incredibly strong, but they are oh so delicate when squeezing my nipples, pulling them away from my body and then letting them bounce back into place. I arch my head back and let out a deep loud moan.

His finger comes back over my lips, “Shh”, he says, “We don’t want anyone to hear us do we?” I take this finger into my mouth and suck on it. My lips run up and down, licking it on all sides. I want him to know what more we could be doing. Thinking the same thing, it is now his turn to moan in response.

He takes his hands and cups my face. The thick pads of his fingers soothingly message my temples as his palms cup my cheeks. I feel myself begin to melt into his touch. He moves his hands to my shoulders as he guides me lower. As I slide off the table and my knees sink to the carpeted floor, I bring my own hands up and unzip his fly and lower his trousers down to the ground. He’s not wearing any underwear and I can see that he’s semi erect.

I bring my fingers up along the outer edges of his legs, feeling as much of his legs as possible. I let my hands guide themselves to his groin. I gently cup his balls with one hand and slowly, but firmly stroke his cock with the other. I open my mouth and lick the very tip of his now moist tip. I’ve been wondering how he would taste this whole time. He is now fully hard.

As I lick him, I tilt my head up to let tuzla escort bayan my brown eyes gaze into his green ones. His eyes dreamily stare at me as he brings his hands back to my face. Using this opportunity he mentions again how much he likes working with me; having me work under him. He is my client and I am here to serve. I moan and let the vibrations in my throat tickle his prick.

I let him control the tempo; let him control the motions, when I feel him pull himself out of me. He guides me back to the table and has me sit on it. He then pushes my shoulders down, so that I’m laying across it with my legs hanging over the edge. His hands start at the knees and raise my skirt up. He cups my mound and quickly squeezes, feeling the dampness through my pantyhose. I start to groan and want to come up to kiss him when he firmly holds me back down again.

He continues to let his hands wander up my body and grabs onto my panty hose and pulls them down. His mouth is following in immediate pursuit as I can feel the rough stubble of his 5 o’clock shadow and the softness of his tongue wander from my belly button towards my sexual release.

While his mouth is work its way down to my clit, I feel his palms on the inside of my knees pushing them up and apart; giving him access to all of me. Letting him be able to lick me from clit to asshole. He then moves his hands back up my thighs. As he uses one hand to spread apart my nether lips to have complete access to my pussy, he uses 2 digits from his other hand and inserts them, fully, into my wet, hot pussy.

Between the softness of his tongue and the firmness of his fingers, it becomes more than I can handle. I want to scream out my release but knowing where we are and the risk that is involved, I keep my mouth closed and my voice quiet. Keeping my vocals in makes the intensity of my release even more so and I grip his fingers with my internal muscles. I want to draw them in as far as they will go, never wanting to release them. I am gripping so hard that it becomes almost painful as he pulls them out again.

He laughs softly to himself as he rises from sitting on his haunches. He positions himself between my legs, grabbing on to the outside of my thighs with his strong hands, always in control. He guides his cock into my pussy setting a nice rhythm that is neither to quick nor to sedate. He grinds himself into me and I can feel his balls hitting my asshole with every thrust.

Knowing that his hands are busy holding on to my legs, controlling the motion, I let my own hands wander. One hand goes to my nipples and begins to alternate pinching them. This hand squeezes each nipple forcing them to harden and pulls them out away from me. The other hand roams to that place where our bodies meet. I alternate between rubbing my clit and stroking his cock on the out swing.

His head has been thrown back, he’s panting and he was lost in the moment. When my hand comes into contact with his prick, it startles him a bit. He grabs my hand, shakes his head and pulls out of me completely. This takes me back and I am worried that I may have offended him, but he smiles at me; and motions for me to roll over on my stomach.

Here is where I remember that old saying, “The customer is always right.” I know what he wants and so I roll over and position my ass for the best access to it. This isn’t my first time at ass fucking and I realize that he’s been using my pussy as lubricant for this moment of penetration. escort tuzla I am worried because knowing that he’s strong, he may hurt me.

I shouldn’t worry. He slowly works the tip into my ass and then pulls out again. He does this a few times until I am use to the feeling and he’s able to get more in my ass without it hurting. He grabs onto my hips and begins to pound away into my ass. I love this feeling and press my ass checks together. He then says the thing that other men have said to me, “God, your ass is so much tighter than your pussy. It’s incredible!”

My eyes are half closed, glazed over. I am lost in the moment. Some men don’t know how to fuck an ass. They just pound away like it was the same thing as pussy, but let me tell you, it is not. Ass fucking requires smoother strokes, more control. This is important especially if you want the receiver to appreciate it. I can tell by the way he’s going at me, he knows what he’s doing. He’s in control of himself, me and the situation in general.

He’s grabbing on to my hips pretty tightly squeezing a bit roughly. I know he’ll leave finger size bruises. Bruises that I’ll have to explain to someone else later. His grip is getting tighter, his breathing heavier and I know what’s coming. After a few long strokes, I feel it, his wonderful release in me. He’s still stroking in me now, but slower. He’s using his cum now as lubricant for those last glorious strokes in me before he pulls out.

Somebody starts coughing and I come into clear reality of what is going on around me. At this point in time, I am sitting with my legs crossed at the ankles and my hands are in my lap. My head is slightly bowed in a subservient position. My lips are parted because my breathing has become slightly labored and my mouth is watering. I lick my lips often. There is a flush across my chest that is rising from my breasts and is almost over coming my neck and face. Under the table I am desperately squeezing my thighs together trying to reach some sort of completion but not be noticed at the same time by the gentlemen on either side of me. That’s when I feel it.

I don’t feel the beginning of a final release, but rather eyes, which are upon me, watching and noticing what I am doing. Watching what I am REALLY doing. Hesitantly and with a bit of fear, I look up to see who’s observing me.

Somebody else is talking and my client is staring at me. His head is slightly cocked in my direction; eyes twinkle over the rims of his glasses as very slowly, a grin starts to spread over his face. He’s been studying me for a while and judging by his look has accurately determined my predicament. It seems to me that right here, right now we are frozen together, alone, in time.

Like a deer crossing the highway gazing dreamily at the headlights of my oncoming death, I cannot look away from his stare. I am transfixed into his mischievous eyes.

He’s holding my gaze from across the room and yet, he’s looking me over. He’s taking in my every physical tale-tale detail. Noticing the reactions within me. Could he possibly know that he’s the reason from my state of arousal? Does anybody else see this? How will I react around him the next time? And then ever so subtly, he winks and motions with his eyebrows, face, and mouth. He acknowledges my actions; the public desire that I’m displaying. Then he turns to address the question that someone else is asking, all the while stroking his fingers in circles along the table’s edge.

He then turns to everyone else and thanks them for coming and asks me to stay afterwards to discuss some further options he has for a special project. His sly grin appears again as he winks at me one more time.

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