My Amazing Abby - by Raven_Darkwood

  My Amazing Abby-byRaven_Darkwood

  This job sucks, I think to myself. I feel this way from 7-8 am every morning, though. Thankfully, my day always get better just before 8. That is when you arrive. Abby, you are my boss, my teasing tormenter, and, most importantly, my friend. Each morning, I suffer through the doldrums and monotony until your presence lights up my world. Knowing that you will soon be walking by my desk gives me the strength to endure this place. I must be patient and focus on the work for now. Only a short, but excruciating, time until you will be here. I obsessively check the clock, wishing my concentration would make the hands spin faster. Ah, finally, it is 7:55. I make sure to straighten my purple dress shirt. You inspire me to be a better man in many ways. Your encouragement, always sincere and genuine, and the way you draw me to you, make me strive for self-improvement.

  I hear your heels on the floor signaling your approach. You always come by to say good morning when you arrive, and today is no different. "Hello Brett," you say, somehow making a simple greeting sound provocative. "Good morning Abby. Well, at least it is now," I respond with my signature flirtatious humor. Your beautiful lips curl into the most charming smile, pure welcoming warmth. Then, I look up and your soft, dark brown eyes lure me into their soulful depths. I gaze into them, eyelashes flittering around them, and the world fades away.

  Aware of your effect on me, you save me the embarrassment of someone else seeing me leering. You break the spell with a simple shift of your head to sever the eye contact. I snap back to reality and watch the cascading waves of reddish-brown hair dance around your elegant neck. With a quick twitch of your eyebrows you let me know that you know, and my face reddens slightly. You chuckle at me, "Oh, Brett, one of these days..." Letting the tauntingly tantalizing temptation hang on the air, you spin on your heel and head to your office.

  I watch you saunter away and admire everything about it. The new dress you have today, closed back with alternating sections of black with white circles and white with black circles, displays your curves perfectly. Smooth, strong, but feminine, arms dangle by your sides. Following the slope of your back to the narrowing at your waist, I admire the shape of your silhouette. Your perfectly rounded ass shakes teasingly back at me. The swaying of your hips with each step makes me bite my lip. Elegant legs, their shapely calves wrapped in black nylons ascend up into the hem of your dress. Wait, today they don't. It suddenly dawns on me, that what I can see of your nylons extending above your knees. Looking closer, I see that your dress is only about two-thirds of the way down your thigh at its bottom.

  The bite on my lip intensifies. I break out of the reverie of admiring your departure when the sharp pain pings my brain. I feel my bottom lip to make sure I didn't draw blood, and quickly swivel back under my desk to conceal my sudden erection. "Fuck me," I say under my breath. It's difficult enough for me to keep my desire in check on a normal day with you. But, Abby, opening that much more of you to view is going to kill me. Work, I must focus on work for a bit. I begin efforts on my latest analytics project, but my mind wanders in no time.

  You are someone who just exudes sexuality. A person who has a primal lust that simply permeates their essence. You are amazingly beautiful, as much you dismiss my saying so. More than that though, there is a sensuality the just drips off everything about you. You have a power in simple things. For example, earlier, the way you spoke and the way you walked away was hypnotically alluring. There is a charged sexual energy that absolutely crackles around you. As if that wasn't enough, you always know how to draw attention without it appearing intentional. My God, how you have mastered the subtle nuances of seduction. I cannot imagine anyone turning you down. I know if you ever signaled that you actually wanted me, I wouldn't hesitate. If you hinted to pursue you, I would run you down like a cheetah chasing a gazelle in the Serengeti. And if you suggested you wanted me to take you... My head may explode, but I would be on you in so little time that you would think I was the Flash.

  That isn't our dynamic though. We are good friends. Lust and desire aside, that friendship truly means the world to me. That said, we flirt in the most sweetly torturous way. Sometimes I wonder if I don't have a masochistic streak. But it is totally worth it to have you tease me. We message between our computers in the office and I pray that HR never sees it. We would both be fired so quickly. Forget the old "don't let the door hit ya..." adage. We would be gone so fast we might travel back in time. Sometimes you will tell me about your sexual adventures. Stories of the incredible women and men you have been with. Other times, I feed into your carnality by crafting fantasy scenarios for you. Then you teasingly will tell me how turned on you are. Occasionally, you even hint that you are going to lock your office door and "take care of yourself." Truth is, I actually believe you do that. You have occasionally texted me a quick flash of your spectacular breasts from that office. Therefore, you masturbating inside it, seems a valid scenario. Oh, how I long to be the focal point of your sex drive, and to be the one to please you.

  "Damnit Brett," I curse out loud at my racing mind for fixating on you. Across the middle walkway, Jenny rolls back and regards me with a curious expression. "Uh, transposed a number in this calculation," I lie. Selling it further, I say, "Spent the last half hour trying to figure out why my data looked wrong. Freaking stupid." She grimaces and says, "Sorry, that sucks." As she rolls back into her area, I laugh to myself. Oh, if you only knew I actually spent that time mentally masturbating about our boss, I amusedly think. Grabbing a quick drink of water, I crack my neck and knuckles and bear down.

  The next hour passes uneventfully and I easily make up the lost productivity from my daydreaming. Damn though, what a pleasant little mental exercise it was thinking of your innate sensuality. "So, what do you think of my dress," your message suddenly pops on my screen. Naturally, I think. Sometimes I swear it's like you have a psychic power to know when my mind goes to you. "I like it," I respond, "it really shows off your figure. Not that you really need help in the department." An eyerolling emoji pops up, and I shake my head. "How do you not think you are gorgeous," I ask rhetorically. "Honestly Abby, I will keep saying it till you start believing it," I continue.

  Then a thought occurs to me. Oh shit! Did you notice me staring at your ass and shorter dress? I replay it quickly in my mind, trying to remember if you broke stride at all. Or, did the patterned fabric crease, indicating you twisted to look back? I don't think so, but now I am a little paranoid. I mean sure, we talk and text sexual inuendoes. Hell, we discuss straight up sexual things that could pass for erotica. Despite that flirting, nothing has ever spilled over into reality. I notice I missed your "whatever" response and shift the conversation. "So, I have to ask. Do you have a fun date tonight or maybe a little 'long lunch' today?" I playfully inquire. "HA! Not yet. But I guess we'll see where the day goes. Maybe something will come up..." she replies. I find myself intrigued.

  I also find myself a little confused. Musing to myself, why are you breaking from your normal formal dress to wear something more provocative, if you don't have plans? Pondering further, I wonder what you meant by your comment about seeing where the day goes. Ah, the realization hits me. You must have plans to go out, not with someone specific. You are going to look for a person to play with. Though, that doesn't really seem your style, from everything you told me. You really haven't ever talked about hooking up with strangers. However, Occam's razor logic applies for me, and this is the simplest explanation.

  Once again, I fight to purge the thoughts of you from my brain and fail miserably. How wonderful would it be to just walk into your office and lock the door behind me? You stand up from your desk, not even questioning what I was doing. Both of us rapidly close the distance between, meeting in a passionate embrace. Our tongues a twirling tango in our mouths, as our hands desperately paw at each other's back. After seeming hours of impassioned making out, I break back from our kiss and fix my eyes on yours. Our brown eyes locked, I confess, "I have yearned to do that for ages." You smile at me, that iridescent smile, and say, "About fucking time."

  With that response any lingering apprehension or hesitation that I had clung to dissipates into to the ether. Pushing you back towards you desk, I kiss you as passionately as I have ever kissed anyone. You hungrily devour my kiss as you backpedal. If not for the sound of them hitting your filing cabinet, I would not have realized that you kicked off your shoes. Your hands frantically tug at my shirt, pulling it free of my pants. I find myself suddenly pressing into you and realize that you are now bumping up against your desk. Grabbing to your hips I hoist you up onto it, scattering the papers that were sitting there.

  You pull back from our kiss and undo the buttons of my shirt with impressively dexterous speed. Before I can even show my amazement, the fabric is tugging my arms back as you yank it off my shoulders. Pulling my hands together I free the cuffs and you tear the shirt from me, tossing it to the floor. Lifting my undershirt, your hands slip underneath it. The feel of you fingers running through my chest hair drives me mad with lust. I grab the back of your head with one hand and pull you into another kiss. With my other hand, I grab your lower back and slide you towards me.

  Your fingertips curl, snagging hair in your grasp, in response to the feel of my hardness against you through my pants. Even through the layers of fabric, I can feel your panties are hot and damp. As you tighten your grip, I feel the hair practically tearing from my chest. The sharp pain doesn't deter me. Instead it heightens my lust. I quickly move my hands to your shoulders. Retreating from our kiss, the taste of your tongue still tingling my mouth, I look and see the intense fiery passion burning in your eyes. Extending my arms forward, I shove you backwards, thankful that you released your grip as you fell to your back. You brace your fall with your hands and sweep your keyboard away from your landing spot.

  Reaching to you, I grasp your breasts in my hands and squeeze. You respond in kind by grabbing my hands and pushing them harder into your chest. Your perfect rosebud nipples press firm against my hands, despite the layers of material between them. Snatching my hands from yours, I drag them along your ribs and soft stomach as I drop to my knees. Continuing their downward journey, they reach the bottom of your dress.

  Pointing my fingers toward myself, I curl their tips under the hem of your dress. Hiking it up your legs, fingertips grazing up your inner thighs, I reach where it is trapped under your gorgeous ass. You were already in motion, anticipating what I was doing. Sitting up straight you place your hands on the desk and prop yourself off it long enough for me to slip the dress up to your waist. In a single, fluid motion, I rotate my hands around, now hooking my fingers in the waistband of your panties. As quickly as I rode the skirt up, I descend with your panties in tow. Coursing my fingers along your thighs then nylons, I hear your butt smack down onto the desk. Clearing your slender ankles, I free your underwear from you, and fling them over my shoulder.

  Not wasting a moment, I raise back up your legs, this time running my nails across the tender flesh. You let out a pleasurable "ooh" and your hands grab onto my muscular shoulders. Kneading your fingers into the tightness, I feel the massaging action and the corresponding flood of endorphins. However, unlike my work, I will not be distracted here. My hands now reaching your pelvis, I tease my thumbs just past your lips. Lunging my face to your left thigh, I run my tongue along the soft, smooth skin above your nylons. Kissing my way up towards that sacred femininity, I alternate soft kisses and gentle sucking as I go. The teasing seems to be having the desired effect as you let out a soft moan and increase the pressure on my shoulders.

  Shifting my thumbs back down, I tenderly run them along the full edges of you pussy. They slide easily in and around the folds of slick pink flesh as I navigate them inward. I maintain the rotational motion as I go inward, creating a whirlpool sensation as they swirl. Turning my face to you, I slide my fingers down your hood, rubbing your lips against your clit. Your hands stop massaging and reach down as you bend over me. In a single movement you rip my undershirt up my body. I lift my arms just long enough for you to extricate it. I don't wait to see where it goes. I refocus on your womanhood.

  With my fingers, I gently rub you several times before plying you open. At the sight of your clit, glistening with your wetness, I practically shudder with desire. Leaning close, I extend my tongue Pressing it against the tender mound of flesh, I start massaging it from side to side. Again, I feel you leaning over me. This time, however, your lean is followed by the wonderfully sharp pain of your nails dragging up my back. Now I understand why you wanted my undershirt removed. I continue licking you, escalating your pleasure with each stroke of my tongue. I feel your ample bosom pressing against the back of my shoulders as you stretch down to start another pass. The pressure pushes me in tighter to you in, which is fine by me. I begin ramping up the speed of my oral articulation and feel your nails raking up my back again as you sit back up. With the increased sensation, you now lean back and place your hands on the back of my head. Gripping to my skull, your touch tells me what you cannot say aloud in this moment, "Don't fucking stop!"

  My tongue's rapid oscillations shoot radiating pleasure coursing through your body. You wrap your calves around my back, pressing your firm thighs tightly against me. It is now that I feel the vibrations shaking those legs. I realize your body is trembling from my stimulation. Thrilled at your enjoyment, I shift my technique. I begin twirling my tongue, twisting it in a tantalizing tornado of tenderness, around your clit. Immediately, your hands leave my head in response to the new sensations. My burgeoning curiosity at where your hands went is immediately sated. From above me I hear your muffled passionate moans. It occurs to me that you are covering your mouth to avoid being so loud our coworkers hear you. I feel your entire body shudder down through your pelvis and what sounds like a stifled "OH FUCK!" drift down to me as you come. I instantly downshift my pace to avoid overstimulation. Before I can complete stop, though, your hands hook under my armpits and drag me up to you.

  Your stare desperately into me, your penetrating eyes boring into my soul with amazingly intense passion. You breathlessly whisper three words to me, "In. Me. Now." Kissing me firmly, our tongues sharing your juices, I feel your hands scrabble at my waist. Finding my belt, you unbuckle it with ease. Before I can even move to assist you, my pants button is opened, and my zipper is yanked down. I reach down to my hips to push the fabric down. Your hands meet mine there. I shove downward as you pull. My pants and boxers drop loosely to my ankles.

  I feel your soft hands wrap around my cock and moan into your mouth when you slide me inside you. Gliding my hands around to your ass, I pull you forwards as I thrust my hardened shaft into you. Our entangled mouths are now the only thing suppressing our groans of pleasure. You begin working your hips to drive yourself to me and I feel the passion in me building. You separate from me and place a hand over each of our mouths, as I piston rapidly into you. I try to ease back, to prolong our time together, but your legs squeeze tight around me. Your heels pound into my ass like you are spurring a horse, so I keep going.

  I don't want to miss your how you look in this moment. So, I open my eyes to find you already intently watching me. As our gaze now meets, I feel the intimacy between us, and can hold myself back no longer. I bite down on your hand to suffocate the sounds trying to escape me as I climax. My cum shoots up through my shaft and spurts forth into you. At the feel of me filling you, you also bite down on your hand and mute the cry of ecstasy before it reaches the air as you orgasm again,

  I look at you and want to say something profound, but you simply give me that beautiful smile and I know nothing needs to be said.

  I don't know how long I spent in my fantasy. Coming back to reality sucks. I look at my screen and realize only about 25 minutes have passed. Reaching to rub my forehead, my fingers come away damp. I realize I broke out in perspiration at the intensity of our imaginary tryst. I stand up, thinking I need to splash some cold water on my face. However, as I do, it hits me I have another problem. Or, more accurately, my rock-solid erection hitting the underside of my desk, as I got of my chair, tells me I have another problem. I quickly survey the office and see everyone is focused on their screens. With nobody walking around, I have a pretty clear path to the bathroom.

  I hurry around the corner and down the hall as fast as I think I can walk without drawing any unwanted attention. As I scurry past your door, I hear you call out, "Brett, got a second?" Not breaking stride, I risk being loud for the sake of not stopping and half shout back, "Heading to the bathroom, Abby. Be there in a couple minutes." Safely at the end of the hall, I pivot to my left and slip into the men's room. Prepared to spin towards the urinal immediately if anyone was there, I am relieved to have the bathroom to myself. I quickly approach the sink and turn the cold water on full. Cupping my hands under the astonishingly frigid water, I lean down and splash it upward at my face. The cold liquid has the desired result. I feel my flushed skin cool and my erection diminish. I repeat the process a couple more times feeling my penis return to a flaccid state. Thankful at the expiration of my erection, and at not getting discovered, I dry my hands and face.

  Acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary, I exit the bathroom and stroll back into the main office. As I approach your door, I can't help but wonder if you saw anything as I flashed past. I turn into your office and ask, "Hey Abby, you need me for something?" You look up from your desk and thank God you didn't flash your trademark smile. I may have melted into a puddle on the spot. Because, just the sight of you brought back flashes from my imagination's memory. "Yeah, just have a quick favor to ask of you." I stride into your office and swear your eyes flick down at my groin. However, you quickly turn to your screen, so I can't be sure.

  Moving next to you behind your desk, I lean over you. The proximity allows me to inhale the mix of your perfume and the scent that is just purely you. With me looking at the screen, you point to an IM you sent me. "So, are you ignoring me?" you jokingly ask. I stammer, realizing that I completely missed it while my mind was otherwise occupied, "Uh, Uh, of course not. I just was, um, my mind must have been elsewhere." You turn to me, suddenly seeming too close, and raise an eyebrow with humored curiosity. "Oh really? What was running through that fantastic mind of yours?" you playfully ask.

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