Men are Pigs Part II

The next morning, I arrived at work very early. I knew Charles (Mr. Religion) arrived by 6:30 am. Most of us did not arrive until 9:00am, and we knew he liked having the first hour or two to perform his accounting functions in peace and quiet. Normally, I dressed fairly conservatively, but today I needed to wear something that might be sexy but still appropriate for work – a short plaid skirt, white blouse, knee-high socks. Yes, I looked like a Catholic school girl. And I thought it was the proper fantasy for Mr. Straight Laced Accountant.

I heard him arrive like clockwork, precisely at 6:30 am. After giving him five minutes to settle into his office, I knocked on the door.

"Yes," Charles said.

I entered the office and shut the door behind me.

"Charles," I started, "How are you this morning?"

"F-fine," he stammered. He seemed a bit nervous. I knew he would be since he spends his mornings by himself.

Charles was an accountant, and the rest of us were "touchy-feely" people. And I had to figure out how to get him from behind his desk or my dare would never work. Oh, what to do.

"Charles, can you help me with something?" I said, trying to take the coyness from my voice.

"Sure, what?" was his short answer. I could see he really did not appreciate the interruption in the morning.

"Well, Charles, I need you for a sec. I am trying to practice a trust exercise, and I just need you for a bit."

Charles rounded the table.

"Okay, Charles, stand right there. Okay."

And I position himself at a particular place in the office. I turn my back to Charles.

"Now, Charles, I am going to fall backwards, and I am trusting that you will catch me? Can you do that for me?"

"Yes," came Charles' answer, and I started falling backwards.

Just as I expected, Charles caught me. And it felt good in his arms.

"Charles, you caught me," I said. "Thanks, sweetie."

And now I will try and trust you. Charles, a bit confused, just looked at me.

I took a deep breath, and then I reached down and touched his crotch area, trying to massage his penis through his pants.

"Can I do this, Charles?", as I continued to touch his penis through his pants.

"W-what are you do-oing?" he stammered.

"Shhhh," was my answer. "Can I continue, sweetie. I will only ask once."

"Oh," he was hooked, "Y-es. Ppplease."

I swiftly unbuckle his belt, and his pants were down. He had on boxers and I fished his penis through the opening in the boxers.

His penis was stiff and there was already pre-cum for me to lick. I gently licked the pre-cum from this married man's penis. Angie was right – he had not even made a pass at me before, and here we were in his office, me about to give him such a wonderful oral gift. How could this be?

I circled his penis with my tongue. Oh, how I loved running my tongue along a man's penis. Oh, and little did he know that I was getting so wet down there. Heck, he probably did not care, knowing him. He was getting a BJ!

I took my hands off of his penis, digging my claws into his accounting butt. I could tell he liked my fingernails. I continued with my tongue bath, focusing around the head and ridge of the penis. How I often wondered what that ridge was called. I considered it my tongue's play area.

In an instant I took him in my warm mouth. We were at work, and I could tell he was near erupting. And I did not want him cumming all over me. Not in my work clothes. More quickly than I thought, his penis started spewing cum into my mouth. And I took it all in. I had practiced this, knowing that guys love it. The hardest part is when the guy moves uncontrollably, knowing which direction to follow his penis.

I performed this expertly. And nearly as soon as his volcano of a penis erupted, it became flaccid. He was spent, and he was drifting back to reality.

He was a scared rabbit now, not knowing what to do next. I told him that we would never talk about this, that no one would ever find out. Well, Angie would know, but he did not have to know that I would tell her every detail, from the shape of the penis to how quickly he came. How willing he was to cheat on his wife for a quick BJ. But we never kissed, he never planted his stake in my vagina, he never even saw a tit. It was almost like I was a whore, as efficient as I was. But money never crossed my palm.