I work from home most of the time, but we have office meetings every couple of weeks. There’s this one guy, the director, mid-40s, who always looks at her, quiet, kind of intense. I’ve caught him staring at me more times than I can count. Not in a creepy way, just… looking. Like he’s already decided something.
Last week I took a taxi to the office because my car was in the shop. The meeting ran late, and everyone was packing up, and I was in the little kitchen getting coffee when he walked in, just the two of us. I don’t even know why I said it, maybe because I was tired, maybe because I already knew the answer. “Hey… any chance you could drop me home? Taxi’s gonna take forever.” He didn’t even hesitate. “Yeah, of course.”
We got in his car, and it was quiet at first. Just the city lights and the radio on low. I could feel him glancing over. At some point his hand left the gear stick and rested on my thigh, not high, but just resting. I didn’t move it away… A few minutes later, his fingers started moving, slowly, under the edge of my skirt. I spread my legs a little without thinking about it.
By the time we stopped at a red light, he had two fingers inside me, and I was already wet. He looked at me like he was waiting for me to stop him. Of course, I didn’t. I just reached over, unzipped him, and pulled his cock out. He was already hard. I leaned across the console and took him in my mouth while his fingers kept moving. He didn’t say much, just breathed harder and kept one hand on the back of my head. I stayed down there until the light changed and he had to drive again. I didn’t fully sit back up, just kept him in my mouth most of the way home, slow and wet, every time we stopped at a light.
When we got to my place, I didn’t even pretend. I just said, “Come in,” and he followed me upstairs. The second the door closed, he had me against it, skirt pushed up, panties pulled to the side. He fucked me right there, hard, one hand in my hair and the other gripping my hip. No warm-up, no talking. Just the sound of him going in deep and me screaming for my life.
We ended up on the couch. He bent me over the armrest and went even harder. I came once, like that, shaking, and he didn’t stop. Turned me around, put my legs over his shoulders, and kept going until I came again. When he finally came, he pulled out and finished on my stomach and tits, then just looked at me for a second like he was still deciding if this was real.
He left about twenty minutes later. No big conversation. Just a quiet “see you at the next meeting” and then he was gone. I’ve been thinking about it non-stop. The way he looked at me in the car, how easy it was, how rough he got the second we were alone. Part of me already wants to “need a ride” again next time. [email protected]
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