Sex On Demand

By | August 13, 2010

AlexSuzeJane’s fingers rapped the golden yellow wood of her desk, the only outward sign of her growing anger at the caller on the other end of the telephone. She listened to him droning on about commitments, and airline schedules and the impracticality of him seeing her before the weekend, her blood pressure increasing by the second.

She stood, wireless headset allowing her to walk unhindered in a circuit of her plush-carpeted corner office, eventually coming to a halt in the corner, flanked by two glass walls. Looking out over the city she lost the thread of what her husband was telling her and pondered an evening alone. Not a pleasant though, she had wanted him there, needed his imposing physical presence, desired to feel the hairs on his chest rub against her naked flesh …

“I love you, see you soon.” He said. The words punctured the bubble around the daydream she had drifted into. Thankful that she had not been required to respond to the last half of the conversation, having not heard it, she replied in kind and hung up.

Jane felt deflated and thoroughly ticked off, her eyes looked down filled with a mixture of irritation and self-pity.

Suddenly her head snapped up and she strode to her desk to make an important call.


The phone rang, it was security.

“Yes I know you don’t have a two o’clock for me, send Mr Williams up. He’s expected.” Jane instructed, her mouth curling into a smile.

Jane sat back, luxuriating in her leather chair and waited for the knock.

“Come in.”

The vision in a cashmere suit that entered fitted the bill perfectly. “Hello Mr Williams”

“It’s Jonathan, please …”

“Mr Williams will do just fine. I don’t want to get to know you or wine and dine you. I just want you to fuck me.”

Jonathan Williams was dumbstruck.

“Well, don’t look so shocked.” Scolded Jane, amused. “That is what you’re here for or have they sent my three o’clock freight forwarder up by mistake.”

“Er, no, no. I’m here to fuck you if that’s what you want. Do you want me to tie you up or anything …?”

Jane walked slowly towards Jonathan, “I want to be fucked, I want you to give me a really good rodgering. I’m not submissive, I want you to be forceful, not dominant. Do you think you can managed that?” Her hand came to rest on his crotch and gave it a gentle, cupping squeeze. “That’ll do just nicely.” She crooned, feeling the turgid veined beast stir inside.

Jane leant on the edge of her desk, hitching up her skirt to reveal, stocking, no knickers and neatly trimmed bush. Jonathan smiled. “Before you ask yes I do always wear stockings to work. And between you and me I rarely wear knickers, my little subversion of office etiquette.” She laughed, a light laugh playful sound that seemed at odds with Jane’s impeccable business persona.

Jane was now sitting on the edge of the desk, labia slightly parted, glistening slit cooling in the breeze from the air conditioning. Jonathan began to earn his fee his knees his the deep carpet in front of Jane.

Jane knew he would not be a beginner, the agency didn’t take beginners, but his technique was astonishing. Even her husband of five years who knew her body so well didn’t make her feel quite like this. Maybe it was the distinctly naughty nature of the moment, or the way his tongue flicked and licked, one moment hard, almost brutal in its probing, the next gossamer light, teasing and flicking. For what ever reason his tongue was a welcome interloper between her petal-like folds. He lapped at her, evidently enjoying her taste, her smell and the texture of her soft hot flesh.

Her hands pressed his head into her crotch, gasps escaped from her mouth. “Oh Mr Williams, yes please!”

He continued for several minutes, evidently enjoying the task placed before him, his attention to detail not just the product of pride in his work.

Jane released his head when the need for his cock overwhelmed the pleasure she derived from his skilful tongue. She lay back on the desk, propped on her elbows and watched as six feet of man stood up, unzipped and reveal eight inches of hard manhood, rampant.

Jane glanced at the clock. “You’ve got twenty minutes, make it good.” The instruction was unnecessary, a fact that Jane realised when Jonathan’s glans pressed against her wet opening. The feeling of being entered by him on the hard desktop excited her beyond what she had imagined. She had wanted a conciliatory fuck, to assuage the disappointment of her husband’s absence. Her friends at the squash club had recommended the agency, but this was above and beyond anything she had imagined.

Jonathan moved in and out of her at first only allowing a few centimetres of his powerful phallus to enter her. Slowly the depth of his thrusts increased until she felt fuller than she had ever felt before. And hornier.

“Bang me you bastard make me come!”

Jonathan obliged, not with a frantic juvenile assault on her pussy but strong deep strokes while holding her legs by the ankles and splaying them wide with outstretched arms. Jane felt taken but not used, empowered not degraded by her masterful lover.

Ha! Lover anything but. This was a masterful performance by a man who obviously regarded the customer as Queen. Someone who in the best tradition of customer service believed that the customer comes first.

Jane obliged and came with a yelping shriek, an arch of her back and a vice-like tightening of her vagina. Jonathan continued to pump into her and within a few seconds came with a long, low growl, before collapsing across Jane.

Enjoying his weight on top of her Jane pondered whether to cancel her 3 o’clock …