Monday, November 14, 2016

Project Manager

“Rob” was on Scruff. He was a few hundred feet from me. Masculine, rugged, blond, blue-eyed. Tall. All those good things you like in men, but not in an Aryan kind of way. I just ‘woof’d’ at him and let it go.

As it turns out, he engaged me in conversation. There was a lot of back and forth with no immediate pay-off. Isn’t Scruff about the immediate, or semi-immediate pay-off? It should be, though it is rarely the case.

Also as it turns out he worked in the same organization as myself. Since there are tens of thousands of people in my organization, it’s not usual not to run across someone such as himself. We are in totally different areas of responsibility, our paths would cross once in a blue moon, if ever.

Still, he would text vague sexual things – the kinds where you couldn’t quite tell if he gave, got or was versatile. Of course, I wanted him to be the guy who gave. I love men taller than myself, but it is rare to find, even though I’m only 6’2”.

Then one Friday late afternoon, he messaged me. He was getting ready to leave work, yada yada yada. I said I was still in my office for a bit, though everyone else on my floor was gone. Said if he was interested, he should stop by. And then it went silent.

Figures, I thought.

Fifteen minutes later or so, I look up from my desk to see Rob standing in my doorway. Well, my outer- office door. I have the arrangement of being able to have double notification if someone is trying to see me. For work, there is no issue. For play – at work – it is a huge benefit.

He mentions he’s not up for play at work. I get that. But there are mixed messages. The more we talk, the more he stands there with a hand in his pocket - playing pocket pool. The more I look at that, or mention it, the stiff he clearly gets in his pants.

He’s teasing me and he knows it. So do I. I don’t hold back and mention it. He responds: ‘who says I’m teasing?’. I reply: ‘I do’, but add that if he’s serious, he should go close the outer door. …and he does.

So either the ‘not playing at work’ thing was a test for me, or he had weak resolve, or a high libido, and caved like a house of cards. Either way, it was working in my favor.

He stepped into my office and closed and locked the inner door. We were very alone. There would be, and could be, no disturbances. I knew that. I think he was hoping it would be true. If he had any nerves, his hard cock betrayed them.

He was standing near the door, me still in my office chair. I rolled a little closer and leaned forward. It was the perfect angle / position. As his pants were dark, I had no qualms about gnawing on his crotch through the rough fabric. No stain would really show, and if he had a concern about that, he never stopped me.

Nor did he stop me when I pulled down the tab of his zipper. If anything, he spread his legs a bit to give me better, easier access. I took the opportunity.

It was a struggle to release his very solid 7” cock from its confines, but I’m nothing if not an experienced slut. Soon that rod was free and passing through the open fly – which is always a great look. Rob stood there why licked the underside of that shaft.

Rob involuntarily moaned as my lips wrapped around his cock and I slid my mouth all the way down to the teeth of his zipper. I think he’d have liked to remain silent….just in case. But I have a great mouth, even if I say so myself. All his actions, verified he thought I had a great mouth as well.

At some point, Rob sat down in my visitor chair. I stayed in my desk chair, wheeled over and leaned in, putting my head - my mouth - onto his lap. Swallowing every inch of cock he had. Right to the entrance of my throat. He didn’t even try to stifle a moan.

He did talk some, but mostly to tell me it takes him a long time to cum. That is good and bad.

Good if we were fucking – him fucking me, that is. Bad for a late day blowjob, when both of you – no matter how much you want this – really just want to get out of the office. So, I cheated. I used my hand. My fist.

I hate being “that guy”, but now and then it is necessary. Sometimes for timing….sometimes it is the only way they can get off. Believe it or not, some guys cannot get off orally. This was a little of both.

Rob’s had slunk down into the chair, his head back – close to, or touching the wall – eyes closed, at least most of the time. He was in the moment of the blowjob. So was I. He succumbed to the moment, to the surrounding, to his decision to let his guard down.

Breathing became labored. Moans were not loud, but they were frequent. As they got closer together, I knew the end was near. And then there was cum. Lots of it. But not tasty. Rob was a smoker, a heavy one at that. When he exhaled just during the blowjob I smelled heavy tobacco. I’m no scientist, but I’m guessing that’s why his sperm tasted bad.

Now don’t get me wrong – I swallowed. Every drop. Including what I squeezed out after what most would have considered “finished”. And I’d never tell him his jizz tasted bad. That’s not my place. I’m there to entice the cum to appear and then make it disappear. I’m there to make a man feel good – and for many, there is no better than the afterglow of orgasm. There is a superiority to them at that point and time.

I straightened up. He stood up and pulled himself together. We chit-chatted while he tucked in and zipped up. It was all very amenable. He even joked, “well, I guess now it’s time to block each other” – meaning to have Scruff impede us from communicating again. We both laughed.

….and I haven’t seen him on Scruff since. I guess he wasn’t joking.

1 comment:

cyberi4a said...

Ah, the old 'not up to playing at work' ploy to feel you out first. It's your work place so why would anyone else care......LOL

Smoking can alter the flavor of semen.