Slow and deep

My boss holds her summer garden party the last Sunday of July, every year. The last two years I've been working for her, I've been in charge of gazebos, menus, music, guest list, drink, décor, everything. She gives you no idea what she wants, only tells you when it isn't right. So it's a continual guessing game—a stressful one! I've been neglecting Michael because of this. We haven't had sex in two weeks and I'm not happy about it. He deserves better, we both do.

I'm standing on the patio just beyond the kitchen, keeping one eye on proceedings and another on the food prep, when he texts: I'm upstairs. Come find me.

The house is gigantic with lots of rooms. How am I meant to find him? What does he want?

I start typing a reply when a waiter emerges carrying a crate of dessert wine. I'm aghast when he starts to prise it open, after I specifically told him moments ago to bring the wine we've paired with the fish.

"That's for the desserts, later."

He rolls his eyes. "This is what the chef handed me down in the cellar."

"Either you've pissed someone off or she has." I shake my head. "I know everyone hates her majesty, but any fool would recognise this as dessert wine."

My phone buzzes again.

I'm waiting.

I look down at my phone, thinking about what to reply, when I overhear the waiter telling his colleague, "We were just about to serve the wrong wine! Lady Louisa would've had our balls. Thank fuck for the gorgeous PA."

"Must be a glutton for punishment."

A waiter just said I'm gorgeous.

I smile to myself as I'm staring out at the party. Everything is running swimmingly. Well, that's because I'm here—preventing all the cock-ups. Another message:

I'm getting impatient—and hard.

Shit, he wants me here? Now?

Where are you? Are you rubbing your cock?

I can't help but grin and bite my lip. I'm wearing my new lingerie beneath this dress. I was going to take Michael home tonight, strip and have him remind me why I said yes to marrying him.

I'm rubbing my cock in the spare room at the front. Leave the wankers to it.

Louisa would kill me if she found us using her spare room. Well, she has several spare rooms, but I know that one in particular—at the front—is the one she uses as a dressing room for when one of her suitors comes over and she needs to change into something a little more comfortable. She would not take kindly to discovering it has lost its sanctity and been used by other lovers.

They're going to fuck it all up if I come up there to sort you out!

However, everyone does seem to be having fun. They're now seated in the tents, ready for the starters. Nothing will go wrong if I escape just for a moment, will it? The champagne and canapés they've already enjoyed have set the tone, and as the first course comes out, the right wine does, too. People start tucking in and when I check my watch, I figure I have half an hour before the next course is even ready to go out.

Michael's chair in the first tent is empty as is mine next to his, but they won't notice we're missing, will they? Louisa certainly won't because she's in the middle tent, Queen Bee, centre of attention. Another text:

I'm going to sort YOU out, Sybil. How wet are you thinking about my dick being hard in the old bag's dungeon? I checked her wardrobes. She has latex and weird shit.

I giggle and the waiter who complimented me walks past, blushing. While they're busy serving, I walk backwards, making tracks. Before I know it, I'm zooming up the plush carpeted staircase and heading right for my fiancé.

Like he heard me coming, the door swings open the moment I arrive and he drags me inside the room, locking it behind me.

"I'm pretty wet as it happens," I breathe, and he drags me towards him, shaking with desire when we embrace and he kisses me, tasting of the champagne we had earlier.

We look one another in the eye and I can tell he's missed me as much as I've missed him.

"I snuck a look at you putting on lingerie before we left this morning. I've been unable to think straight since we got here."

I lift my hand to his face and stare into his dark eyes. "I wanted us to fuck like bunnies tonight when we got home… once this madness is over."

His chest puffs out and he sighs. "I need you. Properly. Now."

"We've got about half an hour."

"I can do that."

I wrap my arms around his waist and the music outside fades into the background as we kiss, tongues teasing into each other's mouths, tasting softly. I've been saving this lingerie for him for a while now. With our lives being so chaotic, there's been no opportunity for it. We often climb into bed naked, fuck, and sleep entwined just the same. I've wanted him to enjoy this set, take his time. If this is the moment, I'll take it. I make a decision right here, right now—I will stay for as long as he needs me. He's more important to me than anyone else, especially a domineering boss—I'm not getting paid enough to miss a long, slow afternoon fuck.

God, his cock is so hard against my hip and I need him so bad. He can tell when I moan into his mouth as he pushes a hand into my hair.

"Let's find out how wet you are, honey."

He takes to his knees and I honestly can't believe what we're up to. Part of me dearly desires to throw down right here on the floor, right now, and have it out hard and fast, pure and simple. The look in his eye is telling me that's not what he wants. He's missed me and he's in need of rediscovering our connection and strengthening it.

Again, I affirm my promise to make this last, to take more than just a moment with him in the middle of this frantic day. He needs more than just a piece of me but the whole of me; and I need him to know he's my priority.

He lifts the skirt of my dress and slowly peels the knickers down my legs, leaving me in my stockings and suspenders. He knows how aroused I am, just by the scent of me, and a breath catches in his throat. He wastes no time in taking to his feet and kissing me, at the same time sliding a finger along my seam and teasing out my folds. I am already as wet as can be and he looks feral as he slides his fingers inside my body. I could come any second. I've been horny ever since I put this set on earlier today. Just the thought of him unwrapping me has had me constantly aroused, nipples stiff, belly throbbing at the thought of his gorgeous cock being back inside me.

Michael starts to plunge his fingers in and out of my pussy, my walls tensing, on the cusp… when he stops, because he knows I will shatter if he's not careful.

I turn in his arms and offer him the chance to undress me. He's shaking, his fingers easing down my zip so slowly, his breath shallow and his bulge pretty damn hard against my behind. He's been dying to enjoy the full splendour of the underwear. I can hardly bear it a second longer. I want him to take his fill of the woman who loves him, wearing this special lingerie just for him.

He's delaying the pleasure and once he has the zip down, I have to intervene because I don't think he has the strength in his fingers to finally let the dress go. He has his hands on my body but can't bring himself to unsheathe me. While he's kissing my back, my neck, a shiver runs through me and I expect that when he finally does push inside me, I will combust and shatter.

Easing the straps down, the dress pretty much gives way after that, and he can't help himself breathing hard, grabbing my hips and nudging his cock between my bare ass checks. I want him to appreciate the full artistry of my garment and so I turn around to face him, giving him a view of the feminine lace and the delicate cups of the bustier I'm wearing.

His eyes flash with delight and I want him to know how much I love him. How much I desire him. It's time for him to give me some skin and I push him back against the nearest wardrobe, unbuttoning his shirt while his hands roam my body and he pants with eagerness.

My hands greedily take in the hard planes of his chest and stomach once I've got rid of his shirt, our kisses playful, teasing, hot. I turn my behind to him again and he slots perfectly between my ass cheeks, so solid and hot. I can't get enough of his chest against my back, his heart pounding.

He holds me in his arms and touches my clit, sliding his finger around. I need him to make me come, and soon. I need more.

Again, I take charge and ease down the cups of the bustier. My body arches and I suck in breath the moment the air touches my soft peaks. Reaching for his hands to bring them to my breasts, I can't describe the moment his palms touch my nipples, sort of pleasure mixed with pain. I'm aching so badly and need his touch, but I also find the way he holds my tits beyond intense. I need him to plunge into me already, right now. But he doesn't want that.

"I love you, you're so fucking gorgeous," he whispers in my ear.

I lose my mind and close my eyes, willing him to take charge and do as he please, take me in whatever way he wants to. He slowly caresses my hips with his big hands, reaches round and touches my sex with featherlight tenderness…

I'll come, I will, if he isn't careful—but it's his cock I want—that's how I want to come.

Impatient, I turn on him and slide down his zipper, pull out the column of his big, perfect cock and pump him in my hand. I need his kiss desperately but his mouth is slack as I pump him, his bottom lip numb as I kiss, nip and lick into his mouth. He's been waiting for this for weeks and it's just as unbearable for him, too.

We move to the bed and he sits down, his erection pointing at the sky, plump and slick with desire. Eking out the pleasure, I sit astride him facing the other way, rubbing his cock between my thighs. He gets busy unhooking the fastenings on my bustier and between us we get rid of it altogether.

Naked aside from my heels and stockings, I can hardly breathe. His hands are on my hips, on my bottom, then my waist. He's kissing my back, panting so hard and groaning. I want him so much. I just want to make the most of it.

Riding the length of him with the length of my pussy, I continue to glide along his hardness, an out of body experience starting to assault me so that it doesn't feel like me anymore. I'm too lightheaded and drowsy with desire to believe this is actually me he's making love to. I wish more than anything he was already inside me but I also don't want it to be over and so I continue slaking his cock, riding him crazily, like I would no way be able to do if he were inside me—because I'd have already come and he'd have already had to take over.

Hungry for the taste of him and our desire, I switch positions and take him in my mouth. I can see it's got to him, too. He's held hostage by this. It wouldn't matter if we were discovered right now—we'd still fuck. There's no way we could stop. With every lick of his cock and every pump of him with my hands, I want him more, my pussy contracting, leaking, the heat at my front wall near unbearable. Yet this is the true pleasure, in the build-up, before we join. I love how he looks at me when he's this hard and just so desperate. I adore how I've got him all to myself, with nobody to interrupt, no phone calls or texts or emails. No housemates bothering me for advice. Just me and Michael, as it will be when we get married.

"Touch yourself," he murmurs.

I continue wanking him but do as he says. This way I can control it more, ease myself out of this stupor of desire I'm enduring, and I can watch as he gets even harder while he watches me with my legs wide open, frigging my wet pussy.

Having eased my own agony just that little bit, it's easier for me to focus on him. Leaning over, I hold him in my hand and stretch my mouth around his tip, gorging on the taste of myself and him, musk and sweetness together. He's so thick I don't know how I fit him inside me, but the way he fills me when he does is always delicious and even when we do quickies, he's always careful to make sure I'm ready for him. Today, I'm making sure he's ready for me—that he's fully hard, juicy and desperate for me to plunge down onto him. His hands digging into my hair tell me he's ready for just that.

I climb onto him and sit astride his lap, teasing him again, my clit riding the thick column of his cock. His hands grip my hips, pulling me along his length. I writhe for as long as I can handle it, until I can handle it no more, especially when he says, "Put me inside you."

His cock slips easily inside and I glide down the length of him, loving each and every single inch—how he swells me, makes me feel complete. How with me on top I can feed him in deep and sit with his balls beneath my ass.

Unable to stop myself, I ride his cock like he just docked for shore leave. Michael lies back, afraid he'll come if he so much as lets himself go even just a little bit. He closes his eyes and lets me have my way with him. I could keep bouncing like a cock-hungry little slut just as I am doing, but I need that connection again, so I lean down to kiss him—finding him all too eager to reciprocate and offer me his tongue.

He doesn't take his hands off me and I need that reassurance he's with me, that he needs me, too. We both look down to where we're joined and I can see he takes as much pleasure from it as I do. He loves it how hungry am I for his cock, how delighted I am by how thick and ready for me he is.

The clinking of plates and cutlery downstairs tells me they're clearing the tables of dishes ready for the main course. I couldn't give a fuck. She can fire me for all I care.

Michael sits up and encourages me to ride him deeper and finally allow myself the pleasure of an orgasm. I love how strong and solid he is, how I can go wild and he can take it. The pressure inside me builds and builds, my front wall red hot, my clit sending pulses down the length of my vagina until I grip him, shiver and come, wrapping around him until I can't control myself anymore. I cry out loudly and it'll be a wonder if someone downstairs hasn't cottoned on to what's happening up here.

Too sensitive to have him inside me a second longer, I lift off his cock and lie on the bed. He looks aggrieved but he also doesn't want it to be over, not just yet.

Throwing my legs open, he licks between my folds and tastes what he just did to me. It's not lost on either of us that we're fucking on the Dragon Lady's spare bed, smearing our scents all over it. It's really kind of hot.

His tongue is all I can handle after such a deep, penetrating orgasm, and it's even more intense because I'm watching his handsome face buried between my legs, his tall, strong body a servant to mine.

I love everything about him. He's perfect. I love how he's a gentleman and hasn't told me to tell Louisa to fuck off yet, even though I really should. He would never tell me what to do. He's always here when I need him, but he's not pushy or showy. He's got the goods so he doesn't have anything to prove. Plus, he really loves me and makes me feel sexy every day, just with a kiss on the cheek or in the way he brushes a hand through my hair. Yet the way he's kissing my pussy, the same way he'd usually kiss my mouth, has to trump it all.

I can deprive myself no longer and need him again. We spoon on the bed and he pushes his thick cock into me from behind, so deep and stretching me wide open—I couldn't want for more.

Having Michael take control and pump his hips into me has me quickly spiralling and I can't control my next orgasm, the walls of my pussy gripping him so tight and kneading, constantly, until I rub myself and my body spams out of control, my thighs squeezing tight.

He kisses my face, my nipple, my shoulder, strokes his hands up and down my body. He's never satisfied unless he's given me more than one orgasm, but clearly, he won't be easily satisfied today—and it'll be difficult to get me to another after I've already enjoyed such bounty.

I feel something break loose in him, not just in how his breathing picks up, but also in the way he starts moving more harshly, fucking me deeper, less rhythm, more need. With one arm wrapped underneath me, he squeezes my breast to the point of pain and with his other hand, he rubs my clit every so often, teasing me but mostly using me for his own pleasure. Just when I don't think I can take anymore, my body responds and I start to climb again, so full of him yet despairing of not being quite satisfied—ever—because I can't get enough.

"I want you so fucking much," he growls in my ear, as he expands inside me, filling me with his heat and desire—his need and want of me making me come, once more, the pain outweighed by such delirious pleasure.

Michael holds me as we both recover, soothing and comforting, reassuring. He worships me, handling me tenderly. Everything fades into the background and there's only us. He tucks himself up behind me and maintains that connection, even as he slips out and leaves me.

His kisses and his touch now are for nothing but my benefit and I love that.

"What if Louisa finds out about this?" he asks, chuckling.

"Then you'll end up on the payroll, too," I laugh dirtily. "Wouldn't put it past her to have cameras in here."

"Filthy bitch," he groans, nibbling my ear.

"I'll resign if you want me to," I murmur. "She should really employ an events person. I'm vastly underpaid for the bullshit I put up with."

"Are you kidding? Let's make this a regular thing." He laughs light-heartedly, then stares into my eyes more seriously. "But please do ask her for a pay rise, see what she says."

"Hell might freeze over first."

"I don't know, you could probably thaw even the coldest of hearts."

"Smooth, Michael. Always smooth."

He lies back down and plays with my nipple.

I contemplate getting dressed, but it can wait.

He's more important.

The End