Those of you that know me will probably remember that I started working with my present company about 10 months ago. I enjoy the job and really like the company, but the hours and the travel (albeit local) are taking their toll on me physically. One contributing factor to my weariness is the inherently stupid move I made to keep my old job while taking on the new one. Being retained on a consulting basis requires me to spend one long evening at the property where I sign checks, go over invoices & work orders and meet with the maintenance staff to discuss current and pending building issues.

The background isn’t glamorous or sexy, but I think it’s necessary to set the stage. Then again, I’ve never written a story that I considered good enough to submit, so what do I know? My idea for this story is to create a series that chronicles my nights at work. But I’m getting ahead of myself. I’ll back up a step and proceed with this carefully and see where it goes. Let’s find out together.

As usual, my night at work had me arriving home around 11:15 or so. I walked in the door, dropped my keys & wallet into a small box I keep on a side table there, and crossed the family room into the kitchen (all the while tripping over a very excited dog that was so happy to see me…because I’m a sucker for puppy dog eyes and can’t help but give her a puppy treat every time we’re in the kitchen together). I made a turkey sandwich with salsa & tortilla chips and a glass of milk on the side and ate quietly at the table. (with the dog leaping straight up in the air next to me the entire time) After finishing my meal, I loaded the dishwasher, set it to run and hopped into the shower. By the time I ran a load of laundry and got upstairs to bed, it was a little after midnight and Missy was sound asleep. I could lie and tell you she was breathing softly but I haven’t lied to you about anything yet and find no reason to start now. She was snoring so bad my eardrums were rattling. It might have been the windows. Regardless, I slipped under the covers and settled in. It wasn’t long before she rolled over and reached to my side of the bed to see if I was there. She ran her hand along my side and up to my stomach. She knows how much I love when she touches my stomach and her hand felt so warm. She also knows how crazy it makes me when she moves down and feels me there, knowing it won’t evolve into sex. As she felt me grow hard in her hand, she purred “You can still get hard after banging your girlfriend?”. It’s a common joke between us. When I’m at work, I’m “banging my ho” and when she’s at home during the day, she’s “humping the UPS guy”. At any rate, I was tired and just said “Yeah sure”. She usually drops it, but instead pushed on. “She must make you feel good, you’ve had her on the side for almost a year now.”

Without even pausing to think about it, I asked if there is any seriousness at all to her question. “Is there even the slightest bit of concern that I’m having sex with someone else these nights?” She came back with “Probably not. I know you wouldn’t do that, but I admit that it’s crossed my mind and I can’t help but wonder sometimes.” I, being the analytical goofball that I am, drew a conclusion that was shocking. “If you think it could be true at all but let me go to work anyway, then you’ve just proved that it’s true that everyone has a price. You’ll live with me having sex with someone else as long as I keep bringing money home. You’re whoring me out for $500 a week!” She admitted that she’d never even taken the time to think about it that way.

Keep in mind that she’s been stroking my cock this entire time and that little spot under the head is now slippery with the little bit of precum that I sometimes can generate. She throws a leg over mine and I feel her pussy hair on my thigh. She’s warm and slippery against me. Her body has my arm trapped and her chest is pressed against my side. I know it’s my imagination, but I swear I feel her nipple stiffen. She whispers for me to tell her how I earned her money this week. “Tell me who you had to fuck for it. Or did you have to lick her instead? What did she want from you this time?” Oh my God was I losing my mind. This is so totally out of character for her that I’m almost speechless. In for a dime, in for a dollar, I say. I took a deep breath and started to tell her about how there’s a tenant that can’t make her full rent sometimes. She saw my light on and stopped in to plead her case. She offered what money she could to me and asked me if I would consider giving her more time. She swore that she could make the whole rent payment in two weeks and that “this is kind of a fee for giving me the extra time”. Before I knew it…she was topless and on her knees sucking my dick. I was holding her head as it bobbed up and down in my lap while she had one hand resting on my thigh and the other wrapped around my balls, tugging them down. I told her about how she seemed to delight in bringing me right to the edge of pleasure and hold me there. She’d let the pleasure lessen slightly but never diminish until I couldn’t stop myself from exploding deep in her throat. You’ll also notice that in one of the threads, I brought up how Missy has admitted to me that she’s more frequently dreaming about giving me oral, and this story really seemed to turn her on. Missy was humping my leg with abandon and jerking my cock so hard I thought she was going to rip it off but it felt so fucking good. My story had ended and we continued, just the sounds of two grunting people trying desperately to cum. Climax we did. Three thick ropes of cum shot out of my cock and landed on my chest while she clenched her thighs around mine and shuddered. We lay back breathlessly and savored the experience, my mind churning over what had just happened. Eventually, I wiped off and thanked her. She just replied “Just make sure you keep bringing me home that check every week. And I want to hear what you had to do to get it.”

__________________
Though I am different from you,
We were born involved in one another.

For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my heart. It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul.

Complete surrender should not just come at moments in which one faces overwhelming odds, but in the calm when it seems one is personally in complete control of one's life.