Chapter 32 – Paris gets Mal off

I close my eyes and curse Mal, the universe, and society in general. But mostly I curse myself for getting into this position. On the one hand I could just sit here with my hand resting on Mal’s obviously already aroused manhood. With the way I’m sitting and the way my hand is laying over it, he’s not going to be growing soft anytime soon though. He more than likely won’t do anything while he’s on the phone but that wouldn’t prevent him from doing something more dramatic when he’s done with the call. And having already upset him once today, do I really want to dare that? On the other hand, what’s really the big deal. I’m sitting on my hand, on top of his cock, in his lap. I’ll be wiggling my hand against him. It’s not like I’m gripping him and sliding my hand up and down his length. It’s not like I’m jacking him off. And if I get him off? It’ll be gross, to be sure, but he’ll have to call it an early day and go home to get changed. I’ll have at least an hour or so without him here. A small reprieve, but a reprieve, nonetheless.

After a defeated sigh I start up my hand’s motions again. I try to stay on that particular mental line, right between actively trying to get him off and just randomly moving my hand over his girth.

Maybe I’m better at this than I want to be. Maybe it’s been longer than I thought for Mal to get off. Maybe he finds this really erotic. Regardless of the reason, I feel him growing steadily under my manipulations. And growing, and growing, and growing. At one point he actually has to shift his weight so that his growing cock can slip down his pant leg. I couldn’t even begin to guess at his length beyond saying he’s above average, but his size, his girth, is easier to assess even through his pants.

Mal is packing some serious meat. I don’t know why, but I’d always just assumed he was undersized. Like karma had already gotten to him and since he was an asshole it took his dick size away. But if karma was involved, Mal must be a saint in some other part of his life as his cock is like a gift. Between the gym and various public showers, I’ve seen enough guys to know that there’s small, normal, above average and big. And then there’s porn sized. Like, unrealistically big. If my hand’s feeling is a proper indication, Mal fits into that unrealistic category. With his pants and underwear in the way there’s no way I could wrap my hand around his full girth, but since it’s not like he's wearing thick wool pants, I’m doubting I could grip him fully even if he were naked.

While keeping my hand moving, I close my eyes again and curse myself. I may be dressed up as some sick secretarial fuck fantasy, I may be sitting in some pervert’s lap, and yes, I may be rubbing one out on that said pervert, but why am I compounding all of that by ACTIVELY thinking about his cock?

For the next half hour, I try to concentrate on my actual job. Taking notes. All the while, my hand keeps its actions up and all the while, Mal keeps up his conversation as if he wasn’t getting a hand job. I can hear the slight stress differences in his voice, but I’d bet I’m one of the only people that could tell he’s anything other than his normal intimidating self.

Even if I didn’t hear the conversation coming to an end, I’d know that my part was done by Mal’s actions. First, I could feel his hips moving slightly up and down below me. He’s on edge and close. I can feel him throb and tense up under my hand as well and know he’s almost done in this particular arena. But second, Mal grabs my free wrist and guides my hand up to my breast. Using his hand over mine, he starts gripping and manipulating my breast, forcing my palm to press down on the nipple of the breast form.

I have no idea whether Mal knows we’ve set it so that I can feel the breasts being manipulated or not. If he doesn’t know, then he’s simply seeking out more visual stimulation. But if he does know, it begs the question… is he trying to make me feel good as he gets off? Because if that’s his intent, it’s working. Sitting here on his lap, smelling my perfume, his cologne, and our combined arousal scents, getting him off for the last thirty minutes, and now having my own nipple played with is all working together, ramping up my own sexual pleasure.

Knowing that I have to keep quiet even as my body wants to let out a whimper or a moan, I do the only thing I can think of and bite my lower lip. I know damned well that will just look sexy to Mal, but it’s a practical move to stop me from making noise rather than a pantomime of arousal. Or at least it’s both and not JUST arousal.

Mal’s voice is now strained enough that I’m fairly sure others on the line will notice as he says “Good meeting everybody. Signing off.”

With precision I hadn’t expected, Mal tosses the handset toward his desk, landing it directly in it’s cradle and hanging up on the call. As soon as the call ends, Mal pulls me closer to him and starts kissing my neck, hitting that same trifecta of neck, jaw, and ear that Trixie seemed to master. I close my eyes and now don’t try to hold back the pathetic whimper that sneaks out of me. But even I can’t hide the fact that it sounds as sexy as everything else in this office right now.

As if that sound was the last thing Mal needed, I feel his whole body stiffen. He bites down on my earlobe, his hand grips down on mine and my breast, and his cock grows even larger and stiffer under my hand. And then it throbs and explodes. I so desperately do NOT want to feel this, to know that I’ll have this terrible memory of a man orgasming against my hand for the rest of my life, but there’s nothing I can do to prevent it and have to simply feel Mal experience his ecstasy underneath me. As he grunts quietly into my ear, his whole body stiffening in time to his cock’s eruptions, I can feel the warmth spreading underneath my ass and thigh, knowing that I’m now not just sitting on his lap, I’m sitting on his cum soaked pants.

I have no idea if I’m experiencing some kind of time dilation or not, but it seems like Mal cums for a long LONG time as he simply holds me tight against him, making me an accessory to his fun. With absolutely no desire to see if he’s cum enough to not only soak his pants but to start to stain my skirt, I give him enough time to finish before I start to wiggle out of his grip. Mal’s relaxed post la petite mort state seems to let me get out of his grip and stand up next to his chair. Turning, I wipe at my skirt knowing damned well that I’m giving him a bit of a show but needing to know if I’m ‘clean’ of this event or not.

While I can feel the warmth of both Mal’s hardon and his cum, I don’t feel any stickiness nor see any sign of transfer. Just the mental scaring that will never go away. With a huff I start heading out of his office, wanting nothing more than to hit the lady’s room for a moment of privacy where I can get my thoughts together. I’m interrupted though just as my hand touches his door handle by Mal’s voice, stern as ever, calling out, “Paris! Not yet. Help me get changed.”

I turn around ready to give Mal a piece of my mind, but I freeze as I see him walking around the desk, his belt already undone and his pants falling around his ankles. As he starts pulling down his tight, form fitting trunks with the obvious wet spot on one leg, I quickly whip my head around. Bad enough that I have the memory of feeling it, I have no desire to see Mal’s manhood.

I can hear him stepping out of his pants and underwear and… removing his shoes?... as he says, “Go to the closet and go through the two or three dry cleaning bags in there. Find me a matching pair of pants and bring them over.”

Grateful that Mal’s coat closet is the opposite direction of him I gladly step over and find a pair of pants that will go with his shirt and sport coat. Pulling them from the hanger I turn and side step toward Mal, without looking at him. When I know I’m close enough I hold the pants out toward him. As I stand there and wait, a towel get dropped on the floor in front of me and I can see the remnants of Mal’s pants party on it. Mal’s voice is a bit more relaxed than normal but still warrants no discussion or refusal, “Crouch down. Hold the pants up for me and then pull them up once I step into them.”

The term ‘in for a penny, in for a pound’ comes to mind as I realize it would be stupid to put up a fuss now over this. Instead, I look down at the floor, turn, crouch, and hold the pants up for Mal to step into. All I see is his socks and hairy calves as he steps in, but it’s still a part of his body that I never wanted to see. Once he has both feet in, I look off to the side and start lifting his pants up, hoping, praying that he’ll take them from me to finish the job. But instead of taking the pants from me as my hands get up to his thighs, Mal grips my wrists and stops me. His voice has a mixture of amusement and concern in it, “Paris? Were you really going to try and pull my pants up without looking? Without making sure you don’t catch anything on the zipper?”

I feel my blush intensity, knowing that he’s right. I know damned well that I wouldn’t want a zipper to catch my balls or cock as my pants are pulled up. Of course, I’d rather pull my own pants up. With a slight shake of my head, I don’t try and deny what I was doing, “Sorry, I just, you know, like, don’t want to…”

With a huff I accept that I can’t do this without looking and turn so that I’m ‘face to face’ with Mal’s cock. Even knowing that I was going to be looking at a cock just several inches away from my face, I’m still taken aback by it. It’s grown mostly soft and is hanging down, but it doesn’t seem to have shrunk down all that much. It’s huge. And yes, if I’d blindly pulled up Mal’s pants, I would have certainly caught his hanging manhood on the zipper.

Wanting this to get over as soon as possible I bite the inside of my cheek and just do it. Holding the pants with my right hand I reach forward and grip Mal’s shaft with my left. With it safely pushed back I then tug the pants up and around his package. I then swap hands, gripping the pants with my left and hold him safely with my right while I finish snugging the pants up around his ass. When the waist of his pants is roughly in place I zip and button his slacks, being careful not to snag him in this last moment. Once he’s put away, I lean back on my heels and stand up. Wanting desperately to wipe my hands on his sports coat I say with a voice far calmer than I thought it would be, “I assume you can put your own belt on?”

The look on Mal’s face confuses me as he’s not smug or arrogant or even happy. Rather, he’s amused? Confused? Surprised?

My desire to wipe my hands on his jacket quickly switches to wanting to punch him in the face as Mal jokingly replies, “Yes Paris, I can get my belt on. I had no intention of you pulling my pants all the way up, I just wanted you to stop where you were so I could take over. But if you ever want to touch it again, I’m open to you having all the fun you want. I imagine you want to wash your hands now? You’re excused.”

By the time I’ve cleaned my hands, made sure I’m not going to cry, and made sure I’m not going to start throwing punches, I’m back in my seat and working on our afternoon tasks. I’ve taken Mal’s suits to and from the dry cleaner before and thankfully it’s easy as it’s just on the third floor of this building. But it doesn’t help me from glancing down occasionally at the little ‘whatnots’ laundry back sitting next to my feet. It’ll cost a little extra as it’s not his normal day, but he still wants me to drop off his pants and underwear tonight so they can be ready early next week.

When I see Trixie making her way to my desk I feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders, remembering that she said we could go out tonight. But when my smile isn’t mirrored by Trixie, I grow a bit concerned. It turns out it’s a well-founded concern. Trixie’s boyfriend is taking her out on a surprise long weekend trip and they’re leaving right after work. Trixie promises she’ll make it up to me, but she’ll be gone until Tuesday.

Mal and I keep working through the afternoon and well into the evening. Even as the office shuts down around us, we’re not finished until after eight o’clock. When Mal finally comes out of his office and closes the door behind him, he steps up to me and puts his hand on my shoulder, “Paris, today was both rough and very nice. I’ll forgive you this morning as we’ll get past it and hopefully, you’ll learn how to use gossiping to your advantage and not disadvantage. As for this afternoon’s extracurricular activity, I’m glad you’re relaxing into your role. Remember, you don’t have to wait for me if you want to explore further. I only see you as a sexy woman, and not as a guy at all.”

My head snaps to look up at Mal with my eyes widening as I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Not only does he think I’m okay with what we did, he thinks I enjoyed it? He thinks I want MORE? Mal compounds his words with actions by moving his hand from my shoulder to my cheek, cupping my face as he leans down and gives me a soft but lingering kiss on the lips.

When he pulls free of the kiss, I’m left frozen, unbelieving that he’s so oblivious to how I actually feel. When he stands up though he proves it by simply walking off and saying over his shoulder, “I’ll see you in the morning kitten. If you wanna play more then, just come into the office and lock the door behind, you.”