She reaches out for him

Her hand reached out, without the any sign of nerves, and wrapped around me.

I gasped quietly, more startled than anything else at the unexpected contact, but I didn’t move. Her fingers closed around the base of my member, soft and deliberate. She began to tug, with a fluid coaxing of me.

“There we go,” she murmured, keeping her eyes on her hand. “The faster you get hard, the sooner this’ll all be over.”

I exhaled shakily through a slack mouth, but I didn’t speak.

“I want to see it, exactly like it was in the picture,” she said, still in that perplexing tone that straddled comfort and command. “Only, up close and personal… knowing it’s just for me.”

She looked back up at me with her calm expression. Confident in the fact I wouldn’t rebuff her at this point.

My response came in the form of my eyes closing. My head fell back slightly, and my mouth dropped open, as a low sound escaped me.

“Mia…”

“Mmm.” She sighed, never letting her grip falter. “I love hearing the name Mia come out of your mouth.”

My only reply was a short, strained breath as she felt me begin to stiffen. It was slow at first, but quickly gathering momentum. The weight in her hand grew heavier, firmer. It thickened against her palm, pushing out well beyond the fingers wrapped around it.

She let out a quiet hum of approval, a smile increasingly spreading across her face, watching as my body responded under her touch.

Then, without missing a beat, she brought her free hand to the open fly of my pants. Her fingers slipped inside carefully, curling around what she found there. The zipper scratched against me as she drew my testicles out in her gentle grip.

I twitched, a brief, involuntary flinch at the sharp scratch of the zipper, but I didn’t protest. I was too caught in the moment, too wrapped in the feel of her hand, and the growing pressure. The thought her mouth was close enough to feel the warmth of her breath.

Without a word, she began to wiggle further back onto my desk. Her hands remained gripping me as her butt slid across the surface, pulling at her skirt beneath her. When her knees bumped the edge of the desk, she nudged against a wire bin of folders that rattled and tipped, spilling a few loose papers. A small metal file tray slid out of the way with a dull scrape as she made space for herself, claiming the desk fully and making it clear the desk was hers to use as she saw fit.

Once she was settled, legs parted, balance secure, she tightened her grip around me.

Then she pulled. It wasn’t rough, but firm and intentional, signaling a silent demand for me to come closer. I shuffled forward, dragging my shoes awkwardly across the floor. When I glanced down, uncertain of what she was doing, I saw her looking up at me with absolute clarity.

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