I sag into the wall of the bathroom stall even further as I try to focus my eyes on my phone. To see what other instructions Dominic has sent me.
While you’re finger fucking yourself, I want you to imagine that I’m there, fucking you hard.
My head falls back with a thud against the cold metal wall and I squeeze my eyes tight as I rub harder. I’m imagining him fucking me from behind, grabbing my hair and slamming into me, smacking my ass, and…
Ohhhhhhh!
I cum, fireworks exploding behind my eyelids, trying so hard to fight the scream of joy wanting to erupt from me. It’s just washing over me in waves and as hard as I try, I can’t fight back the “Uh, uh, uh” grunting noises exploding from me.
“Are you okay?” I hear a voice call out.
Oh God. Oh fucking God. It’s my boss’ boss, Emily Vanderwalt. I shove my phone back into my pocket and straighten up.
“Oh yeah, just fine,” I call out but I can’t pretend and say that I sound perfectly normal. I sound guilty as fuck and there’s no way anyone within ten miles of me doesn’t know what I was just doing in this stall.
“Okay,” she says, and I can hear the hesitancy in her voice. “If you say so.”
“Yup, just fine!” I say over-brightly.
I wait until I hear her footsteps fade away and the bathroom door close behind her, before I whip my phone out.
I can’t text right now. Don’t text me anymore. I’ll talk to you tonight.
I have to wash my hands and I have to get to work. Break time is over and I have to start acting like an adult.
No matter how weak in the knees I feel.
44
Dominic
I look down at my phone and reread Daphne’s last abrupt message to me, worry washing over me. What if I was pushing her too hard? I just thought it’d be fun to sext with her. I hadn’t meant to drive her away. Surely she knows that I’m just kidding about the naughty little girl thing, right?
Maybe it was a step too far, what with our past familial relationship and all.
I shove my phone into my desk drawer with a frown. I’ll admit it, ever since I divorced Mary, I haven’t wanted to settle down. Sex, sex, nothing but hot, dirty, raw sex is all I’ve wanted and I just figured that’s all I’d ever get for the rest of my life.
And last week, I was perfectly content with that. I was more than content; I was happy. Settling down with one person was a shitastic idea with a side of stupidity. Where was the variety and fun in that? Why the hell would I agree to it, when I can get almost any woman I want, whenever I want?
But now that I’m looking at Daphne through the eyes of someone who wants to love her as a woman, not a little girl, I'm starting to realize that maybe sex, sex, nothing but hot, dirty, raw sex for the rest of my life is … a little shallow.
I look at the file in the upper left-hand corner of my desk. It’s for a client—a huge new client that I just closed with this morning. I should be shouting from the rooftops. It’s not every day that I sign a $500 million contract. I should be ecstatic over it.
Instead, all I can think is that I can’t wait to tell Daphne tonight. Everything is better when I can share it with her. And then I start to think about how much I want Daphne, and then I start to compose more sexts in my mind.
Which, I absolutely cannot keep doing. She asked me to stop, so I need to respect that boundary.
I’d wanted to sext with her until she came, and then spank the monkey and take a picture of my hard-on to send to her. That had been my super complicated, super grown-up plan.
Why is it that I turn back into a teenager around Daph? I’ve been horny before in my life, but not like this. It’s like I can’t ever be satisfied—that I can't finally have “enough” sex and not want any more. Even as I’m cumming inside of her, I’m always planning on how and where and when I’m going to fuck her next.
Now, as I look down at the bulge in my pants, I realize that even if I don’t send dick pics to her, I can take care of myself, at least right now. It won’t feel as good as tonight, when she wraps her soft hands around it, but I can do all right by myself. I’ve jacked off enough on lonely nights.
I hurry over and lock my office door, and then lean back against my desk, unzipping my Brooks Brothers slacks and taking my dick out. It's already almost fully engorged—purple and red veins running every which way on it and with a sigh of relief, I squirt some lotion I keep in my desk for just this purpose into my hand and start running it up and down my dick.
God, that feels amazing. I close my eyes, imagining spanking Daphne, her perky ass cheeks turning red under my hand, as she lies draped over my lap. Maybe I could convince her to wear her hair in pigtails and a short plaid skirt when she comes over tonight. Not that she did either of those things when she was a kid, but…