What does Jan want from me? And what do I want from him? I am standing by his bed, my arms stretched out above me, BDSM style, suspended from ropes that loop around my wrists. His hands and mouth have explored my body; tantalising and arousing, teasing and pleasing. My skin is still tingling, my nipples still taut. My pussy has been pleasured to orgasm, but there is still a yearning ache between my legs. Surely he won’t leave me in this state, only partially satisfied? Why hasn’t he fucked me? Is he bored? Has he lost interest? Such stupid questions. The bulge in his pants is evidence enough of his desire. He is still teasing me. He knows I want his mouth on mine, his cock to fill me. Should I leave? Perhaps I should. Perhaps I need to show him who has the real control. And yet, there he sits, silently watching me, with those intense eyes, with that same, self-assured, confident look that first attracted me six months ago. I need to be fucked.
And yet, there he sits, silently watching me, with those intense eyes, with that same, self-assured, confident look that first attracted me six months ago. I need to be fucked.
I work for my father in a small construction company. Three years ago, after I’d finished my accounting and finance degree, he took me on as a trainee manager. I loved the banter and the friendly atmosphere and I quickly settled in.
Six months ago we advertised for a foreman. Jan was one of the applicants. When he walked into the office I felt an instant attraction. He was lean and muscular and had an unmistakably masculine presence. His eyes were particularly attractive; there was an alluring intensity about them. The first time he looked at me I felt as though he’d seen into my soul.
We interviewed Jan and he got the job. He had excellent qualifications and proved to be a very competent and hard working foreman. He was his own man.
Once or twice a week, Jan would come to the office to update my father and talk about any work problems. Technically, I was his boss and I would often sit in on these meetings. I looked forward to his visits. The meetings were usually short, Jan didn’t waste words, he always got straight to the point. I loved listening to the deep tone of his voice, which was enhanced by an attractive Polish accent. When I visited the sites with my father, to check on work, it was apparent that Jan had the......to read the rest of this story please login or register to read the full story free.
Read all about the wonderful author: JD Jaks