His Hands by lolafalola
When my client called and asked me to come to an all day meeting, the only thing I could say was “Yes sir. What time does it start and what do I need to bring to be prepared?”
The meeting, which was 2 days later, was truly an all day event. It started at 8AM at his office and proceeded to another location finishing at 4:30 PM. There were over a dozen people in a long conference room talking about the various aspects concerning the project. Sometimes the discussion was one group conversation; sometimes we broke up into two or three subgroups. Everyone was dressed in ties and suits or dresses. We covered several important topics, resolved several “open issues” and avoided major personality conflicts. For the most part, things went off really well.
The client, the project and the meeting were successful. My part and involvement in the meeting, however, lasted less than five minutes. So, as far as my productivity was concerned, my day went from critical input and decisions to hopeful learning to a complete waste of time. I guess the only good from a situation like that is my mind has time to wander.
With over 6 hours of idle thinking, the human mind can think of several different things. First, I’ll start to think about all the work related things that I could be doing. This will be followed by what I need to get done as soon as I get back to the office: answer email, return calls, etc. Then there will be a list of things I need to personally do: wash laundry, clean house, etc. But like most people, my mind will eventually wander to sex and fantasy. Being one of 2 women in the meeting, there were several “potential” candidates around the room to select from as my fantasy object.
On this particular day, my mind focused on my client. In my fantasy, he reminds me of Robert Mitchum. He’s around 45 – 50 years old, wears glasses, short wavy hair, somewhat tall and a bit thick, but not fat. I like to think of him as a rugged nerd. He has a desk job, but in the evenings and weekends, he works on his ranch, which is outside of town. He does a lot of work with cattle and sheep and considers this to be his true passion.
Because of these two completely different types of work, I always let my focus wander to his hands. They are thick and the palms and fingers are calloused from years of outdoor work. The nails, though, are short, clean, and have a slight manicured look to them. In business settings personal presentation is not only important; it’s critical. I’ll watch him use his hands to describe finer details or point out something on the layouts that may have been missed.
While watching him use his hands, I will always wonder what those hands must feel like. Against my own soft, feminine hands are they hard and rough? Do the pads of his palms feel thick and strong, like the hands of a man who has worked for years outside? How would those hands feel against my naked flesh?
As I continue to stare at the way his hands move to illustrate his point, my fantasy will start to kick into full gear. I’ll start to imagine him asking me to stay after the meeting. He’ll ask me to stay late and help him develop a strategy for a new development plan, something that would be just the two of us, working together.
After everyone has made promises for follow up calls and emails, then general talk and chat follows. Afterwards, everyone else leaves. He comes over to where I am sitting. My head is down, leaning over a pad of paper expecting him to give me some general directions that would be best written down for later use. As I am ready to write, he leans over me. He’s so close to me that I can feel his breath on me.
His cologne smells musky and mingled with his odor. It intoxicates me and my eyes are half closed as his lips gently run across the line where my shoulder meets my neck. He brings his hands over my writing hand to take my pen away. His lips brush against my ear as he tells me we’ll be working on something a little more ‘hands on’ than that.
His hand, which has been resting on my own hand, will come up my forearm and reach across to my other shoulder to turn me around. I’ll swivel around, and he’ll then take both of my hands and place them on either armrest, he’ll lean into me and give me a slightly rough open mouth kiss. He’ll come to a full standing position and move my hands to either side of his waist. My eyes will be squarely level with his groin area. My hands, now, move with a mind of their own.
I’ll bring them to his belt and unbuckle it. I’ll unbutton the top button on his trousers and pull his pressed laundered shirt out. My hands will run under it up his stomach and chest. I’ll feel the hair on his chest and run my fingers through it. Feeling the course hair, I’ll find his nipples and squeeze, pinching them. I’ll roam all over his chest and belly, trying to feel every inch of him at once.
He’ll then take my hands out from under his shirt and gently raise my hands and myself so that I am standing and leaning against the conference room table. He’ll place my hands on either side of me, with a look, an understanding, where they remain there while he moves his own hands by unbuttoning and opening my blouse and front hooked bra.
He runs those hands up my torso, to my breasts, and I am able to feel every thick joint of his fingers. In my mind, I can feel my nipples harden to the point of being almost painful as the little jagged seams along his palms catch against my own dark brown crinkled skin. His fingers are thick and incredibly strong, but they are oh so delicate when squeezing my nipples, pulling them away from my body and then letting them bounce back into place. I arch my head back and let out a deep loud moan.
His finger comes back over my lips, “Shh”, he says, “We don’t want anyone to hear us do we?” I take this finger into my mouth and suck on it. My lips run up and down, licking it on all sides. I want him to know what more we could be doing. Thinking the same thing, it is now his turn to moan in response.
He takes his hands and cups my face. The thick pads of his fingers soothingly message my temples as his palms cup my cheeks. I feel myself begin to melt into his touch. He moves his hands to my shoulders as he guides me lower. As I slide off the table and my knees sink to the carpeted floor, I bring my own hands up and unzip his fly and lower his trousers down to the ground. He’s not wearing any underwear and I can see that he’s semi erect.
I bring my fingers up along the outer edges of his legs, feeling as much of his legs as possible. I let my hands guide themselves to his groin. I gently cup his balls with one hand and slowly, but firmly stroke his cock with the other. I open my mouth and lick the very tip of his now moist tip. I’ve been wondering how he would taste this whole time. He is now fully hard.
As I lick him, I tilt my head up to let my brown eyes gaze into his green ones. His eyes dreamily stare at me as he brings his hands back to my face. Using this opportunity he mentions again how much he likes working with me; having me work under him. He is my client and I am here to serve. I moan and let the vibrations in my throat tickle his prick.