As she lay on silky white sheets, skin bedecked in strappy pink lingerie, Ronnie quipped to the man who had not yet looked up from his work to notice her: “Is there a particular reason why you haven’t gotten naked and fucked me yet? I’m waiting.”

Mitch had been fully absorbed in trying to solve an issue at work and hadn’t even noticed as Ronnie had slipped in behind him to prostrate herself, nearly naked, on his bed.  He’d been at it since 6 AM, the downside of working from home. And he’d made about as much progress as a hooker trying to turn tricks at a church, he mused to himself. 

The screen in front of his eyes blurred as his mind wandered to mull over the thought. He concluded that perhaps a hooker would actually have better luck than he was having with the goddamn piece of broken code he was trying to fix. 

After all, he thought, in terms of trying to find a captive audience in need and thirsty, you couldn’t find a better place. Sure, they might be thirsty in secret, but thirsty none the less they were. 

Closing his eyes, he imagined a prostitute dressed in a tight, red miniskirt and excessively tall heels. In his fantasy, she walked in late to the service dripping sexual vibes. He could see her sitting down next to a straight-backed man in his 40s who probably hadn’t had anything novel or exciting for the last… 

Mitch nearly tipped over backwards at the sound of her voice, demanding and strong, interrupting his fantasy. He turned, bringing the length of her nearly naked body into his gaze. 

Ronnie was married to a Wall Street broker who only occasionally fucked her and never cared about pleasing her. Mitch had met her at a New Year’s Eve party he’d been invited to by a friend. She’d come up to him, directly and with sharp eyes and had said that he looked different than the other men there, which was true because he was in tech and a bit geeky, and the others were mostly big headed rich brokers.

She had told him that she was craving something different. He wasn’t sure exactly what she meant until she grabbed his sleeve and led him to the back of the grand room they were in, through a hallway, several in-fact, and had practically pushed him into a small study, walls painted burgundy with mahogany furniture. There, she’d proceeded to undress him as he stood, half drunk and a bit in shock, until he was standing naked in front of her. 

For a moment, he’d freaked out, wondering what kind of bizarre shit was happening to him. He thought that perhaps he was about to get left naked in a stranger’s house, some sick trick of the rich and bored, but then, she’d spoken to him. 

“Make me come”  was the only thing she had said to him in that room. And that’s where it all started because that request required a skillset that Mitch possessed. And ever since, he’d become her paramour, or her man mistress as he often thought of himself. 

At her request, he’d given her a key a couple of weeks ago, but she hadn’t used it as far as he’d known, until today. Looking at her, his mouth gaped slightly simply from the fact that he hadn’t expected to see anyone, especially not Ronnie layered in all of those come fuck me pink straps that trimmed her waist and the top of her ass. Mitch felt a flood of heat wash over him, dimming any thoughts of codes in his mind. Being a pleasure fuck didn’t bother him if it meant things like this popping up out of nowhere. 

“Or perhaps,” Ronnie teased as she pushed herself up onto all fours, “if fucking me doesn’t sound quite like your cup of tea at this moment, I can fuck you.” She turned her ass toward him and bent down onto her elbows, accentuating her curves even further. She then turned her face toward him, looking over her shoulder. 

“So, what will it be? Should I stay in this position, or do you want me to do the taking?” 

“Don’t move an inch,” he commanded. 

“Oh, you want to be dominant today,” she purred back at him, sinking her chest further and slowly wagging her ass seductively from side to side. 

Mitch quickly pulled his shirt off and walked toward the bed. He wasn’t in bad shape, but neither was he currently in the best shape of his life. He’d been too busy for the gym lately, and working from home made snacking and sitting too long easily accessible. But, none of that mattered because he knew exactly how to make Ronnie shake with pleasure, and he’d long ago learned that that ability went a long way when it came to satisfying himself and his lovers. He might not be the guy they married, but it was him who they always came back to for more. 

Mitch approached the bed and softly ran a hand from the top of Ronnie’s bowed head down her back, over her ass, and down her thighs where he teased her most sensitive parts, not touching them directly, but letting a careless finger graze the edge of that zone a few times. 

His cock got even harder at the thought of how horny she must be to have come here in the middle of the workday, just for this. Removing his hands briefly from her, he untied the strings on his jogger pants and pushed them down. He wasn’t wearing underwear and his cock, freed from the weight of his pants, stood so ready to give her what she wanted. It throbbed and pulsed with lust. 

Mitch put his hands back on Ronnie, this time allowing himself the small delight of slipping one finger under the edge of her panties, fingers that were met with that familiar slippery wetness that drove him wild. He rubbed his index and thumb together to feel that delightful sensation of lubrication. He moaned a touch, just to let the edge off. All he wanted to do was to rip off those panties and sink himself into her, but he held himself together. Sliding each hand down her thighs then back up toward her wet pussy. Leaning over, Mitch kissed her low back and ran a hand around her stomach, squeezing, then moving up to fondle her breasts. 

Ronnie arched her back, a small moan of pleasure escaping her mouth at the attention. She reached her hand back and touched his cock. Rubbing it gently at first and then wrapping her manicured hand around it. Mitch let out a low growl. He released his hand from her breasts and pulled out of her grasp to remove her panties. He couldn’t wait another moment to see the glistening jewel that lay beneath. 

Slowly, he wrapped each finger around the straps of her thong and lowered it inch by inch over her booty, exposing the thick glistening lips of her vulva, so obviously desirous of him. He hardened even more and couldn’t resist the urge to climb up and kneel on the bed in order to slide the tip of his cock along the length of her slit, just a taste. 

Pulling back he used his two thumbs to open her and see the pink of her entrance, that most sensitive part of her.

Kissing each of her ass cheeks, Mitch slowly slid his middle finger into her, leaving the others to rub along the outside zones he knew felt good for her. She pushed back into his touch, sinking his fingers deeper into her. Taking his other hand, Mitch stroked her back. 

“Good girl. That’s it.” 

He worked his “finger magic” as one of his lovers often called his techniques. He really didn’t care what it was called. What mattered to him was the outcome. Watching girls come was a drug to him, and not that fake pretend shit because he could always tell. He needed to see that real, toe curling, moaning, cunt muscles spasming, climax. 

He’d been hooked on it ever since he’d gone down on Rebecca Wilson in 8th grade. He hadn’t even known that a girl could come. All that he had known at that point was that “girls like it if you lick them…there.” He had learned really fast exactly how much ecstasy girls were capable of experiencing, and he fucking loved it. 

Ronnie was moaning and pushing into him even more, her smooth skin moist with a thin layer of sweat. He had her lit up like burning man, which in turn had him dripping precum.

She couldn’t wait another second. Reaching back between her legs, she grabbed his cock and leaned back into it, bringing it to her again. She rubbed it on her clit and moaned. Then she slid the tip between her lips, letting it swim up and down between the thick flesh of her labia. Mitch groaned, fighting the desire to push himself into her depths. 

He looked up to the picture above his bed, a black and white image of the golden gate Bridge in California ensconced in fog. He focused on the sharp lines of the bridge while Ronnie took what he offered, a taking that would finish him if he left his mind to focus wholly on it for too long. 

He looked down when he felt her release him.  She turned around, tiger-like in her movement and crouched in front of him,  lips inches away from his cock that was still glistening with her juice. Her eyes turned up, locking with his as her lips curled into a devilish smile, tongue protruding slightly, teasing. He braced himself for the next wave of pleasure that was about to wash over him, threatening to sink him.  

He shoved her off of him and in one smooth motion moved behind her. She laughed at him, drinking in with pleasure how wild she had made him. 

Her laugh morphed into a deep moan as he gave her what she had come to his house to get. With one hand reaching around to caress her clit, he slowly drove himself into her, inch by inch until he pressed his whole weight onto her, fingers still moving.

She leaned into him, moaning as her pleasure built. He could feel, as he moved in and out, her juices flowing from her onto his cock and his hand that still worked her ever more engorged clit. 

He could feel and hear as she got close to the edge, his drug drawn up and ready to inject. Short breaths, small, deep moans, back arching, and then the moment the pleasure washed over her. 

The high hit him as her body jerked, ass pushing onto him as her muscle spasms worked his cock like a fucking kaleidoscope.

He had meant to last longer, but feeling her get off like that was more than he could take. He gripped her hips harder as he himself tipped over the edge with her, filling her, moaning with ecstasy and at the same time frustration for tipping before he had planned, but god damn it felt so fucking good. 

They stayed there for a few breaths after it was over.  He felt a tickle as a bead of sweat rolled down the middle of his exposed back, the fog of San Francisco still holding the bridge in its embrace. 

Then, as suddenly and unexpectedly as the whole tryst had started, Ronnie moved away, separating their bodies. Getting up from the bed, she leaned over to where he had just collapsed, a junkie flying high. 

Running a delicate hand down the side of his face and across his chest, she said:

“Good boy.” 

And then, she donned a red, knee length trench coat, and left, leaving Mitch prostrate on the bed.