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Just the Sex by Anne Weller

861 words

This story contains: her and him, contemporary romance, couple, exhibitionism/voyeurism, office, anal, blow job, toys, sub/dom, femdom, bdsm/kink

Saturday morning, 5:15. My phone rings. “Be downstairs in five,” Amanda whispers. “Come commando.”

She’s crazy. But, with Amanda, crazy is the turn-on.

No time to shower or shave. Sweatpants. T-shirt. Sneakers. Wallet. Keys. 

I run downstairs and she’s just pulling up. I climb in.

She drives us to her office. Once inside, she unlocks a conference room. There’s a briefcase at one end of the long table, a few papers scattered at the other.

Amanda shuts the door but doesn’t lock it. Closes the blinds.

“Isn’t this risky?” I ask, but my cock, which was already half-hard, stiffens further. 

A wicked grin. “Risky? Only if you’re slow.” She points at the papers. “Three tests. Pass, you get rewarded. Fail, you’ll be punished. Cleaning crew arrives at six.”

It’s already 5:35.

“First test starts in one minute.”

I hurry to the end of the table and pull out the fancy executive chair.

“Bare-assed,” Amanda snaps, “then sit.”

Pulse pounding, I pull down my sweatpants, the descending waistband rubbing along my rigid shaft. I stifle a groan. When I sit, the soft leather under my ass is an obscene caress. Has anyone ever defiled the expensive chair this way?

“Fill in the blank,” Amanda announces. “You have three minutes. Starting”—she places a pencil in front of me—“now.”

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