by Zane
“Damn, Connie. You got some good-ass pussy.” He fucks me with repeated, fast motions, bucking my body like a wild rodeo bull. Shit! This brother is laying it on me some kind of good! I let go of the rails, crisscross my arms around his neck, and sink the tips of my fingers into his broad shoulders.
“Hold on,” he orders. I hang onto Bishop as he grabs my ass and walks across the elevator. He smacks the “stop” button, causing the elevator to freeze at the thirtieth floor. He thrusts me into the far-right corner where that silly man stood and fucks me harder. We slide down the wall and onto the floor. There we lay, my blouse open, my short skirt hiked up around my belly, pumps in the air, Bishop’s trousers around his ankles, his Sean John open, tank ripped, his bare chest against my excited nipples, and his ten inches at the bottom of me, pounding against my cervix while I drench him in my delectable juices.
He positions his arms under my knees and raises my legs backward over my head, pointing my moist box straight up to the ceiling. He descends upon my vertical pussy with such force that I moan his name, “Bishop.”
“Yeah, baby? You like that big dick?”
“Yes!”
I feel his cock grow wider as more blood rushes to it. My body quivers and my vaginal muscles rapidly pulsate and send an uncontrollable amount of cum over his rod. I barely hear him say, “My turn.” Bishop curls me into a ball under his Adonis body, squeezes me until I almost can’t breathe, and then releases his white, gooey serum into my unprotected pussy with a long, satisfying grunt followed by ahhhh.
“You like that, huh?” I ask even though I know the answer. He looks at me, smiles, then answers, “Yeah. You got skills. I like that.”
He rises off of me and presses the “stop” button again. We begin to descend the remaining thirty floors. His hazel eyes look at me ever so confidently, like he just conquered something. I gotta set him straight and let him know that I run this show, not him.
“You say that like this shit will happen again.” I’m just fucking with his head now to hear what he says.
“Well, won’t it? How can it not? And I wouldn’t call this ‘shit,’ either.”
See how easy a man’s ego surfaces. He is so concerned about his Johnson and fucking capabilities. This makes it easy for me to control this conversation. I got his ass now.
“Well, I don’t know,” I remark.
He looks stunned, probably because he thinks that he laid something on me that I’ve never had before. He wants me to crawl back to him for more like I’m sure some girls have. Little does he know that he merely gave me what I’ve had in the past, and what I’m currently lacking from Keith. This makes me sexually dangerous, and him my play thang, if I want. He walks toward me, takes me within his grasp, and rubs his semi-flaccid penis against my saturated wet zone. He’s determined to save face.
“So, what are you saying? This isn’t what you expected?”
“Well—”
Before I can finish my sentence, he embeds his tongue into my mouth. During the midst of our kiss, he whispers, “You feel the heat like I do. I know it.”
I don’t need convincing, but it’s fun to let him think that I do. I turn away from him and purposely look at the red numbers.
“Shit!” Bishop exclaims, realizing we’re going to get caught if he doesn’t let go and allow us to dress. We hastily fumble with our clothes as the elevator counts down from the fifth floor to the lobby. At the second floor, I ask Bishop how do I look as I fret over my skirt and blouse and fluff at my mid-length locs.
“Fine,” he comments and rapidly continues to tuck his shirt into his pants and zip them. He reaches down and picks up his torn undershirt and stuffs it into his trouser pocket. I find my ripped lace thong in the corner and put it into my purse. The lobby bell dings. Bishop and I give each other one last smile as he stands overtop the wet spot we created on the carpet. The door opens and there stands the nosey lady. Bishop extends his hand in a gentlemanly fashion signaling me to exit first. I walk past the nosey woman and I hear Bishop say, “Ms. Claire, how are you today?” She doesn’t answer him but informs him that his shirt buttons are crooked.
“Thank you, Ms. Claire. I hadn’t noticed.”
The lady steps onto the elevator and I briefly see her sniff the air and frown at the spot on the carpet. She raises her hand to catch Bishop’s attention, but he ignores her and the door closes. He quickly catches up with me before I journey to the parking garage.
“Connie, wait. Where are you going?”
“To find the closest store to buy some new panties,” I whisper with a smile.
“Word. Okay, well, um, I’ll talk with you later.”
“Okay.”
I watch Bishop head in the direction of the café and I continue to exit the lobby.
The workday ends without me seeing Bishop again, but my kitty cat constantly reminds me of him. With his girth and that vertical position, he tore me a little. Every time I go to the bathroom, a slight stinging sensation occurs at the beginning of my perineum. My pussy hasn’t been stretched out like this in a long time. It’s only seen the action of Keith’s undersized pecker for a year.
***
At home, Keith is waiting as usual. He generally arrives first because his commute is shorter and he doesn’t have to deal with the damn freeway traffic. I hate my commute. I could buy a new Prada bag every month with the amount of money I burn in gas. I’m glad Keith is good for something more than sex. After paying bills, investing ten percent of my paycheck, and setting aside my emergency funds, there’s not much left for anything extra. I gotta admit I like how Keith allows me to save my money and spend his. That might be wrong, but hell, he can afford it.
“Hey, baby. How was your day?”
“Fine. I had an unexpected meeting that went very well. I’m worn out from it. I think I’ll skip dinner and go to bed.”
“Mind if I join you?”
Hell yeah, I scream in my mind. I don’t want Keith messing up Bishop’s staying power. I want the essence of Bishop’s sex to linger with me until I’m ready to wash him away. But I gotta do the right thing.
“I’ll wait for you upstairs, sweetie,” I reply to Keith in my platinum princess voice that he’s accustomed to hearing. Damn, so much for letting my encounter with Bishop marinate.
***
I perfectly time my arrival at the office on Wednesday.
“Miss Connie, how are you today?” His delectable voice sends chills down my spine as we board the elevator with the others. I purposely stand across from Bishop to eye him face to face. He’s so handsome, chiseled jaw line, soft-shadow beard, pearly whites, and cleft chin. My hot zone begins to throb as I think about what he’s packin’.
“Other than dealing with my commute, I’m fine, Bishop. Thanks for asking.”
“Heavy schedule today?” he wants to know.
“Not really. Just some contracts to review and have ready for my manager when she returns next week on Monday.” I lie because I suspect he wants to do something today.
“Wonderful. I need your expertise to go over a bid that has some serious financials. Are you available at ten this morning?”
Check him out, trying to sound legit in front of everyone. I think it’s cute.
“Sure. I’ll meet you in the conference room on your floor.”
“Ten o’clock, it is,” he confirms.
Yes! I know his cock is crying out for my moist box. He likes my deep cavity and my hot box needs more exercise.
I watch his sexy body exit onto the fifteenth floor with a couple of other people. I grin at the other four people journeying with me and snicker to myself. If only they knew what I’m thinking. That’s right, in what position will I mount Bishop’s pole at ten o’clock? I exit at the thirty-fifth floor, rush to my desk, and utilize the first two hours of my morning to get as much done as possible. I know our ten o’clock meeting is going to take some time.
“Press fifteen, please,” I say to the man next to the el
evator numbers. Damn, we’re stopping at almost every floor. It kills me when people take the elevator to go to the next floor. Take the damn stairs, you lazy ass. If only I could really say that shit. Finally, I exit the fifteenth floor. I approach the receptionist behind the glass doors that read “Clark and Howard International, Inc. Accounting Department.”
“Bishop Thomas, please,” I request. The receptionist presses the black button on her switchboard.
“Mr. Thomas? You have a visitor.”
“Send her on back,” I hear him say through the speakerphone.
“You may go back, Ms…” The receptionist stumbles to learn my last name.
“Winslow, Ms. Connie Winslow,” I say proudly.
“Ms. Winslow,” the receptionist repeats to Bishop.
“Yes, I know. Send her back, please.”
“Turn right at the end of the hall, go halfway down. Mr. Thomas’ office is on the left-hand side.”
“Thank you,” I reply and begin switching my derriere down the hall.
I check out the digs of the fifteenth floor as I walk down the long corridor, making the most out of my first visit.
“Nice office,” I announce, standing in Bishop’s doorway.
“Come in, Connie, and make yourself comfortable.”
I walk in confident and sexy. Instead of sitting, I walk to the large glass window behind his desk and enjoy the skyline of downtown Atlanta.
“Your view is lovely,” I comment.
“It’s not as lovely as the view I see from here.” Damn, his baritone voice gets me every time. I turn in his direction feeling horny as hell. He stands facing me in front of his closed office door with his ten inches exposed, saluting me. He steps out of his trousers, walks to his desk, and sits in his plush, black leather chair. “Come here,” he suggests, extending his hand to me. I touch the palm of his hand and allow him to lead me to his awaiting penis. I hear the DJ on V-103 announce the song “Ordinary People.” Then the voice of John Legend serenades us from Bishop’s sleek stereo. I slowly crouch down on my knees between Bishop’s muscular Hershey thighs, and begin my deep-throat action. He grabs onto the arm of the chair and watches me take him whole.
“Damn, Connie. Nobody handles me like this.”
I suck harder and draw his big cock deeper into my throat. I go up and down on it, sending Bishop deeper into his chair with a tightening grip. He arches, he concaves, he arches again and concaves again. I don’t want to engulf his sac or kiss his asshole today. All I want is the ten-inch pipe. I release his huge penis and stroke it up and down with one hand, spreading my saliva while I unfasten my blouse and bra with my other hand. I place his dick in between my excited 36DDs, squeeze my breasts tightly around his dick, and suck the very tip of his penis. His length comes in handy to do this. He loves it. I release his dick, grab it tightly with my hands, and slap my face all around with it. He gets my drift. I deep-throat him again and stroke around his asshole with my index finger. He’s too excited and I know this moment of lustful indulgence is ending soon. I feel the blood rush to his penis and then out of nowhere, his damn phone rings. He slaps the intercom button.
“What is it, Barbara?” he yells at the receptionist terribly irritated. I don’t stop. Through the speaker I hear, “I’m sorry, Mr. Thomas, but your wife is on line two.”
He hangs up with the receptionist and looks at me stroking and gobbling his dick while his wife waits on hold.
“Don’t stop, Connie,” he insists.
“Not to worry,” I reply with a devilish grin and continue my handiwork.
“Hello.” All I hear him say is, “Hey, yeah, huh, uh, okay, see you then.” He abruptly hangs up and I have his full attention again.
I swirl my tongue all over his groin, hair, dick, balls and all. I take him back into my throat, down to the base of his penis and suck intensely. He throws his head into the back of his seat, grabs me by my hair, and pumps my mouth forcefully, filling my jaws with his monstrous dick. After a number of hard thrusts, he pulls me off of his lead pipe and squirts my face with his gooey cum.
“Mmmmmm! Mmmmmm!” he moans and is speechless. I squint my eyes as his warm semen covers my mouth, nose, and forehead. Ahhhhh, yes, my pearly shower! The drought ends and the rainy season returns; I love it. I’m so hot and turned on. I rub his bodily moisturizer on my face, neck, and tits. When he catches his breath, he smiles at me and says, “So you like my anointment, huh?”
I say nothing as I lick the remaining cum off the palm of my hand. He has sweet cum which makes the rainy season even more delightful. I whisper in his ear with my large breasts resting on his chest. “Is this how you got our nickname?”
He chuckles and admits, “Actually, yes. One day after football practice back at Morehouse, some odd years ago, the fellas and I were sharing date stories in the locker room. After telling mine, they nicknamed me Bishop and it stuck.”
“Does your wifey know you’re a naughty boy who likes to anoint women in this manner? Did you anoint her?” I ask, licking him lightly on his earlobe.
“What do you think?”
“Don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.”
“Why do you care?” asks Bishop while nibbling at my breasts and neck.
Why must he ask me that shit? I decide to tell him a lie. “I don’t really.”
“So, why ask?” he demands, still nibbling. Damn, his lips feel so good against my exposed breasts.
I ignore him because I don’t want him to know that I do care. If only I can have something of him that she doesn’t, he’ll be more mine. I playfully laugh a little and then put his mind back to our business. “Bishop,” I whisper, “we’re not done with each other yet.”
“True,” he replies.
I turn around backward, descend on his long shaft, and give him a rump-shaking, lap dance with his joystick inside my hot box. He stands and humps me doggy style while I touch the floor with the palms of my hands still clapping his dick with my butt cheeks. Good thing I’m flexible. He then fucks me so hard we unintentionally travel toward the large pane-glass window. I spread eagle against the glass to brace myself from his force. If only the folks on the street could see us, what an eyeful they would get. Two naked jaybirds fucking sky high.
“Damn, Bishop, that’s my spot!”
“Yeah? Well, come on with it then,” he grunts. I moan as he bottoms me out and my cum spills onto his engorged cock. “Oh, shit! Damn, your pussy is good!” I watch him throw his head back as he sinks his manly hands into the flesh of my ass. He holds on tightly and keeps his body close. I feel the bulging and pulsing of his penis as his cum meets mine. He squeezes my ass harder as if he wishes he could put all of himself in me. He slowly releases and backs away from me, staring in an unusual way. I can’t tell if he’s dazed or amazed. He grabs some Kleenex tissue out of the box on his desk and wipes his glistening, cummy penis.
“Damn! You know how to work a brother.” He’s definitely amazed.
“You may want to freshen up a bit in the bathroom down the hall to your right.” He reaches for his boxers and every brownskin, toned muscle flexes. Shit, he’s so fine.
“I plan to. Don’t worry.”
He walks past me, slaps my ass while biting his bottom lip. He doesn’t say anything but his slap insinuates he’s a happy camper. I hope there are no finger marks on my ass from all of his grabbing. I couldn’t explain them to Keith. He may have a small Johnson, but he notices everything about my body, everything except the fact that my pussy is being stretched to its limits these days. Damn, I crave Bishop, but Keith is my source of stability. What is a girl to do? Have them both, right? Hell yeah!
I scoot back into my size-eight skirt and affix my cleavage-making bra as Bishop stares me down from his desk chair. He sits charismatically, adjusting the knot in his silk, Armani tie. Even though our company allows us to dress business casual, apparently Bishop likes to top off his business shirt with an impressive tie. Lord knows, he stands out in my mind.
&
nbsp; I purposely drop my tiny, black lace panties in Bishop’s trashcan that sits adjacent to his light-maple wood desk—in plain view, of course. After dressing, he offers some small talk about the weather. I humor him and talk about the ninety-degree, hot, August day, then excuse myself to use the ladies room.
I wonder what he’s thinking now, or better yet, if he’s seen my panties. I push open the restroom door and discover that I have the place to myself. I moisten a handful of brown paper towels with soap and water, and grab some dry ones with my free hand. Just as I’m about to step into a stall, a soft, muffled knock is at the door. I place the paper towels in my intended stall and walk to the door, fluffing my locs in the mirror as I pass. I hear another muffled knock at the door. I open and peep around the door.
“Bishop? What are you doing here?”
“Anybody in there?”
“No, why?”
He slides through the small opening and quickly locks the door. Before I can utter a word, he puts his tongue deep into my mouth and grabs my naked ass beneath my skirt.
“You forgot something.” With those words, he tosses my panties onto the marble vanity near the door. He lifts me off the floor and sits my exposed ass on the cold, hard marble countertop. I quickly get over the chilly discomfort and reach for the long dong.
“Connie, my dick is like a heat-seeking missile for your pussy.” I feel Bishop inside me once more. He doesn’t cum this time and that makes this encounter more challenging as only my vaginal juices moisten us.
Sweet mother of mercy, his penis girth is like the damn Grand Canyon. His dick is rocking against the breadth of my pelvis and at this point, it’s hurting me so good. I want to let out a scream from the pressure, but I don’t dare. A scream coming from the ladies room would not be good for either of us. Bishop sees my facial expression and knows; he is not only at the bottom of me, but he’s giving me that bit of pain a pussy feels when a man has taken it all. I fake like I cum this time to make him stop. He can’t have everything. I’m mindful Keith may want to hit something tonight. Bishop’s last thrust interrupts my thoughts. Shit! He takes what little bit I could save for Keith. My pussy is a done deal.
