TCB

I have the means to change all of this if I wanted to. Right now, if I wanted to. What I lack is the... imagination. Consumed by and by along with all inspiration, fascination and wonder. This is the prize at the top of the ladder I've spend most of my life grappling to conquer... an elbow to the ribs; a shoe to the face of others trying to keep pace. I let them fall. All of them.

I straighten my stylish silk tie as I look in the large gold-framed mirror hanging on the office wall. I can't make out my face – the room dimly lit by a single corner lamp behind me. I smooth a charcoal lapel, barely clocking the luxurious feel of a deft blend of the world's rarest wools. She doesn't make a sound, but I know she's here.

She's dressed like a tired cliché, albeit a very expensive one. A number four drive-thru ready femme fatale kit; Audrey Hepburn trenchcoat and wide-brimmed hat – take your pick. I take my seat in the centre of the room and wait for her to begin.

Yes, her. I haven't even bothered to learn so much as her assumed name. I can't be sure, even, if we speak the same language. She removes her hat and flings it into a corner, then releases all of her long, jet-black hair from a bun at the back of her slender and pale, oh-so-delicate neck. She sends her listless gaze to a spot on the floor near my immaculate bespoke shoes. Italian leather, black, extremely expensive. That vacant stare a gorgeous silvery-blue juxtaposed against a severely dark backdrop of mascara and eyeshadow. It reaches all of a thousand yards and more. Lips of flushed purple. With a dispassionate fluidity, she undoes the coat's belt and lets it part- only underwear beneath. The gaudy garment falls from her shoulders. It bundles at her feet. Strappy stilettos, elegant and pointed. Her sophisticated lingerie is all classic black with intricate gold lacing- timeless: tiny thongs and perfectly-fit basque. Sheer silk suspended stockings to the thighs- one of which is capped with a garter embellished with a small pink bow. To the music of raindrops meeting the glimmering, deserted streets outside, she begins to move through her wordless enchantment.

I watch her intently, still as the dead in my chair. I watch those sensual undulations- arcs and curves; the rounding of a corner into a sudden, yet controlled slingshot flow. Arabic, Iberian, gypsy... measured and mesmeric... subtle, silent gyrations. And she sinks to her knees, meandering tresses streaming over her face. And so, she begins her predatory crawl in my direction- infinite femininity in the soft sway of her hips and flawlessly rounded derriere. The immodest intensity of her immovable glare would make a lesser man shudder, but I give her no reaction other than the stiffening of my cock. That is all I will ever give her.

She splays my knees apart now, curls her back and rides up between my thighs. I can taste her gentle scent rising from her lithe body as she brings her face inches from mine- her shimmering eyes still peering, probing into the depths of mine. A strand of dark hair catches on her smooth lips as she undoes my belt and unzips my fly. And she sets free my stiff length. Dark purple fingernails trail up my thighs, then she flattens her palms to the base of my abdomen, and draws them up to my chest. With balletic grace, she pushes off me to crouch with her back to me now, then slowly begins to straighten her athletic legs, pressing that indescribable ass into my pulsating penis. The stiffness is excruciating as it looks to expand beyond its limits. Yet, I'm given cause to shelve my urgent need for just a moment as I marvel at the masterful command she has over her own body. She rocks her hips ever so slightly...

With a single step and a twirl, she has folded herself across my lap and thrown her eyes back on mine, over her shoulder. A subconscious glimpse of a cluster of freckles somehow adds more fuel to my arousal- as though it were a tiny revelation, betraying the woman behind this frosty professional that operates here now. Her eyes are goading me, practically spitting defiance. I indulge her unspoken demand and I spank her. Her face remains cold and blank, but I can sense the heat emanating from between her thighs. I spank her again and she gives just a fraction of a choked moan. And I am pleased. Not because of the thought of giving her pleasure, nor for the enjoyment of such a sweet sound. I am pleased because the game is afoot now, and she just lost her first pawn.

She sweeps herself up and throws a leg, all in one refined arcing movement. She's straddling my lap now. She keeps my eyes from gazing down with that rare watery blue stare. The mental image of her form flirts with my vision as I feel her sublime warmth begin to creep down my aching cock, dragging all my pain out with it as it slides, replacing it with such a precious relief.  She skillfully manipulates tiny muscles within her with breathtaking intuition, creating a delectable slippery ripple that rides my entire length and it feels... it feels... heavenly. Behind this unparalleled ecstasy she gifts me, there rears a palpable anger, however- a restless need to unceremoniously yank me from my throne with her agile hips. And it grows; it lends increasing vigour to her thrusts and gyrations. Slamming herself into me violently now. And she slips and ripples and slams as she stares into my eyes. It's a game that I hate to lose. And I'm beginning to fear that I may. That I may lose. She pours pleasure into me relentlessly and my cup runs over. Involuntarily, I sound a delirious moan.

She draws herself in, and I feel the luxurious cushioning of her breasts against me. Her rasping breath in my ear tickles my overloaded senses. Her stilted moans send shuddering waves down my back. And her hips buck feverishly now as I feel my strength start to wane. Determined thrashes slam into me resentfully. Thrashing and crashing pussy dripping, throttling my punch drunk cock. Bucking wildly, she's drawing me out and rendering me powerless. She spasms and bucks and thrashes and slips and ripples on top of me. And she draws me out. I'm seized as my cock convulses and spurts, and it cannons shot after shot deep into her. And then I'm done. Deflated and limp. My reduced and trembling dick coughs out its last drop.

There's barely a sound as she climbs off me. She ties her hair back into a bun, slips into her trenchcoat once again and plucks her hat from the loveseat in a corner of the room. And she leaves.