Yes, I have done something unprecedented. I complied with unsolicited requests. No, the world is not ending.
Part 1: link
“Hold the doors!” Arthur hears a familiar voice yell, and he thrusts his hand forward, blocking the closing doors, ignoring the grumblings of the other people in the elevator Monday morning.
“Thank you,” Gwen breathes, scurrying in. Then she sees who held the door, and blushes. She bites the corner of her lower lip and makes her way to the back of the lift, since she has to ride it all the way to the top.
Arthur sees the way her little white teeth catch the corner of her luscious lower lip, and he forgets to breathe.
He sucks her lower lip in between his lips, nibbling lightly at the succulent flesh, making her gasp and cling to him, her lithe body under his, almost naked.
The lift stops on three, and as the doors slide open, he takes advantage of the shuffle of bodies to make his way back beside Guinevere.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey, yourself,” she answers, looking down at his hands, fidgeting with his briefcase.
His long fingers make quick work of the clasp holding her bra together, and those hands are touching, caressing the soft orbs before the damit hits the floor.
“Beautiful,” he mutters before dropping a line of kisses down her neck, working his way to the newly-exposed flesh.
Stop at five, and Gwen bends down to adjust her shoe, inching closer to him in the process.
At nine, she feels his hand snake behind her and close gently over her backside, squeezing lightly. She bites her lip again.
Seventeen. The last other occupant exits, muttering, “Get a room already,” as he exits.
Ding.
The doors slide closed and Arthur turns towards Gwen, jumping in surprise when her lips are immediately on his, halik hungrily, tongue thrusting insistently.
Arthur’s hands react first, wrapping around her as his eyes drop closed and his tongue battles back, taking control.
“I missed you yesterday,” he says quietly, his forehead against hers.
“I missed you, too,” she answers.
Ding. Twenty-four.
“Shit,” Arthur curses.
Gwen smiles. “Dare.”
“Have lunch with me.”
“Yes, please,” she answers, and he pecks her lips once more, turning to exit just as the doors begin closing again.
10:13 a.m., Gwen’s phone buzzes and flashes.
Too early for lunch? Arthur.
Smiling, she texts back Yes.
Truth.
Gwen thinks a minute. Are you planning on having lunch with me or having me for lunch?
The segundo one.
Well, you’ll have to wait. Some of us have real jobs.
12:35 finds them closed in Arthur’s office, Gwen straddling his lap in his chair, Arthur’s hands on her rear and his face in her cleavage.
“Oh, God,” she breathes, her head back, her hands in his hair.
Arthur lifts his head and kisses her lips. “I want you so much right now,” he mutters into her mouth, his lips barely leaving hers.
“What if someone comes in?” she gasps quietly. “Or hears us?”
“Door’s locked,” he says. “And if you keep it down, no one will hear us.”
“Me?” she pulls back and looks down at him.
“You were the one that had my neighbors banging on the walls at us on Saturday, Guinevere,” he reminds her, smirking.
“ Oh… Arthur… God… Oh, God, Arthur!” Gwen screams her release, pressed against the pader of Arthur’s bedroom, her legs wrapped around his waist.
“Shut up! Give it a rest already!” Muffled shouts accompanied sa pamamagitan ng pounding on the other side of the pader send Gwen into a fit of embarrassed giggles.
She blushes and bites her lip, then leans down and kisses him. “Dare,” she whispers.
He looks at her, then drops his eyes suggestively to his lap.
“You are evil,” she says, climbing down off his lap to kneel between his legs, reaching for the zipper of his trousers.
Arthur leans back indulgently in his chair, closing his eyes as Gwen reaches in and withdraws his already-stiff manhood from his rather expensive tailored trousers.
She dips her head, taking him into her mouth, sliding her tongue along his length.
“Guinevere…” he groans, gripping the arms of his chair.
Gwen takes all of him into her mouth, her hand gripping the base of him, working with her mouth, pumping and sucking, her free hand gripping his thigh, massaging it lightly.
His hand drops to her head, delving his fingers into her hair, but careful not to dishevel it. She has to go back to work after. Remember this, Arthur… He groans as she swirls her tongue around the tip, halik the very end softly. Then she takes him all back in again, deeply, and his hips buck in the chair.
“Oh,” he grunts, struggling to keep his upuan now, as he grows closer, closer, her lips and tongue like warm liquid velvet against his swollen shaft.
He bites down on his lower lip and grips the arms of his chair tightly as he climaxes, surging into her mouth, down her throat.
She gently releases him, halik the softening shaft sweetly. As she stands, he rights his clothing.
“You’re very good at that,” he says, watching as she takes a drink from the water bottle on his desk.
“I seem to recall you were pretty good at it yourself,” she says, sitting back down in his lap.
Arthur traces the lines of her folds with his tongue, wet, swollen with arousal, then slides his tongue within her, flexing it this way at that. She rewards his efforts with a plaintive moan, and as he moves to flick his tongue at her sensitive button, he raises his eyes for a moment and sees her, her head tossing, her hands gripping her breats.
“And now you owe me,” she adds saucily.
“Oh, really?”
“Yes. And lunch, in fact.”
He opens his mouth and she cuts him off. “Don’t you dare tell me I just ate,” she warns, but he can tell she is trying not to laugh.
“Dinner, then. I’ll take you to a proper restaurant and everything,” he says, leaning to halik her again.
“I really like you, Arthur,” she says quietly, leaning her head against his, afraid to look at him for fear he doesn’t feel the same, for fear that she is nothing but a sex toy.
“Truth,” he whispers in her ear.
“Ugh, you’re going to make me ask?”
She feels him nod against her neck.
“Do you really like me or is this just physical?” she asks, whispering.
“I really, really like you.”
Gwen’s puso swells, and he tightens his arms around her. Her phone makes a sound.
“Shit, I have to go back to work,” she says, halik him once more. Then she reaches for her blouse, fastening the buttons up again.
“You set an alarm?” he asks, looking at her phone.
“I thought it was probably a good idea,” she grins at him. “Do I look a mess?”
“You look perfect. No one would ever guess,” he grins back.
She looks at the door to his office. “Why do I feel like I’m about to do the Walk of Shame?” she laughs.
“Nothing shameful about it, and nobody else’s business anyway,” he says, walking to the door and opening it for her.
She walks out, slinging her never-opened lunch bag over her shoulder.
“Five o’clock,” he calls after her. She looks back and waves, smiling sweetly.
“Arthur, who is that?” Arthur’s father, Uther Pendragon strolls up and asks.
“Her name is Guinevere. She works upstairs. We met in the lift last Friday.”
“Pretty.”
“Pretty wonderful, Father.”
Uther looks at his son, noting how his eyes never leave her form, how they even linger on the doors once she is out of sight.
“Lunch date?” he asks, snapping Arthur out of his reverie.
“Yeah. Taking her to hapunan tonight, too.”
Uther chuckles, placing his hand on his son’s shoulder. “The back of your sando is untucked,” he mutters in Arthur’s ear, then walks away, still chuckling to himself.
Part 3: link
Part 1: link
“Hold the doors!” Arthur hears a familiar voice yell, and he thrusts his hand forward, blocking the closing doors, ignoring the grumblings of the other people in the elevator Monday morning.
“Thank you,” Gwen breathes, scurrying in. Then she sees who held the door, and blushes. She bites the corner of her lower lip and makes her way to the back of the lift, since she has to ride it all the way to the top.
Arthur sees the way her little white teeth catch the corner of her luscious lower lip, and he forgets to breathe.
He sucks her lower lip in between his lips, nibbling lightly at the succulent flesh, making her gasp and cling to him, her lithe body under his, almost naked.
The lift stops on three, and as the doors slide open, he takes advantage of the shuffle of bodies to make his way back beside Guinevere.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey, yourself,” she answers, looking down at his hands, fidgeting with his briefcase.
His long fingers make quick work of the clasp holding her bra together, and those hands are touching, caressing the soft orbs before the damit hits the floor.
“Beautiful,” he mutters before dropping a line of kisses down her neck, working his way to the newly-exposed flesh.
Stop at five, and Gwen bends down to adjust her shoe, inching closer to him in the process.
At nine, she feels his hand snake behind her and close gently over her backside, squeezing lightly. She bites her lip again.
Seventeen. The last other occupant exits, muttering, “Get a room already,” as he exits.
Ding.
The doors slide closed and Arthur turns towards Gwen, jumping in surprise when her lips are immediately on his, halik hungrily, tongue thrusting insistently.
Arthur’s hands react first, wrapping around her as his eyes drop closed and his tongue battles back, taking control.
“I missed you yesterday,” he says quietly, his forehead against hers.
“I missed you, too,” she answers.
Ding. Twenty-four.
“Shit,” Arthur curses.
Gwen smiles. “Dare.”
“Have lunch with me.”
“Yes, please,” she answers, and he pecks her lips once more, turning to exit just as the doors begin closing again.
10:13 a.m., Gwen’s phone buzzes and flashes.
Too early for lunch? Arthur.
Smiling, she texts back Yes.
Truth.
Gwen thinks a minute. Are you planning on having lunch with me or having me for lunch?
The segundo one.
Well, you’ll have to wait. Some of us have real jobs.
12:35 finds them closed in Arthur’s office, Gwen straddling his lap in his chair, Arthur’s hands on her rear and his face in her cleavage.
“Oh, God,” she breathes, her head back, her hands in his hair.
Arthur lifts his head and kisses her lips. “I want you so much right now,” he mutters into her mouth, his lips barely leaving hers.
“What if someone comes in?” she gasps quietly. “Or hears us?”
“Door’s locked,” he says. “And if you keep it down, no one will hear us.”
“Me?” she pulls back and looks down at him.
“You were the one that had my neighbors banging on the walls at us on Saturday, Guinevere,” he reminds her, smirking.
“ Oh… Arthur… God… Oh, God, Arthur!” Gwen screams her release, pressed against the pader of Arthur’s bedroom, her legs wrapped around his waist.
“Shut up! Give it a rest already!” Muffled shouts accompanied sa pamamagitan ng pounding on the other side of the pader send Gwen into a fit of embarrassed giggles.
She blushes and bites her lip, then leans down and kisses him. “Dare,” she whispers.
He looks at her, then drops his eyes suggestively to his lap.
“You are evil,” she says, climbing down off his lap to kneel between his legs, reaching for the zipper of his trousers.
Arthur leans back indulgently in his chair, closing his eyes as Gwen reaches in and withdraws his already-stiff manhood from his rather expensive tailored trousers.
She dips her head, taking him into her mouth, sliding her tongue along his length.
“Guinevere…” he groans, gripping the arms of his chair.
Gwen takes all of him into her mouth, her hand gripping the base of him, working with her mouth, pumping and sucking, her free hand gripping his thigh, massaging it lightly.
His hand drops to her head, delving his fingers into her hair, but careful not to dishevel it. She has to go back to work after. Remember this, Arthur… He groans as she swirls her tongue around the tip, halik the very end softly. Then she takes him all back in again, deeply, and his hips buck in the chair.
“Oh,” he grunts, struggling to keep his upuan now, as he grows closer, closer, her lips and tongue like warm liquid velvet against his swollen shaft.
He bites down on his lower lip and grips the arms of his chair tightly as he climaxes, surging into her mouth, down her throat.
She gently releases him, halik the softening shaft sweetly. As she stands, he rights his clothing.
“You’re very good at that,” he says, watching as she takes a drink from the water bottle on his desk.
“I seem to recall you were pretty good at it yourself,” she says, sitting back down in his lap.
Arthur traces the lines of her folds with his tongue, wet, swollen with arousal, then slides his tongue within her, flexing it this way at that. She rewards his efforts with a plaintive moan, and as he moves to flick his tongue at her sensitive button, he raises his eyes for a moment and sees her, her head tossing, her hands gripping her breats.
“And now you owe me,” she adds saucily.
“Oh, really?”
“Yes. And lunch, in fact.”
He opens his mouth and she cuts him off. “Don’t you dare tell me I just ate,” she warns, but he can tell she is trying not to laugh.
“Dinner, then. I’ll take you to a proper restaurant and everything,” he says, leaning to halik her again.
“I really like you, Arthur,” she says quietly, leaning her head against his, afraid to look at him for fear he doesn’t feel the same, for fear that she is nothing but a sex toy.
“Truth,” he whispers in her ear.
“Ugh, you’re going to make me ask?”
She feels him nod against her neck.
“Do you really like me or is this just physical?” she asks, whispering.
“I really, really like you.”
Gwen’s puso swells, and he tightens his arms around her. Her phone makes a sound.
“Shit, I have to go back to work,” she says, halik him once more. Then she reaches for her blouse, fastening the buttons up again.
“You set an alarm?” he asks, looking at her phone.
“I thought it was probably a good idea,” she grins at him. “Do I look a mess?”
“You look perfect. No one would ever guess,” he grins back.
She looks at the door to his office. “Why do I feel like I’m about to do the Walk of Shame?” she laughs.
“Nothing shameful about it, and nobody else’s business anyway,” he says, walking to the door and opening it for her.
She walks out, slinging her never-opened lunch bag over her shoulder.
“Five o’clock,” he calls after her. She looks back and waves, smiling sweetly.
“Arthur, who is that?” Arthur’s father, Uther Pendragon strolls up and asks.
“Her name is Guinevere. She works upstairs. We met in the lift last Friday.”
“Pretty.”
“Pretty wonderful, Father.”
Uther looks at his son, noting how his eyes never leave her form, how they even linger on the doors once she is out of sight.
“Lunch date?” he asks, snapping Arthur out of his reverie.
“Yeah. Taking her to hapunan tonight, too.”
Uther chuckles, placing his hand on his son’s shoulder. “The back of your sando is untucked,” he mutters in Arthur’s ear, then walks away, still chuckling to himself.
Part 3: link
