The Sofa

There was a sofa in her office. It was long and deep, and made of brown leather, faded from years of use. She caught me looking at it as she fetched her purse, and wagged a finger in my direction, a wry grin on her face.

“Uh uh, no way. Don’t even think about it.”

“I don’t know what you mean! I didn’t say a word.”

“You didn’t have to – it was written all over your face. I know how your brain works, remember.”

“Fine, let’s go get lunch then. You did say your colleagues would be gone all afternoon though…”

Erin worked in a beautiful old townhouse just off Russell Square. Since our first encounter, we’d stayed in touch, but our schedules had never quite matched up; until one glorious summer’s day, when I found myself working in London, a short walk from her office, with nothing to do in my lunch break.

Before we left the room, I pulled her in close for a kiss. She bit my lip and let me slide a hand down her back, to brush over her arse, before pushing me away again.

“You, mister, are a bad influence. There are students in the building and construction workers outside the window: do not get me all riled-up.”

I decided not to say anything about red rags and bulls, and instead took Erin by the hand as we strolled down to the local food market. Whenever the sun shines in England, half the population takes to the streets, desperate to enjoy the fleeting glimpse of something other than grey, monochrome sky above them. As a result, the market was packed, so we decided to take our food back and eat it on the terrace behind her building.

I was already semi-hard by the time we sat down. Erin was one of those women who had real presence. Not just because she was tall and curvy: she moved with a lazy, almost arrogant grace, and there was something in the way she let her eyes wander down my body; the firmness with which she squeezed my hand as we walked. We ate our food in companionable silence, and I tried not to let images from the hotel flash across my mind. Erin on her knees with the butt plug jammed inside her and my cock driving in and out of her cunt. Erin on top of me, framed perfectly in the window, the street light just outside it making her face glow as she tossed her head back and came all over me. Erin forcing me onto my knees, then pulling my hair and calling me a filthy little bitch as she squeezed the strap-on deeper and deeper inside me, till I felt like I was going to split down the middle from pleasure and pain.

I put my hand on Erin’s thigh and she moaned softly. I had a feeling I wasn’t the only one thinking about that night. We finished lunch and went back upstairs to her office. I was conscious of the time – I’d already been gone for over an hour – but I was still disappointed when she hung the key straight back on the hook, rather than locking the door behind her.

“No pouting! I told you, I have work to do this afternoon. I don’t care how hard you are, I’m not going to fuck you. Not here. Shit…you’re really fucking hard, aren’t you?!”

With her hand on the front of my suit trousers, Erin leaned in and kissed me again. She was dressed in a vest top and shorts, perfect for the weather, and I let my lips find the tops of her breasts. I could taste the sweat on her skin, and it made me want to move lower, to lick the salt from her stomach and the insides of her thighs.

“Like I said: BAD INLFUENCE!”

“When have I ever denied it? Come on, that sofa does look pretty comfy…”

Erin rolled her eyes and led me over to the couch. We flopped down onto it together and kissed with more urgency this time. I could almost feel her lipstick smearing off over my face, but I wanted it other places too: a faint red bruise on my neck, a perfect ring around the base of my cock. Erin made me greedy, and when she guided my fingers inside her top, to pinch and pull at her nipples, I could feel the pre-cum already starting to soak my boxers.

I leaned back and let Erin swing a leg over my thighs, till she was straddling my erection. She grabbed hold of my shirt and started to grind down onto me as we kissed, my hands on her hips helping to move her along the shaft of my cock. I put my lips to her ear and started to whisper all the filthy, kinky things I’d thought about us doing together. I told her about the pub toilet where I planned to tie her up, bent over the bowl, her legs spread wide apart, her cunt ready for the men I’d bring in there to fuck her. I asked her whether she thought the builders outside the window could see her humping my cock like that: do you know, I said, how much of a slut they’ll think you are, desperately trying to get yourself off through all those layers of clothing? They’ll be talking among themselves right now, wondering which of them will be the first to force his hard dick down your throat when you come over and beg to be used.

“Fuck fuck fuck, don’t stop.”

“Don’t stop what? I’m not doing anything…”

“Please don’t stop talking.”

“Are you going to come for me now, Erin?”

“Yes, I’m going to come. I’m going to come right fucking now.”

And she did.

I tried to slide my fingers inside her shorts, but she batted them away, and climbed down off me, onto the floor. She unzipped my trousers and pulled out my hard cock, then swallowed it right down to the base in one swift, smooth movement.

“Show-off! I really want to fuck you…”

“I know. I told you though, I’m not going to fuck you today.”

I was just trying to formulate a suitable response to that, when a loud buzz came from the phone behind me, making both of us jump.

“Shit, that’ll be a student trying to get in. Wait here.”

Erin scrambled to her feet, grabbed the keys, and dashed over to the door, leaving me spread-eagled on the sofa, my cock pressed hard and hot against my stomach. I heard voices outside and the light, easy laughter of two people who know each other well. She reappeared 30 seconds later, and this time locked the door behind her.

“This is such a bad idea. Luckily for you, it’s also really fucking hot.”

I said nothing. It didn’t feel like the time for a smart-arse comeback. Instead I watched her walk back towards me, slowly this time, and sink to her knees between my legs. We both knew this was going to be quick. Every bit of me was tingling, and Erin had never made a secret of the fact that she loved the taste of cum. She took me in her mouth again, and this time used her hand to stroke me as well. I tried to stop my hips thrusting up into her; tried to empty my head of all conscious thought, and just let her suck me.

The phone buzzed again, but this time Erin didn’t stop. She was greedy, this girl, so greedy as she sucked me she moved her other hand off my thigh and down between her legs. I came, and she finished the blowjob in the same way she’d started it, taking me all the way inside her mouth to make sure she got every last drop.

There was a moment of silence, then we both burst out laughing.

“Bet you’ll never look at that sofa in the same way again.”

“Bastard. Go on, pull your trousers up and get out of here!”

“Don’t you have a student waiting outside?”

“Right! Wait…do I look like I’ve just been sucking cock?”



Erin was awesome.

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29 Responses to The Sofa

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