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My crawl across the carpet feels like it lasts an age. I’m panting when I make it to the desk and throw myself into the gap between the mahogany pedestals. It’s a desk worthy of his status, so I’ve got plenty of room to manoeuvre, but first of all I pull my knees to my chest and catch my breath.
Bruce Willis has nothing on me. I didn’t need a ventilation shaft to get to Mr Gregory’s shaft. I did it on my knees with my butt on show.
I allow myself a few moments to soak in the sound of Mr Gregory’s voice. There are barely more than a few acknowledgements from him. Mainly it’s a host of voices on his call, talking about financial stats. Still, I get the tone. His voice is deep and authoritative. I imagine it could be thunderous if he was on the attack. I hope I get a taste of it.
But right now, there is only one thing I want a taste of.
I’m so slow as I edge towards him, back on my knees. I’m gentle as I sweep my hands up his thighs. That isn’t Mr Gregory’s style though, seemingly. He’s giving an appraisal of some budget summary or other when he unbuckles his belt and tugs down his zip to free his cock for me. It’s a good size. Really good. A tower of a dick with the veins already showing proud. He’s probably been palming himself for ages.
I hold back a squeal as his hand darts and he fishes around under the desk for me. His fingers soon find my hair and he grips it tight and wrenches me closer, angling his cock straight for my mouth.
He’s done this before. That much is obvious when he uses my mouth as a fuck toy, yanking me back and forth on his dick without even breaking a sweat. He jams into my throat, and I take it, my eyes watering as I struggle to stay quiet. Any loud gurgles could sound out loud on his microphone.
It’s a relief when he lets go of my hair and leaves me to my own devices. I suck in some long, deep breaths to calm myself, before I present my slutty self with a new attitude.
User 4109 may have done this before, but not with me – whorish Holly, climbing the ranks.
I put my hands on his knees and push back slowly, grateful his chair is on wheels. He shoots me a glare, but I mouth a please, imploringly. Please, Sir. He clears his throat as he registers Sir. I can tell he likes that.
“How about you, Nelson?” a voice sounds out from the screen, and Mr Gregory shifts, turning his attention away from me. “Do you agree with Theresa’s plan for platform enhancement?”
“No,” Mr Gregory says, as though he’s been concentrating intently and not throat fucking a slut under his desk. “I think the maintenance figures are severely underplayed. We’ll go over budget by at least twenty percent if we go down that route.”
Fuck budgets. I grip his shaft, and run my tongue up the length of him, staring up at the director, despite the fact he’s debating with a colleague onscreen. I know he can feel my gaze. Feel my adoration. I worship his cock like it’s sacred, savouring every taste. I let out tiny whimpers, and slip a hand between my legs. I’m already soaking wet in my dirty lacy panties – all because of him.
The roleplay takes over me. My horny soul springs to the fore.
I love being Mr Gregory’s slutty intern. I love peppering his balls with kisses, daring to suck them until he swats me away and angles his cock back towards my mouth. I hope he’s going to grab hold of my hair again, but his dialogue is too intense for that now. He’s fully engaged in debating, and I use the opportunity to milk it – literally. I create an irresistible rhythm, and grin around his dick as it pays its reward. His voice stammers for a moment before he clears his throat, and his hips start rocking involuntarily in his seat. The wheels twist back and forth a little as he uses the leverage.
I get myself ready for the gift of his spurts in my mouth – my fingers speeding up on my clit through my panties – but he reaches under the desk and grabs my hair again. Not to fuck me harder, but to halt me in my tracks. He holds me away from his cock, continuing his onscreen conversation, and I get a churn in my stomach – feeling the pain of a loved-up intern being shunted away like she’s worth nothing.
In his world I am.
In his fantasy, I’m a slut desperate to serve at any cost, and nothing more.
He’s calmed down by the time he lets go of my hair, back to flatline. His dick is still hard, but he’s not on the edge, so I build up again right from the start. Flicks of my tongue along his shaft. Wide eyes when I gaze up at him. He angles his cock, offering it deeper, and I accept it with a moan, sucking it back up like a needy whore and giving him my throat.
Mr Gregory is a god of a director to Holly Jones. She’s risked her fledgling professional reputation by crawling across his office floor just to worship his cock.
We dance the same dance as he continues his meeting. So many boring budget figures up for discussion. I work my clit and suck his cock, building enough of a rhythm that he grabs my hair and shoves me away from him three times over. He keeps up his engagement onscreen, but I catch him out, looking down at me time after time. I think he must be addicted to my silent mouthing of please.
We’re on round four when I get more frantic with my clit, my tension building up as much as Mr Gregory’s. Fuck it, I can’t take any more. I hold my breath as I come, ears ringing, but he must feel me shudder. I have my mouth open, eyes dazed in climax when he next stares down at me.
And that’s when he loses his flow in the meeting.
“Nelson?” someone asks. “What does your outline say?”
But he doesn’t respond.
“Nelson?” the voice asks again, and he shakes himself, tearing his eyes away from me.
“Sorry, what?”
“What does your outline say? About Berlin’s tech budget for next quarter.”
He clears his throat. “Eleven percent up from last year. They have another app in progress.”
His eyes are back on mine as the conversation moves on, and I smile like a cunning bitch before gobbling his cock into my mouth. He looks like he wants to tear my pussy to pieces when the meeting is done.
