Husband Eats Me Out

They were large, meaty, full and firm. In the summer, she flaunted them. Tight t-shirts, low cut tops and unbuttoned blouses. They would jiggle and bounce each time the bus hit a bump in the road. Many times my cock grew hard from staring at her. She would never look up from her e-reader while she was seated. That is, till the day I got on the bus, spotted her seated and reading, and stood with my crotch directly in front of her face. Her eyes darted up from the e-reader; she stared at my crotch, and just as quickly darted her eyes back to the e-reader. “What are you reading?” I asked her with a smile. She looked up at me and pretended to be surprised as she replied, “Hey, good morning. I’m a bit late today, and was sure I had missed you. I got on at the bus stop before yours.” “Me too, I was extra generous with the snooze button this morning,” I chuckled. I asked her for her cell number, so we could text each other, if we were on our way to the bus stop in the morning. I told. The day carried on with pretty girls wandering up and down the corridor. Word got around about there being a man in the building and most started wearing a bath robe from the changing rooms to the photo shoot rooms. There was another man, Michael the photographer, but he was as bent as a paperclip so no-one took any notice. I liked Michael straight away, we talked cameras and got on well. People noticed and made those gossipy assumptions people do and suddenly I was the gay painter who had known Michael since school! By Tuesday the girls were back wandering around in clothes that your granny would say you'd catch cold in in the Sahara. I decided to leave the gossip as it was for now; it kept the view more scenic if you get me drift.Monday evening and the Sloans put on the Burberries and the Chelsea set put on their faux furs and went. When the office closed, I moved into reception. Here I would give it two coats, maybe three. Depth of colour see? Gives an air of quality. And reception.
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