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I’d never been to an accountant before, never needed to. But in the past six months my vintage dress agency had really taken off and a couple of friends advised me to sort out my finances before the IRS picked up on my juicy new income. Mike Greene was recommended all over town, so I thought I’d give him a try.
“Take a seat Miss Hathaway, and I’ll get you some coffee,” the young receptionist smiled as she led me into a plush, purple carpeted office, then closed the door on her way out. The room was fresh and bright with Matisse prints on the walls, not the stuffy old fashioned décor I’d expected of an accountancy firm. A large oak conference table dominated the room — eclectic rather than out of place.
The door opened behind me. “Hi Maura… can I call you Maura?” I turned to face a very tall, intelligent looking man in his mid to late forties. Dark hair washed through with silver and a tan that made him look like he’d stepped off a Caribbean beach.
“Yes, yes of course.” I was almost dumbstruck — it had never occurred to me that someone as boring as an accountant could look so hot.
“I hope my secretary Samantha looked after you?”
Mike seated himself opposite me and we spent the next twenty minutes talking through the intricacies of my business; he showed such an interest and seemed intent on making me feel relaxed. He poured me a glass of water and, as he passed me the glass, our fingers touched in an electric way I’d only ever read about.
“Let’s work through some of these spreadsheets,” he suggested. “I’ll come round there so we can look at the computer screen together and makes notes as we go along.” He moved to the chair beside me and, as his leg grazed mine, I wasn’t sure how accidental it was.
I know Mike was speaking, explaining things to do with tax and income, but I suddenly realised I hadn’t heard a word he’d been saying. But I definitely heard the next line: “That’s why I like to give a hands-on service.”
His right hand slowly dropped from the table and tentatively brushed my thigh and I felt a shiver cross my skin. Feeling daring, I asked, “How hands-on?”
Taking that as his signal he swivelled round to face me and his left hand was suddenly in my hair, holding my head as he kissed me more passionately than I could remember pendik escort being kissed in a very long time. It seemed never-ending, but he eventually whispered: “I like to give a really personal service.”
I moaned as his lips moved down to my throat, and his fingers started teasing their way down my leg to the hem of my dress, then slowly, slowly, back up, gently tickling the inside of my thigh beneath the thin fabric. I parted my legs slightly and his fingertips brushed against my lace underwear. Electricity pulsed through my body as my vaginal walls contracted, so sharp and sudden that I gasped loudly. I knew I was wet — how did that happen — one minute we were discussing IRS policies and the next I was desperate for his fingers to fuck me.
And they did. Pushing aside the fine lace I felt his index finger run up and down my slit, teasing my clit as it quickly brushed over and around. Then his tongue was deep in my mouth, probing and swirling around, and his fingers — two or three, I wasn’t sure — jammed deep inside me. His mouth stifled my groan, but as I pulled his head to me and wrapped my arms around his neck I couldn’t keep quiet. My hips had taken on a life of their own as they pushed upwards to meet his hand, working in and out, tantalising me and soaking my underwear.
I pulled apart the knot in his tie and ran my hands over his strong, broad shoulders. His arms were so muscular. I didn’t expect accountants would work out, but this one must. My shaking fingers fumbled with his shirt buttons so he took over. Needing both hands, he pulled his fingers from deep within me, making me gasp again, this time in disappointment. But he removed his shirt quickly and I bent my head to kiss his brawny chest as he reached for me again.
Pulling me up from the chair, he raised my arms above my head as he lifted my dress and tossed it carelessly to the floor. Taking me in his arms he kissed me again, harder, and as my hands ran up and down his smooth back he turned me around until I felt his hardness against my ass. He swept the hair off my neck and as his kisses burned hot against my skin his hands cupped my breasts, pushing my bra up so he could pinch my nipples and twist them between his fingers and thumbs.
My legs were jelly. Talk about a woman being maltepe escort rendered breathless by a man’s touch; I closed my eyes and literally felt swept away on a tide of desire. As I reached above me to weave my fingers through his hair his right hand moved back south and his fingers tugged gently at my pubic hair as they made their way back inside my lace, back inside me.
In a swift movement, Mike manoeuvred me against the edge of the conference table and bent me forward so my elbows rested on the warm wood. Positioning himself between my legs his kisses trailed down my back while his fingers continued to work their magic.
I wanted to touch him, I could feel him pressing hard against me but couldn’t reach him. With the tip of his tongue swirling down my spine, not missing a beat, I was aware of him removing his trousers. The hand that had been fondling my breasts swept smoothly down by body, past my waist and over my hips, as his tongue reached the base of my spine.
Holding my hips firmly, he bent down and his tongue skimmed over my ass and below. He pulled out his fingers and, as his hands deftly pulled my thighs further apart his tongue replaced them, darting in and out my cunt, flicking my clit so I cried out and surrendered my weight to the table, unable to control myself. The pleasure was exquisite and almost unbearable.
“Do you like this, Maura?” His voice was husky. “Isn’t this better than boring old accounts?”
I managed to murmur my reply between gasps. Then he was over me and without warning his cock, long and so very hard, pushed its way inside me. I bit my wrist to stop from screaming out, the wood bruising my elbows, and his rhythm teased me — almost taunted me… slow, in, slow out, slowly slowly, bringing me so close to orgasm.
Reaching around my hip, his index finger returned to my clit, swirling, teasing, rubbing my wetness all around and making my legs shake against the heavy oak as I came, incoherently begging for more.
Then he was turning me and I lay back, spread out before him on the gnarled wood, his cock gaining momentum within me and his hands skimming over my skin like melted honey, smooth and warm. I reached for him, wanting his body closer to me, needing the weight of him over me. He leant forward and kartal escort his mouth connected with my nipple like a magnet. With every suck and lick I felt my cunt tense around him, squeezing him in deeper.
God, I needed to hold him, to ram my tongue down his throat. As my back arched involuntarily I pulled myself up and, as his hands closed around my waist, I held him with every ounce of passion within me, not wanting to let go, riding on this wave of hunger and desire, digging my nails into his firm flesh. He pulled my ass to the edge of the table and I wrapped my legs around him as he pounded against me, filling me, as I threw my head back, my hair damp against my skin.
The chair I’d been sitting in just ten minutes before was right behind Mike, and he stepped back, grasping my hips as my feet touched the floor, then in one swift movement he was sitting and I was on his lap, my legs straddled around him, feet wrapped behind the chair leg to give me some grip.
And I was riding him, rocking against him, his pubic bone rubbing my clit as I moved, his hips forcing themselves up even as I pushed my cunt further down onto him, sucking him inside me, clenching and squeezing that delicious piece of rock that was making my body sing out with pleasure.
Suddenly he gripped me tight and pulled me so close that our bodies seemed to meld together, and he whispered my name as he poured himself into me, leaving me shuddering; both of us covered in a fine layer of sweat, breathless and panting.
As I reluctantly raised my body for him to pull out of me I got my first glimpse of his penis, smooth and perfect, glistening with my wetness. He kissed my lips briefly, then stood and reached for his clothes. No conversation. We dressed quickly and I gathered up my papers, bundling them into my oversized bag with still trembling hands.
“One of my team will work out your tax codes and call you on Thursday with a plan for consolidating your earnings so you pay the least tax possible. Does that sound ok?”
“That sounds fine.” Then, as an afterthought, “Thank you.”
“The pleasure was all mine,” he smiled. “Samantha will see you out and I’ll look forward to seeing you for your six-monthly tax review.”
He walked from the room without looking back. I was pulling on my coat as Samantha walked in to escort me back to the reception. “Hope you enjoyed your first meeting here,” she smiled. “Do leave a recommendation for us on our website please. Mike always likes to know he’s left his clients completely satisfied.”
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