The ping of new e-mail pulled me away from my spread sheet, and I glanced
across the office to where John was sitting. He had his back to me,
but obviously he'd had enough of second quarter budget projections too.
I opened the mail - "a present for you" - and clicked to download the
attachment. I turned back to my work while my I phone did its duty,
then gasped when I turned back to look.
It was a cock.
I looked again at John; still facing away, so I hit reply and a smiley
face. "Thank you! I love presents."
I looked back at the photo. Even on that tiny screen it was an
impressive specimen, semi hard and angled down, but clearly more than a
handful. Or a mouthful come to that. I wondered whose it was; in all
the years I've known John, he has never struck me as the kind of guy
who'd have pictures of his own penis stored away on his phone - but,
there again, how would I know? And if it wasn't his, then where did he
get it? He wasn't the sort of guy who Googled "semi soft cock photos,"
either.
Ping.
Another, and I opened it quickly, just glancing at the message as I
waited for the pic. A frontal shot this time, to show off the girth.
A well-rounded shaft, a thick meaty head, and again just on the verge
of a full scale erection which... and I don't know hoe he knew this,
either... is exactly the way I like them. To start with, anyway.
My fingers were poised over the keypad. Another thank you seemed
redundant, and "nice' just felt silly. But I couldn't think of
anything witty to write, so I repeated the smiley, hit "send" and then
waited.
Ping.
No attachment this time, just a question. "Do you want to go get a
bite?"
OMG yes. Suddenly it didn't seem such a bad idea, agreeing to work on
MLK day, getting a jump on the next few week's schedule while not
having to deal with the usual interruptions. No ringing phones, no
gabbing co-workers, no unforeseen crises exploding out of nowhere. No
members of the public asking dumb questions. Just me and John - and
two photos of his cock.
I put my computer to sleep, grabbed my purse and crossed the library, to
where John stood waiting by the security door. "Starbucks or..." he
named the little sandwich bar that nestled beside the bus station; it
was a longer walk but what the hell, it's not as if anyone would be
timing our break. I fell in step beside him, and waited...
... for him to make a move.
... to say a word.
... to make any sound at all.
I couldn't stand it any longer. "Thanks for my present."
"I thought you'd like it." He laughed and his hand touched my arm for a
moment; he withdrew it, so I threaded my arm through his. "It was
lovely." And then, a short silence later, "maybe we should hit
Starbucks. Grab some pastries and coffee, then back to the library.
Enjoy the silence while we can."
So there we were, the place to ourselves, coffee and pastries spread out
beneath the "no refreshments" sign, and this thing just hanging
unspoken between us, and my mind in absolute turmoil now. All manner
of unanswered questions were flying, including the one that was really
holding me back. What if he'd sent them by mistake? What if he'd
meant to send me something else entirely, a photo of a kitten perhaps,
or a blogpost that had made him smile, and clicked the wrong image
instead? And what if he didn't realize he'd done that?
Or, even worse... what if he did?
I opened my purse and took out my phone, checked for fresh messages then
punched up my photographs. I loved the way it hung so straight -
curves and angles are fine, of course, but there's something so neat
about symmetrical cocks. His balls were well shaped as well, not
hanging too low or looking too loose, just tight and... stop this now!
I looked up and he was watching me. "Anything good?"
"I think so. Come here, tell me what you think of this?"
He rose, crossed the rug and settled on the arm of my chair. His arm
rested across the top, brushing my shoulders and neck. "Yeah, about
that...." His voice seemed uncertain. At last, a reaction!
I was right, sort of. The first one was a mistake, which he only
realized when he got my reply. The second one - well, that was in
response to my reply, and there would have been a third one but "I lost
my nerve." He laughed and I smiled up at him.
"Well, let's see it, then."
He pulled his own phone out his pocket, punched a few buttons, and then
handed it to me. Same cock for sure, but... oh my, what a difference a
few moments make. Standing out now, standing proud, and what I'd
thought was a handful was now two at least, with a thickness to match
as well. I hit the arrow key, scrolled forward through the gallery.
Longer still, harder yet... thicker too. I could feel my mouth
watering, and my pussy too, and the arm on my shoulders had drifted a
little, a hand on my arm, a soft, gentle squeeze.
Half a dozen photographs, and each one a little different. The first
spot of pre-cum reflecting the flash. The veins growing thicker, the
balls getting tighter. It has never failed to amaze me, how many
little changes a cock goes through even when it's already erect. I
reached the last one, and passed the phone back.
"When did you take them?"
"One night when I was drunk. Well, watching porn and drunk."
"Why didn't you take any more?"
He laughed. "Why do you think?" and I giggled. "Shame. That was the
one I most wanted to see." A good cumshot photograph can keep me
smiling for days. And then, "maybe we should take one now."
The hand squeezed my arm, harder than I was expecting. I took that as a
yes, and i took his phone as well. He'd missed the moment once, I was
not going to let that happen again.
He glanced around. "Right here?"
"Why not? It's not as if anyone's going to come walking in." The
window blinds were tightly closed, and I'd switched off the security
cameras when we came in this morning. I rose from my seat, kissed him
hard on the mouth, then nudged him to sit there himself. "Now, let's
see what we have here."
I didn't unbuckle him right away. I wanted to, more than anything else.
But I also wanted to draw out the moment, to run my hands across his
body, under his jacket and shirt to his flesh, buttonholes stretching
as I teased his nipples, then undoing them all as I bared his chest.
Lightly haired, tightly muscled. I licked his skin, nipping at hairs,
circled one nipple with the tip of my tongue, then dragged the wet flat
across that little bud. He gasped as my breath cooled the dampness,
and I continued to lap, tasting his chest, his abdomen, down... down...
and now I undid him because I could see it was time, his pants tight
and tented and my wrist brushed the tip. John groaned, the tent pole
twitched and I leaned into to close my mouth over him, through the
fabric of his light grey trousers.
To be continued
