Stress Relievers

20140627-230359.jpg Leaving the meeting he knew it was his fault. Everyone in the room knew it was his fault though none of them were willing to say it. It was his 3rd big screwup in as many months and it wasn’t like him at all.

Loosening his tie, closing his office door all he could think was, “Why is this happening?” The mistake had been made and sitting in an empty office on a Friday wasn’t going to fix it.

Scrolling though his phone only one number stood out, “I can’t focus, I’m fucking up. You want to get a drink?” The text read.

“I want you to come fuck me,” she responded.

Between work and work he hadn’t seen her in a month, as soon as he read to text he could feel himself getting hard. Adjusting his dick, looking at the stack of contracts on his desk; he just walked out the office.

“This shit can wait until Monday.” He said to no one in particular.

Normally there would be some playful back and forth. He’d ask her if he needed to bring anything, if she was hungry. Not today though. “I want you to come fuck me.” Seeing those words over and over on his screen did something to him. Running red lights he justified as yellow, rolling through stop signs, weaving through cars in traffic he needed to relieve the stress that had him drinking and not sleeping.

Every 5 minutes or so he would get a picture. The first was just a bra and panties on the bed, “Should I put them on or nah?” The second was her in a short robe, clear she’d just gotten out the shower by the way it was sticking to her. It was open but just enough. Her hands on where her panties should have been. “If you don’t hurry and get here I’m starting without you!” The 3rd picture almost made him hit two cars. Her robe was on one side of the bed, her lingerie was on the other. A vibrator lying beside her. On all fours, completely naked, her legs spread. “Thank God for timers on camera phones. I swear I’ve never been this wet.” He put the phone face down and images flashed before his eyes like lightening.

10 minutes later he was pulling into her driveway. Ready to bang on the door he thought about it and it was unlocked. Walking inside, music playing, candles burning. Her in the kitchen in the same robe, in the same heels. Not saying a word, just kissing her hard, sucking on her bottom lip, cupping her breast. Her trying her best to unbuckle his pants with his hands making the come here motion inside of her.

Biting her shoulder, licking her neck, the robe hanging from the ceiling fan, her bent over! That first moment he slides in, the tightness and wetness gripping him. One hand on the back of her neck, the other hand alternating between slapping her ass and the finger in her ass.

No taking it slow, no warming up or finding a rhythm. Just him trying to relieve the stress and her all so willing to be that stress reliever.

Demez F. White

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