It began innocently enough, for an obsession. I wasn't the type for obsessions, but sometimes you don't have much choice. I'm an executive with a large insurance firm, a conservative company for conservative clients, which means I have plenty to lose. I'm married to a decent woman, a good mother to our two grown kids.
We don't have sex very often, but who does after twenty-five years? I told myself I didn't care, that passion and abandon were for hormone-stoked teenagers, not senior vice presidents. We don't talk much either. We're both busy people and after all that time there just doesn't seem to be much to say.
My office was on the eleventh floor of a twelve-story building that we'd been in for about two months. The building had four elevators, all painfully slow. The kind of elevators where the doors take forever to close even if someone is leaning on the button. On top of that, all the tenants seemed to keep the same office hours, so that when I got there in the morning at eight-fifteen there was always a crowd waiting to board.
I'd never seen her before that first day, a Wednesday. There was no way I could have missed her, and not just because she was pretty in a classy way and had a killer body. More because of how she carried herself: confident, self-aware, the kind of woman who enjoyed being looked at without seeming arrogant about it.
She was perhaps a couple of inches over five feet but her bearing made her seem taller. Her hair was thick, rich, falling to her shoulders in a cascade that was halfway between strawberry blonde and auburn. Late twenties, I'd guess.
She dressed simply but elegantly, in clothes that looked better on her than they deserved. She had slender legs, and hips that looked lush and feminine even though they seemed tiny when you stroked them and felt her hipbones grinding against your body. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
I love tits. I'm crazy about them and hers were incredible. Full, especially for her slim build. Natural and firm, straining deliciously against her clothes with cleavage that pulled you in, made you want to nuzzle and lose yourself in the creamy, soft skin that came spilling out of her bra.
The day it started she looked wonderful in a green, summer outfit, the top fitted tightly at the waist. Wide lapels that emphasized her toned, athletic shoulders and sleeves short enough to see smooth, firm biceps. The skirt was also short, halfway up tanned thighs, and just a little tight across a perfect ass.
I was staring at that ass as she walked to the corner of the elevator and then turned to position herself against the little decorative railing. When I looked up, she caught my glance. A hint of a smile lifted the corner of her mouth, and then she licked her lips slowly.
Embarrassed, I nodded my appreciation and then occupied the open space to her left, acutely aware of how close we were standing.
The crowd was larger than normal and no one wanted to wait for the next elevator. As the surly, distracted riders piled in, I was forced even closer to the woman in green. Just as I was about to apologize to her she pushed out from the railing and wedged in front of me, apparently to give more room to the sweaty three hundred pounds of lard in a three-piece suit to her right.
Suddenly having her body pressed against the front of mine took my breath away. The back of her head was inches from my lips, and as my breathing resumed, I drank in the scent of her. The crisp linen of her clothes and the clean freshness of her skin and hair wafted up, with just a hint of raspberry from her shampoo or body lotion or both. She turned her head just enough to briefly make eye contact with me, then relaxed against me and let her ass nestle into my groin.
Even if I'd been prepared for it, my senses would have been overloaded. As it was my heart seemed to stop beating and the noises of the elevator faded. All I could focus on were those firm butt cheeks pressing against my rapidly engorging dick. I tried to will the erection away, but even diverting my attention to the array of body odors emanating from the mound of fat to our right did no good. Especially when she leaned her head back enough that her hair brushed my cheek.
The elevator car started to rise slowly. When it stopped on the second floor and a couple of people got off, the woman made no effort to increase the distance between us. I was busy doing math problems in my head and thinking about how to get off the elevator without our receptionist seeing my raging hard-on.
When I felt her ass move the first time, I was relieved, thinking she was edging forward. Then the woman shifted her hips the other way and my dick slid across her left cheek and back into its new home, pressed into the crack of her butt. After a second, she shifted again, repeating the sensations that were already depositing pre-cum on my lower abdomen.
I must have been dazed, because it took me at least three of the hip gyrations to figure out that the woman had to be doing it intentionally. The amazing part was how motions so slight could be that arousing-the woman was barely moving. I studied the three guys crowded around us but none of them had noticed a thing.
We were at the seventh floor now, only four to go before my stop. The crowd had thinned but the cab still seemed full because everyone kept claiming more space for themselves.
Everyone except the woman in green, who was rhythmically grinding her ass against my cock in little two-inch movements. Meanwhile she was acting like nothing was going on, casually glancing at the floor numbers above the elevator door like everyone else, even checking her watch once.
Ninth floor now. I put a hand on the woman's right hip, trying to stop her before I blew my load in my Calvin Klein boxers. Instead of accommodating me, she pressed her ass into my pelvis more firmly and brought both hands up the sides of her skirt, then behind her back.
One hand grabbed my belt buckle and pulled it out, and I felt the other brushing against my dress shirt where it disappeared into my pants. She moved so quickly that I didn't have time to react. And then just as quickly her left hand came up, checking her watch again as she idly glanced at the elevator numbers. Tenth floor.
Her right hand stayed back, though. It slid down from my belt, and when she clamped a stranglehold on my cock through the fabric of my slacks, I gasped loudly enough to attract the momentary attention of the fat guy before he got off on ten. There were only four other people in the elevator now-three guys who worked for my company in a different division and a workman from building maintenance. You'd think they'd notice the way the woman and I were standing, but no one seemed to.
I leaned forward a bit and whispered. "Thanks, but... please!"
The woman tilted her head back and we made eye contact. She had incredible green eyes, deep and expressive. She gave me that subtle smile again and let go of my dick.
The elevator doors opened on eleven. My floor. My three co-workers started to file off, and then the woman moved forward and stepped aside, making room for me to follow. Numb, I started walking. As I turned to start down the hall toward my office, I glanced into the elevator. The last thing I saw before the doors closed was that smile, looking a little smug this time.
I stopped in the executive restroom to do a little housekeeping in my underwear and to give my cock a chance to deflate. When I unzipped my slacks and dropped them, I found it. A piece of paper tucked into the waistband of my boxers. I opened it, and stared at the neat cursive handwriting.
Suddenly the tug on my belt buckle made sense, in an incredible sort of way. The woman with the great ass put a note in my pants while we were riding in the freaking elevator.
My cock was hard as a rod of steel again. I felt short of breath and had trouble focusing as I read the message.
Here's how it works.
I've got four rules:
Never talk to me, I give the instructions.
Do whatever I say, no matter what.
Don't make more of this than it is-I like cheap thrills.
Don't follow me.
Violate a rule and I'm gone. See you tomorrow, Cock Boy.
I fumbled to get my dick out of my underwear and for the first time in my life, I jacked myself off in a public bathroom. I couldn't help it. I needed relief and I needed it fast. When I climaxed I shot ropes of cum all over the stall door.
The experience in the elevator was incredible, the most erotic thing that had ever happened to me. And the woman wanted to do it again. She'd chosen me for her sex game. Otherwise, she wouldn't have had the note ready. And she called me Cock Boy. Boring, conservative, never-take-chances me.
I thought about it a lot that day, and that night. About what she'd done, the touching, but also about the note and the "why?" too. Why had I been chosen? I was in decent shape for my age but was honest enough with myself to know that wasn't the reason.
And there was the other possibility, the one I didn't like. The woman hadn't chosen me, not really. She could be teasing me, or worse, it could all be some kind of joke. The Cock Boy thing felt that way to me by about two in the morning. I was a lot of things-a good provider, a steady employee. But a sex object? Hardly.
I got to the office five minutes early the next day, scared to death about what would happen but more scared of being disappointed. And of how silly I'd feel if the woman didn't show up. But she did, and when I saw her I felt this amazing rush of emotions: relief, excitement, fear, and breathless anticipation. And happiness, the kind that makes you feel giddy and warm inside.
She was standing off to the side of the lobby, wearing tight tan slacks and a silk print blouse. When she saw me, she stuck a paperback book into her purse and strolled casually toward the elevators, ending up next to me.
We could have crowded into the first car but she waited, never acknowledging me. The next one arrived and the woman took her spot in the corner, along the railing. I followed her and when I got close, I studied her eyes. I started to open my mouth, wanting to ask "why?" but she shook her head.
"Rule Number One." She mouthed the words. I nodded, swallowing hard.
The elevator cab filled and once again, the woman eased in front of me. This time I was rock-hard before her ass ever touched my crotch. She leaned her head back without looking at me.
"Unzip," she whispered. My mind took several seconds to process the instruction. There was no way, there were four or five people on the elevator who worked with me. She turned her head, eyes angry.
"Rule Number Two. Do it!"
I paused, taking a deep breath, then as discretely as possible I pulled the zipper on my slacks all the way down. The woman smiled, then shifted until her weight was resting against my left leg, her body partially shielding my gaping fly from view.
Her right hand went to the waistband of her slacks, as though she was adjusting them, and then knifed expertly into my pants and through the flap in the front of my boxers. I muffled a groan as her fingers wrapped around my throbbing cock and she squeezed hard. Her thumb came up and started to stroke the head, working the abundant pre-cum around and then down my shaft.
As great as this felt, every warning bell in my head was going off. I looked at the lights above the elevator door, half expecting to see a flashing "Handjob!" beacon. Incredibly, we were still on the fourth floor. Sweating, I glanced around the elevator. No one was looking.
The woman raised her left hand to her face and acted like she was stifling a cough.
"Nice dick," she whispered over her shoulder, then faked another cough. She smiled at the guy to her left, a twenty-something geek who worked in our accounting department. He looked away, obeying the unwritten rules of elevator travel. Avoid eye contact, face the front of the elevator, mind your own business.
My cock was slick from the pre-cum and the woman was stroking it with abandon. I was gripping the handrail on the wall with both hands, my knees threatening to give way. The woman leaned to her left, giving herself more room to grope me. She released my dick and reached between my legs to cup and roughly fondle my balls. I looked toward the wall and closed my eyes.
"Oh, jeezus!" I muttered between my teeth. I glanced up. We were on the sixth floor.
Mercifully, the woman pulled her hand out of my pants. She turned her body towards me until her right shoulder was pressed against my left arm. She looked up, eyes glistening with excitement.
"Don't look down," she whispered, then pulled a lipstick out of her pocket and dropped it on the elevator floor.
"Oops," she said absently, then dropped to one knee in front of me, grabbing my left hip and turning me. Staring hard at the lighted "7" above the door, I felt her hand on my cock again, tugging it out of my pants.
Cool air hit my inflamed flesh briefly, then I felt the wet warmth of the woman's mouth. She sucked hard on the head, flicking the slit with her tongue quickly. One quick bob of her head and I felt the back of her throat. My left knee buckled. Only the death grip I had on the railing stopped me from falling.
And then suddenly the woman was on her feet again, facing away. Her right hand stuffed me back into my boxers, giving me one last squeeze.
"You can zip up," she breathed softly, head turned toward me. She gave me a quick, naughty grin and then made a show of dropping the errant lipstick into her pocket.
I pulled my zipper up quickly, then adjusted the position of my twitching, oozing dick trying to look as presentable as possible. We were on the tenth floor and everyone left on the elevator other than the woman would be getting off with me on eleven. I buttoned my sports jacket to cover the wet spot on the crotch of my slacks and then glanced around the elevator. It was unbelievable but no one was paying any attention to us at all.
The accounting nerd was busy picking his nose. A heavyset guy from marketing was playing with his PDA, punching the tiny keys with stubby fingers. A frumpy, middle-aged woman from Human Resources was poised by the doors, stifling a yawn and looking very bored. A young woman, a secretary, was looking for something in her purse.
The doors opened. I turned to look at my partner, the complete stranger who had turned my life inside out. She gave me that subtle smile, then ran her tongue along her full upper lip.
"You're yummy," she said softly, then reached over and patted my crotch. "Now get off the elevator like a good boy."
So I did. Then I made a beeline for the restroom and my favorite stall. Even more frenzied than the first time, I applied a fresh coat of cum over the dried streaks of semen from the day before. And then I went to my office wondering if I'd ever be able to concentrate on work again.
Jade. That's what I started calling the woman in my head. Mainly because of her eyes, which were that captivating shade of green. But also because she was exotic and mysterious and a thing of great value.
That night I couldn't sleep. I thought a little sex might help but my wife had other ideas. My attempts at foreplay earned me a curt "No" and cost me half of my covers when she cocooned herself in them.
So instead I thought about Jade and all the questions I'd like to ask her. Why me? Had she done this sort of thing before? What did she do when she wasn't stroking cocks in elevators? Where was our game leading, would she ever agree to meet me some other way?
I decided that I didn't care. I was enjoying the game too much. Pleasing her and keeping it going was enough. I'd never felt so alive. Just the feeling of her fingers on my dick was better than most of the sex I'd ever had. I wanted to please her, to live up to whatever expectations she had, to be the perfect Cock Boy for her. Whatever I had to do, whatever chances I had to take would be worth it.
The next morning, as I walked from the parking garage in the center of the three identical buildings that made up our complex, the anticipation of seeing Jade was overwhelming. I had a huge sales meeting at 10:30 and I didn't give a shit.
All I could think about was how great her mouth felt on my cock and what new tests she might have for me. My dick was stiff as an iron girder. Fastening both buttons on my suit jacket and using the newspaper I was carrying as a shield seemed to be working as camouflage, but only because no one was really paying any attention to me. The men and women bustling around me were too busy worrying about the day ahead, about their stupid, boring, meaningless jobs.
I'd been dead like them, before Jade. Now I was alive, almost painfully aware of everything around me. The outline of the thong panties showing through the slacks of the leggy blonde walking in front of me. The huge tits on the redhead finishing a cigarette outside the entrance to our building. The way the soft, brown hair on the young woman from our typing pool glistened in the sun and smelled of apricots as she backed into me when she missed her chance at the revolving door.
And then I was in the lobby, looking for her. Looking for Jade in the crowd around the elevators. She was the only person in the building who mattered to me. Hell, at that moment she was the only person on the planet I cared about.
At first, I missed her, my quick scan of the crowd coming up empty. Panic started to well up, then I saw her.
Standing in her normal spot to the side of the lobby, but looking different because of the knee-length raincoat she was wearing. The coat was blue-green, made of a shiny fabric that was light, form-fitting. The radio said there was a chance of showers in the afternoon, and I mentally kicked myself for leaving my umbrella in the car.
Slightly breathless, I stationed myself three paces to her right, trying to make eye contact. Jade looked impatient. I checked my watch. I was five minutes late. Traffic had been heavy and I'd been distracted. I swallowed and forced a smile as she glanced toward me.
She gave a little nod, then without a word strode purposefully toward the far right elevator entrance. The first car filled too quickly-Jade held back. While we were waiting for the next one she seemed to relax a bit. In a series of casual glances she took in my buttoned jacket, the newspaper only half folded for better coverage, the still obvious bulge in my pants. After a few seconds, she let her gaze drift up to my face and finally gave me that smile. One side of the mouth uplifted, lips pouting slightly.
The elevator doors opened and a handful of people got off. I followed Jade to the corner and positioned myself to her left, then waited. Just before the doors closed, one more passenger wedged on. It was Bill Randolph, the other senior VP at my company. The guy I was competing with for my next promotion. He was a backstabbing, butt-kissing asshole.
He elbowed for a little space, then inventoried the passengers. He paused on the attractive women: the little brown-haired woman from the typing pool, the red-headed smoker with the big hooters, and of course Jade. When he saw me, he grinned, put an index finger to his eyebrow and gave a little mock-salute.
With Randolph on the elevator, it was painfully clear how dangerous my game with Jade was becoming. If that prick saw me fondling some woman in public, I was finished. That should have scared me enough to stop, but it didn't. Feeling Jade's body pressed against mine with my arch-rival three feet away turned me on even more. My cock felt like the skin was going to split and was twitching like crazy, leaking pre-cum in gooey spurts. I was dying for Jade to ask me to unzip my pants so she could stroke me.
Instead, she turned her body toward me a little, facing away from our elevator-mates, and unfastened the top two buttons on her coat. She leaned forward and pulled it open. Fuck! Jade was completely naked underneath the coat. I was staring at the best pair of tits I'd ever seen: full, beautifully rounded, with large, pale pink areolas and big, pencil-eraser nipples that were as hard as my dick. I could see her mons too. It was shaved smooth, looking delicious at the base of a tiny inverted triangle of creamy flesh set off by tan lines.
Jade closed the coat, then nudged me forward. She wedged between my ass and the wall of the elevator and then whispered in my ear.
"Your turn. Use your right hand."
I could feel her hands fumbling against my butt and I knew she was loosening the last button on the coat. I glanced at Bill Randolph, who was busy trying to peek down the blouse of the redhead with the big tits. The elevator doors opened on four and a guy got on-just what we needed. With Jade behind me I needed to protect my personal space to the front. If the little brown-haired woman from typing backed up another three inches she'd be in for a real surprise when her tight little butt hit my hard-on.
"Hurry up," Jade whispered, voice more urgent.
I slid my right hand past my hip, and then up, feeling my way past her raincoat. The first thing I felt was Jade's left nipple, and then she leaned into me, pressing her tit against my hand. I shifted to one side and caught the nipple between my thumb and finger. It felt like warm rubber and got even harder as I pinched and flicked at it.
A little moan seeped out of Jade's mouth, and alarm welled up from my stomach for a second when it looked like the little brown-haired woman was going to investigate. But then the elevator doors opened on six and she focused on the numbers above the door again.
My arm was getting numb from holding it so high behind my back, and with only a couple of minutes left I still had areas to explore. I let my hand drift off Jade's tit and down across her silky-soft tummy. The blood began to return to the arm, making it tingle a little as my fingers followed the curve at the base of her abdomen, stroked the point of her right hipbone, and then dove between her legs. Now it was my turn to stifle a moan.