Four Rules


Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Heterosexual, Oral Sex, Masturbation, Petting, Exhibitionism, .

Desc: Sex Story: His life was orderly and safe before he met a mysterious woman in the elevator at work. She arouses dormant passions and powerful, transforming urges with her daily sex games. But can he handle it?

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:

  1. Never talk to me, I give the instructions.

  2. Do whatever I say, no matter what.

  3. Don't make more of this than it is-I like cheap thrills.

  4. 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.

.... There is more of this story ...

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