Flight 606 …Part11

share on:

It was starting to feel cold, I reach for the warm human blanket I had suddenly gotten used to (in less than six hours) and I’m met with an empty space. Only then do my eyes grudgingly lift open and I confirm that I’m indeed alone in the giant king sized bed- albeit smothered in a bunch of pillows and only then finest 500 thread count Egyptian linen.

I stretched lazily like a contented cat as the events of last night replay vividly in my head. A familiar melting sensation meets my stomach as I blush in recollection of our shenanigans last night.

Ouch!

I winced in pain as the throbbing between my legs reminded me that we had been through this at least three times before sleep finally claimed us. Finally, I untangle myself from the duvet, I manage to unearth my shirt from the pile of clothes strewn across the foot of the bed, I give up searching for my panties and go in search of my partner in crime instead. A little mental math and I identify the door leading out of the suite, the door on the right could only be the bathroom, so I took the third one instead. I am led into a spacious office-like room where Femi is seated behind the desk, his face contorted into a frown as he yells over the phone.

It takes a minute for him to notice my appearance, before I could decide on whether to tiptoe backwards or proceed, he motions that it was ok for me to come in. So I make my way to the executive desk. He swivels the chair to face me, and I plop in his lap.

“That’s fine Akin, Justin will have the brief typed and ready for you when we get back to the office”

I lose my hand in his hair, laying my head gently on his chest.

Thursday….yeah, I need…, errm…..I need it by Thursday…”

Without thinking, I find myself planting kisses on his chest, to be honest, I don’t know where my boldness came from, but in minutes I was nuzzling his neck, playing with his ears

“Akin…you know what? Lemme call you back…I’m going to call you back later…gotta run.” he managed to murmur into the phone, before all but snapping it shut.

“My Gawd!” He groaned, and with one fluid movement he cleared his table and placed me on the edge, while hurriedly kissing my neck, as if he planned on devouring me.

“Good way to make me appear distracted on an official phone call” he murmured between kisses.

Next thing I know, Femi lowered himself onto the executive chair, balanced both my legs on his shoulders and before I knew it, buried his head between my thighs. Immediately my hands move to the edge of the table to balance myself, sending the rest of the paperwork on his desk flying in every direction. I brace myself to feel his tongue on my clit, but he plants a kiss on the inside of my thighs, and another one a few millimeters from it , and another one a few millimeters from the last spot. The trail of kisses continue and I’m literally dying with anticipation.

If Femi was bothered by this, he didn’t show it instead he concentrated on drawing little circles on my labia, perineum, and everywhere except my clitoris. I’m convinced he’s doing it on purpose, but I cannot be bothered to feign annoyance. I lie. I’m bothered. All hot and bothered. I grab his head with my two hands and urge his head there. I think I hear a mini chuckle, but I don’t give a damn as I feel his tongue there. Finally!

He draws lazy circles all over, and I’m thrashing around like I’m in a frenzied trance all over the table, screaming loudly and hitting notes that even I never knew I was capable of. I’ve left a pint sized puddle on his table, but his tongue is back on me again, and just when I think I can’t get any more excited, he slips a finger in, and I’m all but …from the pleasure. He’s built a rhythm with his tongue and fingers and working me with such enthusiasm. I feel my insides begin to tighten, and he obviously feels it too, because he stops.

Just as I’m about to let out a stream of expletives, his finger is replaced with his hardness and I let out a very drawn out “oh!” instead.

Femi knew how to make me feel like a woman, I begin to move my hips to match his rhythm, each stroke building a momentum of rippling waves that came crashing down in the most intense of orgasms I have ever experienced. In that moment, I knew I couldn’t move, so I laid there splayed out on his table still hearing a pounding.

It took a moment for it to register that the pounding sound was coming from the door to the suite.

Bunmi

Bunmi

Happy child, Sexy nerd, budgetista, intense narccisist, slightly histrionic, Self acclaimed minister for YOLO affairs, …I deal in words.

4 comments

Leave a Reply