My Boss And I. free porn video

I was 23 when I landed my dream job at Romino Advertising and Marketing, a national firm. I had graduated from college over a year previously so I was getting pretty desperate to find a job to further my chosen career, one that didn't involve waiting tables or mowing lawns. My first boss, the guy who hired me, was on his way out the door, just months from retirement. When he left, a co-worker in my department took over his job as director and became my boss. Her name was Ifeoma Nwosu and I was happy that I'd be reporting to her.
She had treated me well in the several months since my arrival, and I believed she'd make a good supervisor. She'd been with Romino for five years and had impressed management from the day she started. Her promotion was inevitable, and she was earmarked to continue her rise through the company.
Ifeoma was six years older than me, but never came off as condescending or haughty, even though I was a bit green, this being my first corporate job. Over the next couple of years I tried to learn as much as I could from her and my co-workers. I grew into a reliable idea and creative guy, and I learned pretty quickly. When they finally let me begin pitching concepts to both current and potential clients, the true art of our jobs, I was generally cool under pressure though a bit timid. I needed to learn aggressiveness.
This, Ifeoma decided, was her responsibility and she took it upon herself to take me under her wing. "Aduba," she said one day after a client meeting, "you've got a lot of potential, but you need more balls. I'll teach you. From here on out, you're going to meetings with me." It was this kind of good-natured ribbing and tough love I'd come to expect from Ifeoma. She was definitely tough as nails and expected everyone who worked with and for her to be the same way.
She wasn't unfair by any means, but she had no problem ripping into people if they didn't perform up to potential. She'd never chewed me out for anything before, perhaps she'd given me some honest criticisms here and there, but she never called me out, embarrassed me or questioned my intelligence. Instead she allowed me to mature in my role, without undermining my confidence. Because of this, I respected her a great deal. And I got a lot better at my job while she was mentoring me. Over the next year and a half, I attended every client proposal meeting with her. At first I was a bit intimidated, but soon enough we built a work rapport that was something to be reckoned with.
Our success rate slowly grew through the roof. In high-pressure meetings, she would play the role of aggressor while I'd temper her hard-ass routine with wit and humour, putting clients at ease. The result of this good cop/bad cop routine was that clients knew we had good creative ideas with their best interests at heart, but we also meant business. So we consistently got great results and made damn good money for the company.
"Chike, I gotta tell ya, you're getting better every day," Ifeoma said to me as we were leaving a particularly good initial meeting with a potential client. "Thanks Ifeoma," I replied, "I really feel like I'm getting the hang of this."
"Oh great, only took you, what, four years?" Her ball-busting had become more frequent the more successful we were. I didn't mind it at all. I had really grown to like her and truly there was a lot to admire about her. She was a great boss, a good motivator with solid instincts who was loyal to her team. She was driven and also took good care of herself. She exercised regularly, packed a healthy lunch for herself every day, and consistently had great energy and mental strength. She was average height, about 5' 5". Her exercise regimen left her toned and sleek, but not in the least bit unfeminine. In fact, she had soft curves, especially in her waist, hips and backside.
She also dressed impeccably, and chose fashionable clothes that complemented her lean, toned body well without being inappropriate for a business environment. She wore a modest amount of makeup, and kept her light brown hair shoulder length and informal, so that she never looked overly done up. And she never overpowered her light green eyes with too much eye shadow or mascara. The result was that she came across as confident, but not full of herself, and as you got to know her you realised how sexy this made her.
She had married her husband Ifeanyi five years prior; he was a lawyer several years her senior. They made a good couple, but every time I was in their company, I couldn't help but feel that he was a bit stiff and cold. Sure, Ifeoma was a hard-ass in business, but she had a humorous and mischievous side to her that softened her personality. I never sensed that from Ifeanyi. While Ifeoma was serious about her career, she was also down to earth and grounded. Ifeanyi always seemed a bit full of himself.
"Oh whatever," I responded to her barb, "you'd be nothing without me."
"Ok, you got me there. Nwosu and Aduba, we're a helluva team."
She was hailing a cab to take us back to the office. We worked in a pretty big city, not a major metropolitan but fairly large. My apartment was outside the city where it was calmer though. I chose to live nearer to the small town where I grew up and commute into work. Personally, I liked some elbow room. During the cab ride back, Ifeoma gave me some good news.
"All right Chike, I've debated telling you this, I'm really not supposed to..." She paused leaving me in suspense.
"Well, hell, you have to tell me now," I replied.
"Right, so... we have a killer meeting with a national phone service provider next week. They've been a client of a competitor of ours forever, at least 10 to 15 years, and they've always denied our requests for a face-to-face. Until now. We have no idea why they've granted it to us, and management is pissing their pants right now. No one wants to jinx it. So, here's the thing, they've offered me the meeting."
"No shit," I gasped, "that's huge. Congrats!"
"Yeah, well... you up for it, Aduba?" I couldn't believe my ears. I'd prepared presentations for, and gone on, dozens of initial meetings, but never with potential clients this big, with this much money at stake.
"Are you serious?"
"You know I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't."
My initial reaction was to be terrified. This was way bigger than I was used to, and it was intimidating as hell. Sure I'd been at the job for about four years, but this was the kind of opportunity that went to people with a lot more experience than me. But then again, Ifeoma had spent damn near two years teaching me to be more aggressive and confident so I couldn't let her down now that she'd given me this shot.
"Yeah Ifeoma, I'm up for it." That's what I wanted to hear," she said smiling at me. Our cab pulled into our office parking lot and we both got out. "Ok, good meeting today. Go home early and get your head together. Tomorrow we start our crunch planning for the big one next week."

"Ok," I replied. She began to walk away, but turned when I called to her. "Hey Ifeoma... thanks." She nodded in understanding, and continued walking toward the door. I turned to start walking to my car, but stopped to watch her walk away. Her skirt hugged her hips and ass tightly, creating a soft, curved w, creeping just slightly into her crack. Her heels elongated her shapely calf muscles, and made her ass swing back and forth in a delicately feminine, pendulum-like manner with each step.

Admittedly I had begun to look at Ifeoma like this more and more every day. I had remained single and unencumbered throughout most of my 20's, mostly for my job's sake. I just didn't want to be tied down. Sure I'd had my share of sexual partners and dalliances, some more adventurous and strange than others; I was definitely getting mine. But most were fleeting and temporary; a girlfriend just hadn't entered my thoughts.

This fact came much to the displeasure of my sister, who was also my best friend, who wanted to see me settle down. I knew I would eventually, but for now I wanted to be unencumbered. This lifestyle offered me freedom, but it also created its share of cravings.

When I first started working with Ifeoma I was a bit intimidated and in awe of her. I never allowed myself to fantasize about her or think of her at all in a sexual way. It was hard not to, she was gorgeous, but I buried those thoughts away when they cropped up for my own damn good. As our rapport grew stronger though, and our successes became more frequent, a confidence was growing inside me and I began to see her in a new light.

I'd take notice every time she stretched or yawned, watching the way her clothes clung to her curves. I'd admire her legs when she crossed them or swiveled in her chair, her feet when she'd kick her heels off and go barefoot later in the day. When she'd remove her jacket, I'd admire her small, but very pert breasts, or her lean arms when she rested her head on her hand. She was quickly becoming a fantasy for me, an unattainable goddess I could merely admire from afar.

I admired her in secret because I respected her far too much to ever betray her trust. She was a consummate professional, and my career owed a lot to her mentoring and direction. I knew in my head that I would never do anything to risk hurting our professional relationship. I would never say anything suggestive to her, or, god forbid, make a pass at her. But it was becoming more and more difficult not to lust after her. Just recently I'd seen something that was permanently stuck in mind. We had stayed late to work up some concepts. It was only she and I left in the office by around 8:30 and we were both pretty burned out. I'd taken off my tie and jacket long ago and she had removed her jacket and kicked off her shoes. We were sitting in a conference room trying to hammer out one more idea, but were getting nowhere. "God, Chike, I am so fried," she said as she leaned back and stretched, yawning. "I dunno if there's anything left in my brain."

After saying this she finished her yawn and stretched her legs up onto the table. I was sitting next to her, and her feet landed just in front of where I was resting my head on my hand, reading through some notes from earlier. Without turning my head, I gazed discretely at her feet; they were small, feminine and cute, but her toes were actually quite long in proportion to the size of her overall foot. She had light, tiny little hairs growing on the knuckle of each toe, and for some reason I found them strangely arousing. Her toenails were painted red; this was the closest I'd ever been to them so I drank in every detail about them. I don't have what you would call a foot fetish by any means, but I appreciated how sexy Ifeoma's feet were.

After a moment of admiring her feet and toes, I turned my head slightly and was greeted with an incredibly beautiful sight. I was looking down the length of her leg, up her skirt. She had leaned back in her chair and put her hands behind her head, reclining her head back to look toward the ceiling. I sat there resting my head on my hand looking up her skirt at her creamy, white thighs. She wasn't the tanning type, so her skin was always soft and creamy white. Her skirt was modest, cut just above the knee, and today she'd decided against wearing pantyhose. I couldn't see very far up at first but as she reclined further, she began to subtly spread her legs just a little more. It could have been my imagination but it felt as though she was doing this on purpose. I could now see her upper thighs, and the sensation was making my head spin.

She was inhaling deeply through her nose, and had her eyes closed, relaxing. After several moments, she yawned and stretched again. This time she spread her legs even wider and gave me a clear view of her silky white panties. They were smooth and thin, trimmed with a delicate floral pattern, and they hugged the curve of her mound and pelvis softly. My heart was now pounding in my chest. I was overcome with a deep, driving urge to run my tongue up her leg and over those beautiful silky panties. Without opening her eyes she moaned and murmured, "I think it's time to call it a night." I was struck by the desire to say, "Actually, I think it's time we really made the most of this night." But instead I just said, "Yeah, you're right." When she leaned forward and opened her eyes, I think she could tell that I'd been admiring her. She said nothing but gave me a quick, knowing look. After that we packed up and headed home, and the image of her soft, smooth thighs and delicate silk panties had been burned in my mind ever since. The contrast between the hard, business-like exterior, and the soft, sexy, panties that lay beneath was haunting my mind, cropping into my thoughts at random moments throughout the days when I was with her.

The next few days were filled with long meetings to prepare for our big face-to-face. Two days before the scheduled meeting, Ifeoma dropped another bombshell on me. "We have to drive to Abuja for the meeting. We'll be there all day so we might as well get hotel rooms and not worry about driving back after." Of course this idea thrilled me but I didn't let on. I just said it was no big deal.

The day of the meeting we made the several-hour drive to Abuja reciting our game plan. We stopped at the hotel first to check in, then took a cab to the clients' office building. When we met with the execs, the process could not have been smoother. We worked our routine masterfully. We learned that the clients felt mistreated and were unimpressed by their current marketing firm. They said it seemed like the company they'd used for years had grown complacent and no longer seemed to see them as a high enough priority.

By the time we left, we'd convinced them that complacency was the last thing on our minds and consequently they were singing our praises. The outlook couldn't have been brighter. We offered to buy their executive team dinner but they politely declined. It looked like they were going to make us sweat a little bit. But still, I'd never seen Ifeoma so ecstatic as when we walked out of that meeting. We hit the street and she was gushing.

"Fuck Chike, I mean holy shit! We rocked, we absolutely fucking rocked! Nothing is in the bag and we can't count any chickens yet, but fuuuuck! Holy shit, seriously..."

I'd never seen her this excited before. All level of decorum was completely forgotten. I felt great too. "Damn right Nwosu , we slayed today, absolutely slayed."

"You were awesome, Chike. You so had your shit together. Even when they pushed on you to see if you'd crack with your 'good cop' routine you just fired right back. You really earned their respect in there."

"Thanks Ifeoma, you were amazing, this was all you."

"No, Chike," she said grabbing my arm and stopping me, "I'm really proud of you." She threw her arms around me and hugged me. "That was so awesome." "I owe it all to you," I replied. Her embrace sent shockwaves through my body. We held each other for a moment and I realized this was the most we'd ever touched. All we'd ever done prior to this was the occasional high-five or fist pound, certainly we'd never hugged. Even at the annual Christmas parties we only ever did the one arm shoulder hug at most. Or every once in a while she'd touch my arm or graze my leg just for a second. Those few fleeting moments were a special treat, and I'd gotten a thrill out of them. But now I absolutely reveled in this embrace and enjoyed the feel of her body pressed against mine.

This was no arm hug; our whole bodies were pressed together, almost in relief. Like we'd both wanted to press against each other like this for some time, and the relief of surviving the meeting had given us reason to. I know I had craved this embrace, but I couldn't tell for sure if she felt the same. We hugged just a little longer than I would have expected, but when she broke the hug she grabbed my arm and we kept walking. Finally I said, "Hey, where are we going anyway?" I had never been to Abuja and had no clue where we were.

"Fuck it, Chike, we're walking back to the hotel. I'm too excited to sit in a damn cab and it's only a few blocks anyway. We'll enjoy the city of Abuja more this way and we'll get dinner at that restaurant in the hotel when we get back. Whatdya say?"

"Sounds great," I said. And it was. The walk back to the hotel was almost magical. The city was beautiful on this spring night and Ifeoma was gorgeous in her outrageously celebratory mood. She even held my hand at one point and swung it back and forth as we walked. At another point I carried her on my back so that her feet could rest. She was wearing heels and I didn't want her to hurt her feet or get blisters. I also loved having her legs wrapped around me, to have her on my back with her arms around me clutching me. I could smell her sweet perfume, and her hair smelled incredibly sexy as the breeze blew it into my face. "We did it, we so pulled it off," she kept saying. I would just laugh and say, "Of course we did; we're the shit," in reply, and she would squeeze me tighter. I almost didn't want the walk to ever end.

We arrived at the hotel and she crawled off my back, smiling. "Thanks, He-Man," she quipped, gripping my bicep. Again my heart skipped a beat. We got to the restaurant at the hotel and were lucky to get a table. It was a weeknight, otherwise the maitre'd assured us we wouldn't have been so lucky. Ifeoma had calmed a bit as we sat down to eat. She was gazing at me admiringly with her stunning green eyes. She had settled into a euphoric, satisfied calm after she made the call to her boss, our regional manager, to give him the good news. Now we were relaxing sitting across from one another in an atmosphere not unlike afterglow. I imagined this must have been what Ifeoma looked like after orgasm. She had an alluring, satisfied smirk on her face. Can you believe we did it?" she asked me calmly after we ordered a bottle of celebratory champagne.

"I'm just so proud to be here, so happy to have been a part of this."

"Well, I'm going to let you in on another little secret. When they offered me this meeting, our higher-ups made it a point to tell me not to get my hopes up. They figured the whole meeting was just a way to get that other company to buck up and start paying attention again. Truth is, we only thought we had maybe a 10 percent chance at best of actually landing this deal. I didn't tell you before because, quite frankly, I thought we were good enough to make big things happen. And together we did. I know nothing is final yet, but we're in, I can just feel it. You really shined today, Chike."

"Thank you, Ifeoma I replied, stunned. "You've really made all this happen for me."

"Bullshit, Chike, you made this for yourself. I've never given you anything; you've earned it all. You've really grown over these last four years. I don't wanna sound like a mom, but you've made the most of every opportunity."

"Ok mom," I teased. "You're not going to give me warm milk and a cookie and send me off to bed later are you?"

She laughed. "No Chike, I'm not your mom, and I don't see you as a son. With how incredible you've been lately, I couldn't look at you like that. As for sending you off to bed with a cookie though, well that'll just depend now won't it?"

"Will it now? Depend on what, might I ask?"

"On if you're a good little boy of course." She laughed again after saying this. This suggestive flirting was new; we had never flirted like this. We joked around all the time but there had never been any suggestiveness in it.

"I'm always a good boy," I replied smirking.

"You are." As she said this our champagne arrived. We toasted our job well done and one another repeatedly. When dinner arrived, we discussed the meeting in detail as we ate, replaying all the big moments over again. The give and take between us was comfortable and jovial, and the champagne started going to our heads. As I poured the last few drops into her glass she said, "Why don't we get another bottle of this and continue the celebration upstairs."

"Great idea," I replied. I ordered another bottle and paid the check with the company card. We stumbled a bit walking to the elevator, clearly we were both feeling the champagne after such a physically and emotionally draining day. In the elevator she rested her elbow on my shoulder and leaned into me for balance. At 6' 1" I was a bit taller than her, but not enough to make it too awkward for her to lean on my shoulder.

"C'mon lightweight," I teased her, "you're not falling over are you?"

"Nnnnnnope," she replied, poking me in the chest with her index finger. "I can go all night so watch who you're calling 'lightweight,' k**."

"Ok, I'll be careful," I said, smirking. We shared a moment of very meaningful eye contact, both smirking as we gazed into each other's eyes, but the moment broke when we reached our floor and the elevator doors opened.

We arrived at her room first and she let us in. She immediately kicked her heels off, threw her suit jacket on the floor, opened the top button on her shirt, and fell onto the bed. I took a seat on the rolling chair at the desk and poured two glasses of champagne into the cheap plastic glasses the hotel provided. "Classy," I joked as I handed her a glass.

"Whatever gets the job done," she joked and immediately began to giggle, almost uncontrollably.

"What is going on with you over there?" I teased her. "You're giggling like a third-grader!"

"Oh one minute I'm your mom, now I'm a third grader?"

"Well, I've just never seen you like this. It's really cute."

She snorted at the word "cute" and took another sip of champagne. "I guess I just haven't been this happy in a while."

"Shit, you land huge deals all the time, who are you k**ding?"

She giggled again and said, "Oh please, not this big. Besides, maybe that's not why I'm giddy."

We both took sips at the same time and made eye contact again, causing us both to laugh into our cups. There was a shared energy and an understanding between us at that moment, like we were both in the one place we wanted to be, with the one person we wanted to be with. I knew this was how I felt. Ifeoma, on the other hand, could be tough to read. I wasn't used to this feel-good, laid-back Ifeoma. It was incredibly sexy, but very unexpected. We joked around as we drank the bottle of champagne, laughing freely about everything. She was reclined on the bed, rolling this way and that, resting her head on her hand and smiling at me as we talked. She looked so impossibly gorgeous laying there, luring me with her eyes. Her skirt riding up her smooth, creamy legs; her shirt hanging open, revealing tantalising glimpses of cleavage. I was burning for her, but was afraid to show her anything that would tip her off. When we reached the end of the champagne, I poured the rest evenly into our glasses and proposed a final toast for the evening. "To us... we can do anything we put our minds to... and our minds together... are capable of..."

She was snorting trying to stifle a laugh. When I paused she cracked and busted out laughing. "Ok, that's it, nice job, you fucked up the final toast!" I joked.

"Oh whatever, you were lost, you were rambling and totally full of shit!"

"No way, bitch, I was going to give the toast to end all toasts, the one you'd remember for... yeah ok I'm full of shit. IIIII'm drunk – I had nothing." We both laughed. After a moment I rolled the chair close to her and simply said, "Well, to us then." We tapped glasses and swallowed away the last of the champagne.

"Good final toast, Aduba," she said with finality, gazing unblinking into my eyes. "Short, sweet and left 'em wanting more."

I smiled. "But there's no more to be had," I said.

"Isn't there?" she replied. She still had that gaze fixed upon me, and my heart began to race. We stared at each other in silence for a moment, until I couldn't take it anymore. I knew she could hear my heart pounding in my chest. I held up the empty bottle, "Not a drop," I said.

"Just as well," she said, "it's gonna be a long damn ride home as it is."

"Ok, ok, Nwosu, I can take a hint." I got up and walked toward the door. "You're tired, you can just tell me." I gave a joking quality to my voice to let her know I was k**ding around, but in truth I was scared shitless and had no idea what to say or do next. She, however, dropped her giddiness immediately and grew instantly serious. She jumped off the bed and came toward me saying, "Hey what the hell, leaving already?"

"Well you said you're tired and..."

"I never said I'm tired. I am very far from tired. Oh, well, I... thought you meant..." I hesitated. I had no clue what to say next. I settled on something sincere, and put my hand on her arm. She inhaled quickly, reacting to my touch. "Today has been incredible, Ifeoma."

She stepped closer to me and put her hand on the door to keep me from opening it. "Yes, it has, Chike" She was right in front of me, close enough that I could once again smell her perfume and feel the heat emanating from her. She was staring up at me, refusing to break eye contact. I let my hand drop from her arm to her waist, to where her shirt was tucked into her skirt. Again she inhaled quickly, this time licking her lips. My knees grew weak. It was up to me to talk and I could only be sincere once again.

"Thank you, Ifeoma, for today... for everything."

"You've already thanked me." She kept her gaze fixed on me, not breaking eye contact for a moment, and not making the situation any easier for me.

"I know, but I just want you... I want you to know how grateful I am and how much respect I have for you."

"Why do you think I wouldn't?"

I hesitated, terrified to say it. But I knew it was the only thing I could say. "Because... because I'm afraid you can see into my mind right now. And I'm afraid... I'm afraid you can see how badly I want you." The words escaped my lips before I knew I was saying them.

"Oh Chike," she gasped. Her breathing became heavy, and I could hear her heart beating rapidly. Mine was as well. After several deep breaths she asked, "Why were you afraid of me knowing that?"

My next words again spilled out of me before I could think. "I dunno. Because you're amazing. Because you're unbelievably sexy. Because you're married. To an incredibly successful lawyer, I might add. Because every man at the company, and every man we've ever worked with, wants you."

"Oh please, my husband is one thing, but you don't honestly think I give a shit about the trophy collectors? The ones who want my ass to frame on their walls and brag about on the golf course. You don't think that maybe I'm better than that?"

"No, I know you are." She was missing my point. I felt she was too good for me, above me somehow.

"Then don't you think I'd be more attracted to someone who appreciates me for who I am, and everything that makes me me? I've watched you, Chike. I've watched you watching me. And I've loved it. I know it's wrong and it's crazy but dammit I've loved being desired again. It's made me feel... alive. And I admire you as well. You are everything a man should be. And god knows I have reveled in making you want me. The twisting, the stretching, the spreading my legs for you. Like I said, I know it's wrong. I know it's crazy. But I wanted you to see me, I wanted you to admire me, I wanted you to want me." Hearing her say these words blew me away. I was practically dumbstruck. "I never wanted to disrespect you. I've always just admired you quietly. I guess I just never thought... you'd see me like that... or that I'd be worth..."

"Oh for christ's sake, Chike," she interrupted, "what have I been trying to teach you all this time? Aggression, confidence, balls, you need to be able to..." I decided in a flash, with barely even a conscious thought, that it was now time for me to interrupt her. With my hand still on her waist I grabbed a handful of her shirt and the waistband of her skirt and pulled her hard into me. With my other hand I simultaneously ran my fingers behind her ear into her hair and pulled her mouth onto mine, kissing her with every ounce of passion in my body. She gasped audibly as I did it, but after a single moment of surprise she moaned into my mouth and began kissing me back feverishly.

She wrapped her arms around my back, pulling me into her. She opened her mouth and pushed her tongue aggressively into mine. She began swirling it in circles in my mouth, moaning as she did so. Her breath was sweet from the champagne, with a pleasant, fruity taste. She was eager and fervent with her tongue, darting it in and out of mouth. It was driving me wild. I let my hand on her waist slide down onto her ass. It was heavenly, soft and feminine on the surface, but as I squeezed it I could feel the taut muscle underneath. The feel of her ass was everything I'd dreamed it would be, watching it so many times as I did, swinging back and forth as she walked, her skirts and suit pants riding into her crack giving her sexy wedgies.

Suddenly I realized exactly what it was I was doing at that moment, and the realization made blood rush into my cock, instantly hardening it. I couldn't , for the life of me, believe I was making out with my boss, her tongue deftly searching every inch of my mouth. I squeezed her ass again and pushed her gently but firmly into the closed door, pinning her to it, our mouths locked together, kissing passionately.

My mind was becoming void of everything but a single thought: To have her. Have her completely. To know every inch of her, every detail of her. To experience everything she was. And to give her pleasure. Part 2 loading........