Awakening Her Desires II free porn video

Her hot little tongue trailed wetly across his sweat soaked chest, licking at his nipples, biting and sucking. She revelled in the flavour him. His essence of salt and sex and utter maleness assailing her taste buds, dizzying her. Filling her mouth and nostrils as she knew he would soon be filling her sex. She felt the slickness between her legs increase sharply at the thought. Imagined him invading her, opening her like a moist flower, quivering in a cool morning breeze. She shuddered and kept on, tracing his nipples with her fingertips, head going lower, licking at his belly, nuzzling her face into his groin. Breathing deeply she noted that his musk was getting more potent, and out of the corner of her eye she could see his penis, stiff and eager, its moist head nodding slowly as if in supplication to her.

She wished to maintain the illusion that she was in control. For now.

She raised her face from his groin to look at him. Laying back in the king sized bed, head and shoulders propped on a huge French pillow which raised him just enough so he could look almost directly into her eyes through his half closed lids. Mouth ajar, his breath coming more rapidly now. A slight knowing smile curled the edges of her mouth as her eyes locked with his and her red tipped nails made vague, feathery passes along the length of his rock hard cock. It was drawn to her hand as if by some kind of carnal magnetism. Every time she withdrew her fingers from his shaft it seemed to follow them, begging for more attention...for her touch to return. For the silken softness of it to strengthen.

She lowered her head momentarily, flicking a red, dart-like tongue at the glistening head of his cock; slurping softly and murmuring appreciative little noises as she lapped the translucent little pearls , glorious evidence of his excitement beading there. She longed to take his length in her mouth, to feel it pushing down her throat, pulsing and thrusting into her hot, wet, eager orifice. But she knew, more from instinct than experience, that the more she toyed with him the stronger his ardour would grow, until he was overcome by his passion. Then she would have what she craved. To be taken control of, finally. Utterly. She envisioned him, slamming inside of her till she thought she could take no more. Grinding and pounding at her until he filled her very soul. His cream running out of her. So much of it, spurting up inside her under so much pressure she couldn't possibly take it all in. It would ooze and squelch out of her, even as he pumped it in.

She would tease him and tempt him until he was satisfied with nothing less than possessing her totally, pinning her to the bed and driving into her core of being. Her legs locked around his neck, back arched like a spitting cat to meet his desperate seeking; his violent, shuddering thrusts, hands on the bed head to prevent her skull being smashed into it by the force of his entering her again and again.

The Cheshire smile returned at the vision she had just conjured. She managed to come back a little from her erotic fancies, and set again about her task of driving him mad with desire. Tongue working furiously now at his glans. Sucking the tip of his cock, tantalisingly close to really blowing him... taking half his length in her mouth quickly, pulling her head back as she sealed her lips around his throbbing staff, feeling the veins, throbbing. Turgid ropes against her lips as she whipped her head back and forth - two, three, four times. Her own small, straight white teeth grazing the delicate flesh inside her lips as she did.

She released him on the fourth backward thrust of her head. The "pop" as the suction was released was a sharply audible shock in the almost silent semi darkness. She sat back, squatting on her heels. legs spread; beads of her own excited pussy juices gleaming at him, as she tilted her head back slightly, eyes going out of focus, mind wandering. Vaguely, as if almost unaware of what she was doing, her left hand slipped down between her legs and began to stroke her lips, her vulva engorged and almost running with her honey. Her clitoris at stiff attention; upright, eager, humming with anticipation.

 While the fingertips and long red nails of the right hand circled his dripping glans. Feathery, elegant hand motions being made in perfect unison, like a dance of immense delicacy and precision, on his sex and her own.

Slowly one after the other, she brought both sets of fingers up to her mouth, lowering her eyes as she did so to meet his, staring into his blue grey eyes with her own huge sea green ones.

She began slowly licking each finger in turn. Still feathering his cock as she lapped at her own pussy juices from the slim finger.s....then touching herself again as she licked sticky pre-cum secretions from the other hand. Savouring the ambrosia,.,..a musky cocktail of his passion and her own. Knowing that soon they would be mingled again on his tongue as he kissed her after having ravaged her soaking wet quim with tongue and teeth. With long, strong fingers and iron hard cock . . .

BUZZ-BUZZ-BUZZ-BUZZ-BUZZ-BUZZ-BUZZ-BUZZ!

“ Whu . . . oh shit!”

Charlotte reached out, eyes still closed, clumsily groping her way across her bedside chest, knocking a small vase over before she managed to hit the Snooze button.

Damn. What a dream that was on the way to being.

She could feel herself wet and slippery between her legs, sweat beading in the fine fleshy line under her breasts. Hair sticky with salty perspiration, the pillow darkened where she had tossed and twisted on it, in the throes of that amazingly erotic nocturnal fancy

Mmmmm. Yes, there were advantages to being such a vivid dreamer. The night terrors she had been beset by every evening till her early teens were well worth having suffered, she reflected lazily, if wet dreams of such intensity and realism were the pay off later in life.

She stretched, arching her back and rolling her shoulders. Threw the sticky, damp sheets aside and shivered deliciously as the cool pre dawn air kissed the glistening skin of her breasts and belly. Her left hand drifted down to her clitoris, as her right began to make vague light passes over both her erect little nipples, vaguely intending to finish what her dreaming-self had begun, when she grimaced at an inconvenient but propitious memory.

Fuck! It's Monday. The phone conference. Damn!! I don't have time for this now.

*

She was pulling her little silver Ford Focus into what she referred to as the Economy section of the Staff car-park at 6.00 am. Economy was well behind the First Class Section, where the execs got trees for shade and proximity to the door. She needed to be there before David. She might, just might get through the cringing embarrassment of seeing him again after what had happened in Heathcote yesterday. Was it only yesterday? It seemed far off and unreal to her now...Not any more real than her erotic dreams of him were. But her still burning arse told her, that this had been a lot more real than those. So maybe that was just wishful thinking.

Anyway, she might get through that first meeting without literally dying of shame, but only if she were there first, waiting, poised and aloof, for him to enter the room. Not if she dashed in, breathless and on edge, wondering if they'd talked about her drunken display at the picnic before she got there. And if they had referred to it.

Oh god. Had David. . . .would he have told them what had happened?” She blushed to her hairline even thinking of it. Yet at the same time she felt herself flood and engorge between the legs at the memory. Wondering what would be her reaction if he should ever suggest a replay. She felt her stomach flutter, her nipples shrank and she shivered.. Her knickers once again in some danger of becoming damp. She had changed then twice before she left the house after having had similar passing thoughts while getting dressed.

And then, the stuff of nightmares appeared in her field of vision.

“ Oh shit, fuck, bugger!" She closed her eyes against the sight "Sod him!”

She fair shouted it in frustration and mounting panic as she banged her fist on the steering wheel. For there, parked in it's Captain's Cabin, as she called his alcove space right near the main doors, was David's gleaming Red XJS.

She was frozen with indecision. Now what to do. Back up, go to Maccas for one of their shocking excuses for coffee and wait till the very last moment to re-enter, having composed herself under the glare of their yellowing fluorescent lighting and the miasma of trans fats and toilet cleaner those places always reeked of on the morning shift?

She shuddered at the prospect.

No. She was frayed enough as it was. Sneak in the back way and take refuge in her own cubbyhole till the last possible moment. Then just walk in and get down to business. She made up her mind. She would lurk at the end of the corridor, listening for the phone to go off, and not enter the room till he'd answered it. By then George would be sure to be in. And the IT boffins. She need never be alone with him at all.

Yes.. That was the plan.

*

'Well the best laid plans'  Charlotte was left thinking 15 minutes later, when despite what she had thought of as careful reconnaissance and some sterling efforts at subterfuge, she found herself not only alone with David, but in the staff kitchen, apparently having offered to make him coffee.

David for his part in what was turning out to be a fine slapstick comedy, was sitting astride a spindly chair which seemed ready to crumble under the bulk of him, arms folded across it's vinyl back, watching her shaking hands fumble for sugar and filter papers in the untidy, ill stocked cupboards...juggling the cheap drip filter maker and pressing buttons experimentally. He knew she had no notion of how to use it. Why would she, when she had her own quality espresso machine on a bookcase shelf in her cubbyhole office.

He kept his voice flat and his expression bland as he drawled out to her elegant back,

“ Why are we bothering with this appalling swill Charlotte. You have excellent quality coffee and accoutrements in your own office. Do you not?” He raised one dark eyebrow.

She kept her back resolutely turned to him, but he saw her startle, and stiffen. She did not answer him. She knew he was playing with her. Acting as if nothing untoward had happened, while all the time assessing her with that openly lustful gaze he had turned on her yesterday.

She was confused and angry at the same time. It was somehow even more humiliating for him not to acknowledge what had happened than it would have been had he leered and gloated. David knew this. He was milking it for all it was worth. He had to suppress a sadistic little chuckle. Thus far this morning all he had said to her was,

“ Good morning Charlotte. Grand to see I am not the only one with a proper work ethic. Going into a meeting as potentially profitable as this one on the hop would be criminal, would it not?”

This first casually approving comment he had boomed at her tiptoeing figure as he stepped out from behind the partition wall where he had loitered, knowing full well that she would not walk in the front doors and risk him see her passing his own Office Suite. Bless her little humiliated heart. She had been carrying her fucking shoes . He'd damn near peed himself laughing at the innocent, girlish nature of the gesture as he saw her approach the exterior door and lean down to remove them. As if she were sneaking in after a late date and didn't want dad to know what she'd been up to.

He had felt his loins stir, even as he chuckled at her for it.

She opened the door as silently and stealthily as ever did any practiced cat burglar, taking cartoonsihly cautious looks down either side of the long corridor before, shoes still dangling from her fingertips, holding the Security Keys in her teeth, laptop strung over her shoulder, its weight dragging her slightly to one side and a tad off balance, a Folio clamped precariously to her other side with her bare elbow, handbag in that hand. It was a priceless set up. He could not have asked for better. She took a few experimental steps inside the building.

She'd jumped about a foot in the air as he said it too, having stepped out at precisely the right time to be directly behind her, no more than an arm's length from her fleeing form. He chuckled to himself about it for days after.

Keys, shoes, bag, everything but the laptop, secured as it was by its strap, went flying from her shocked, shaking hands. She squeaked something. They may have been words. David could not tell, he was trying too hard not to laugh aloud at the look on her face as she swung to face him.

She dropped to her hands and knees, desperately trying to retrieve the lipsticks and eye-liners rolling crazily from her black patent handbag. Christ why did all women travel with a bloody Cosmetology Clinic on their arm, he thought vaguely, as he towered above her and silently enjoyed the view. Her well formed rump was stuck up in the air as she flailed about trying to catch all her little treasures.

Once more he had fought to restrain the laughter from breaking out. He actually had to feign coughing to cover it this time.

And then he threw off his second remark,
“ Do make us both coffee Charlotte...and we'll get down to tin tacks, as they say.”

He began to stride away and then paused to look back.. “Unless you need help down there that is?”

Charlotte kept her head resolutely down.
 “ No. No. Fine. No worries. Right. Coffee. I'll just dick in the staffroom...I mean duck...I mean I'll just duck in the staffroom and do that then. Soon as I get this lot sorted.” Her face was flushed scarlet. She thought to herself how pleasant it might be to die. Right here. On the floor. And never need to face him again.

This time David had to cover his mouth and all but flee, because the laughter would not be contained. He turned and swiftly left the scene. Once he'd rounded a corner or two and was out of her sight he leaned against a wall, holding his sides and shaking in silent guffaws. Wiping tears of gently sadistic humour from his eyes. As the chuckles eased, he caught himself thinking ' She's going to be the best...she's going to be the best I have ever fucking had..'

*

Now, back in the grimy staffroom, he recalled quite clearly the first time she had impressed him. Not the first time he had seen her. That had been at the Interview. Then he had noted she was a great piece of arse. And could type. And spell. All of which was required of any woman David employed.

But the first time he had noticed her. Noticed how special she was. How different. How her girlish prettiness was evolving into full blown womanly allure. And how she both knew and at the same time, was so unaware of her own developing carnal power.

The first time he realised that he had begun to really like her. He recalled it so clearly because it was not something he was used to feeling about women. He liked to fuck them. He fucked them royally. And as often as he could arrange. He liked to spank and cane them. Tie them up. Torment their nipples and clits with tongue and fingers, teeth and clamps and vibrators. He liked them clinging to him and screaming out their need for him. But he had never especially enjoyed talking to them. Though he feigned lovers chat well, he was usually bored to tears once he'd ravished them. And keen to get back to his male friends, with whom he could have an actual conversation.

But over time he had come to seek Charlotte out. Speak to her. Ask her opinion. Note it and even act upon it on occasion. Others had remarked upon it. Not to him. They would not dare. But among the senior executives it was well known that David had more than the glad eye for young Charlotte. And they were watching with envious interest to see when he would act upon it.

If the truth were told, any one of the men would have thrown away his marriage and career for a chance to do Charlotte over. Some of the women too, come to that.

*

He had watched her grow from an eager, coltish girl into an elegant, assured and confident young woman. Her sparks of anger, her impatience with fools. Her wicked sense of fun and gently derisive attitude to pomposity and ego in her superiors. Her refusal to take their bullying quietly. He had seen that particular characteristic quite close up, quite early on.

He had stormed in the HR one morning about a year after she started, By this time she was no longer a Secretary but an Executive Assistant. In reality she was shouldering about half of the HR Manager's workload and doing a far better job of her half than he of his, as David well knew. But David was furious that a series of his memos relating to a major project had seemingly not been acted upon. Especially galling this as they had all been marked For Urgent Action which was company code for “David says do it yesterday.”

Many of these neglected memos as it happens had been addressed to the HR Manager. Who was in London for three weeks attending his niece's wedding. And thus unavailable to have his arse kicked. But arse kicking was what David was hungry for right now, and the HR Exec Assistant was in his sights.

'Funny.' David thought. 'I've imagined doing many things to her arse, but never kicking it...still, this bloody unholy mess and it's their department that's to blame for it.' He wondered idly if he could make her cry, and how he might go about comforting her once he had. Smiled at the pictures that thought brought to his mind.

It was early. Barely 7.00 am and Charlotte was the only one in the office. Apart from Security he thought they may well be the only ones in the entire building. He had been in his office suite all night going through the un-acted upon memos and doing his damndest to set right the bloody mess that had resulted from his plans not being put into action. By 7am he was baying for blood. George Watson's blood in fact.

But George was in London. And there was that young tart he'd only hired because she had a good arse and had lied well on her CV. An amazing arse, David thought as he stood a moment to appreciate the sight of her bent at the waist searching the cupboards in the tearoom .

The room was filthy. Spilled sugar everywhere, dirty cups and plates filling the sink. The door to the microwave was open and the inside spattered with food residue. David turned up his nose.

“ This tea room is a pictorial representation of the state of the entire department!” he bellowed. David abhorred sloppiness.

So as it happened, did Charlotte.

And she startled him into momentary silence by saying tartly and without bothering to turn round, “ Isn't that funny Mr Fordham. I said precisely the same thing to the lazy sods yesterday afternoon and told them to clean it up by the end of work today or Ill padlock the freaking door and they can buy their coffee from the Deli down the road.. And I bloody well mean it this time!”

She dived into the cupboard at this, reaching well back and to the left, affording David the most delicious view of a long elegant outstretched leg and the sheer black hose which encased it. By inclining his head slightly he was able to see right up her short black skirt to the creamy inner thigh.

Creamy inner thigh. .Mmmmm. Garters. Well, the little minx! Garters at work? Then he realised. Of course it was Friday and that callow junior accountant type would be by in his tatty Japanese “sports” car to pick her up later. No doubt to take her off to some substandard noshery and then back to his place where the poor lass would be subjected to some amateurish amorous embraces and go to sleep unsatisfied. Wicked waste of good stockings, thought David disgustedly. Not to mention the legs inside them.

She straightened, emerging with two mugs in hand. She turned to him and said, “ We'll both die of botulism if we attempt to imbibe anything from here. I'll wash these out and we'll make coffee in my office. I don't let any of them touch my espresso machine. They've broken two of their own in 12 months. How can you not know how to make an espresso? Cretins!”

David was not a little taken aback at the forthright manner in which she addressed him. She was after all a relative newcomer. Most of the employees had been with him since the start. Even the clerical staff were all veterans of a decade or more. David paid well, gave great fringe benefits and promoted from within. No one wanted to leave once they got there, despite his occasional tirades and wholesale shake-ups. They all admitted he was usually proved right in every respect. But his ire was feared by even his most senior executives. Had he begun an exchange with any of them in that tone they would have been apologising profusely and calling in the cleaning crew. This girl was shrugging his fury off and making herself his ally against the forces of disorder and slovenliness assailing them, as if they were two tidy workmates in an office full of slobs..

He laughed aloud at the temerity of it. She looked quizzically over her shoulder at him, raising an eyebrow as she sailed towards the corridor . “I'm in the stationery cupboard in the darkest recesses of the back blocks. Just past the Black Stump. Coming?”

And off she set at a pace the Olympic walk champion would have been proud of.

“ Cheeky brat!” he thought, amused despite himself and set off after her, hanging back enough to make sure he got to fully admire the view of that peach shaped arse swaying as she stepped it out in her black patent heels down the long corridor. Past the library. Beyond the Female Rest Rooms. Down another corridor . Christ she wasn't kidding. They had her in the disused storeroom. The one they'd stopped putting stationery supplies in because it was too far for the office staff to run for a stapler. It was wasting hours every week to replenish supplies.

They'd finally arrived. She put her shapely hip against the door and heaved. It reluctantly opened. David could see what was stopping it from swinging. It had been a tiled floor and they'd added a carpet to go with the desk and chair, three bookcases and a file cabinet they had “furnished” the office with. And the idiots hadn't shaved anything off the bottom of the door.

He shook his head and laughed again.
 “ Well we've got you in the corner suite, haven't we?” he said, somewhat cruelly.

But she didn't miss a beat. 
“ Yeah. I'm expecting the key the the Executive Bathroom any day now. You all obviously value me so highly......milk and sugar?”

“ Err..Oh yes.One sugar. Not much milk at all.”

"OK. Macchiato, one sugar. Coming up.”

She looked around the long narrow room and got a stool.....brought it over to him and said brightly, “ I'd watch you don't lean to one side on that. It's none too steady if you upset its centre of gravity”

And she settled herself on a lovely looking chair behind her cheap narrow desk as she waited for the water to run through and fill the two now gleaming mugs. She saw him looking at her leather chair and said,
 “ No. My chair is not standard issue Fordham Music office furniture. I bought it myself. Comfy too. And a lot less prone to explosive decompression in its lift mechanism that that shoddy lot of old rubbish out there”

God she took his breath away. The impudence,. The confidence. The genuine manner in which she addressed him. She must know he had personally approved the purchase of those shitty chairs. He recalled being in a foul mood at the time and thinking they deserved no better. He had regretted the decision many times and was in fact in the process of buying far better ones. Not as good as Charlotte's chair though. Damn that girl had an eye for quality. He admired that about her too.

He couldn't help himself; He just had to ask,
 “ Are you not at all intimidated by me, Charlotte? You know popular opinion around here has it that I am quite an important man in this organisation!”

And at this he put his head back and roared with laughter. His mood lightening very quickly now . He found this child's company unbelievably refreshing. As well as wonderfully visually stimulating.

“ Charlotte is prone to impudence” or so said my Senior year adviser on my reports. “But will go far if she can bring that attitude under control.”

She brought her hands to shoulder height....raised her palms to the low ceiling, looked around her and said with a broad smile “ But here I am, impudent still and yet look at what greatness I have achieved!”

And she too burst into laughter. Peels of genuinely amused girlishly sexy laughter.

Then she had made him the best fucking coffee he'd had in years. He had smelled the richness of it as she ground the beans in the expensive Italian machine mounted on the filing cabinet.

“ Nice.” he said admiringly. “I have the same machine at home. They are very expensive.”

“ 21 st birthday gift from mum and dad. They know I love coffee and I was moving out. But I spend so much time here and so little at my flat. Well it seemed silly not to bring it in.”

She took her own mug. Settled into her chair and swivelled to face him

” Now. Before you get all shouty, I need to say this. You've got a large and angry bee in your bonnet Mr Fordham, haven't you?” She crossed her pretty legs demurely. Noticed him looking and smiled that smile they get. Truly beautiful women are often quite good at receiving an admiring glance. Not obvious. Not even flirting really. Just an acknowledgement. Yes I am beautiful. Thank you for noting that.

He looked at her, his turn to be quizzical ”Have I indeed?”

“ Yes. And I know why and I don't blame you. But I am not having you shout and rant at me about it because for one thing every memo directed to me has been acted upon. As I'm sure you know . As you've spent the last 24 hours checking every aspect of the project“ she paused to see the effect that her knowing this had on him and noted with satisfaction it was with more approval than surprise.

“ Clever little brat!” he couldn't help saying. He nodded and smiled at her...it was true. He had noted it early on in the investigations. She was the only one responding in haste. Or to any positive effect for that matter.

“ And for another thing, because I haven't slept all night. I've only stopped to change at 6 am. I pulled an all nighter trying to fix some of George's bits up...but its hopeless. It's been cocked up from go to whoah. At every stage really.”

Christ .George may have fucked up on this project, but he had been right a year ago. This kid was sharp as a tack. Had guts too.

And fucking great legs.

**

Yes. That had been the first time he had really noticed more about her than her pert tits and her perfect arse.

That light hand spanking he had delivered to her yesterday, that she had received with such eagerness and ardour, had been no more than an aperitif. David knew it was a precursor to a banquet of carnality that he and this enchanting young woman were about to partake of together. Once again he felt his cock harden at the prospect of it. Truth be told he had been damn near Priapic ever since he'd had her draped over his lap, her warmed arse cheeks trembling under his strong hand, the musky smell of her eager little cunt wafting up to tease his nostrils.

He'd had an almost irresistible urge to ram her up against a tree and fuck the arse off her right then and there. But he knew it would be so much better to take his time. Bring her along slowly. Get her in the mood for adventure. He intended to take her places those dull suburban boys she had been used to manipulating with her fine eyes and pretty body, could never imagine taking a woman. She would, with David's sure hand as a guide, find her way to nirvana.

It was a shame really, that they would need to wait a few weeks to begin. The conference this morning would be, if all went according to plan, the beginning of a busy and very profitable period for Fordham Music Industries. He fully intended to merge with that London Agency he had worked with so long. And once merged, to have it perfectly apparent who the ultimate boss was.

Once business was settled, he and Charlotte could get on with her out of workplace training and development sessions. She was central to the whole merger coming off as he had planned and he would not allow impatience for his carnal pleasures to get in the way of driving his company forward. Making it the true market leader.

He had no doubt that he would conquer his rivals. Just as he had no doubt that Charlotte would soon be under his command too. Utterly, completely, wantonly his.

He sat on the cheap, uncomfortable chair, feeling his cock strain against the fine wool of his Armani charcoal grey suit pants, watching her ineffectual, nervous flutterings in the grubby office kitchen and wondered, not for the first time, what she would look like when he had her tied to his beautiful four poster bed. Nipple clamps screwed tight.. Blindfolded, Gagged. And him, standing over her with a belt. A riding crop. A cat. A tawse. Oh the fun they would have.

An even more tantalising image suddenly popped into his mind's eye. Charlotte, in a Regency Maid's uniform, bent over the oak dining table in his house, drawers open. That amazing arse presented to its master, eager for punishment.

And he behind her, with the birch.

He was looking forward to it with an eagerness he could not recall having felt with any other woman. Not even his first. And while he regretted the delay in beginning her apprenticeship, he knew too that there was much pleasure to be found in anticipation.