Like No One's Watching free porn video

The trick to working from home is discipline: getting out of bed on time, eating and taking breaks on time, and stopping work when it’s time to stop.

After six months of working from home, I was great at all of that except the last: too often I found myself at my computer at 2:00am, still working on some enhancement or bug.

But coding was my passion. Whether for work or for my multiple open-source projects, I was always fiddling with something. When that wore me down, bombing through forest trails on a battered mountain bike restored me every time.

When a video chat window from Erin popped open at 12:21am it was no surprise. She had the same problem quitting at quitting time I did.

At first, the video was blurred motion, moving off to reveal the edge of her desk and empty chair in her apartment lit by the glow of her monitor. In the background, warm light spilled from the door of what I always thought was her bedroom. Erin’s voice came faintly from the distance.

Obviously, she had started the call by accident. I reached to disconnect when she strolled across the screen, topless. She wore loose pajama shorts and nothing else. From the side, her boob looked round, firm and perfect.

She had her phone to her ear, gesturing as she spoke, the words too faint for the camera’s microphone.

Having never seen more than Erin’s face and shoulders in video conferences, always in a white dress shirt, I had wondered what the rest of her looked like. Now she was there in high-resolution so vivid it felt like I could stroke a hand across that lovely breast.

Erin then turned, still talking, presenting a frontal view from chin to bellybutton. My heart raced at finally seeing her, and far more than I ever dreamed.

Her body was delicious; fit yet with enticing curves and stunningly lovely breasts. Captivated, I stared at the breathtaking illicit view.

When she strode out of sight, I checked to make sure her video wasn’t being broadcast to the entire company. Thankfully, it was private just to me.

Erin was girl-next-door pretty, notable for her arching eyebrows and constant wry smile that made it seem like she was in on some private joke. When she wore her glasses, she rocked the hot secretary look, though I’d never dare tell her that.

Though longing to see more of her, I forced myself to close the connection, feeling guilty as hell for not disconnecting the moment I realized she had started it by accident.

~~~~

Our employer was a virtual startup: cloud-based with no physical offices. Staff were scattered over three continents, all working from home. It cut major overhead, allowing us to move fast and out-compete most rivals in our niche.

Erin and I collaborated constantly, herding the developers and keeping the million moving pieces of the enterprise in sync. She was no secretary: officially she was senior project coordinator, but we depended on her for client relations, talent searches, proposals and everything else.

Other developers called her ‘ma’, half in sour derision for her prickly goading to meet deadlines, half in respect for her skill in solving any problem.

“Hey, Carlos? We won the Lode contract.”

I was deep in another late-night code-a-thon when Erin appeared in a video window. She never said hello, never made small talk, just got right to it; a trait I deeply appreciated.

“Awesome,” I said. “I knew we would. You wrote a brilliant proposal.”

She beamed. “No, you wrote it. I only corrected your spelling. And your concept. And the document structure. And your timeline and estimates. Okay, maybe I did write it.”

“Har, har,” I said. “Just for that, you get to interview the new candidates all by yourself.”

“Thank god. Then you won’t scare them off.”

“You're the scary one. I just make sure they know languages newer than COBOL. A key question for the mouth-breathing fossils you keep dredging up.”

Erin gave me the finger. I gave her two in return and we laughed.

“Milestone Three on the Turner project is Wednesday,” she said.

“How could I forget? You won't let me. Vijay has to finish his testing and it’ll be ready.”

Erin scowled. “Dammit, he’s late again? I’ll call him right now.”

“It’s three in the morning there. And the kid’s terrified of you. I’m keeping him on track. Don’t worry.”

Erin nodded, and her face softened as she shifted gears.

“By the way,” she said, “As of last Thursday, I’m officially single again.”

“No way! Congratulations,“ I said. “I’d lost hope you’d ever give Hysterical Hank the boot. How do you feel?”

“Okay, I guess. Still, it’s sad. I had such hopes.”

“You were together a long time.”

“We’d just been going through the motions for months. But I didn’t cling nearly as long as you clung to wasserface.”

“Jillian.”

“Right. Jill the Pill. She never deserved you. And besides, Hank was good in bed. A girl has needs, you know. Too bad he was so shitty at everything else.”

“We should Introduce them,” I said. “She was like fucking a pine board, but great at everything else.”

“Except staying faithful. Oh, uh... sorry.”

I sighed. “It’s okay. I accepted it. Still hurts, though.”

Erin gave a sympathetic look and blew a kiss.

“Good night, Carlos. Don’t stay up until dawn. We have a 9:00am team meeting, remember?”

“Yes, boss,” I smirked.

“I’m not your boss. G’night.”

I loved our chats. We started out being all business with each other, then over the six months since the founding of the company we became more trusting and casual.

It started simply: Erin would say something like “Hold on. Gotta piss,” and leave me staring at her empty screen. Days later I let slip I was sleepy because of an all-night yelling session with my girlfriend. Slowly we opened up about our failing relationships, personal troubles and other no-go topics for co-workers.

We never did small talk. None of the usual “how’s the weather where you are,” or even “How’s it going?” We shifted from work topics to the deeply personal, to joking put-downs, and nothing in between.

Our unspoken rule became to never pry. Just listen, support and suggest. Sometimes Erin seemed flirty, but I chalked that up to her outgoing nature and how much she enjoyed seeing my reaction when she said something outlandish.

It would never have happened in an office. There are lines you don’t cross with co-workers. But Erin lived in a different country. With no chance of ever meeting and only talking in private chats somehow made it easier to open up.

~~~~

Two nights later it happened again. Erin’s video popped up with a view of her empty apartment. Then in the background she strode into view from her bedroom, this time naked.

Erin glowed like an erotic angel in the warm light spilling from the bedroom. She walked straight toward the camera and my blood ran cold, thinking she caught me but then she stretched for something over her monitor, presenting a mouth-watering close-up of her sexy tummy and trimmed pussy. Erin walked off to one side, then moments later came into view, walking back to the bedroom, with her perfect round ass and long legs exposed to view.

She returned, again talking on her phone as she stood for long minutes centered in the frame, phone to her ear while gesturing and laughing and turning.

I watched transfixed as Erin strutted, turned, and shifted from leg to leg, presenting ever-changing views of her delicious naked form.

When I realized I was rubbing my hardening dick, I snapped out of it and disconnected. Erin was lovely, but it was spying. She was a co-worker and, I felt, a friend.

~~~

The third time it was only 9:40pm. Erin was closer to the camera, dancing to some muffled thumping beat, again completely naked.

My mouth went dry and my dick sprang instantly to life. I had to watch.

Her body from forehead to knees gleamed with sweat as she held her arms high over her bobbing head, stepping, swaying and twisting.

Turning her back to the camera, Erin swayed her hips, punching the air and jiggling her bum to the beat. She turned again, almost face-on to the camera, to run her hands up over her tummy to her sweat-slick boobs, then toss her head back to fan out her damp hair.

The beat sped up, and she kicked and jabbed the air, bobbing her head to the rhythm, breasts bouncing as she gyrated.

No stripper had ever been so erotic. No movie harem girl had ever been more alluring. Erin’s wild grace, joy and abandon was so different from the crisp businessperson and even the personal side of her I knew. I yearned to be there with her, dancing naked, sharing in that wild freedom.

Too soon, the music stopped. Erin bent, hands braced on her knees, catching her breath. She walked out of view, then returned with a water bottle, sipping then pouring some into her palm to swab her neck.

She sauntered into her bedroom, hips swaying. When it was clear she wouldn’t return, I disconnected.

Burning desire overwhelmed the flicker of shame I felt for spying on her. After that, Erin was all I could think of: her face, her body, and the spirit she showed when she danced.

~~~~

“Carlos, how the hell do you still have a fax machine?”

It was a group call on a Friday afternoon with Walter the founder, the core developers and, of course, Erin. We were bidding on a government project but the department, ever on the cutting edge of technology, only sent and accepted proposals by fax.

“It’s not a fax machine,” I said. “I have an old multi-function printer/scanner thing that can do fax.”

Walter immediately appointed me as the company’s official fax resource and to stand by to receive the document.

“When you get it,” he said, “can you take it over to Erin? It’s marked sensitive. We’re not allowed to scan this one, and I don’t want to trust a courier.”

“Sure,” I said. “I’ll hop in my private jet and fly to Canada. Be there in three hours. Erin, can I bring you one of my town’s famous pizzas while I’m at it?”

Erin said, “Carlos, I live on the East side.”

“You do?” I said, shocked. “Your avatar says you’re in Toronto.”

“It does? That’s where I moved from two years ago, but I’m here now.”

Walter chimed in. “Oh, that. Our team app sets your location to your computer’s time zone unless you tell it different. That caught me the first time, too. For the longest time everyone thought I lived in Bogota.”

The team erupted into the usual complaints about the crappy conference software Walter made us use only because our angel investor’s pet company produced it.

I tried to keep a neutral expression, but with my face burning and heart thumping, I wondered if Erin could see my elation.

~~~~

Erin shared her address: an ancient brick low-rise apartment building about twenty minutes away. Afternoon cross-town traffic was murder, so I stuck the papers in a bag and took my bike down to street level.

After two blocks, I realized that was a mistake. Summer in the city is like living in a hobo’s armpit: hot, humid and stinky. By the time I reached her building, I was soaked through and wobbly as though I’d run a marathon.

Excitement and apprehension grew as I plodded up the creaking stairs. What would Erin be like in real life? Some things I had revealed to her only because I thought we’d never meet. Would we be as comfortable together in person as on video?

When Erin swung open her door, my throat went dry. There she was for real, with every detail of her face revealed: the texture of her skin, the slight blemishes, the curve and color of her lips, her eyes bright and knowing.

Erin scanned me up and down.

“Wow, what I’ve always dreamed of,” she said flatly. “Someone tall, dark, and half-dead from heat exhaustion. Did you run here, Carlos?"

"I cycled. Beats being stuck in traffic."

Erin examined me again, her expression unreadable.

"Well, come in, I’ll get you some water."

She turned and walked inside.

Nice to finally meet you too, I thought, following her. I didn't expect a big wet kiss, but I thought she'd be a little warmer, maybe even be as excited as I was.

Erin wore the white shirt she wore on every video call, hanging loose over her bum. Stretchy grey exercise shorts protruded below, extending to mid-thigh of her long legs.

Inside, every window was open and fans labored to move the thick air, but her little apartment was a sauna.

“Erin, don’t you have air conditioning?”

“We only have window units. Mine blew up last month. And just try finding a new one during a heatwave.”

She guided me to a battered couch and went to get water.

The apartment was small but immaculate. She had everything carefully arranged to maximize what space there was. Between the far windows sat her computer. Shame flared within me when I spied the webcam above the monitor.

Erin set a pitcher of water on the coffee table and poured us each a glass. I sipped as she sat beside me. Even though we weren’t touching, I felt the warmth radiating from her leg to mine.

“I like your place,” I said.

“Bullshit. It’s a dump. A teeny tiny dump.”

“No, really. I had a studio apartment for the longest time. Now that was teeny tiny. And I was never this organized. Had to shovel my bed off every night. And this is a great location, right near the market.”

“Yeah, the market's great,” she said. “Now, show me the document.”

I pulled the faxed proposal request from my courier bag. Erin studied it while I sat, feeling awkward, unnerved to be close to her.

Erin pointed to a list of items. “What do you think they mean here?”

The section was terribly worded but looked like a series of platform requirements. As I translated the garbled terminology for Erin, shouts and banging rang from below, through the floor and the open windows.

Erin sighed and stood to close the windows. She brought a fan closer to compensate.

“The Goodmans,” she said. “Unhappily married for fifteen years. You should hear them going at it Saturday nights. And above me is Tony Wilson, death metal enthusiast extraordinaire. Unlike the Goodmans, he quiets down at 10:00pm. By court order. Actually, sometimes I like his music.”

I nodded. “My studio apartment had a guy with a weight machine living above me. The kind with the pulleys and cables? Clang, thump, clang thump all the time.”

Erin shook her head in sympathy.

I said, “Erin, It’s none of my business but you’re the most important person in the company and they only pay you enough to live here? It’s because you’re a woman, isn’t it? That really pisses me off.”

“No, Carlos. I—”

“I’ll talk to Walter. Tech startups are supposed to be above all that old school misogynist horseshit.”

“Walter isn’t—”

“You should at least be making what I do. Hell, you should be making more.”

Erin shoved me with her shoulder.

“Will you shut up and listen?” she said. “I appreciate you being all gallant, but as Walter’s right-hand man, so to speak, I know what everyone makes, and I do make more than you. I know what I’m worth. I refused to take the job unless he paid it.”

“Oh,” I said. “Right. Good. I’m relieved, Erin. Wait, you make more than me? I’m lead developer.”

“And I’m lead everything else. You just said I was the most important person in the company. Or shouldn’t a woman ever make more than a man?”

“What? No! You know I’m not like that. I’m not a pig.”

She gave me a sideways look. “No?

“No! So then—”

“—why do I live here? It’s cheap. And close to everything and it’s good enough for now. I’m saving every cent I can.”

“What for?”

Erin paused, then said, “This is between us, okay? I'm founding my own startup. In biotech.”

“You know about biotech?”

“I’ve done my research. Plus, I have two very talented experts who, like me, are dying to do some good in the world. With our savings and investments, soon we’ll have enough to get going. Without needing some VC bossing us around and screwing us later on.”

“That’s really ambitious,” I said. “And I hear you about wanting to do some good. Building business apps to make rich people richer isn’t very satisfying. Any chance you’ll need a development lead?”

Erin looked at me for a long moment. “Of course. And I had planned to ask you when the time was right. But there are tons of trade secrets in biotech. I need someone trustworthy. Someone not into spying.”

Despite the heat, I felt a chill. “Wha... what do you mean?

She narrowed her eyes. “The video conference software keeps logs, you know: connection from Carlos, 12:21am, connection from Carlos, 11:30pm. Carlos, 9:40pm. Dunno exactly what I was doing at those times—talking to my friend in Seattle, maybe—but it’s been so hot at night I’ve been going around without a top. Or less. You’ve been peeping on me.”

“No! Er, I mean, yes, sort of. But I didn’t mean to! Your window kept popping up. You were calling me.”

“The fuck I was,” she said. “It was you, all right. And you know I have you on auto-answer.”

“And I have auto-answer on for you, too. We conference all the time. Look, it was late. It must be another bug. Or I pressed the wrong key. I don’t know. I’d never spy on you on purpose.”

Erin eyed me. “Hmm. Well, even so, you stayed connected for some awfully long times. Did you like what you saw?”

“Yes! I mean, sorry. I didn’t mean to watch you naked.”

“Ah. So you did see me! I think that counts as inappropriate behavior in the workplace, don’t you? Or sexual harassment. I’ll have to ask my lawyer exactly what it’s called.”

“Oh, god. Erin, it wasn’t on purpose! I know I should have disconnected. But you’re so... so...”

She raised an eyebrow. “So...?”

I slumped, feeling like a condemned man. “So perfect. Sexy, lively, smart, funny. Just... perfect.”

“Oh, yeah? Most guys think I’m kind of plain.”

“Oh, no. I love how you look.”

“Hmm. And my body?”

“Are you seriously asking what I think of your body?”

She shrugged. “Maybe a girl appreciates a compliment once in a while.”

“Fine,” I said. “You have a delightful body.”

“Go on.”

“Well... exquisite boobs, world-class ass. Everything about you is just...”

“Perfect?”

“Yeah,” I said, hanging my head. “You really are.”

I felt Erin scrutinizing me as I turned pale.

“Okay,” she said. “Now, let’s wade through the rest of this document. You’re better at government-speak than I am.”

Just like that, Erin became all business.

I felt numb but concentrated on the proposal. If I was going to be fired, I didn’t want to miss some detail that would cause her headaches later.

~~~~

The document was 168 pages. Luckily, most of it was cover-their-ass legalese. In the end, it boiled down to ten simple requirements and some clauses the company could easily meet.

Erin stood and stretched. “Oh, I’m so glad we don’t do much government work. All that incoherent bullshit for one page of easy requirements. I’d be so lost without you, Carlos.”

I stood and stretched too, noticing only then that it was twilight outside.

The Goodmans had either calmed down or murdered each other. Erin opened the windows and lowered the blinds, but the air outside hadn’t cooled at all.

As if on cue, the driving beat of hardcore death metal started thumping from the apartment above. Her neighbor must have had the speakers aimed at the floor and out the windows, it was so loud.

She sighed and listened. “I don’t know that one.”

“Nemesis by Arch Enemy,” I said.

Erin cocked an eyebrow.

“I listened to metal all through high school. This is an interesting group. The lead vocalist is female. And from Canada.”

“I was more into 80s hair metal, myself.”

I smiled weakly.

“Now,” Erin said, “what should we do about your unethical behavior? Your poor judgment. Lack of impulse control. Spying on your co-worker in her private moments in her own home.”

“I know, Erin. And I’m really—”

“Strip.”

“Uh, whut?”

Erin plopped onto the couch, stretching an arm across the back.

She twirled her fingers. “Go on. Strip for me. You saw me naked. It’s only fair I get a look at you too.”

“Get real.”

“Oh, I am,” she said in a low tone. “As real as my lawyer and Walter are on speed dial. Strip. And while you’re at it, dance. You saw me dancing the other night, didn’t you?”

I nodded.

“Well then, make it up to me.” She gestured to the ceiling. “Show me how you danced to this stuff in high school. If you’re entertaining enough, maybe I’ll forget what you did.”

Would Erin really turn me in for spying? She looked deadly serious. Regardless, she was right. I owed her. What the hell. If that's what she wanted, I’d play along.

Yanking off my t-shirt and dropping my baggy shorts, I stood facing Erin in my underwear, shifting from foot to foot.

She nodded slowly in approval. “Wow. You get legs like that from cycling?”

“Mountain biking. In the hills outside of town.” I did a few knee bends to show off the definition in my calves and thighs.

She leaned forward with a quizzical expression. “Do you... do you shave your legs?”

“Well, yeah. Most cyclists do. It’s easier to clean scrapes. Heals better. And you pick up fewer ticks out in the woods.”

“Huh,” she said, sitting back.

“So, you shave... just your legs?” Her eyes dropped to my crotch, then expectantly back to me.

I hesitated, then slid my underwear to the floor.

“Yes, just the legs. See?”

Erin raked me from head to toe and back again like I was meat, again nodding approval.

I reddened, fighting an urge to cover myself.

From upstairs a new song started: Wisdom Comes by Gojira. I hadn’t heard it in years. Instinctively I started head-banging to the insane tempo.

“There you go,” said Erin. “Show me your moves. Throw down like you used to in the mosh pit. Er, did I say that right?”

“Close enough,” I said.

Self-consciously, I began twitching and stepping to the crazy beat with half-hearted motions. I remembered it well: too young to get into clubs, my friends drove to the woods with weed and whatever booze we could steal from our parents. We cranked Gojira and other metal bands on the car stereos and got wild.

Erin hooted and laughed as I picked up the pace, her eyes bright, her little grin returning.

Flexing and swaying to the beat, I got into it, ramping up the energy. In the woods, we would slam and growl to Cannibal Corpse or Entombed. Hanging out with my friends was freedom, with no one to mock us for our music or how we dressed.

It had been years, but the grind and soar of the guitar enfolded me like it had back then, the beat and growling vocals moving me as if by hypnotic command.

Windmilling my head felt strange without long hair. My legs felt weightless without my sturdy Doc Martins. My friends tried to impress each other with ridiculous power moves each more extreme than the last, and I moved through the powerful kicks, punches and stomps ingrained in my muscle memory, while trying not to smash the furniture.

The track ended. I stood panting, feeling sweat building on my forehead and chest.

“Happy?” I said.

“That was awesome,” Erin said, clapping. “Best naked dancing I’ve seen since my friend’s stagette.”

A new track began with the same insane tempo. Erin signaled me to start again.

I felt like a loon doing the zombie two-step and thrashing naked in front of her, but Erin clapped and whooped, pumping her fists in the air in appreciation.

The music then slid seamlessly into the much saner Morrigan by Children Of Bodom. I shifted to lower-energy moves—aggressive, slithering menace instead of unhinged thrashing, moving with dark, sinuous contortions, swaying with arms above my head before bending low then jumping back up.

I closed my eyes, feeling every bit the angsty, lonely misfit I had been in school, yearning to escape to live my own life. I had come far since then, though the loneliness remained.

The track ended. I opened my eyes.

“Wow,” Erin said. “You’re like some angry elder god when you really get into it.”

I shrugged, feeling a little embarrassed. “That’s what this music is good for. Letting go. Getting everything out. At least for me.”

“I could use some of that,” Erin said as the thrust and opening screams of “Bed of Razors” blasted from above.

She leaped from her seat and pulled her shirt over her head to reveal a tight camisole top, her breasts pushing against it. Her shorts rode low on her hips, clinging to every curve and outlining the contours of her pussy.

Walking around the table, Erin faced me, swaying her hips to the driving rhythm, her eyes alive and playful.

Tentatively, I offered her a hand. She grinned and took it, then pirouetted gracefully underneath.

The beat took off and so did we, twisting and gyrating, windmilling our heads, spinning and stomping. Erin whirled and punched the air, shaking her chest or ass, then laughing when I copied her. She copied my own moves and soon we were grinning and thrashing, our motions getting wilder.

Occasionally we joined hands, coming together to bump chests, then separating to shimmy and thrash separately, feeling wild and unrestrained.

Enraptured by our performance, I had forgotten I was naked until Erin again scanned me from head to toe as she stomped. I didn’t care anymore.

Erin was as uninhibited as she had been when I spied on her in the video. She closed her eyes, hands clasped together high above her head, turning and swaying, then got low, fists balled, growling along with the incomprehensible lyrics.

Gone was the organized businesswoman who kept everyone in line. Erin had transformed into that vision of wild, pure energy and sensuality I saw nights before on camera. Though my eyes devoured her every move, she embodied that old phrase “dance like no one’s watching.”

We danced through several tracks, grinning at each other like fools, having a blast until the beat from upstairs suddenly ceased.

We stood panting and blinking at each other in the ringing silence, as if the lights had just come up in a dance club.

Erin picked up her phone. “Ten o’clock,” she said. “Court order.”

“So have I made up for spying on you now?” I said. “Dancing and shaking my pecker at you?”

Erin moved close. “Yeah, you made it up to me. Especially since you didn't do it on purpose. I just wanted you to feel as exposed as I did.”

“Mission accomplished,” I said.

She grinned and tapped on her phone. “Now, let’s see if we can stream something to keep the party going...”

A metal track I didn’t know burst from speakers on a shelf.

“What is this?” I asked.

She shrugged and started swaying. “Some playlist.”

Moving to the driving beat, we riffed off each other: one of us tried a move, the other would mimic and build on it. Back and forth we went, wordlessly becoming more in sync, looking at each other, playful and grinning.

If the Goodmans below were still alive, they must have thought Erin had opened a hip-hop studio for water buffalo as we stomped, slithered and twirled to the wild beat.

The room was blast furnace hot, made worse by our crazy gyrations. We both gleamed with sweat, Erin's top plastered to the curves of her breasts.

I nearly fell over the coffee table when she shrugged her top over her head and flung it away, baring her breasts while still swaying to the slinky rhythm.

When she saw me gawking, captivated and barely able to move, Erin hefted her boobs in her hands and circled her nipples with her thumbs, fixing me with an exaggerated sultry expression.

She laughed when I caressed my own nipples, making an equally silly face. Then she spun, raising her arms to wiggle her covered ass and hips, twerking a few times while looking over her shoulder. Erin straightened and faced me, pleased to see the response on my face and elsewhere.

Moving close, Erin rested her arms over my shoulders and undulated her sweat-slick body against mine, her boobs sliding across my chest, my dick skimming her crotch, our eyes locked. She lifted her face like she expected a kiss, but before I could act, she danced away, smirking.

Turning her back once more, she cast a naughty look over her shoulder then slid her shorts down the curve of her ass, kicking them into a corner. She turned to face me, now as naked as I was, and again slithered to the driving beat.

When I saw her dancing on video, Erin was an erotic angel. Naked in person, she was a seductive devil. She moved with an easy sinuous grace—turning, bending, then kicking or lashing out her arms. I felt myself responding even more to the seductive sight.

It was my turn to tease. “I dunno about this,” I said.

Keeping pace with the rhythm, Erin said, “Don’t know about what?”

“Doesn’t company policy say something about employee fraternization?”

“I wrote the company policy,” Erin said, “It only discourages fraternization.” She moved closer, looking up at me. “And we’re just dancing. What’s wrong with that? You can stop if you want.” She smiled. “Otherwise, shut up and dance.”

Together we performed a twisting, playful metal tango, our slick naked bodies grinding together then moving apart to gyrate and tease before touching once more.

A new track started: Be My Druidess by Type O Negative. We bopped along to the easy beat until the song reached the repeated lyrics I knew so well from high school.

I mouthed the words: “I’ll do anything to make you cum.”

Erin rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. I wish.”

Even in high school, I thought the lyrics were juvenile, though my friends and I assured each other we were experts in the art of making girls come.

Sticking out my arms and bending at the knees, I shook my shoulders, limboing lower and lower while mouthing each growling repetition of the words.

“I’ll do anything to make you cum.”

Erin laughed. “Promises, promises.”

I slunk lower and lower, repeating the line, until I was on my knees, eye level with her beautiful pussy.

Erin stopped moving and gazed down, her lips parted, breasts rising and falling. I leaned forward and gave her a playful lap of my tongue.

She squealed and bent away, but when I looked up, there was fire in her eyes. We stared at each other for a moment, then Erin widened her stance and guided my head back to her crotch.

It was an awkward position. I did my best to please her, pressing one hand to the small of her back while parting her thighs with the other, my thumb gliding through her silken folds and teasing around her clit in counterpoint to my mouth and tongue.

Erin bent her knees to give me access, but it was uncomfortable for us both. Pausing, I guided her to the wood floor onto her back. She spread her legs, and we continued.

I basked in her scent and slickness. Exploring, teasing, and gently gliding fingers and tongue over her delicate exposed pussy, soon Erin was panting and writhing, hips rising, her hands holding me to her, guiding me.

Erin’s passion and pleasure built higher and higher as I explored her intimate places with fingers, lips and tongue. The pleasure on her face and her gasps and sighs rewarded my efforts. She writhed and bucked, then lay passive, mewling and groaning, then shifted back to panting need, forcing my face into her.

When she seemed ready, I took her delicate nub between my lips to suck gently while pushing two fingers inside her. Erin arched her back, drew a sharp breath and froze, her pussy clenching and releasing in orgasm.

Lifting my head and holding on, I peered up over her rocking hips to watch Erin’s scrunched eyes, raised eyebrows and gasping mouth as she came. Such a beautiful sight.

When Erin opened her eyes, she was limp, flushed and breathing hard. I scooted up and held her.

“Told you,” I said.

She caressed my cheek and gave a weak smile.

“So you did,” she breathed. "Anything else you'd like to do?"

There was no need to answer because Erin was pulling me onto her, positioning me between her legs.

“Wait," I said as she ran my stiff cock between her sopping folds, "here on the floor?”

“I don’t care. Fuck. Me.” Her words were more plea than command.

Erin sighed as I pushed into her, and I nearly sobbed from the sensation of feeling her open to me in exquisite welcome.

Once fully joined, we paused, looking at each other.

“Okay?” I breathed.

Erin nodded, eyes gleaming, then pulled me tight with arms and legs, humping back to drive my dick deeper into her.

The speakers still beat out a driving rhythm and together, Erin and I began a different dance.

We were eager at first, surging together in waves, hungry, needy. Erin grunted each time I impaled her, then gasped when I withdrew. She then pushed on my ass urging me into her again, burning with need.

Eventually, our base instinct to rut ebbed, and we found a gentler rhythm: me withdrawing slowly, her snug passage clinging delightfully, then pushing back in, sometimes hard, sometimes with deliberate slowness. Once deep within her, we ground against each other seeking that impossible union of body and soul, then repeated, all in syncopation with the music.

I felt every inch of her enveloping me, the slickness of our sweaty bodies sliding together, heard Erin’s passionate gasps and the creaking of the floor beneath us. Her feminine scent filled the laden air.

Erin rolled us over, positioning herself above then descended, impaling herself. I gripped one hip and one breast as she rode me, using me for her pleasure, rising and falling, then sliding and grinding against me, her eyes lidded with lust.

Her tempo was too fast. I was losing control. I motioned her to slow down, but Erin breathed, “Don’t. Just come, come in me. Fill me. Fuck me.”

She kept her steady, grinding pace until too soon I cried out. Grabbing her hips, I jammed up into her. She grunted and ground hard against me as I spasmed, unloading blast after blast into her eager body.

I groaned at the blinding ecstasy, emptying everything I had into sensuous, teasing, beautiful Erin.

When the world returned, I was limp and depleted. Erin lowered herself onto my chest and we kissed, still joined, both of us flushed with hearts racing.

The music from her speakers stopped, but the music between us continued, inside. We looked at each other. Erin brushed a strand of hair from my face as I did the same to her, my own little smile matching hers.

~~~~

After a cool shower, playfully washing each other, we flopped into her bed.

Night had cooled the air, but it was still too warm and sticky. Erin set up fans to blow air over us as we stretched out side-by-side with all the covers thrown aside.

We kissed and stroked each other, but it was too hot, and we were too worn out for anything more.

~~~~

During the night I woke. Erin lay sleeping, naked and beautiful in the dim bedroom light. Watching her, I felt more hopeful than I could remember.

Her eyes fluttered open.

She smiled. “Hiya. Can’t sleep?”

“Too hot.”

She yawned and stretched, then pecked my cheek and slid from the bed to don an oversized nightshirt.

“Put on your shorts. Come with me.”

Erin led us into the hall then up to the wide flat roof. A brick wall about waist-high surrounded the edge. White plastic patio chairs rested here and there on the soft tarry surface. Old coffee cans half-filled with cigarette butts sat in strategic locations.

All around the lights of the city sparkled. The outside air was cooler, glorious against my bare chest.

Erin lead me to the edge then propped her arms on the wall, looking over the city. I joined her, taking in the sprawling lights and the dark windows of the adjacent buildings and shops below. Two people on a motor scooter putt-putted up the car-lined street and disappeared.

Erin placed her hand over mine and squeezed, still looking over the city. I felt as uncertain as I had with my first girlfriend back in high school, mind buzzing with questions, hopes and desire.

She said, “Sometimes I come up here when it’s too hot or I need to think. I like watching the city sleep.”

I nodded. “My condo has a little balcony. Sometimes I sit out watching for hours. Except there’s a popular pub two blocks away.”

“Late night rowdies?” Erin asked.

“Late night barfers. My building seems to be exactly the right distance for when the drunks need to lose their lunch. Or take a piss. The super is out there most weekend mornings with a hose.”

She chuckled. “Then let’s stay off your balcony when you invite me over.”

“You want to come over?”

Erin’s eyes searched mine. “Of course I want—” She looked away. “No. I don’t want to jinx this. Let’s just be together. Have fun. For now. Can we do that?”

I touched her hand. “We can,” I said. She smiled and leaned her shoulder against me.

We looked over the glittering city in silence. Beyond lay the dark bulk of the hills with their meandering hiking and cycling trails.

“Want to come cycling with me tomorrow?” I said.

Her eyes flared. “Oh, I’d love to. But I don’t have a bike. And I’d break my face.”

“You can use my beater. We’ll take it easy. You’ll be fine.” I stroked her thigh. “And your legs are already shaved.”

Erin laughed and turned towards me. She felt perfect in my arms. We kissed.

She pulled back, grinning.

“Cooled off now?”

I nodded.

“Then let’s get you heated up again.”

She sank to her knees and worked to loosen my shorts.

“Hey,” I said, “you don’t have to do that. This isn’t some porn movie.”

She rubbed my stiffening dick lovingly against her cheek and gave me a few strokes.

“I like it. When it’s the right guy.”

She licked the underside of the head and cradled my balls. I had to steady myself against the wall.

“Am I the right guy?”

“I have my hopes,” she said, and slowly engulfed my dick.

With others, blowjobs were delivered as a perfunctory warm-up. I insisted they didn’t need to, much preferring good old-fashioned fucking, but they insisted, like it was some compulsory tradition.

Erin made love to me with her mouth—languidly stroking, licking and sucking, looking up with shining eyes, obviously enjoying every moment.

As was I. Elated and weak-kneed, I was astonished at the sensations she was igniting. It was the most exciting, loving yet filthy blowjob I’d ever experienced.

Nervous, I watched the door to the stairs, praying no one would step through and catch us. The surrounding rooftops were all slightly lower, though anyone in the adjacent apartment building with their windows open could see my back and hear the stifled groans Erin drew from me with her loving mouth.

She worked me to the edge of orgasm as I gasped, self-conscious of our exposure under the glowing night sky. She then backed off only to work me to the point of release once more.

When Erin stopped, I looked down at her gleaming eyes and proud smile. She stood and moved beside me, bending low over the wall, arms gripping the outside edge. Fiery need lit her eyes as she leered at me and wiggled her hips.

Again, I looked around, wary of being so public.

“No one comes up here this late," she said. "No one can see. Fuck me like you dance. Fuck me like no one's watching.”

With a growl, I stepped behind her, flipped her nightshirt over her waist and rubbed between her pussy lips. She was already slick and ready and I pushed, fascinated at the sight of her stretching open as I sank into her velvet heat.

Erin’s head poked up as I penetrated her then fell between her shoulders when my cock filled her all the way. I held her hips and took her purposely, marveled at the sight of her ass and back, her arms bracing against each thrust, our mating exposed to the stars and the surrounding city.

It was another dance, each of us feeding off each other’s energy and need. Erin pressed back in time to my thrusts, arching her hips to find the best angle. Soon she was resting her shoulders on the coarse concrete of the wall, head poked over the edge, huffing and grunting as I took her.

In the street below a couple walked past, laughing, talking, maybe drunk. If they heard us and looked up, they’d see Erin’s head hanging over the edge, rocking, trying to quiet her gasps as she was being fucked.

I needed her too much to care. Erin didn’t seem to, either. She reached back with one hand to grab my thrusting hips, urging me on. Then she reached between us to tease her clit and occasionally caress her fingertips over my swinging balls.

Soon the tempo of Erin’s panting and moans reached the crescendo of my own. She pushed back and gave a little mewl as orgasm blossomed within her. I jammed deep inside her once, twice then unloaded in a desperate release of passion and hope.

Afterwards we sat on the tarry roof, backs propped against the wall, smiling and caressing as we caught our breath and cooled. Grinning like naughty children, we then helped each other down the stairs to her apartment and fell into bed.

~~~~

In the morning, I woke to find the bed empty. I panicked before hearing water running in the bathroom. Erin bounded into the room, naked and smiling, and bounced into bed. Her eyes sparkled in the pale morning light.

“So, how’s your trip to Toronto so far?” she said.

I laughed and kissed her. “Well,” I said, “I like the people I’ve met. A lot. And how they dress.” Erin purred when I swept the back of my hand across the curve of her ass. “But it’s really hot here in the summer.”

That’s when I saw it. Behind her on the dresser sat a multi-function printer/scanner embossed with the words “Fax.”

“You devious scamp,” I said. “You never needed me to receive that fax.”

Erin glanced at the machine and shrugged. “You volunteered before I could tell Walter I had one. And it was a way to get you to come over here.”

“You could have just asked.”

“You never seemed interested. You always ignored all my hints and flirting.”

“I was sure I was misreading you. I mean, why would you flirt when you lived in Canada?”

“Grr! So that’s why. Men. So totally oblivious. Though, when you started spying on me, I was sure I’d finally caught your attention.”

“Sorry. I really didn’t do it on purpose.”

Erin chewed a lip.

“Uh, you know that first call?” she said. “The one around midnight? That was my fault. It was me calling you.”

“What?” I gasped. “You called to flash your boobs at me on purpose?”

“No, no! I was on my phone and must’ve hit a wrong key. Didn’t realize until I was on the other side of the room and saw the camera light go out. The log said I called you. I wasn’t even sure you’d seen me until you were acting all guilty and puppy-eyed the next day.”

“I thought I kept a good poker face.”

“Hah! You might as well have had ‘I saw your tits’ tattooed across your forehead.”

“Okay. So those other times...”

“Those weren’t me. The logs said you called me.”

“Sorry.”

“Oh stop sounding so Canadian. At least you made up for it, waggling your pecker for me.”

“You’re so bad,” I said. “That was embarrassing.”

“Serves you right. But you didn’t seem to mind it too much later on.”

“Only because you were enjoying watching me. And then you joined me.”

Erin grinned. “Think we’re exhibitionists?”

“Not me. I don’t want anyone seeing me naked. But you can look anytime.”

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m the same. I like you looking at me. Thinking about me.”

“I was thinking about you long before I saw you naked. Your face, the way you are, everything about you is so...”

“Perfect?”

“Well, yeah.”

She kissed me and we hugged. The hug became caresses, which became stroking, touching, exploring. I loved the way she touched me, and I adored touching her, how she responded with pleased little hums and sighs.

“You know,” I said, mapping the satiny folds of her pussy while she stroked me, “when I join your startup, you’ll be my boss.”

“Hmm. Fucking the boss. Sounds so nasty. But now who’s—ooo, that’s nice—being sure of themselves? If I happen to hire you—mmm, yes. Do that. That’s so nice—you’ll have to work hard to please me. And we—ahh! Oh shit—always want our employees to be happy.”

Erin guided me on top of her, positioned me at her entrance then closed her eyes, laying her head back.

“Go deep,” she breathed. “Pound me.”

She sighed as I poked just in and out of her opening. She raised her hips seeking to force me fully inside, but I pulled back each time, teasing her, repeatedly nudging just the crown of my cock in and out.

Erin raised her head. “What are you doing? Fuck me.”

Fixing her with a grave look, I said “I don’t think it’s right, having relations with my soon-to-be boss. I mean, think of the power imbalance.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she groaned. “That’s not funny. Stop teasing and fuck me!”

“I dunno,” I said. “It just seems so inappropriate.”

Erin flopped her head back on the bed and groaned. “Fine. You can be VP of Software Engineering. We’ll be equals. You can be CIO. You can be emperor… I don’t care! Now will you fucking fuck me?”

“Yes, boss,” I said, and drove into her all the way.