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The English Are Put In Their PlaceChapter 2 free porn video
In the morning I tried to behave as if nothing unusual had happened last night. So did Jarrod. But all of those unanswered questions hung in the air. There was definitely an elephant in the room.
I was dying to ask him about last night. But I didn't even know what to ask!
I finally gave up and went upstairs to finish getting ready for work. When I came back down Jarrod was getting ready to leave. He took me in his arms, kissed me. It was the most passionate goodbye kiss we had shared in a long time. He held me in his arms then and said in a voice that, unlike his normal dispassionate goodbye was so sincere, "I love you. See you tonight."
I stared at him as he walked away. I was so confused that I was unable to speak.
After Jarrod left I made sure the coffee pot was turned off. I gathered my purse and briefcase and went out to the garage. All the way to work I wondered what it would be like between Blake and me today at the office. We hadn't done anything. He had rested his hand on my ass. I had permitted it. My husband had permitted it. But that was all.
That was all except that he had checked out my reading material and he had been given an open window into my mind. But was that my mind? I mean, were those my fantasies? Or could it be just as simple as I was merely enjoying some dirty stories I had come across? I couldn't possibly want to experience those things! Just as important, did Jarrod actually want to see me being dominated, being used by a black man? I had never had any indication that he had fantasies like that.
As I pulled into the parking lot at work my head was still spinning with questions.
I was nervous about seeing Blake. But when I got to my office he was already there. He looked up and smiled impersonally, like nothing had happened last night and said good morning. We went right to work and as we sat at my desk going over files and sipping coffee I started to think that last night had been an aberration. Something that happened because of a little too much alcohol and my carelessness in letting him discover that story on my computer.
We were on our second cup of coffee when his hand moved behind me and he moved his chair closer to mine. I stopped breathing when his hand came to rest on my shoulders, just below my neck.
He never even looked at me, though. He continued to look at the file we were going over and talk as if his hand was not gently rubbing my shoulders.
I felt my nipples harden instantly and my breathing became shallow. I knew that I should put a stop to this, especially here in the office. But I didn't say a word and I don't even know why. Maybe because it was so exciting.
The file was quickly forgotten. Our office door was closed and there was very little likelihood that we would be disturbed. He didn't know that though. He didn't seem to care either.
His hand gradually worked down my back again, much quicker than it had last night. When his fingertips rested on the cheeks of my ass and he was gently massaging them he leaned closer and said, "Tell me about those stories you read."
Oh god! What could I say? What did he want me to say?
I paused for a long time, trying to marshal my thoughts. I paused long enough that he brought his hand around and rested it on my upper thigh and squeezed hard.
I gasped and he repeated in a much firmer voice, "Tell me about those stories."
In a breathless voice, almost a whisper, I asked, "Tell you what? What do you want to know?"
He loosened his grip on my thigh and said, "What was the first story that you read? Tell me about it."
Oh god! Could I really do this?! Could I have this conversation with this strong, virile man who now seemed to be totally in control? But then, could I not?
I knew though, that the minute I started telling him about that story I was submitting to him. The flirting, what little of it there had been, would be over. He would know as soon as I spoke that he had me.
Was that what I wanted? Was that what Jarrod wanted?
I felt his fingers moving on my leg, gently moving up and down my thigh, getting closer to my supersensitive crotch with each movement. I looked down at his large, black hand caressing my leg and I knew that it was wrong. And I knew that I wanted it. I wanted him to touch me ... everywhere.
He took his hand away and said, "Before you start, lift your dress up. I want to feel your soft skin."
That shaky feeling that had washed over me in the pool last night was enveloping me again. I was tingly all over and breathing was getting more difficult all the time. As if I was totally without free will I reached down and eased my skirt up to just below my crotch.
He watched me obey his order and when I stopped he said, "Higher, all the way up."
And I obeyed once more!
I lifted my skirt until most of my panties were exposed. He looked down and shook his head and said, "Take those off. I hate them. Don't ever wear pantyhose again. That's an order."
An order! He was telling me what to wear, or rather what not to wear. This man I had met only twenty-four hours ago was ordering me to remove one of my undergarments, and never wear it again.
I am not sure what I was thinking. I pushed my chair back slowly and rose to stand on legs that only just barely supported me. I stepped away from my desk and I could feel the blood rushing through my veins as I slowly started to walk to the door.
Blake said, "Where are you going, Paula?"
I turned to face him. But I couldn't look him in the eye.
I whispered, "To the ladies room. I'm going to ... you know. I'm going to do what you said."
I felt like a little girl in the principal's office. I was helpless. I was incapable of independent thought. And I was more turned on than I had ever been in my life!
He said, "I didn't give you permission to leave the room. Come back over here."
I went back around my desk and stood in front of Blake. In a halting voice I said, "But ... I thought ... don't you want me to... ?"
He shook his head as if he was trying to be very patient with the moron he was forced to deal with. In the voice one might use when speaking to a very young and not very intelligent child he said, "Lift your skirt up to your waist and pull your pantyhose down. Throw them away and return to your seat with your skirt up around your waist."
I stared at him for a second in disbelief, until he snapped, "Do it! Now!"
He didn't seem at all surprised when I obeyed. But I certainly was! I lifted my skirt to my waist and started rolling my pantyhose down. I had them down to about mid thigh when he said, "You might as well go ahead and take your underwear off too. You won't be wearing panties anymore either."
I hesitated for a second. I had not been a virgin when I married. I have had half a dozen lovers since I lost my virginity in my sophomore year of high school. I don't think that is a lot. But until I got married I had never undressed in front of a man. My boyfriends had always struggled with my clothes while we kissed until they had me undressed enough to have sex. I had always enjoyed it too. Even when I didn't reach orgasm, which was more often than not.
I had not actually stood in front of a man and undressed until I was married. And even though it was exciting, it was not something that I was comfortable doing for at least six months after my wedding, maybe longer.
Now, six years later, here I was, about to bare the lower half of my body to a man who was almost a stranger. He was ordering me to entertain him by exposing the most private part of my body.
Ofelia
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