Improper Conduct

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His fingernails bit into my butt cheeks, his head bobbing wildly in my hands as he lapped me with a wicked intensity, lifting me almost right up out of my heels and into heaven on the end of his tongue. I just couldn’t hold back. Not when he slapped at my buzzing button so knowingly.

‘Oh, God!’ I screamed (and it was never more appropriate). Orgasm exploded inside my pussy and crashed through my quivering body. I came and came, riding the man’s face to wicked satisfaction.

I flopped back on the altar table, exhausted and exhilarated. A not-so-virginal sacrifice to the god of lust.

* * *

Bishop McKenzie got reprimanded and transferred to a rural diocese. Because old Mrs. Land, my office mentor, had been watching us from the vestry, and reported what she’d seen to the higher-ups.

I got fired. But not before getting a nice settlement from the church. They were afraid I was going to sue them for sexual harassment or something. They were kind of sensitive about lawsuits, apparently.

* * *

I didn’t stay unemployed for long. A big high-profile, high-risk businessman hired me to work at his real estate office. He cared even less about my lack of job skills than Derek had.

Bob Brophy was into appearance, cosmetic and otherwise, with his blow-dried blond pompadour and face-lifted face, his manicured hands and immaculate tan, his fancy suits and ties. He was in his mid-fifties, I guess, and still very good-looking despite, or because of, all the plastic surgery and professional primping. He liked what he saw of me, too, what I added to his glamorous penthouse office on the ninetieth floor of his self-named building.

But he was very demanding.

‘Get my wife on the phone, Ellen!’ he barked at me my very first day on the job.

I set my nail file down on his gigantic desk, stood up and smoothed down the short, tight black leather skirt he’d bought me to go along with the low-cut blue satin blouse. I leaned over his desk for the phone at his elbow, and he admired the view. I picked up the receiver and punched the button labelled ‘WIFE’.

When I handed him the phone, he said, ‘I think I lost a cufflink under your chair. Check for me, huh?’

I counted one cufflink on each of his two French cuffs, but I smiled and turned and bent down anyway, and looked under my chair. I almost split my skirt at the back, and Bob’s sharp intake of breath almost sucked me right into his mouth. But then his wife came on the line, and he started talking to her.

I turned back around. He signalled at me to look under his desk. I nodded and crouched down, peered into the opening that split his huge desk in two. That’s when I saw that he actually wanted me to suck him into my mouth. His cock was sticking out of his suit pants, pointing at me, pampered and pumped as the man himself.

He kept right on talking to his wife, as I got down onto all fours and crawled under his desk. There was plenty of room, the carpet sort of worn down. I reached up and grasped Bob’s penis, stroked it. He didn’t miss a beat, just grunting and bucking slightly, babbling to his wife about how much he loved her. I slid my lips over his smooth, swollen hood and engulfed it with my mouth.

‘Yeah!’ Bob bellowed into the phone. ‘Of course I’m faithful to you, honey!’