MILF

Monica had her shoes off and was quite comfortable in her work cubicle chatting with her good friend and co-worker. She had her feet propped up on her desk just adjacent to her computer while her friend was reclining right next to them and making faces.

"Girl, you are just way too comfortable."

Monica rubbed her feet together and shrugged nonchalantly. "At this point I really don't care. They got me working ten hour days, training new hires and I just finished doing the final draft on that reference material. Management should be happy that I haven't come out of my bra by now!"

"Shhh!" Lilly shushed her. But she couldn't help but to laugh at Monica's bluntness. "You are just crazy!"

It was almost 4:30 on a Friday and Monica was fantasizing about running home, stripping out of her clothes and jumping into her Jacuzzi tub to relax away this helacious week. A glass of wine and maybe a Jaheim c.d. would round out the week nicely...

Jon appeared in the entrance of Monica's cubicle holding a document in his hand. He hesitated when he saw either Lilly or at the sight of Monica's thick brown legs propped up on the desk. "Oh..." he stammered, and looked like he would turn away.

Lilly leaped to her feet. "Jon, I'm just leaving. Monica's all yours."

Jon's eyes quickly swept over the site of Monica's legs. She wondered if he disapproved. Jon was a 25 year old gangly white kid that she'd been given the task of training for the last three months. He was smart but some times examined and analyzed everything to exhaustion. At such times she took a perverse pleasure in out thinking him.

Despite all of that, she liked the kid. Monica was 42, and after working for her Company for close to 20 years it was refreshing to interact with someone who wasn't beaten down by corporate America and all its politics.

Whenever they talked about things that weren't work related, Monica found herself admiring Jon's optimism. Sometimes she made fun of his new age jargon about putting out positive energy in the world and getting that back in return...but secretly she'd began incorporating that concept into her own personal life.

She'd been divorced five years, no kids and that extra fifteen pounds that sat on her curvaceous frame often gave her cause to bitch and moan. But lately she'd seen things in a different light...like how her mocha brown skin was smooth without the first trace of line or wrinkle. It wasn't uncommon for Monica to be mistaken for a woman seven or eight younger then she actually was.

And the fact that she didn't have any children's college funds to pay off meant that Monica had the extra cash in her bank account to pay for the new Louis Vuitton bag that set in her cabinet and the Jimmy Choo shoes that currently covered her pedicured feet.

Monica smiled at Jon. "What you got there?" She lowered her legs carefully, tugging down at the hem of her form fitting skirt as it rose that extra inch above her knee. Jon hesitated before approaching her with the document. He seemed uncomfortable about something so Monica came to her feet to look at the document he held in his hand.

She wasn't short by any means at a height of 5'10. But Jon still towered over her. She gauged him to be 6'3 or even taller. He didn't immediately speak, just studied the document. One thing she'd learned about Jon in these three months that she'd been training him, is that he wasn't the type to be rushed into anything so Monica took the time he used to gather his question to study him.

Everyday Jon wore a crisp white shirt. Beneath it was a t-shirt. He wore beige Dockers and Brown hush puppies. It wasn't the same pair of pants; it wasn't the same white shirt. But it never varied; not in the three months that she'd worked with him. His brown hair was curly and cropped short but still unruly and smelled of shampoo; nothing fruity...something earthy, masculine.

He was thin, if he were her kid she'd fatten him up. But then he was a vegetarian which was more of that new age business. And maybe he was a bit too pale which was amplified by his dark hair and eyes. He was clean shaven and wore simple frameless glasses that made him appear as smart as he thought himself to be. And...in all fairness, as smart as he actually was.

He had paused expectantly and Monica realized that he'd already asked his question and was waiting for her response. Quickly she replayed the one sided conversation back... 'sarsep eligibility...blah blah blah...vesting table...incorrect basis—"

Monica took the document from his hand with a frown. "What?" She was now holding a print of the hyperlink page to the project that she'd only just completed; the project that was due to be turned in this Monday... "What are you doing with this?"

Jon paused. "Monica, do you see this link? Its referencing the Westlaw vesting table for a Sarsep Plan, right?"

Monica nodded looking at the applicable equation right below it.

"Wrong. I don't know what this equation is but this is no Sarsep vesting table..."

And then all Monica heard was womp womp womp like in the Peanuts cartoon. She blinked rapidly as she followed Jon's finger as it ran down the printed document pointing out instance after instance of inconsistencies in the equations.

Imagine being assigned a project that was a multi million dollar contract to your small struggling tax preparation company—a project no different then half a dozen you'd been given in your career at said company. Imagine being sent to DC for a month and a half at a cost of $15,000 just to cover your per diem alone. Then let's say you returned to your small struggling company with the completed reference guide...but it couldn't be used because all of the equations were FUCKED UP!

She gave him a searching look. "Are you sure about this Jon?"

Monica turned away before Jon could respond, and then snatched up the telephone on her desk. She stabbed in the phone number to accounting and demanded that the reference guide be pulled and the equations confirmed.

"I know you aren't saying that because it's the end of the day you don't have time to do it—I know that you aren't trying to tell me to wait until Monday." Monica's eyes grew dark. She paused and listened. She listened...and then she listened some more. "Is that your bottom line answer?" Was Monica's controlled response. Then she slammed the phone down.

Monica put her hands on her curvaceous hips as Jon waited patiently for her to translate the one sided conversation. "I was told to wait until Monday because only DC would be able to resolve or even understand the equations. Jon, no one in the accounting office even bothered to pull the damn document to see if there was anything that could be done about it!" She stared at him as if waiting for him to respond, or to give her the answers to the mysteries of the world.

"Jon how did you even know this about the equations? I mean, I didn't teach you anything about equations. All we do in this division is the language in the plan documents." She was looking at him with squinted eyes in total disbelief. "These Westlaw references are actuarial tables—"

"Well, I took accounting—"

"Are you sure these are wrong, though? I mean..." Monica blinked rapidly at the sight of the mysterious equations. "These are on Sarseps...those are grandfathered in...I gotta call DC." She turned and picked up the phone and dialed DC.

Forty-five minute later Monica had documents spread out on her desk, her computer opened to Westlaw and the phone plugged to her ear. And all that had been accomplished is that DC had confirmed that the equations appeared to be incorrect. No one was available to resolve it at this late hour and it was DC's suggestion that the person that initially spotted the discrepancy was just as likely to be qualified to resolve the discrepancy as anyone in their office would be.

Monica's eyes darted to the clock on her desktop. Shit! It was after six; Jon would have been long gone! She hurried out of her cubicle. The office was vacant, as was Jon's cubicle. Monica had no qualms about what she was getting ready to do next...

She hurried back to her office and pulled up the HR department's data base, and using her password accessed employee personal information. Well it came down to this; if she couldn't turn in the report her head was going to roll anyway...

Jon's phone picked up after the fourth ring and it sounded like he'd had to run to get it.

"Hello, Jon. This is Monica from the office..." There was a long pause and Monica rushed in. "Look I'm sorry to bother you. I know this is highly irregular for me to be calling you at home—but it's about what we were talking about earlier. Those equations..." Another long pause.

"Ok."

Damn he was making this hard. "Jon." She relented. "I really need your help." She sighed. "I know I'm asking a lot because this could take up an entire weekend..."

"What do you need me to do?"

This was so much to ask that Monica closed her eyes at how presumptuous she was. "Can you link to the correct equations or...we get rid of the hyperlinks and you provide the correct equations?"

"Ok."

Ok? Just Ok? "Oh my God....John thank you! I owe you, Jon! I really do."

"Ok." Was his simple response. "I guess I can meet you back at the office...but I got dinner cooking—"

"I don't want to put you out. I can meet you at your house."

"That's cool then. Are you still at the office?" She confirmed that she was. "I need you to bring the Tax Guide that's on my desk. It's in my in box." He gave her a list of other things he wanted and she rushed to retrieve them, grabbed her brief case, the reference guide, her jacket and purse and dashed out of the office to Jon's house.

As she drove up into the parking lot of his apartment complex Monica was pleasantly surprised. It was pretty nice; looked like you'd have to have money to live here. The boy must have a ton of roommates.

She searched for Jon's unit and rang the bell, juggling the items that she had toted from the office. When Jon answered he quickly rescued her from her load and led her into a surprisingly spacious livingroom. Monica hesitated before stepping into the apartment. She didn't know what to focus on first; the richly decorated room or Jon wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Why had she pictured him lounging around his home in tan pants and a button down shirt...?

Jon had modern taste...but not the glass and black lacquer that she'd always hated. There were chrome and leather furnishings with plush throw rugs on hardwood floors. He had a nice entertainment center and flat screen plasma TV....Damn...the boy was rich...Monica gave him speculative look. Jon had placed the items he'd taken from her onto a dark wood desk that held a flat screen monitor and state of the art computer.

"Jon, you can't imagine how much I appreciate this. You are probably saving my ass."

Jon just smiled slightly. "Not a problem. Just put your jacket over in the closet." He headed into the kitchen. "I'm just finishing up with dinner. I hope you're hungry."

Oh God...new age vegan food...she wasn't up for any couscous or whatever he ate. She was trying to think of a polite way to beg off dinner even though she suddenly realized that she was pretty hungry. Her dinner time had come and gone...

Monica followed him into a small but neat and clean kitchen. It did smell awfully good in here...

"Its just veggie chili. I hope you like it spicy."

Curiously, she peeked at the pot of bubbling goodness. It looked and smelled awesome. God, this was so surreal; she standing in Jon's kitchen while he stirred a pot of chili, wearing jeans and a t-shirt smacked with a picture of some rock group. She really could not equate this Jon with the Jon from the office who wore the crisp white button up shirts and the beige docker slacks...

Suddenly she realized that she needed to pee. She had run out of the office without going to the bathroom first. "Do you care if I wash up?"

He gave her a questioning look. "Did you bring a change of clothes?"

"Well I just meant...wash my hands."

"Ahhh." He chuckled and looked even more different, more relaxed. Was it the way he stood at the stove? The tilt of his narrow hips, or the wiry muscles that she saw standing out on his bare forearms. Jon gestured back out through the kitchen door. "Upstairs through my bedroom is the bathroom. There are fresh towels if you really do want to shower." Even though his face appeared expressionless, Monica sensed that he was amused.

For some reason that made her face warm. "I think just the hand washing will be fine."

His brow arched and he turned back to the chili as if to say 'suit yourself.' Jon was a man of few words. In the past Monica had taken that to mean shyness. But now...she wasn't so sure.

Monica took her time going to the bathroom as she examined the photos and artwork hanging on his wall (all very artfully done). She loved the color of his walls that led up the stairs...that new green of a pear that was sun kissed. Then in his bedroom the walls were a deeper moss green. Bed unmade...it was the only thing that she'd seen thus far that hadn't been in total order.

As Monica used the facilities something dawned on her. As soon as she had ringed Jon's doorbell and he had taken the load from her arms...he had also taken one from her shoulders. She felt relaxed and confident that Jon would handle the matter. And that was strange to feel that away about the young man she'd just so recently ended a student-teacher relationship with.

When she returned downstairs, music was playing softly from the sound system. Whoever it was sounded like Maroon 5 and they were crooning about secrets...

Jon had set the little two seat dinette with oversized colorful mugs for the chili, non matching plates for the crusty bread that set in the middle of the table. And there was even a chilled bottle of Sangria.

"Just in time." He pulled out her chair and held it for her while she sat. "You don't have to have any of that Sangria but I love it with this chili. And it isn't very intense especially with a full glass of ice." He sat down.

Monica took a tentative taste of the chili...Yum. It was spicy, just the way she liked her food. Jon had arranged small dishes of cooling sour cream, diced green onions, black olives, and grated cheese. And soon her mouth wanted the icy sweet sangria...and Jon hadn't lied! It was awesome with the spicy chili.

"You like it?" He asked. She nodded with a mouthful of food, dabbing her lips with a cloth napkin.

"Delicious. How did you make it?"

"It's just a vegetarian frozen chili that I doctor up. I put in black beans, white beans, carrots, mushrooms...and whatever else I have fresh. Mmm, diced tomatoes and zucchini rounded it out this time."

"Well it tastes beefy."

"That would be the mushrooms." Jon sipped some of the sangria. "And the sangria? Good isn't it?"

"Mmm." Was her agreeable response. But she was already tired and this was going to be a long night. The last thing she needed was to get the 'itis' over some good food and good wine.

Jon seemed to read her mind. "I'll make a pot of coffee. This is going to be an all nighter."

"Jon whatever I can do to make this up to you, consider it done." Jon said nothing. This let her know that one day he would call his ticket in...and she intended to pay up.

Several hours later Monica was sitting in front of Jon's computer staring at links to all types of resource guides. Jon was a font of information. He had her accessing data from resources that she had never even heard of.

While she worked at his desk, Jon was at the dinette table with legal pads and opened books spread out before him. He was in deep concentration as he scribbled and tapped out amounts on a calculator that seemed quite technical. Every once in a while Monica would pad across the floor (she had already kicked off her Jimmy Choo shoes) and would lay a print-out of the research for the next equation in the guide.

The music was mellow and the coffee was strong and Monica felt completely relaxed and confident that although they hadn't made much of a dent in what needed to be done, it would get done.

"What radio station is this?" Monica asked. She was really getting into the music. "XM radio or something?"

Jon glanced up. His hand had been buried in his curly hair making it more unruly then normal. "Actually it's a CD disc exchange. There are 200 discs in there now." He stood up and went to the entertainment center, crouching he retrieved an album. He handed it to Monica. "These are the discs in it. If you see something you like let me know and I can play it."

"There was this song that played a while ago about little fishes."

"Little fishies?"

Monica thought. "Strange fishes!"

Jon's lip curled up in amusement. "Weird Fishes. It's by Radiohead." He picked up a remote control and pressed a series of commands until the song with the strange compelling beat began. "Is this it?"

Monica nodded rapidly. "Yes! I like that song."

He put the remote on the desk next to her. "Ahhh its one of my favorites too. I got another for you when this one ends." And then they listened to music and did research and it was comfortable and cozy.

Some time later Monica glanced at the clock on the wall and did a double take. "Uh...its past midnight."

Jon looked behind him then winced, rubbing his neck.

Monica stood up and slipped on her shoes. "On that note I think its time for me to leave-"

Jon's brow furrowed. "What? You're leaving?"

She busily gathered her things. "Yeah, it's late. I've already overstayed my welcome and we're both bushed-"

"Pssshaw. Is this what you call an all nighter?" Jon chuckled and his eyes appeared clear and alert. He shrugged. "Okay...bail out on me if you want. I'll do the research AND the calculations—"

"You're not tired?" Monica asked in amazement?

Jon shook his head. "I'm rarin' to go if you are." He stood up and stretched popping his neck, then his shoulders, then his fingers. Monica found herself gazing at his long lean form... "I just need a couple ibruprofen for my neck is all."

Monica came back to attention, and then dropped her things back on the desk. "Okay, I'm going to use the facilities again-"

"While you're upstairs bring the ibruprofen back down. It's in the medicine chest."

"Okay," she called as she hurried up the stairs. This time there was no dallying the coffee wanted out. She closed the bathroom door with a resounding thud as she rushed to the toilet.

Afterwards, the idea of pulling up her nylons was just too much, so Monica slipped them off then rubbed her fatigued legs. God, what she wouldn't do to remove the confining bra too...what the hell.

Her full breasts fell from the cups of the bra and Monica rubbed at the red groove markings that were left on her skin. She indulged in this guilty pleasure for a few moments before putting back on her blouse.

Making a small bundle of her bra and nylons, Monica found the bottle of pills, and then opened the bathroom door to hurry back downstairs. She jumped in surprise at the sight of Jon in the bedroom standing before his chest of drawers.

"I have a shirt in here for you to change into." He spoke absently, busily going through the neatly folded shirts. "There's no need for you to be uncomfortable if we're really pulling an all nighter." He found a shirt that he apparently approved of. "Ahhh, this should be more comfortable..." He turned to Monica then hesitated. His eyes swept over her form, lingering at her now loose breast before quickly glancing away.

Maybe it was the lack of sleep and the continued surrealness, but Monica felt a sudden stirring in response to that brief look.

Her brow gathered in confusion at the suddenness of her rising desire and also at whom it was directed at. Jon?! 25 year old Jon?! Caucasian, 25 year old Jon?!

And just as confusing to her is that she could clearly see that Jon was having a reaction to her as well. His eyes met hers again but this time boldly held.

God it made a spike of passion leap in her center and Monica almost took a step back.

Jon's eyes stayed glued to hers, searching. She regarded him in confusion trembling slightly at the suddenness of the erotic intensity coursing through her.

Jon walked towards her in that easy way that he strolled unhurried from place to place. There was something so cool and relaxed about Jon that she'd always liked...

His hand rose and she felt his fingertips lightly tracing the line of her cheek. Her breath caught in her chest and she suddenly found it hard to breath. It had been so long since she'd been touched. Her body craved it in a way that surprised her. She was alarmed at the wetness she felt stinging her eyes. Mortified she drew away from his touch but as she turned to retreat, she felt Jon's arms slip around her waist and hold her firmly in place.

His body fell into line behind hers and molded easily to hers. His cheek nuzzled her hair. His actions were without hesitation, without fear; just his body telling hers what it needed.

His hands splayed out against her belly and she felt his breath warm against her cheek as his lips traced a path from her ear to her neck. She could hear his breath thick and halting, causing goose bumps to raise across her skin. Her legs buckled as a sudden warmth of her silky juices dampened her panties. Jon's arm held her in place with a strength that surprised her.

She reached up and struggled out of his grasp, pushing his arm away and only then did he release her. She spun around and gave him an accusatory look.

His lips were parted slightly and half hooded with passion, his breathing still ragged. She closed her eyes to block out the need that she saw in them. She could see that it was a mirror of her own desire.

Even when she felt him step up close to her again, Monica did not open her eye. It wasn't his fingertips that she felt on her skin this time, nor the tightness of his body against hers...but it was his lips. They lightly brushed hers then hesitated seeming to give her an opportunity to pull away.

She didn't.

Emboldened Jon's lips parted to capture her fuller ones. Monica gasped. God...had she ever been kissed like that before? Still with no other part of their bodies coming into contact, Jon's lips gently and with great consideration devoured Monica's.

This time it was Monica that closed the gap between them, and her body that pressed against his. Jon's breath came out in a rush. The reaction in his body was immediate. He pushed his pelvis against hers and the hardness she felt sent her into another degree of unreality.

Part of her still wanted to retreat...but that part was growing smaller and smaller.

Jon continued to take control. His hands reached low to grip her round ass. His big hand clutched and pulled her to him. Monica gasped. His hard dick dug into her insistently and now she thought she was going to black out! It felt so good. She couldn't stop imagining it working in and out of her...in her mouth with her tongue exploring and savoring it...

Jon's hips rolled rhythmically against her, accepting her moans into his seeking mouth. His harsh breath came out in a rush as he groaned her name, murmuring how much he wanted her, how much he needed to be inside of her, how fucking beautiful she was.

Hearing his words, feeling his hands roam her body, and seeing how much he wanted her felt like a sensory overload. Dear god, if she didn't fuck him right now she'd die!

Jon picked her up easily and Monica's legs wrapped around his sinewy body. He carried them sure-footed to his bed where he stood for a moment, happy to be cupping her rounded ass in the palm of his hands while her long brown legs engulfed his body; the core of her rhythmically rubbing against his belly. Why should he move when he felt like he was in heaven right now? Kissing her, tonguing her accepting mouth while she mewed like a lost kitten as she finally began to release the pent-up desire that had long been locked away.

He lowered her carefully onto the bed only when it dawned on him that to be buried in her body would be even more rewarding. Though he covered her with his long thin form—because her legs stayed locked around him, preventing him from rising, he still did not indulge in grinding his pelvis against her. He wanted to hump her and rub his stiff cock into the opening of her legs but he also wanted to remove his jeans, then remove her skirt, then slide her wet panties down and to smell her warm sex and see the evidence to her desire.

Jon hovered above her gyrating form on bent knee and elbow, not breaking their passionate kiss. Then he allowed his fingertips to trace the line of her smooth brown thigh.

Monica groaned and her belly began to hitch and her clitoris spasmed. She felt hot and cold flashes and that meant—

"OHHH...." She groaned louder as her body began to push her towards climax. Jon slid his body downward, smoothly and quickly. He pushed up her skirt and saw her pretty black French cut panties. In fact they were wet and Jon had to resist the urge to suck her through the sodden material. Instead he gently, but quickly slid them down her thighs. Jon placed the flat of his tongue firmly against her seizing clit, and then he rapidly rolled his tongue along it.

Monica's body stiffened and she cried out. A tremor started in her legs and then moved up her body and then her hips were thrusting forward and she gripped Jon's tussled curls roughly in her fist.

"Ungh!!!" She cried out repeatedly as if she were in the throes of a seizure, her hips pumping into his face, his mouth opened and accepting her silky honey and his tongue triggering her clit to spill more.

Jon couldn't help it when he pushed his own pelvis into his mattress and spilled himself into his jeans with a shudder and a tense groan. He dug his fingers into her hips and followed Monica's every move. When it became evident that she wasn't going to stop bucking and seizing until he removed his tongue, he therefore allowed her orgasm to last for another few moments longer before he finally removed his tongue, sliding it up and down her wet crease, and then laying a soft kiss on those lips.

He travelled back up the bed and lay beside her propped on his elbow watching her breathing hard and trying to catch her breath. Her eyes were closed and for a split second he wondered if she was having chest pains the way her hand hovered above her heart. But no, she was just trying to catch her breath. Finally she opened her eyes and looked at him. He prayed that she wouldn't turn away; regret what had happened. Because they couldn't take it back. He'd already tasted her and he wanted more of her.

Monica lay there for a few moments trying not to think about anything, but to just enjoy the feel of the most powerful orgasm that she'd ever experienced. How is it that a 42 year old woman would be having an orgasm of this magnitude given by a 25 year old? How was that possible?

Feeling him near her, watching her, and waiting Monica finally opened her eyes and looked at him—maybe seeing him for the first time. His glasses were off and his dark grey eyes were very big. He looked at her with no apology or regret.

She thought, I would kiss him now...and he must have read those thoughts in her mind--pulling them out of the tilt of her head, or the flex of her eyes but he knew what she was thinking and he leaned down and softly kissed her lips. Monica brought her hand up to cup his head and Jon took the time to explore her mouth with his tongue. His hand moved over her body to rest on her full breast. His thumb sought out her nipple and explored its every rise, and crevice; the smooth and the ripples of her areola.

This time when the passion began to rise they weren't rushed and Jon took the time to slip out of his clothes. Monica watched his foreign looking cock. His balls were tan and blushed red. A soft down of light hair covered them. It was a bit darker where it covered his pelvis and rose in a dark line to his belly button. His cock was ruddy and hard, his thick shaft was lined with bulging veins that told of his arousal. The tip was the color of a mushroom and shiny, dripping with precum. She could put her fist around his cock and still there would be more.

It was beautiful.

Jon didn't seem to know that she had just assessed his cock and found it more then acceptable. He reached behind her and undid her skirt. He had her undressed before she could reach down herself. Now that they lay naked next to each other, each was to busy touch and exploring the other to speak.

"Beautiful, Monica..." Jon finally uttered. He met her eyes. "You are just as beautiful as I fantasized. Your breasts look just as I dreamed, with my hands covering them and your nipples peeking through my fingers." He then placed his lips on her breasts. He kissed each nipple, using his fingers to gently squeeze them into peaks.

"You've fantasized about me?" She was more curious then alarmed.

He nodded with an amused twinkle in his eyes. "Yes."

"Why?" She was nearly twenty years older then him and he certainly had nothing to be ashamed of in the looks or in the sex dept.

"Well you're sexy, you're smart, you're—"

"Old enough to be your Mama."

"...experienced, seasoned, talented but not old. And even if you are old enough to be my mother that just makes you milf, and that's not bad. That's a good thing."

"Wow, you sound like you're trying to sell me at the market!" She chuckled nervously. But he noted that it was not so nervous as to cause her to get up and dash away.

"What is MILF? I've heard that term used before."

He raised his brow. "Oh? Where?"

"In a movie, some cut rate slasher film."

Jon placed his hand on her hip. "MILF stands for: Mother I'd Like to Fuck." He named each acronym slowly and distinctly watching her closely to gauge her reaction."

Monica's mouth fell opened. Then she threw her head back and laughed. Jon chuckled, relieved that he hadn't offended her. He nuzzled her neck unable to resist her looking so carefree.

"Let me just say that being considered MILF is like being placed in the ranks of Pamela Anderson, and Angelina Jolie or Demi Moore. Being able to have sex with a sexy older woman is every man's dream."

"I'm an older woman." It wasn't a question, more of a surprised observation.

"Only in the sense that you're older then me."

Monica sensed that Jon wanted to be doing more then talking by the way his fingers explored her round hips and the way his erect penis strained towards her. But she was curious. "Have you ever been with a black woman before?"

He shook his head. "No. But I've always been attracted to black women especially—just for being black. I like the contrast in color. I think it's very sexy. I always notice pretty black women much faster then any other race. Have you ever been with a white man?"

"No." She had thought some were attractive, but had never thought she'd ever do something like this; sex without purpose or strings. If she did believe in casual sex, then yeah, she would have probably thought more about white men.

"Well..." He gave her a steady look. "There are lots of things that I can do as a younger guy that the older ones can't. I can cum six times in a night and still get rock hard. I love the taste of pussy and I will stay buried between your legs all night if you let me. And I want to learn how to please you, and anything you'd want to do would never be off limits with me." His fingers absently fondled her nipples, knowing that he was causing her body to become heated. He rolled over and withdrew a condom from the nightstand. Monica rolled it up his shaft, giving it a playful squeeze. Yes. A young man was harder then an older man, that was for certain!

They had sex three times before Monica accidentally fell asleep waiting for him to become erect for number four. Jon was tired but he watched her for several minutes until her breathing was deep and loud and he knew that she wasn't faking sleep.

Jon got up and went downstairs. He turned off the stereo and carried the used glasses and mugs into the kitchen. He quickly did the dishes then came back to the livingroom and sat behind his computer. He gauged how much more work that they would need to do before the project would be finished. Too much... They still had the Instructor's guide to complete with all of the instructor's notes for each chapter. And all Jon wanted to think about is lazing in bed with Monica, or showering with Monica, or going out to eat with Monica. He didn't feel the need to waste any more time working on the bogus project.

He pulled up the missing copy—the one that he had diverted to his computer the other day, and the one that he had erased from Monica's work computer after she'd gone home. He had worked with her long enough to know where she kept her SME files and he was that good of a hacker to easily backdoor himself into her computer when she wasn't around.

The only thing that could have potentially screwed his plan is if she had sent any final copies to a home computer, but he had banked on the fact that she would keep work at work and pleasure for after work.

Jon pecked away until he had transferred the Instructor's guide from its hiding place. Now, they could finish up the boring stuff in a few short hours. And he would pretend that he'd come down to work on it while she rested.

Jon leaned back in his chair and studied his computer not feeling the least bit of guilt. Honestly, he thought it would take longer to seduce her—another day. The first day he figured he'd get her comfortable and break down her barriers. The second day would be the seduction. But when she had come out of the bathroom minus her bra, it was she that had surprised him.

He smiled at the memory of her beautiful breasts, loose in her blouse. He had known what he wanted the first time he'd set eyes on Monica. She had been competent in training him, not condescending, but challenging him. Yes, he had lied to get his foot into the door. But he knew that she would not have easily overlooked the age difference, and possibly the color difference between them.

Jon shut down the computer and walked up the stairs, still naked. He climbed into bed and nestled his body against her back until they lay in a spoon position that felt natural to him.

Closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep, he knew that if he wanted it to work with this woman, there would be no amount of trickery that would keep her with him. He would have to let her see just what he was about. He wanted more from her then just a casual relationship.

He fell asleep, content for now.

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Submitted by : Anonymous
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