My fingers move lightly over the thin wool of his suit pants. I can feel the bulge of his penis, growing, responding to my gentle attention.

This is the craziest thing I have ever done.

He got on the bus one stop after mine. I don't know him. The crowd shoved us together. Tall, handsome, trim body, blue eyes, black wavy hair, delicious. We are facing each other, but he's looking past me, out the window of the packed municipal bus, stoic. I look past his shoulder at the buildings. Our bodies sway and collide as the old bus lurches over the poorly maintained street. The air- getting warmer as the air conditioning loses its battle with the summer heat, drifts with the scents of shampoo, after-shave, and perfume. Nobody talks; we're all going to work.

His fingers contact my thigh in reply, four red-hot digits moving slowly over my pants, closer to my already soaked apex. I'm going to need that extra thong I keep in my desk drawer.

He's at least half my age, and his cock is now rigid. I trace its shape with one long finger, feeling its length and tracing the large head. I imagine holding it as I move over him and settle, taking him in, filling me. I need cock. It's been way too long, and my judgment is weak; hell, it's gone.

I'm a partner in one of the largest law firms in the city, courting scandal, but I cannot stop. I suck in a breath as his middle finger traces the seam of my suit pants, pushing just hard enough to feel my groove. My hand that isn't touching his cock has a death grip on the overhead bar because I cannot trust my legs. I want to fucking cum, but I can't. I cum in a flood, and it will literally soak my pants and run down my legs.

I want to hold his cock, squeeze it, stroke it, feel it twitch when he climaxes, imagining how it would feel in my mouth, pouring out onto my welcoming tongue. But that would leave a wet spot, hopefully large, and that's not fair.

***

I blame my phone. Usually, I wake naked and horny. I masturbate to three climaxes, rise, shower, dress, eat, and drive off to work in my expensive foreign car.

Today, a cascade of calamity has reduced me to riding the city bus. My expensive foreign car is in the shop. My alarm failed; well, I turned the volume down last night, but technology should adapt to that. My Hitachi wand and dildo... What a word. Who invented that one? Both rest on my bed, unused. Because I overslept, the Uber app gave me nobody anywhere close, so here I am riding the city bus, fondling and being fondled by a young man.

He moves his hand off my pussy and tugs on the lanyard. He's going to get off, well, the bus, one stop before I do...not. I'll be in my personal bathroom later this morning finishing what he, well, me actually, started.

He steps off without ever making eye contact. We glanced at each other peripherally. I'd know him anywhere. It was as close to a 'zipless fuck' as Erica Jong called it that I have ever experienced.

The bus drops me half a block away. I walk slowly- it's summer, and I cannot be sweaty when I get to my office- and plan my strategy. I'll take the bus tomorrow, sneak my card into his pocket. Maybe even today. He could be on my bus home if I don't take an Uber. I could make him cum then, and he me. I cannot believe how recklessly horny I am.

I shift my mind to work. First thing, I have to interview a candidate for an assistant position. This will be yet another daughter of somebody in the firm or a family friend. Hopefully, she will be plain-looking and marginally competent. The last one was a cheerleader. I caught one of the partners fucking her on the conference table. Wait, that's incorrect and implies coercion. Tiffany, not her real name, was fucking one of the partners on the conference table. I fired her, forced him to buy a new table, and said nothing to his wife. He owes me big time.

I, on the other hand, am single and smart. I will confine my perversions to the public transportation system with total strangers, like all reasonable, horny, currently man-less women do, right?

***

Settled behind my desk, a dry thong cupping my unsatisfied pussy, I look over the info. These days, you get no information: no age, no birth date, just education and skills. Jesse graduated from Florida State 3 years ago with honors, just out of law school. Well, not bad. I buzz Rebecca to send her in.

I hear the door close, look up, and feel the red heat of humiliation fill my face as I remember- Jesse is also a boy's name.

The next few seconds pass like hours.

My mind is in a blender as I try to understand and form a response. I have never been so blindsided in my entire life. My face is on fire. I fight to keep my mouth closed. I cannot think of a word to utter. I need to craft damage control. I'll be a cartoon in this office, the horny slut partner that fondles job candidates on city buses. But my shameless pussy is getting wet, remembering his touch.

Then I notice. He is standing, waiting for my instruction. His face is blank. No acknowledgement, nothing. Like it never happened.

"Um, have a seat, Jesse."

"Thank you, Ms. Franklin."

He is so smooth. Just sits there like he's never seen me before. Like he's never rubbed my pussy. Like my hand was never rubbing his magnificent penis. Fucker's gonna make one hell of a lawyer.

***

Jesse got the job. Not because of the bus, but because he was cool, collected, had the correct answers, and the best questions. He never dropped the slightest hint, nothing.

Our final exchange had me thinking. He was confidently deferential, if that's possible.

"Well, Jesse, it's the weekend. Enjoy, and you start Monday."

"It'll be nice to do some surfing. With school and job hunting, I haven't had beach time. Are you a beach person, Ms. Franklin?"

Wow. He did it again, threw me right off. I answered quickly, not thinking, "Yes, I go down to Haulover."

Oh, fuck, not again! I thought. Maybe he's new here and doesn't know that Haulover is a nude beach. His face gave nothing away.

"Thank you again for the job, Ms. Franklin. I'll see you Monday."

***

Half an hour later, I'm in my shower, ramming my pussy onto the suction cup dildo, a plug up my ass, and holding a buzzer on my clit. I can't stop cumming, and I don't want to. How am I going to work with this young man? I've got two days to get Jesse's dick off my mind.

***

It's eleven O'clock Saturday morning, and I'm topless on my towel, under my umbrella, on Haulover Beach. Between last night and this morning, I managed to satiate myself.

This isn't Cap d'Agda or Ibiza. There is no sex going on, well, obvious sex; a bit of touching here and there, an occasional erection, but the locals watch like Eagles for fear of losing their nude beach.

The sea is calm today. Poor Jesse, wherever he is, will get no rides.

I close my eyes and think of my young, virile assistant. It's nice to be a woman, I can lie here and get horny as fuck, and nobody knows, as long as I don't shove my hand down my suit and finger my pussy, which I would love to do right now.

In my dream, I have Jesse's cock in my hand, feeling the heat and pulse of its sexual energy. I look up into those blue eyes as I extend my tongue and touch the clear drop at the tip, salty, warm, viscous. I want the real thing. I open my mouth and slide it over the big plum of a head. I love sucking cock. It's powerful. You're in control of his orgasm. You give him the gift of climax.

I slide my mouth down, taking as much as I am able, and my other hand cups his balls as he...

Noise next to me. I open my eyes slightly and then fully.

What. The. Actual. Fuck?

Jesse is here, five feet away, in a T-shirt and board shorts, setting up an umbrella. I know he can see me- and my naked tits, but he gives no sign that he knows me, just like my office.

I wonder, did he walk up and down this entire beach looking for me, his sex-crazed boss? Have I stepped into a minefield of my own creation? One reckless indulgence in an otherwise careful life, and now I am going to pay for it. I shouldn't have hired him. But he is so overqualified. What's it going to be, his phone, propped up to get pics, a mini cam somewhere in his stuff? Or maybe, just a straight-up proposition.

I thought as I watched him. Why did I tell him where I would be? I knew why. This is why. My dirty mind wanted him here.

Concealed behind my sunglasses, looking out the side, I watch as he unfolds his chair, puts his bag behind his cooler, so much for spy pics, and gets out a book while never acknowledging that his boss is five feet away, with her 32 B tits on display. I look down at my chest. I like my tits, two symmetrical cones, no sag, and right now, two hard bullets of nipples standing up. Anybody who sees them will know that my pussy is soaked. He will know.

Then it gets fucking erotic. Facing me and still ignoring his new boss, who is fighting the urge to stare at him, he flips off his T-shirt, and my pussy floods. Not six-pack abs, but close enough, flat, toned belly with that vee, you know it, that vee that descends toward his cock hidden behind those board shorts. He's so fucking casual, knowing. Knowing I'm staring, straining my peripheral vision, hidden behind my sunglasses. He drops his shirt, still warm from his body, a shirt that I'd love to press to my face, filling my senses with his scent. I cannot believe how wet and horny I am.

My breath catches as I watch his fingers slide under the waistband of those board shorts, then down, pushing the colorful fabric and exposing more of the converging lines of that V.

He's looking around; he cannot be self-conscious. The kid is a fucking god. His eyes never turn my way, but he has to know I am here, his new boss, soaking wet, wanting to shove off my suit bottom and masturbate. No, more. I want to crawl over there on my hands and knees and look up into his eyes as I slide his cock into my mouth and feel it grow.

My eyes are locked onto those fingers as they move down. The V converges, and as the fabric descends, his cock is presented to my gaze.

He shaves, as I do.

Just the base, at first. Time is moving so slowly; each second seems like a minute as more of his penis is revealed. I turn my head, just a little to ease the strain on my eyes.

He shoves his shorts, and gravity takes them to his feet. He steps out, spreads his legs, and stretches, thrusting his hips forward. I cum. A little one. I don't know when I've ever climaxed untouched. He is beautiful. Smooth, hard, and as he moves, the muscles flex under his skin.

His cock is getting bigger. Putting on a show excites him. He looks around and then turns and bends over. Oh fuck, even his butthole is gorgeous. I've never thought of doing it, but I want to lick that clean little button.

My hand moves, my fingers slide under the waistband. I stop. That's too obvious for here, for him.

The wind is picking up, so he lays his umbrella on its side, conveniently blocking the view of the few other beachgoers in our area.

After stretching, he sits in his Tommy Bahama chair, reclined, his slightly tumescent cock off to one side. He never looks at me. Never acknowledges that there are any other people around him. He is teasing me, taunting me, daring me. I cannot let this challenge go unanswered.

I get up and rearrange my umbrella, like his, making sure he will be my only audience. I move my beach chair to block the view from the ocean side. I move slowly, making sure that Jesse has a good view. I only have a thong bottom, so he's getting a good look at my ass, which is round and hard—gym life.

I see his head adjust, still looking out at the sea, but behind those shades, he's watching his boss do things she's never dreamed of doing.

What is it about this man that strips me of reason, shame, and propriety? I'm down the rabbit hole of exhibitionism, and I am so fucking wet.

Facing him, I bend over and get my oil bottle out of my bag. My tits aren't huge, and they keep their shape. My nipples are like bullets. I squeeze some out and drop the bottle, working the oil over my hands and then crossing my arms and applying it to my shoulders, slowly moving down to my breasts, inching my hands down until I grip my nipples in my shiny fingers.

He's propped a leg up and draped a towel to conceal his cock. I watch it grow, inch by inch, in the shadow of that towel. He's facing the ocean, but behind those shades, he's watching his new boss put on a sex show for just him. He moves the towel, casually. Now I clearly see his fully erect cock, with its big plum head- a drop of precum at the tip. His hand moves from his thigh and grips the base. He's staring straight ahead. Nothing to see here, nope, no MILF lawyer who has lost her mind, risking her image and career to tease a man half her age.

I want to get on my hands and knees and crawl over there, hold his penis, and lick that drop off his cock. I want his hand on the back of my head, guiding me, urging me to take him into my willing and needy mouth.

As I massage my oily tits, his hand grips his shaft, and he masturbates, slowly, carefully. He adjusts his position to ensure that I can see his hand stroking his cock. A challenge again.

Facing him, I slip my fingers under the waistband of my tiny thong bottom. My turn. He stops stroking as I slide the fabric down, slowly exposing my vee. I stop with the edge just above my slit, pretending to be nervous. I see his penis twitch. I'm killing him, and I love it. There is a small pool of precum on his firm belly.

I bend over, just enough to push my thong down past my knees and let it drop to my feet. Just like him, I pause, lean back and stretch, pushing my shaved vulva out, opening my legs a little so maybe he can see my engorged, and wet sex.

I turn my back to him and bend over from my waist, my legs a bit wider than they need to be, and carefully pick up my thong. I tingle, aware that I am on display to him. I'm on a public beach, naked, showing a stranger my wet, open cunt. I have never been so excited. I didn't know I had this in me.

I examine my suit, still bent over, feeling the warm beach breeze on the lips of my vagina. I want him to come over, grab my hips, and ram his cock inside me, fuck the rules, fuck me.

I turn back and lie down on my towel between my chair and the umbrella, my legs aimed towards him, my back propped up on my beach bag. His hand is on that cock, but motionless. I bet he's holding off. Well, I can't allow that. I think.

I look around. My umbrella and chair shield the view of my hand moving between my legs. His penis flinches as my fingers spread my pussy and slide in. Who is this woman masturbating in public? Another dirty milestone passed. I am so wet, my hand is covered. I'm sure he can see the shiny mess.

He is stroking steadily now. We need to cum together.

I bring my other hand down. Two fingers in my vagina and my other hand pressing my clitoris down in a figure eight. I'm on the edge of a huge climax, but I'm waiting for a sign.

He slows down. I love that. Most men speed up; he is going to cum soon, and he's dragging the feeling out. I open my legs wider, displaying my fingers prodding my pussy and rubbing my clit. I'm dripping in sweat and panting. I am a wanton slut, and I love it. Cum for me, Jesse, and I'll cum for you.

I see his abs tighten, and I let myself climax. I quiver, and I feel the flood of my release pour out of me, over my hands. Jesse's mouth opens in shock, and he stops stroking. I gasp as a long white jet arcs out of his cock and over his flat belly. He strokes a little, and another follows, just as long, just as big. One more, a little less, and I see him relax.

My hands are still. My pussy is way too sensitive. Jesse runs his hands over his belly, rubbing his cum into his skin. I stand, letting my hands roam over my belly, leaving the dull sheen of my climax on my skin.

I walk towards the water, putting on a swagger, giving him a show. Maybe he'll join me in the water and end this charade.

I dive into the waves and swim for a few yards. I love the ocean, and on a calm day like this, I love to swim.

I surface, wipe the sweat out of my eyes, and look towards the beach.

He's gone.

***

I stayed home Sunday, and fucked myself, all over the house. It was good, but, as any real woman will tell you, a dildo, a vibrator, yeah, they're nice, but there is nothing like the feeling of a warm, soft, but hard cock sliding into your pussy while the man is over you, eye to eye, telling how good it feels to be fucking you.

I lay in bed, my pussy and ass exhausted. It didn't help. I am still planning ways to expose myself to my new assistant, get him to touch me, finger me, lick me, and fuck me, really, really hard. Just, not in the office.

Tomorrow is Monday. I am in so much trouble.

***

My car is back, so, no bus, for now. I walk in to see Jesse by my desk, perfectly attired, holding a cup of coffee.

"Americano, one sugar, one cream."

He is also very observant, "Thank you, Jesse. You do not need to do that." I say, taking the cup and walking behind him to my desk, looking at his ass, visualizing it naked on that beach.

"I apologize if I looked like a kiss-ass."

"No, I know that is not your intent, it's just not necessary."

"Of course, Ms. Franklin. I'll get back to my desk."

The door shuts behind him. I feel bad. I came off as a bitchy boss, but he's so meek here. I shake my head. There's no time for this. He's my assistant, and I have a huge amount of work to get done. If that ruins the fun, so be it. I need to stop thinking with my pussy.

An hour later, I walk into the conference room. Ten doc boxes are lined up against the wall, and five more are on the table. The new table that George bought after fucking Bambi or whatever her name was, on the last one. I'll never admit it, but I got off watching them for a few seconds. Bambi was long and lean, with big tits and a trimmed bush. George is an ass, but he works out and has a nice cock. I'd never watched real sex.

Jesse, jacket off and sleeves rolled up, is behind a stack of files, reading and writing on a pad. He finishes his note and looks up, surprised to see me there.

"Oh, Ms. Franklin. I'm so sorry. I am way behind here. I did not properly anticipate the number of files."

His voice is on the edge of wavering. The beach swagger is gone. He doesn't know if I regret my actions, and now have loaded him up with work to fail- time to talk him off the ledge.

"Jesse, stop. Go have lunch. You're not going to get this done today or tomorrow. This isn't law school. You're doing fine, now scram, and I don't want to see you back for an hour. Remember, as I said in the email I sent, we'll be working late."

Jesse stands and shoves his hair back, smiling weakly, "Thank you, Ms. Franklin. Yes, I saw the note. Is it really okay to uh....?

"Dress down? Sweats and tees? Yes, Jesse. There will be late nights, and the dress code ends at five. But it's still work."

I turn and leave him, feeling good that I have taken control and set the rules.

***

The major problem with working late in this office is that the A/C temperature automatically increases. Jesse and I are back in that conference room. He took my advice, and he's wearing gym shorts and a tank. I'm in a cotton sundress, mid-thigh. Nothing under it, and I hope that's not going to be a problem.

It's eight o'clock when Jesse puts the last folder in the doc box.

"We're really done, Ms. Franklin?"

I put my hand lightly on his sweaty shoulder and feel a buzz in my pussy. "Yes, Jesse. You were fantastic. This would have taken two days with anyone else."

"Thank you, Ma'am."

I step back and stare at him, "Ma'am? Do I look that old?"

Jesse held his hands up in defense, "Oh, no, Ms. Franklin, no, not at all. You look..." He stopped himself.

"Just kidding, Jesse. We're done. Go home."

I was arranging the papers as he walked to the door, "Jesse," I said.

He stopped and turned to face me. "I could use your help at my house Saturday. I've got a lot of boxes to move, ex-husband stuff."

Jesse locked eyes with me, "Sure, Ms. Franklin. I'd be very happy to help you out."

He turned and left. Those few words made me so fucking wet.

I left my car in the company garage. I saw him at the bus stop and ducked into a doorway. The bus arrived, and he boarded. I followed on foot. City buses are slow, but even so, by the time I got to the next stop, I was sweaty. I didn't care. The doors opened, and I went through the rear doors.

This is the beach route, and it was stuffed with last-minute tourists. Jesse was all the way in the back, facing the back of the bus. I slid through the crowd until I was facing his right shoulder.

His eyes flicked to me and then instantly away when I pressed my hips against his leg.

I lay my left hand on his shoulder and my right against his right thigh, brushing his hard cock in the process. He stared at the back of the bus, and I stared behind him. I slipped my index finger under the hem of his shorts and touched his leg, holding my finger there.

He placed his right hand flat against my left thigh, pushing my dress up a little. I slid my hand up until my index finger touched his rigid cock. He sighed, and his hand slid up my thigh until his thumb brushed my naked slit. I sighed and opened my legs.

Jesse shifted, and his cock lay on my hand. So hard, yet soft, pulsing with life, with need. I ran my thumb over the tip, collecting his lubrication and spreading it over the fat head of his cock.

Nobody noticed, nobody looked. Everybody in that end-of-day zone. Jesse moved his hand and cupped my sex, a long finger at my entrance, but not in.

I wrapped my hand around his cock and slowly stroked. His finger slid into my vagina, and his thumb found my clit. I sucked in a breath.

The bus rocked over the street, adding to the stimulus. Jesse fingered me slowly, my climax building. I stroked his cock at the same pace. I wanted more; I wanted to cum. I leaned in until my lips touched his ear, "Faster."

I wrapped my hand around his cock and stroked faster. Jesse was ramming his fingers up into me and pushing hard on my clit.

We were panting in each other's ear. "cumming." He whispered.

"Me too, don't stop," I replied, my tongue in his ear.

His cock twitched, and I felt his cum. I held my hand over the end, savoring the hot blasts.

My pussy exploded on Jesse's hand. My climax poured out, and he kept finger-fucking and rubbing my clit.

And then we were done. I pulled the lanyard, and the bus stopped. I pushed through the crowd, looking over my shoulder at Jesse licking his fingers. I slipped mine into my mouth as the doors shut behind me.

The rest of the week, I behaved. It wasn't easy.

Saturday morning. I hadn't given Jesse a time, so I slipped on a wicked weasel and did some laps in the pool.

I heard the doorbell as I was drying myself. I put the towel down and debated answering the door without the cover-up.

No, I thought, I need to retain control of this interaction.

I opened the door. Jesse just stood and stared for a few seconds. I felt very underdressed, on display. "Sorry, I should have changed into something more appropriate."

Jesse said nothing, but the look in his eyes told me that I was no longer in charge of our interaction, and I liked that.

"Oh, I think you are very appropriately dressed." He said as he stepped in. I stepped back, yielding space. I kept backing, he kept walking, slowly, eyes on mine. My pussy was flooding. I knew what was going to happen.

"Miranda, why did you invite me here?" He asked as my butt hit the back of the sectional couch.

"To help me rearrange my storage closet, and my name is Ms. Franklin." I replied, in my best 'boss voice.'

Jesse moved inside my space but kept his hands at his sides. His face was inches from mine; I could feel his warm breath as he spoke, deep velvet, overlayed with confidence. "No, that's not why, and not here, it isn't." He moved closer. Now his legs, his strong, trim legs, were touching mine. Can he feel me shaking? I thought. "Does he see my rigid nipples? Smell my sex scent? "Miranda, why did you invite me here?"

I felt it. His hard cock, sticking out behind those shorts, the tip brushing my barely covered mound. I knew that if I protested firmly, he would stop. But he knows me, he knows what I want. My body relaxed, my mind accepted.

I whispered, "To fuck me."

Jesse moved his hips, dragging his hidden cock across the micro shred of fabric covering my pussy. "What else, Miranda?" His fingers on my collarbone, under the placket of the coverup, sliding the sheer fabric up until it rolled off the back of my shoulders, and down my arms, falling onto the couch. His warm, strong fingers trailed down my arms and gently grasped my hands. "What else? Say it, say it all."

I angled my head so that our lips touched. I took a deep breath, "To suck your cock. Take you into my mouth and suck you until you cum, let your climax pour over my tongue, and swallow it."

I moved my hips, pressing my sex against his bulge, "To have you eat me. Lick my sodden pussy, shove your tongue and your fingers deep inside. Make me orgasm, make my cum flood out into your willing mouth."

My hands held his waist. He nibbled my lips as he spoke. "Take it off."

My hands moved up his firm torso, sliding the shirt ahead of them. He extended his arms, and I slid the shirt off, letting it fall to the floor. His hands came down and held my waist. "Take it off," I said.

Jesse trailed his fingers up the front of my heaving torso until they touched the bottom edge of my tiny top. He followed the strings around until he found the loose ends. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," I rasped, and I felt the tug as the knot unraveled. Jesse leaned back and let the tiny shred of fabric fall between us. "I'm sorry they're not bigger," I whispered.

Jesse put his lips on my neck and whispered, "They are fucking perfect." I was shaking. If he touched my nipples, I'd go off in an orgasm like no other, ever.

"Take it off." He said and stepped back.

I knelt and put my hands on his waist, resting them on the waistband of his shorts. I looked up into his blue eyes as I pressed down and felt the fabric move.

I hooked a finger in each side and pulled out so the waistband would move over his erect penis. I paused, looking in the gap. "Finish." He whispered. I pulled out and down, and his shorts slid until gravity took hold, and I let go, letting them fall to his ankles. He stepped out and opened his legs. I looked down, and the tip of his erection was inches from my mouth. I moved my hands up his thighs. "Not yet." He said and lifted me.

"Take it off, please, take it off," I said in a quavering voice.

Jesse smiled. I felt his fingers on my hips and the tug, and the last bit of clothing drifted off.

"You are so beautiful," he said.

"I'm old," I replied, feeling vulnerable and all of my forty-three years.

Jesse gently cupped my face in his hands and touched his lips to mine. "Please do not ever say that again. Let me show you."

His lips touched mine in our first kiss. I opened my legs, and his erection moved between them. My nipples brushed the hair on his chest as his tongue touched my teeth, asking. I opened my mouth and engaged his tongue with mine. I moaned, I had cum, a small one. I needed more.

We kissed like we were stealing the seconds. Wrong, wrong age, wrong circumstance, and it drove our lust, our need. His wet lips slid over mine as he asked, "What do you need now?"

Condom? Asking if I'm on the pill? I was confused. I made it simple. "I need you in me, now."

I put my palms on his chest, nudging him back. He looked over his shoulder at the hallway to my bedroom. I dropped a hand and grasped his cock, "Too far. Now."

Jesse knelt and lay back as I straddled him. He ran his hands up the inside of my thighs and gently touched my sex, "So beautiful."

I took his hand away as I settled, then reached between us and grasped his cock, "I want this."

Jesse took my small breasts in his hands, "I'm yours, use me."

I moved my hips lower and felt the tip of his cock touch my entrance. I hadn't had sex in over a year; Jesse was in for a ride.

I gasped as I took the big head of his cock in me, "You okay?" he asked.

"Not yet, but I will be,' I replied.

There is no substitute for a cock. I forced myself to move slowly, savoring the feel of his penis as I took him inside me. I stared into his eyes, and he whispered, "Been a while?"

I just nodded and took more.

Then, I was there. My hips rested on his; I had all of him inside me, and it felt wonderful.

"You feel amazing, Miranda," He said while massaging my breasts. "Fuck me, Miranda; don't make me wait."

I didn't. I shifted my hips forward and back, rubbing my clit on his stubble, then up and down, to hit my G-spot. Jesse caught on fast, and when my climax was close, he'd hold my hips and growl, "Cum, Miranda, cum all over my fucking cock."

I fucked this boy for an hour, my assistant, probably the one person in the world I should not be fucking. It was, so, so wrong, and I loved it, and he held back, I don't know how, but he did, until.

"Where." Was all he rasped.

"In me." I moaned as I climaxed, pouring out more wetness onto the already soaked carpet.

He held my hips and jammed his up, slamming us together as I felt his cock twitch, cumming, filling me. So fucking good.

I sat on Jesse, his cock still inside. We were both covered in sweat and panting.

"You are amazing." He said.

I clenched my Kegels, "No, Jesse, you are. You fired this old lady up."

Jesse frowned, "I warned you about that. Don't do that, it's not true."

I ran my hands through the sweat-streaked hair on his chest, "You're right. It's been way too long, and I was afraid..."

"That you'd lost it?"

I blushed, "Yeah, weird, right?"

He ran his hands over my thighs, "No, not at all. I don't know your story, but I can understand how you could feel that way."

He paused and smiled, "Do you know the best way to feel desired?"

I got up, letting his soft cock slip out. "No, young man, I do not. Maybe shower together?"

Jesse got up, took my hand, and led me towards my bedroom. "Nah, anybody can do that."

We were in my room. Jesse grabbed the covers on my bed and whisked everything off except the bottom black satin sheet. He backed me up the bed and gave my chest a little push. I fell back and reflexively opened my legs. Jesse moved his head between them, "The best way is to have a man half your age make love to your pussy and let you cum in his mouth."

I was surprised, not something I'd done, you know, after, "But you just..."

Jesse's tongue touched my vulva, "Don't care. Cum on my face, Miranda."

Jesse was only the third man I'd ever been with, and no women. He was so gentle and so good. He parted my lips with his tongue and pressed it into my vagina, triggering the thousands of nerves there. He lapped at my sex; his hands were flat on my belly, holding me down. That was my first orgasm. Our mixed fluids poured out into his mouth. He licked and swallowed. I was a rag doll, just wanting more.

I rested my hands on his head as his tongue moved up my vulva until I felt his lips capture my clitoris. "Jesse," I panted. "It's gonna be a big one."

He just moaned, and I felt a finger slide into me. No, he's not going to do that too. I thought. He was. As his warm, wet lips caressed my clit, his long finger slid deep inside me, turned over, and the tip touched that spot, the G spot, up behind my pelvis. Two seconds.

"OH MY FUCKING GOD!" I screamed as my orgasm hammered me. My muscles clenched, and I fired my climax out of my pussy.

Jesse knew, and dropped his mouth, covering my hole and taking it all.

I thrashed, squirted again. Jesse, face pressed against my vulva, drank and licked.

Too sensitive. I pushed his head away. He leaned up, his face covered in my cum and an ear-to-ear smile. "Best fucking pussy I ever ate."

I was stunned for a second, but then we both broke into fits of laughter, hugging, rolling on my drenched sheets.

Once we recovered, we lay in each other's arms. Jesse was stroking my hair. "I have a confession to make,"

I touched his face, "After the last two hours, I cannot imagine what you could confess to."

"That day, on the bus. I knew who you were."

I leaned up on one elbow, "What? You knew, and you let me..."

Jesse, with the bad-boy smile, "Fondle my cock and nearly make me cum in my pants? You bet. But you also let me touch your pussy. You're actually blushing, Miranda."

I fell back on the bed. "God, my humiliation is complete. I don't know what got into me that day."

"Not me, dammit," Jesse replied.

I had to smile, "Not funny, young man. I've never done anything like that. It just happened. It could have gone so wrong."

Jesse raised his arms as if to frame a picture, "Local Law partner arrested for fondling a child on a city bus."

I smacked his arm. "YOU are NOT a child, and yeah, something like that. I was out of control."

"Had you masturbated that morning? Did you fuck the paperboy?"

I smacked him again. "No, and big no, and that's a hell of a thing to ask."

Jesse ran his hand over his belly and then up to my nose, "Says the sexpot that hosed me for an hour."

"It was a horrible day. My car was in the shop, my alarm didn't go off, so I didn't have time to masturbate. I couldn't get an Uber, so I had to ride the fucking bus, horny and cranky."

I lay on top of him and rested my mound on his reviving penis. "What am I going to do to make sure that never happens?" I asked as I slid my body down his.

Jesse opened his legs, "Well, you need a backup to make sure that you leave every morning satiated and on time. An assistant of some kind."

I licked Jesse's cock, tasting myself and him, "You know I'm going to fire you. Huge conflict of interest."

Jesse gently held my head and pressed down. I took all of his penis into my mouth.

"Not fire, transfer."

I lifted my head and looked up at him, "Brilliant. Now, cum in my fucking mouth."

He knew who she was on the bus. He had done his homework and looked her up, complete with pictures.