"Here's the report, boss," I say, laying the slim folder on his desk.

He glances up, and I'm gratified at the double take he does as he sees the blouse I'm wearing. His favorite blouse.

It's a thin, white, silky number that I bought a size too small so that it would cling to me in all the right places. Especially under my perky C-cups. Especially when I don't wear a bra.

Not that he's ever said anything, but a girl knows. He finds more reasons to come talk to me at my desk when I wear it, and needs my help with more little tasks that require sitting in his office more, too.

He thinks I don't know, but I don't mind. I want him to notice me. I want him to want me, to make a move so that I can finally help him deal with that big, thick something that he carries around in those dress slacks. It's a problem for him while he's at work, a problem that I can't seem to help making a little worse.

"Those are great, Jenna," he says, then clears his throat. "The reports. I'll look them over."

"Perfect," I say. "Is there... anything else I could help you with, sir?"

He passes his tongue over his bottom lip, just a quick swipe as his eyes do a valiant job of not dropping to my chest. One quick lick. Nothing provocative. Nothing he's even aware of. Just an unconscious acknowledgement of the question I'm really asking.

"Um," he says intelligently. He's a great boss, and a great guy. Handsome, classy, and, wonder of wonders, not an egomaniac because of it. But he's just as vulnerable to a pretty face and a nice set of jugs as the next male of the species. I decide to help him out.

I look down at the floor in front of his desk. There's a mass of messy cables plugged into a jumbo surge protector.

"Maybe I could get down on the floor here and sort out these cables for you," I suggest, slowly sinking to my knees. "They're such a mess. It's hard to tell which one even goes where."

The battle that rages on his face as I drift downward makes it almost too funny for me to keep my composure. I see excitement, then disappointment, confusion, and frustration in the tiny movements of his facial muscles as I kneel (good) out of sight (bad) just three feet from his crotch (great) to do an asinine task that he can't watch (terrible).

I dip my head to hide my smile as I begin to tug at the cables.

"Well... I guess you could do that," he says. "Just don't unplug my monitors or the computer itself."

"Of course not, sir," I say. "I'll have to trace each one. Let's see... this one goes to your lamp, I guess...." I trail off, not really doing anything except staring at his crotch.

His cock, which must be above average in every sense, is visible only as a shadow on a shadow under the desk. He's seated in his chair--a position I happen to know he'll be stuck in until I leave the room due to the proximity of my thinly-clad tits--with his knees only a couple of inches apart, no doubt to hide his firm erection. Classy, even now. And that makes my decision for me. No more waiting. I'm going to make the move.

I tug on a cable that goes up to his desk.

"Not that one," he says, "that's a monitor."

"Ah," I say. "That's helpful. What about this one that goes under your chair?"

"Under my... what?" he asks. He naturally spreads his legs apart and pushes back to look down, highlighting his large dick in perfect relief against the smooth plains of his well-tailored slacks.

"Yes," I say, crawling forward slightly. "The big one."

"I don't--" he begins, but I wonder. Does he not? Even now?

"That's the one I need to trace," I say, crawling fully under the desk. "It goes right up here."

I put a hand on his right ankle and prepare to cross the line. He has about two seconds to leap up and run for it, and if he doesn't, I'm taking this all the way.

I look up at him over the frames of my black glasses, my blonde hair tossed to one side, offering him one last way out. He looks at me with an expression of comical surprise, eyes blasted wide open and mouth slightly agape. I pause, and it spins out for the requisite two seconds, but then the clock runs out. I slide my hand up his calf, rounding the corner of his knee upward to his thigh.

"I know I saw it here somewhere. It was a thick one," I say, just as my fingers make contact with the secret hardness. With the secret hardness that's all for me. I slide my four fingers firmly up his shaft, pinning it to his leg, relishing the involuntary groan he lets out as my palm makes full contact as well.

He's big, all right, and he'll be the biggest I've ever taken. But I have no doubt that I can take it.

"I've just got to find where it's plugged in," I say, curling my fingers up under his balls as my left hand comes to join the party holding his shaft.

"Inside of that zipper, Jenna," he says in a rather choked voice.

"Mm," I say. "I wondered if that's where it went. Well then. I'd better open it up and reach inside. I wonder," I say, as I unzip his fly, "what I'll find?"

He scoots his hips forward ever so slightly and I settle in on my knees, still mostly under his desk. My only regret is that I won't be able to take my top off to give him the show of my jiggling breasts that I'd like to make. But this is only the first step, after all. Better to leave it on today and draw this out.

With some effort I maneuver my fingers in and get his very large, very erect cock out through the hole. I can't help but lick my lips as I see it throbbing, finally free, right in front of me.

"Here it is," I say. "This big, thick cable. I won't be able to plug it back in with it this big. I'll have to see if I can make it smaller again somehow. Maybe by..." I stick out my tongue and lick the sensitive tip directly, which makes him stifle a cry of arousal. I don't have the slightest idea of how licking a cable might help, but something tells me he doesn't care about the logic of the role play.

He looks up suddenly and notices that the door to his office stands wide open.

"Oh, shit," he says, "Jenna, the door!"

"Don't worry, sir," I say. "I'm well-trained in cable management techniques. I don't think this will take long."

Having said that, I open my jaw as wide as I can and engulf the head of his cock, as well as the first three inches. His hips buck involuntarily, pressing home an additional inch. His cock slips straight into my throat and I swallow around the head.

He groans, and it's a very un-managerial groan. I'm not saying he's never gotten his cock sucked by someone as talented as me, because who knows? But he sounds a lot more like an eighteen-year-old having his first experience on prom night and a lot less like a forty-year-old veteran, that's all I'm saying.

I decide to go for it. What the hell? I've waited this long, I deserve to indulge myself. I bury my nose in his pubes, sliding all the way to the base in one move. Under ordinary circumstances, I might make a guy wait until the third or fourth date for the full treatment, but these aren't ordinary circumstances. I'm ass up under my boss's desk with his cock balls-deep in my throat before the 10:00am coffee break. There are no rules here.

I hold him deep for a good fifteen seconds before pulling back.

He gasps right along with me, both of us recovering quickly the from oxygen deprivation caused by his cock plugging my throat--though for different reasons.

"You d-didn't even g-gag," he stutters, looking down at me with wonder.

"Gag?" I scoff. "Sir, when you hired me last month, I told you I had a full suite of excellent secretarial skills."

I take his slippery cock and slide it between my lips again, feeling the stretch as his broad cockhead pushes its way into my throat. He doesn't know it, but I don't plan to come up for air again until I get what I came for.

I reach blindly for his right hand with my left and put it into my hair, applying the pressure that I know he's too polite to apply for himself. When I move my hand, he leaves his, and I start pushing myself forward, burying him to the hilt in my mouth and throat, giving him permission to fuck my face. Which is all I want from him. All I want in the whole world, at this moment, is to be face fucked.

For once, the man takes a hint.

I feel his other hand come to collect my tumbled blonde locks into a rough ponytail, and the next thing I know, his cock is invading my mouth and throat with a will. My whole world becomes his next thrust, his juicy dick dominating my awareness further and further as my air runs out. I can't tell the difference between my spit, his precum and the slime from my throat as he reaches the final stretch.

Because just like I hoped, he doesn't let me up for air until he bursts deep in my throat.

He grabs my head hard and pulls me all the way to him one final time, impossibly far back in my throat, making me feel like I'm trying to swallow a soda can. Then he erupts with a grunt. His right arm is wrapped all the way around my head, preventing any hope of pulling off, which is just the way I like it. I'm locked in, riding out his pleasure just as he is, feeling his jism unload deep inside me as he pumps my belly directly full of his seed. My pussy tingles like mad, getting me tantalizingly close to the hands-free orgasm I was hoping for, and just as I'm about to black out, it hits. He mistakes my pleasure for desperation and lets go of my head, but I stay impaled on his pulsing shaft until my own ecstasy passes, only pulling back when he begins to soften.

I pull back, carefully cleaning as I go, catching my breath through my nose as stars pop all over my field of vision and my whole body seems to return from the brink of numbness. A shiver runs down my spine as his now-spent and relatively clean cock slips from between my lips. I give it a kiss before tucking it carefully and easily back into his slacks, zipping them up, and then crawling backward from under his desk.

I stand up, observing his completely boneless posture in the chair with a satisfied smirk. I pluck a tissue delicately from the box on his desk and dab under my nostrils and at the corners of my eyes, then drop it into the wastebasket.

"There," I say. "Isn't that better, sir? A little organization goes a long way."

He looks at me with the thousand-yard stare of a shell-shocked marine, his mouth not quite closed, eyes not quite focusing.

"Very good, sir," I say. "I'll come back after lunch and we'll see if we can't rearrange your filing cabinet. I know the second drawer likes to get stuck, but sometimes all it takes is a good, forceful push or two."

I slip my hips forward slightly as I say this last, and his jaw drops open a little further as I turn to leave, satisfied and smiling.