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It's Harriet's Birthday - does anyone remember?

Her head rolled from side to side, mouth open, eyes closed. Her flesh began to shimmer with a light sheen of sweat.

Then . . . eventually . . . it began to fade. The waves of ecstasy slowly ebbing.

Her muscles unwound. Her ass settled back to the chair. Her one hand relaxed, her fingers unclenching against the chair arm. Her others remained buried in her sex, gently rubbing her inner walls. As she half-sat/half-laid there, her eyelids fluttering with the aftershocks quaking through her, her breathing began to calm.

"That was amazing," a male voice suddenly broke through her trance.

Her eyes shot open, frightened shock surging through her.

Standing a couple feet away, leaning against her desk, was Tom Simmons . . . her visitor . . . the one she'd imagined . . . Somehow, at some point, he'd returned. And he'd seen her . . . he'd stood there watching her . . . watching her masturbate . . . watching her cum.

How had he gotten in? Had she even thought to lock the door? No, she'd had no reason to, she'd hadn't planned to masturbate. Besides, no one ever came to her office.

"Um--. Uh--," she stammered as these thoughts raced through her mind.

"You are absolutely beautiful," he praised.

Suddenly all her concerns and all her questions were shoved aside as she recognized the lustful expression he wore. Her gaze fell to his crotch where the bulge of the pulsing, growing cock she'd imagined was now a reality. Her fires had started to dwindle, but the sight of this fanned them anew and she unconsciously licked her lips while continuing to roll her fingers in her pussy.

"But I don't think your fingers really did the trick," he said, shrugging out of his jacket. "What do you say we see what else you can handle."

She half-sat/half-lay in the big, wing chair, her clothing disheveled and her fingers buried in her pussy. Her eyes lingered at his crotch as he set his jacket over the other chairs back then added his tie while undoing a few shirt buttons. Then he stood before her, rolling up his sleeves, his eyes crawling over her body . . . her full breasts . . . her spread legs. Watching his gaze devour her sent a shiver racing along her nerves.

"Absolutely beautiful," he whispered as he dropped to his knees before her. His hands settled on her thighs, their heat radiating through her nylons.

Their weight made her heart race.

"Please remove your fingers," he requested, his eyes rising to meet hers.

She whimpered quietly as she pulled her hand away. She brought it up to rest on the leg draped across the chair's arm.

"Beautiful," he sighed. His hands . . . warm and heavy . . . massaged her thighs . . . caressed them. Gradually they inched up, slipping past the lace edges of her nylons and onto her exposed flesh.

The direct contact drew another whimper from her. She stared down at him kneeling between her spread legs. Down past her breasts, cradled by the skimpy bra and topped by swollen nipples. Down past where the bottom edges of her blouse remained tucked into her skirt. And down past the piled-up skirt itself.

His eyes admired her sex, exposed by the torn aside panties, for a moment. Then, as his hands slowly inched higher, he lifted his gaze up along the same path as hers until he stared deep into her eyes. Looking past her glasses, he held her gaze as his hands followed the curve of her thighs up to her hips. There his fingers found the slim sides of her panties and gave them a gentle tug. Pulling her leg off the chair's arm she lifted her ass off the seat in assistance. He drew the panties down off her hips . . . down . . . down onto her thighs . . . down . . . over her nylons . . . down . . . along her legs . . . down to her ankles. Again she assisted him, lifting one foot, then the other, so he could pull the panties off and set them aside. Then she re-draped her leg over the armrest, spreading herself for him.

Now his hands came to rest on her inner thighs. Again their heat radiated through her nylons, hot . . . teasing . . . tantalizing.

She bit at her lip, tropical gusts fanning the flam

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