Taking my pleasure into my own hands - all I needed was a desk and a willing cock.

So it’s been non-stop travel this week, but I’m finally faced with an empty schedule for today. Last weekend’s adventures had me feeling sore for a couple of days, but it didn’t take long for me to indulge myself between the hotel sheets. I have to say, I know my way around my body pretty well, bur right now I’m desperate to be used like the little slut that I am.

This past week, I’ve worked with men so big they could probably break me in half. They’ve offered nothing less than the politest Southern hospitality, but when one man in particular answered my questions with his delectable drawl, I got distracted. I immediately thought of how exciting it would be if he were to pull my knickers to one side and take me across his desk…

Anyway, it’s made me think, I’ve only come close to that scenario once. Where yes, I was bent over a desk, but I wasn’t being taken in any forceful manner.

The man involved was a young city boy who imagined himself to have the sexual prowess of Zeus himself. To put it bluntly, he didn’t. But he was sweet and I (being young and naive) thought it didn’t matter.

I vividly remember lying on his sofa, half listening to the film going on in the background as he bucked away on top. He stopped and told me that he couldn’t tell if I was enjoying myself because I was so quiet. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, so I apologised and faked my way through the next five minutes.

From that day, he convinced himself that it was a me problem, and that meant I had a point to prove - I am no prude, and know what makes me cum.

One day, he was working the late shift monitoring the screens, and I was meeting him for dinner at his office. I was determined to see my plan through, and picked up some drinks on the way, given that I was early, and needed a little Dutch courage. As a side note, he worked in a very old building in London, and it was usual for anyone on the night shift to be alone except for the security outside.

When I got there, he was along and we chatted away and sipped on wine, all whilst he worked. When I’d had enough to drink I made my move by peeling off my dress - leaving me stood practically naked in his office. He was completely taken aback, but I was as proud as anything in just my heels and beautiful barely there underwear.

I remember straddling him, kissing him, and playing with his cock through his trousers. He was hard before I could feel him against my clit. His hands got to explore my body as I used him like a toy. His cock nothing more than something for me to press myself against.

He kept whispering in my ear, telling me how beautiful I looked, but it meant nothing to me. He was a toy, if he wasn’t going to put his cock to good use, I certainly wasn’t going to waste it.

I was lost in the moment, aroused by the risk of being interrupted, and being loud and obnoxious with my moans of pleasure. If he wanted noise, he was going to get it.

I let him use his finger to slip inside my pussy and guided his other hand to grip at my arse. With his cock on my clit, I finally had something from him.

Once I’d orgasmed on his lap, I gave in to his grasping as he tried to release his cock. I got up, and unzipped him. He wanted a blow job, but it wasn’t going to happen. That night wasn’t about him - it was about me, and giving him a live demonstration of how to satisfy a woman.

I bent myself over his desk and pulled him along behind me. I told him to fuck me hard as he could whilst pulling his hand to my throat.

Things started off well enough, with him giving me a little rough handling, but they took a downturn when he started ramming me with no rhythm or control.

After a few minutes, I knew I needed to intervene if I wanted any more pleasure. I decided to set the pace. I pulled his hands to arse again, told him to keep them there and pushed him out of me. With my breasts pressed against his keyboard, I started to use my hips to play with the tip of his cock before using him the same way I use my dildos at home.

Thanks to my actions, I did have some fun, and made the noises he wanted without having to put on a show. Afterwards, he seemed very proud of himself. I’m not sure why, as the source of our bliss was more my actions than his cock. But I didn’t say anything.

If there’s one thing I learnt from that day, it’s not to waste my talents (and expensive lingerie) on men that can’t make me moan.