An Office Story

Ever dreamed you were naked at work?

I'm a normal person. I work in an office and live in an apartment. Not married, nothing serious - a few ongoing, semi-casual 'friends'. I pay my taxes and recycle. And I dream.

It's been going on for a year now - once or twice every month, if I've been up late or worked extra hard that day. When I'm alone and exhausted and curling up in my warm bed feels particularly blissful. I sink into soft dark waters and then, out of that haze...I walk into work.

The glass doors swing open for me and I feel the lobby's soft grey carpet under my bare feet. Air conditioning, always just a smidge too cold, raises goosebumps on my skin and my nipples crinkle up, hard and pointed. The long braid of my hair swings back and forth as I walk, brushing my back, and I glimpse myself in the mirrorlike black marble wall. Completely bare, head to toe, briefcase in hand; an incredible swell of embarrasment and excitement and confusion fills me, but somehow I am still walking, moving along as if everything is normal. Headed for the elevators.

Even more strangely, no one else seems to notice my conspicuous nudity. I'm passed by men and women in expensive suits, brown courier uniforms, three young people from the cleaning staff in their incongruous jeans and t-shirts and Ipods. Some nod politely, some completely ignore me, intent on their destinations; but no one stares, no one cries out or laughs or whistles. Security doesn't descend upon me with their two-way radios and their overbearing self-importance, Defending America from the Naked Terrorist Menace.

Soft music is playing in the elevator during my ride to the seventh floor. People are always there with me, but they change from dream to dream, and they never notice that the woman next to them is missing her wardrobe.

I go to my office and sit down - the fabric soft against my ass and back, edge of the desk cold on my stomach when I roll forward.

At first I would wake up when I turned on the computer, the click-hum of its internals powering up always bringing me around.

After a while, though, the dream began changing. Getting longer - though when I woke the bedside clock always showed about the same time. Inside the dream I would actually work for a while (this part always passed in a blur, thankfully), get up for coffee, carry stacks of reports cradled against my naked stomach to my boss' office, talking to co-workers about inconsequential things. NO one ever reacted to my state.

It went on this way for almost four months, and then...well, things in the dream got really different.

For one thing, it was raining outside When I stepped through the lobby doors I was naked and drenched. Rainwater beaded on my breasts, streamed from the tip of my braid and dripped from the curls between my legs. I passed my boss' secretary and she smiled, teased me about forgetting my umbrella.

Waiting for the elevator took forever while I shivered in the cold, watching my reflection in the wall. When the doors slid open at last I scurried inside, eager to get up to my office where I could find some paper towels, maybe steal someone else's raincoat, anything to get warm -

And then I stopped, shocked. There was one other person on the elevator with me, a guy I recognized but didn't really know, Keith from Accounting down the hall. And he was staring at me.

He was naked, too.

We were up two floors before either of us could speak or move; then we flushed and turned our gazes aside simultaneously. I cleared my throat; he hit the Elevator Stop button.

"Uh - Which one of us is dreaming this?" he asked.

"Well, I thought I was," I say. With difficulty. Trying not to throw little glances at him or notice his glances at me. Now that someone could see me, see ALL of me, I was red with embarrasment, not sure where to put my hands.

He coughed again; at least I wasn't the only embarrased one. Then he fell silent, and looked at me. Really looked. I crossed my arms over my stomach - not really hiding anything, but it gave me a little comfort - and after a second I looked back.

Not bad. He's a little taller than I am, slender, rich brown curls with a dusting of silver. Nice eyes, also brown, warm. Not ripped, but in shape, with a nice cock, reasonably thick with a mild upward curve, and then I realized that he was hard, and I was staring at his crotch. My blush turned one shade darker. At least the embarassment helped fight the chill.

"You're dripping," he says, a little bit of roughness in his voice, arousal. We're still trapped in the elevator, unmoving, banal music in the background, and suddenly I don't care. I don't care. It's a bizarre dream and if it's going to keep getting bizzare-er, I'm taking advantage of it.

"I'm freezing," I sighed, and leaned into him, pressing the length of my naked body against his; feeling the muscles in his stomach jump when I laid my hand against them. "You shouldn't have to be cold in a dream."

He made a sound, soft and wondering; then his hands were cupping the back of my head and my mouth was being devoured. Deep, slow kiss, opening to each other at once; he tasted of coffee and somewhere in the back of my mind I realized that this was going to be *fantastic*.

I moved into the embrace, pushing us backward until he was pressed against the side of the elevator, trapped between me and the wall. His cock throbbed against my stomach and I wriggled, sliding my slick, wet body against him; he groaned into my mouth and the sound went straight down my spine into my belly, like being hit by lightning. We caressed each other, his hands sliding down to my lower back, then up to my shoulderblades, grazing me just a little with fingernails, I loved that. Then down again, all the way down, cupping my ass with both hands and pulling me up onto my toes, while his mouth left mine to trace the line of my throat with eager, biting kisses.

"I've always wanted to fuck in one of these," I said into his ear, my voice breaking in the middle, and he laughed against my skin.

I softened my knees, letting him bear more and more of my weight until he got the idea and let me slide slowly to the floor, my knees cushioned by the plush carpeting. Perks of a multimillion dollar operation, good carpets. Idly I wondered if this was why, but then he was right in front of me, erect and glistening at the tip, and I was starving.

I looked up and gave him an innocent, angelic smile before pressing a gentle kiss right on the head of his cock, feeling his precum hot and wet against my lips; turning my head slightly from side to side, letting him watch it rubbing against my mouth. He gave an appreciative moan and I saw his hands press flat to the wall, hard, like he was trying to keep from reaching forward. Trying not to take hold of my head and force himself into me. The gentlemanly self-control earned him flicks of my tongue, soft little licks against that spot where head meets shaft, where so many men are extra sensitive.

I licked, I sucked gently without letting him in, tasting the salt warmth of him, and when I saw his hands spasming against the wall - like he was going to start digging his way through any second - I gave a soft laugh and opened my mouth around him, letting that thickness slide into me, deeper and deeper, until I had almost all of him.

I'd need a bit of warmup to really take it all, but we'd get there. He didn't seem to mind. I wrapped one hand, my left hand, around the base and let my thumb slide down to tease his sack, and my other hand slid down to where I was hot and wet, though not with rainwater anymore. My fingers slid easily around my clit, and my little moan around the thickness of his cock made him twitch in my mouth.

I give a good, wet blowjob and he certainly wasn't complaining. When he was nice and wet - all the way down past my hand, saliva beading in his curls - I pulled back almost entirely, suckling softly at the head, and met his gaze again. He looked very nice staring down at me through half-lidded eyes, biting his lower lip, pleading with me without words. I let my eyes smile into his and then I closed them, inhaled, let myself open, and pushed...feeling him slide...trembling for a moment, that second's discomfort that always happens now, and then I had him all, sheathed in my throat, my lips pressed against the base of him.

He growled...sexy. I love doing this. One hand came free of the elevator wall and touched the back of my head, not grabbing, just resting there. I slid back, pushed forward again, I could hear the lewd wet sounds I was making filling the elevator, feel my own slick juices beginning to run down the fingers stroking my clit. ..

"Oh...god. Stop. You have to stop." he said - gasped. I pulled back a little, looked up at him wickedly, took him down again.

He twisted my braid up in his hand and pulled, gentle but insistent. "If you want to get fucked," he said, "you have to stop right now. It's too good, I can't..."

Fine... I mean, there are other things he could do for me, but I really want...yeah. I let him slide out of my mouth, looking up the whole time, watching his eyes when the head of his cock came free and one strand of saliva trailed off my pouting lower lip, connecting us for a second before it broke. His eyes were so dark... feral with arousal, and he reached down and wiped my mouth off. So sweet. Such a gentleman.

Then he knelt down to the floor with me, pulled me into his arms and kissed me again - so wet and hungry, sliding against each other, biting.

I wondered if he could taste himself on my tongue, and that was it. No more playing. One hand pressed flat against his chest, the other curled around his bicep; push with one, twist just right with the other, and he hit the floor with a thud, flat on his back. His look of surprise made me grin, but it felt less like amusement, more a feral baring of teeth before the pounce.

I swung one leg over and crawled the length of him, holding the eye contact; letting my body just barely slide against his, teasing, until the head of his cock brushed, then nestled against my slick folds...throbbing hot and eager. My braid slipped down and draped over his shoulder.

"If we both remember this tomorrow, we'll have to do it again," I told him; his answer was to slide his hands up to the swell of my hips, take hold of me, press me back and down onto his cock.

Oh god it was so nice, so fat, splitting me, that wonderful stretching sliding sensation of being penetrated. My head fell to his chest and I whined, going with his hands, grinding my hips a little against his once he was in me to the hilt; felt, more than heard, the resonant growl of approval. Underneath me his whole body flexed, long lean muscles tightening, thrusting up with enough force to raise my knees from the floor before dropping back and doing it again, again...

"Fuuuuuuck..." one of us said. I honestly couldn't tell you which. With difficulty - fighting against the seductive haze that wanted me to collapse atop him and let him do all the work - I pressed myself up, hands on his shoulders, and began to rock; hips flexing, spine curving as I arched my back and rode in time with his thrust, working together to reach what we both wanted. The soft liquid sound of sex was all around us, the satiny hiss of warm, moist skin rubbing against skin.

One broad hand curled around the back of my neck, pulling me close, and he whispered "Kneel up...let me watch.." into the cup of my ear. I complied without thinking and reached back to steady myself, hands on his upper thighs, spread and exposed before him from my flushed and passionate face to the wet, open pussy he was buried inside. He groaned at the sight; I answered, helplessly, when the new angle pulled back on his length inside me, pressing against me, the swollen head of him rubbing hard against my g-spot with every stroke.

No stopping it now, I had to have it, the sweet pressure inside me was demanding in a loud and strident voice that I come, had to come now, so fucking close to it... and then he levered himself up on both hands, sitting up so our stomachs pressed together; his mouth closed over my left breast, nipping and suckling at me, and at the same time he moved one hand down between us and ground the swollen nub of my clit under his thumb.

I think I screamed; I think that's what woke me. I'll never be sure. The orgasm was so strong, the best come I've ever had - felt like it lasted for minutes, leaving me drenched and dazed and shuddering in my own bed, alone. Touching myself in my sleep. I kept going, dragging out the last little bit of pleasure, until it was too much to bear and I had to lie still.

******************

There isn't much more to tell, really.

A day or two later, at work 'for real', I passed him in the hall. He smiled...just a normal, professional, "good morning stranger" smile. And we walked away.

I wonder if he saw my blush, if he wondered why...

Maybe one of these days I'll ask him out for a coffee.

And the dreams? Once or twice a month, when I'm particularly tired, stressed, when falling into bed feels better than anything else and falling asleep is quick and easy, like slipping under warm water... then the dream comes back.

Every time, there's something new...someone new. Wonderfully dom executives from the upper floors whom I've never even seen outside of news broadcasts - they have their own elevator, and their offices are like hotel suites. Let me tell you, there's nothing like being pressed naked against the chill (almost unbreakable) glass of a 12th-story executive suite and licked to multiple howling climaxes by a woman with perfect hair and multiple Ivy League degrees, a woman who could buy or sell you.

The IT boys...the filthy, filthy techies. Utter degenerates. What fun!

So many different people, so many different places. I walk through the building during the day and smile to myself; surrounded by special memories.

I don't know why it happens. But I don't want it to stop.