I looked at him, smiled softly and gestured to a doored private stall. I was so nervous it felt like I was in slow motioned, the few feet to the stall...seemed like a mile. I walked in the stall and nervously waited, hoping he had followed. He did and I closed and locked the door behind him. Sitting on the toilet seat, I immediately started to fumble with his zipper and pants, my hands were shaking. Freeing his cock made me sigh. Now nature and desire took over. With my hands on his thighs, I. I wondered then if they thought the same of women when they were in control. My fingers found their way into his shoulders, precariously close to his face. I wanted to get closer. I wanted to touch his face, to run my finger along his nose, to look into his eyes, even to kiss him. I usually left kissing for real love, not the sex I sometimes kept at work. Kissing felt real to me, an indication of affection greater than sex. Sex without a kiss was professional, passionate sex happens at eye. More

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