You want to be in this situation don't you?

fuck, i keep thinking about that morning in the hallway i was supposed to be just dropping off the papers from work, right? nothing weird. but the second she opened the door i could tell it wasn't gonna be that. her skirt's that gray pleated thing with the zigzag pattern on the cardigan, same one she wore to the office christmas thing last year. hair's all straight and shiny down her back. and i'm standing there in my stupid white t-shirt and gray sweats, looking like some delivery guy who got lost. she doesn't even say hi. just steps in real close, puts her hand on my neck, tilts my face down a little like she's checking something. her nails are painted this dark red that doesn't match anything else she's wearing. i don't even realize what she's doing with her other hand until i feel my sweats get tugged down. just enough. not all the way. my dick's already out and she's got it in her palm like it's the most casual thing in the world. keeps talking to me the whole time. quiet, like we're having a normal conversation. "you always do what you're told, don't you?" she says it while her fingers are moving, slow, not even trying to get me off fast or anything. just holding it. testing the weight or whatever. i can feel the heat coming off her through that cardigan, smell whatever shampoo she uses. vanilla something. the window behind us is open a crack and i keep thinking someone's gonna walk by outside and see us, my pants halfway down in broad daylight. my face is burning. i know what i look like right now. not like a guy. not like anything. she's taller than me even without heels, and the way she's got me angled, my body kind of curved toward her, it just... fuck. i keep waiting for her to laugh or tell me to pull my pants up but she doesn't. just stands there with her thumb moving back and forth over the head, real slow, like she's got all day. she says something about how soft my skin is. i don't even know what to answer. my mouth's open but nothing comes out. her cardigan sleeve keeps brushing against my stomach when she moves her arm and i can feel the little buttons on the cuff. everything's too much and not enough at the same time. i think about what would happen if my wife walked in right now. what she'd see. me with my dick in this other woman's hand, standing there like i forgot how to be a person. the thought makes my stomach twist but i don't pull away. can't. won't. her grip's not even tight, i could step back if i wanted to, but my legs aren't listening. she leans in closer and her breath hits my ear when she talks. "good girl," she says, and something in my brain just shorts out. i feel my cock twitch in her hand and she laughs, not mean, just... knowing. like she expected it. the worst part is i don't even want her to stop.