Everything I want is on display.
Almost.
Her own legs move to open slightly as her hand strays there again, almost like she’s in a trance.
I command her to do it all again, shocking myself with my tone of voice, but only noting how much she’s still affected by everything, her legs only widening further as I hear myself swallow hard as I gaze from her chest to her crotch.
My own hand is moving under my desk, palming the thick line of my own arousal through my pants as I struggle to fight the urge to just free it… to show her proudly just how hard she’s made me and so soon.
I feel a wet slickness around the throbbing tip of my cock, the natural lube that wants to guide all of me balls deep inside of her.
To claim her right here and now.
To make her mine.
But all this is so short lived. Our first encounter not lasting anywhere near long enough for me to feel satisfied before we’re interrupted.
That other sensation I had, pressing in from the outside makes its appearance.
It’s only natural though, her father.
My electoral adversary has come to say hi, and by the looks, return another box or three of all those leaflets I‘ve had printed and sent to his office instead of my own.
He’s slick, friendly, and worst of all… Genuine.
I pump his hand in mine without moving from behind my desk, not the best look to be meeting the other candidate with a raging hard on courtesy of his daughter, but he barely notices.
Although, I have to say a senseless idiot would pick up on the electricity in the room. I’m even sure I can hear jungle sounds from the nearest woods beyond my office.
But daddy to his number one girl isn’t going to suspect all that flashes across his mind in the first meeting.
Is he?
I’m not sure, once he steps back after shaking my hand, I’m grateful for the fact I’ve stayed seated as he surveys me.
“I’ve heard a lot about you, Mr. Silverthorn. All good too! Our little town welcomes you and I welcome you to the Mayoral candidacy. To our fine town of Woods End!”
He leaves a deliberate gap in the conversation as he holds his hand out again, waiting for me to say something, but my eyes only move past him, moving back up Krystal’s calves and thighs… Hoping for another glimpse of her…
“Uh. Thank you,” I murmur, pumping his hand as I wince, leaning against the hardness in my boxers.
All for her.
Krystal.
“Well now,” he exclaims, laughing jovially, looking around and noticing the lack of staff and the obvious slip-shod state of my office.
“I thought you might have even deliberately sent all these leaflets to my office to unnerve me, to bring me here to see what diabolical plans you had against my own campaign,” he says proudly. Almost accusingly.
“But…?” I ask, stealing another glance of his daughter, feet away. The only thing and the person I really want out of all of this.
“But I can see I was mistaken.” He laughs aloud, deliberately pumping my hand again, pretending to look relieved as I notice some color return to his face as a bead of sweat runs down the side of his face.
Not much older than me, maybe even the same age. But nowhere near my own physical condition.
He coughs a dry cough, moving my eyes back to his from his daughter’s again.
“I see you’ve met my campaign assistant. And don’t you try and steal her away from me as well as my Mayor’s seat,” he warns me, wagging a finger and laughing again, but turning to look at Krystal before he suddenly looks as flushed as she does.
“Well. We’ve taken enough of your time, Mr. Silverthorn,” he explains, motioning towards the door and daughter.
The only thing I wish would stay.
“I’m sorry about the mix-up,” I lie. “The flyers, I mean,” I add, glancing one more time at Krystal as she moves to go.
Every fiber of my being wanting to fight to keep her here for just moments longer.
But as quickly as it feels like she’s come to me.
She’s gone.
The door slams and the French panes rattle. A late afternoon fall storm rumbles in the distance and I feel more alone than ever.
But the swollen heat in my pants reminds me that everything is going to plan.
Perfectly.
Chapter Three
Krystal
“What the hell was all that about?” Dad snaps after he slams the car door shut, almost forcing me back into our family station wagon.
“What do you mean?” I ask him in the same accusing tone.
“Don’t lie to me, Krystal,” he hisses, leaning in close as he glances back at James’ office with venom in his eyes and voice.
“The wrong fliers got sent to our office? I mean, c’mon. What the hell kind of cheap stunt is that?” Dad asks me, holding my gaze for a second before squealing the tires out of the long driveway of James Silverthorn’s office.