I usually handled any documents or policy updates via email or telephone, but for some odd reason, Ms. Sheryl, my State Farm Agent, wanted me to come into her office to discuss the Supplemental Life Insurance plan I was curious about. There was something different about this request, but I figured speaking with her, in person, wouldn't be an issue.
When I entered her office, instead of shaking my hand, she gave me one of those "Baptist Church Choir Member" hug and kiss combinations. "It's so nice to finally meet you, Mr. Francois. I hope this isn't too much of an inconvenience." After looking her up and down, there were no problems, at all.
Ms. Sheryl was a seemingly distinguished, "seasoned" Black woman. She kinda reminded me of the dark-skin Aunt Vivian, but with an overstated flirtatious vibe like Eartha Kitt and a shape like Nia Long. I had been in a bit of a drought, and there was something about her that had me intrigued. As she talked through my existing policy and coverages, I couldn't help but wonder what it'd be like. I envisioned being her Pool Boy, and I even considered what would happen if I worked at her agency. "I see someone needs help focusing." Ms. Sheryl must've caught be staring off into space, because she stood up, and moved from behind her desk.
Ms. Sheryl turned her computer screen around, and proceeded to sit next to me. As she leaned over to point at things on the screen, I still found myself thinking about everything except for what she was trying to show me. My thoughts got dirtier and nastier by the second, and unfortunately my body started to reveal the secrets of my mind. I was rock-hard, trying my best to hide the erection pressing against my thigh. It was all cool, until she noticed I kept shifting in my chair.
Ms. Sheryl glanced back towards me, looked down, and saw the world's worst kept secret. "Excuse me, Mr. Francois, but is there something going on?" I couldn't do anything besides apologize profusely, and avoid making eye contact with her. I was so embarrassed, not because I was turned on, but because she caught me.
Then it happened.....
I felt Ms. Sheryl's hand on my knee. However, this wasn't a consoling touch. She gently opened and closed her hand, rubbing my knee suggestively. "We can discuss the more 'pressing' matter, if you like, Mr. Francois." I ain't gone lie, I was bout it. I looked at her, and placed my hands on my zipper. I did it slowly, just in case I read way too much into her statement. "Ms. Sheryl, are you sure about this?" Instead of responding, she moved my hands, and finished unzipping my pants.
Dick now out in plain sight, Ms. Sheryl grabbed the lotion from her desk, applied an ample amount to her hands, and turned towards me. She put her right hand over the tip, left hand at the bottom of the shaft, and slowly began to work her hands towards each other. I slid down further into the chair, to make sure she had a good angle.
Once I was slick enough, Ms. Sheryl interlocked her hands and fingers, creating a makeshift pocket, and began to beat the dick up. I mean it felt like she was punching me, and it hurt so good. She then slowed it down, and stretched me up as high as she could, while firmly stroking me with the opposite hand. Every few seconds, she would pause and run her fingernails along the shaft, something that was fairly new / rare, to me. Once I started shifting and moving around more in the chair, Ms. Sheryl must've known she had me.
With both hands engaged, she began to beat and twist my dick, her forearms flexing with each stroke. She was moving so fast with it, and while it was tough, I wasn't going to complain, especially since I was moments away from a nut. Oh and when she switched back to that pocket thingy, it was a done deal! I clenched the arms of the chair, sat up and came all over her hands and my pants. Did she stop? Nope! While it was still throbbing, she pulled down on the shaft, exposing the small bumps underneath the head. She gently massaged them with her thumb, smiling the entire time.
Just as smoothly as she'd moved from behind her desk, she stood up and returned back to her original seat. Ms. Sheryl handed me a few Kleenex, and gave me a minute to compose myself. Once resituated, I sat awkwardly quiet, not really knowing what to say. Ms. Sheryl broke the silence. "I'll have my assistant email you the details of the Life Insurance policy. If you need help making a decision, or are interested in other services, come back and see me."
......I now have enough insurance to cover my Great-Great Grandkids.....
When I entered her office, instead of shaking my hand, she gave me one of those "Baptist Church Choir Member" hug and kiss combinations. "It's so nice to finally meet you, Mr. Francois. I hope this isn't too much of an inconvenience." After looking her up and down, there were no problems, at all.
Ms. Sheryl was a seemingly distinguished, "seasoned" Black woman. She kinda reminded me of the dark-skin Aunt Vivian, but with an overstated flirtatious vibe like Eartha Kitt and a shape like Nia Long. I had been in a bit of a drought, and there was something about her that had me intrigued. As she talked through my existing policy and coverages, I couldn't help but wonder what it'd be like. I envisioned being her Pool Boy, and I even considered what would happen if I worked at her agency. "I see someone needs help focusing." Ms. Sheryl must've caught be staring off into space, because she stood up, and moved from behind her desk.
Ms. Sheryl turned her computer screen around, and proceeded to sit next to me. As she leaned over to point at things on the screen, I still found myself thinking about everything except for what she was trying to show me. My thoughts got dirtier and nastier by the second, and unfortunately my body started to reveal the secrets of my mind. I was rock-hard, trying my best to hide the erection pressing against my thigh. It was all cool, until she noticed I kept shifting in my chair.
Ms. Sheryl glanced back towards me, looked down, and saw the world's worst kept secret. "Excuse me, Mr. Francois, but is there something going on?" I couldn't do anything besides apologize profusely, and avoid making eye contact with her. I was so embarrassed, not because I was turned on, but because she caught me.
Then it happened.....
I felt Ms. Sheryl's hand on my knee. However, this wasn't a consoling touch. She gently opened and closed her hand, rubbing my knee suggestively. "We can discuss the more 'pressing' matter, if you like, Mr. Francois." I ain't gone lie, I was bout it. I looked at her, and placed my hands on my zipper. I did it slowly, just in case I read way too much into her statement. "Ms. Sheryl, are you sure about this?" Instead of responding, she moved my hands, and finished unzipping my pants.
Dick now out in plain sight, Ms. Sheryl grabbed the lotion from her desk, applied an ample amount to her hands, and turned towards me. She put her right hand over the tip, left hand at the bottom of the shaft, and slowly began to work her hands towards each other. I slid down further into the chair, to make sure she had a good angle.
Once I was slick enough, Ms. Sheryl interlocked her hands and fingers, creating a makeshift pocket, and began to beat the dick up. I mean it felt like she was punching me, and it hurt so good. She then slowed it down, and stretched me up as high as she could, while firmly stroking me with the opposite hand. Every few seconds, she would pause and run her fingernails along the shaft, something that was fairly new / rare, to me. Once I started shifting and moving around more in the chair, Ms. Sheryl must've known she had me.
With both hands engaged, she began to beat and twist my dick, her forearms flexing with each stroke. She was moving so fast with it, and while it was tough, I wasn't going to complain, especially since I was moments away from a nut. Oh and when she switched back to that pocket thingy, it was a done deal! I clenched the arms of the chair, sat up and came all over her hands and my pants. Did she stop? Nope! While it was still throbbing, she pulled down on the shaft, exposing the small bumps underneath the head. She gently massaged them with her thumb, smiling the entire time.
Just as smoothly as she'd moved from behind her desk, she stood up and returned back to her original seat. Ms. Sheryl handed me a few Kleenex, and gave me a minute to compose myself. Once resituated, I sat awkwardly quiet, not really knowing what to say. Ms. Sheryl broke the silence. "I'll have my assistant email you the details of the Life Insurance policy. If you need help making a decision, or are interested in other services, come back and see me."
......I now have enough insurance to cover my Great-Great Grandkids.....
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