He opens the e-mail and reads the contents. Just 
           an ordinary man, sitting at His desk, working the
           computer. 
           His eyes flick backwards and forwards across the
           screen, absorbing the contents and involuntarily His
           body reacts. 

           A slow flush of heat runs through his groin. His
           erection is concealed by the layers of clothing and
           the edge of his desk. 
           His breathing deepens and the reflection of his eyes
           in the screen grow darker ... 


           After a few minutes of self control, His erection subsides. 

           He highlights the text on the screen, clicks on Cut, then pastes it into a document. 

           He reflects on the fact that the printer is down the
           hallway, away from His office in the open part where
           most of the staff work. 

           And He presses the print key ... then gets up and
           walks down towards the printer as He normally does 
           ... thinking about the risk inherent in doing this.
           Will somebody else arrive before Him. He imagines
           what would be said, the way it would be passed around
           the office. 

           He gets to the printer as the last of the three pages
           print. He picks them up, looks over them and smiles,
           says hello to the office receptionist and then walks
           out across the corridor towards the mens toilets . 

           Once inside, He locks the door and unzips Himself and begins to read ... 
           His prick is quiescent, though still slightly swollen from the first reading ... 

           As He reads her words, He can imagine her voice
           whispering them. His prick rises, hard, the parchment
           coloured skin stretching. He touches himself with one
           hand, stroking along the underside, imagining her
           juices just wetting it. 

           He imagines her on her knees before Him, red lips
           open, inviting .. hot and wet around His head. His 
           hand wraps around the cock in the cold cubicle ...
           and begins to stroke.. the drops of precum appearing like magic .. 

           and He strokes them over the smooth skin... the
           senstive underside wetted with more than His imagination .. . 

           He continues to read the pages, His breath heavy... 
           His hand moving faster as she works her magic into 
           His brain. He can feel the leather wrapped in his 
           fist, can smell her need and can see it tighten 
           around her throat little by little ... can hear her 
           gasp as He pulls it 

           In His brain, a slowly burning fuse begins to travel
           faster. He squeeezes His cock softly, the way her
           hand would. He balances the pieces of paper on the
           cistern lid and slides His other hand down to cup his balls .. 

           He scrapes his fingernails slowly over them the way 
           she would. He can see her face now, her lips wrapped
           around His prick ... and His hand moves faster. 

           Pleasure builds like a jacobs ladder in his brain. A
           bluewhite spark that fattens and rises , writhing in 
           a myriad of shapes, but still trapped between two hard limits. 

           The cold in the cubicle is held at bay by the warmth
           of her imagination transferred to paper. His 
           breathing is hoarse and ragged and his anus tightens
           as the whiteness reaches its peak and He starts to 
           climax, His knees shaking and the sharp semen tang filling His nostrils .. 

           He catches it in the palm of His hand, milky white
           fluid that splashes over his fingers in sticky white
           strands and pools down. He imagines her swallowing,
           nose pressed to the curls of his groin, her throat 
           working and the little grunts of satisfaction and pleasure.. 

           He imagines her standing in front of Him now as He
           tells her what her writing has created and he slowly
           licks the semen from His palm and swallows it as she would have. 

           When His hand is clean, He adjusts Himself and zips 
           up. He folds the sheets of paper and steps out of the
           cubicle and washes His hands, glancing at Himself in 
           the mirror and then He returns to His desk. 

           Every so often He touches the folded sheets of paper in His breast pocket.