Treehouse time and it's Wednesday again

Wednesdays seem to be treehouse days as of late. Frankly, I didn't think that this past Wednesday would be one of those occasions.

I got to work and my guy was at his desk, looking like he wanted to take a nap. He didn't notice that I had walked in until I said hi.

I asked how he was. He said that he was okay. To me, that response indicates that he's not as good as he could be. He admitted that he wasn't feeling his normal self. My guess was that he was at his desk. He has been on the road and in meetings as of late. All that activity has suddenly ended. He doesn't exactly know what to do with himself.

I did manage to lift his spirits. He had overheard a conversation that I was having with another writer. I was telling her how much I disliked how one user guide was written by a previous writer. It wasn't useful in that it didn't tell readers how to actually use our software product.

My guy felt the need to add his two cents, basically teasing me about my stance. He truly felt the same way as I did about the user guide, but he likes to see if he can get me worked up.

Somehow, we ended up talking about giving birth on an airplane. I managed to state that I could picture the husband or significant other trying to help with the baby's delivery, but feeling queasy. So, the oxygen masks would drop from the overhead bins, which cracked both of us up.

I decided to get up from my desk and head to the washroom. My guy followed suit.

"You're not following me, are you?" I asked him. I knew that my question was rhetorical.
"Not at all," he said. "It's purely coincidental."

We typically cut through the communal kitchen to head out to the elevators. The kitchen door closed. My guy groped my right buttock. I was turned on and caressed the back of his neck.

We went through the second set of doors. He groped me again. I was even more aroused.

"I don't know what to do now," I admitted, feeling like Jell-O.
"Well, we can fix that after work," he hinted, which meant quality time.
"I'd like that," I admitted. He smiled back at me.

My guy had swiped a box of East Indian sweets that was in the communal kitchen. They were left there by a fellow employee to celebrate the birth of his first child. My guy came up to my desk and offered me some goodies. He then passed them around to others.

He is sweet that way. He always offers these things to me first. The part-time (PT) writer, who annoys me these days, hasn't quite picked up on the fact that he finds her to be phoney and insincere. She proved it to him once again.

"Are you going to the Christmas party?" asked a colleague who was passing by our cubicle area and directed her question at my guy.
"I will be your date," PT yelled out, always overhearing every conversation in the area.
"I don't think that your husband would approve," my guy responded, which shut her down.

Frankly, PT is not exactly a sensitive, caring person. I wasn't annoyed that she had said what she had said. My guy is sweet and I am lucky to have him. However, it was inappropriate and my guy did a good job at telling her no in his own way.

My guy ended up offering home-buying advice to another colleague. I didn't want to interrupt their conversation, but I was ready to leave. So, I said goodnight to both of them and headed out the door. My guy started to pack up, so I knew that my subtle hint had got across just fine.

We drove to our usual spot and got into my guy's car. He helped me take my hoodie off.

"How are you?" he asked me, placing his right hand on my thigh.
"I'm good," I said.
"You're not just good," he pointed out. "You're sweet, sexy, attractive, and wonderful."
"I see that your smooth side is coming out."
"It's the truth," he stated and started kissing me.

As usual, we kissed a lot and often. He touched my left side, which made me giggle. I am a ticklish girl. We continued to kiss. He caressed my breasts. I touched his chest and arm.

He reached down toward the fly of my pants. He was trying to unbutton it, which made me giggle some more. He managed to pull down my pants and my black lacy panties.

He touched my tummy, which continued to make me giggle.

"I like that you're ticklish. It's sweet," he admitted, and kissed my tummy.

My guy fingered my clit. I was fully reclined in the backseat. I was relaxed.

"I have missed touching you," he said. It was my time of the month the last time we were in the treehouse.
"I have missed your touching me, too," I admitted. "I feel like a slut."
"Good," he agreed.
"I'm in the backseat being fingered by a cute guy."

Soon, he had another finger up my butthole. I was so turned in. It took me a few more minutes before I climaxed. I then rested in his arms, as limp as can be. He lightly swatted my bare left buttock. It was sweet.

I snapped out of it after a few moments. We kissed and hugged some more. I recall my guy saying something to me, which prompted me to automatically call him sweetie. He knows that I mean it when I call him by that nickname. I don't say it as often as I should. I do say that he is sweet all the time, though. I don't know why that is. However, we both know that I truly mean it when I use it.

I touched my guy's penis, which I confirmed to both of us that it was erect in his trousers. He undid his belt and trousers, and then slid his briefs down. I gave my guy a handjob. He fingered my butthole again.

"You do know that I have my entire middle finger up your ass?" he asked me rhetorically.
"Yes," I replied. "I like it when you fuck me all the way up my ass."

He came immediately. Moments later, I came. It was a nice moment.

Part two will continue in another post.