SCENE IN AN OFFICE

copyright: Lesley Tara, 2010


Oh!! Oh, gosh! Ms Carter! I didn’t know you were like this, that you wanted me like this, when you asked me to stay on late at the office tonight and help you with some work, just the two of us alone here in the building.

You took me by surprise, when you pushed me backwards against your office wall, seizing my arms just below the shoulders and kissing me so firmly – when my lips parted in shock, your tongue thrust inside and licked all around my mouth. I feel shaky, my stomach is all fluttery – I’m weak at the knees, and glad for the wall behind holding me up. You pull my suit jacket off my shoulders, let it fall to the ground – you are still kissing me, devouring my mouth with your passion, whilst your hands rove all over my chest.

You grasp my breasts, squeezing them roughly through my thin shirt and my bra – its soft lace cups give them no protection against your mauling grip as you mash them and then pull hard on my nipples, and I give a broken moan. My tits feel like they are on fire, you are sending electric shocks out from them through my whole body, making me shake and tremble.

You are so authoritative, so totally in command of me – you told me three weeks ago, just after I started working as your personal secretary, that when you see something that you want, you just take it … and now you’re just taking me, you’re so decisive, and I’ll do anything you want, anything at all, just make me, take me – oh! fuck me, please, now!

I’m wondering, did you know somehow that I’m a lesbian too? Maybe, with all your experience, you have what they call ‘gaydar’, and you sensed or guessed – or maybe you just don’t care, you’re going to have my cunt anyway, whether I like it or not? Ooooh, that sends hot shivers down my spine, I love your forcefulness, your aggression – would it be sexier for you if I pretend to resist a bit? Do you like young girls to struggle in your talons, like rabbits that have been swooped on by an eagle? Perhaps I should try and run for the door … but, of course, in my rather slutty high heels, you will catch me, and rip the shirt from my back, perhaps slap me around a bit to show me who’s boss (oh, you are – you’re my boss, in every way!) and then you’d use me however you wanted to … ohmigod! thinking this plus what you are doing to my body, it’s sending me wild with desire, my cunny is soaking, and I need you to take me … take me hard … oh, yes, so hard!

You are so much more experienced than me, so mature and powerful – you must be about twelve years older than me, a little over thirty, I’d guess? I thought you were hot from the moment I saw you, but you gave no sign of wanting my pussy, so I just had to daydream – but I’m sure this isn’t a dream, I pinched my leg just now to be sure, yes – it’s real, it’s really happening! You are taller than me by about four or five inches, a little heavier built, although you are so well-proportioned, with your slim waist and long shapely legs. And you are always so elegant and stylish, I love the way you dress at the office – business suits with tight pencil skirts or (as you have today) sheer and sharply-creased black trousers which showcase your trim ass so well, it’s such a professional executive look and yet it’s also so dominant and sexy. It goes well with your dark hair, cut sharply around your ears and to the back of your collar, and those heavy silver ear-rings that you wear.

Do you like my breasts? I know I seem like a blonde bimbo: I’m just nineteen, and look a bit younger than that apart from my figure – well, my tits really, everyone says they are my best feature, firm and high and pointy, double-D cups which on my relatively small frame (just five foot three inches) look even bigger than they are. Did they catch your eye, or maybe it was the clothes I wear at work? I love smart business suits too, but mine always have a really short tight skirt, never longer than halfway down my thigh, and often with a bit of a side slit or back vent as well. I like people to look at my legs when I walk – well, strut, as I always wear strappy high heels – and get glimpses of the elastic top of my hold-ups, and maybe more. Did you look up my skirt when I was bending over the lowest filing-cabinet drawers? – I know my skirt rides up then, and you could see the gusset of my panties. Or perhaps it was my tits, as you are groping them so much? My suit jackets are always cut tight to emphasise my bust, and under them I often wear scoop-neck tops or a shirt with several buttons open, showing a good amount of breast and cleavage. I’m sure I saw you looking sometimes … do you want my tits, do you want to make them quiver at your touch, make them belong to you?

Oh, now you’ve undone the other buttons on my shirt and are pulling it open, tugging it out of the waistband of my mini-skirt, letting it fall away to the sides – now you push it down my arms to fall away, and all I have on above the waist is my black demi-cup bra. You waste no time – at once you scoop my breasts out of the bra cups, letting them dangle over the lacy fabric. Ow!! you pinch my nipples, pulling and tweaking them, when they are already engorged and so sensitive. I give a little yelp, and you smile a hungry wolfish grin of conquest – oh, you know that you have me, that you can do anything to me now!

Your mouth latches on to one breast, while your hand still massages the other – you take my tit into your mouth, sucking so hard as if you want it to come off, and then nibbling, almost biting on it, as you pull it with your teeth. I’m almost sobbing with arousal and the effects of what you are doing to me – my hands have been clutching you around the waist, but at last I have a coherent thought in my head and I move them up under your suit jacket, to cup and fondle your tits in return.

You step back for a moment, letting me caress you and watching the expression on my face like a hawk – you know I’m so ripe for plucking and fucking.