TAKEN BY SURPRISE

copyright: Lesley Tara, 2011


I parked my little car in the tree-lined suburban street, took the folder of papers from the passenger seat beside me, walked up to the front door of the well-kept detached house and rang the bell, hearing its chimes echo distantly inside. After a moment I saw, outlined indistinctly through the frosted glass panel, the shape of a woman approaching. However, when the door swung open I was surprised to find that this was not my boss, but a complete stranger. For a moment, I wondered if I had mistaken the house number and I got a little flustered; when that happens, I have a tendency to babble that makes me seem even younger and more inexperienced than I am.

‘Oh!’ I gasped. ‘Umm … er, hi! Is Ms Kelsoe at home? Only, she left these at the office, and I thought she said that she’d need them for her meeting tomorrow … so … well, I thought … umm … yes, well, maybe I should bring them …’, I paused, and then ended rather lamely: ‘I’m Trisha, her PA.’

The woman looked at me with no change of expression for a moment, and I began to think that my bright idea – show initiative, I’d told myself, impress the boss – perhaps had not been so smart after all. The woman in front of me was quite striking – she seemed to be of similar age to my boss, in her mid 30s, but she was a bit taller than Ms Kelsoe, and her hair was darker and cut in a shorter style. She was wearing no shoes, and her legs were encased in smart black tights or stockings; it looked as if she had simply shed her business suit and flung on a flimsy wrap. This was in an elegant blue and silver pattern, and was only loosely tied at her waist; as it gaped open at the top, I could see the upper part of a lime green full-cup bra and the deep cleavage of the shapely breasts that it enclosed. The woman was holding a glass in one hand which was half-filled with white wine, but when she saw my glance flick towards it she took a large gulp and then set it down with a bump on a small table nearby.

‘You’re too late, the bitch left to catch her flight half an hour ago’, she snapped curtly, and then muttered darkly, more to herself than to me: ‘if it really is a meeting she’s gone to – Paris in the spring, oh yeah! So why didn’t she want me to come along for the weekend, huh?’

Then the woman looked me slowly up and down in a considering way, and I felt even more unsure of my ground.

‘So, you’re the new PA, are you? And quite a peach, too … she hasn’t said much about that, oh no!’ the woman observed, before adding brutally: ‘I’m surprised she hasn’t tried to get your panties down, a pretty little poppet like you’.

I was shocked at her bold frankness and tried to keep my expression blank, but I am young and naive, and something in my look must have given me away. The woman glared furiously at me and her mouth narrowed in an angry line.

‘The bloody bitch – she HAS!’ the woman snapped, ‘and you dropped them, you little slut, didn’t you! How many times? How many times have you got up on her desk and spread your legs, you little hussy?’

I blushed – which I know makes a pretty picture – partly from embarrassment, and partly from the vivid flashback of arousing memories. It hadn’t really been that many times – after all, I’d only been working for Ms Kelsoe for five weeks, and nearly three of those had passed before she was sure enough of my lesbian orientation to make her move. Mind you, since then I had happily knelt in front of her leather executive desk chair and paid oral worship to her mature pussy at least once each working day, and sometimes more often if there was a gap between her appointments or meetings. In return, she would strap on the large dildo that she kept hidden in a locked filing-cabinet, and fuck me doggy-style hard and long – though she insisted that I wear a ball gag, after I made rather too much noise in my moments of climax on the first occasion that she took me. However, we had never done it on her desk – the preferred position was for me to be on my hands and knees on the carpet in front of it, my skirt and panties discarded, my thighs apart and my ass jutting up in the air, and she would take a steely grip above my hips and grind the long and wickedly-ridged plastic phallus deep into my vagina, and then she would reach underneath me to yank my breasts out of their bra cups and pull and squeeze my stiff nipples.

As these heady memories transfixed me for a moment, giving me a sudden hot damp flush in my pussy, the woman came to a decision and acted upon it.

‘So … sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander! You’d better bring that in’, she said, and then seized the folder that I was holding and jerked it towards her. I was taken by surprise and stumbled inwards over the threshold, relinquishing the folder in order to try and keep my balance. I heard the front door slam shut behind me, and from the corner of my eye saw the woman contemptuously hurl the folder down in the corner of the hallway. I was still bewildered by the sudden pace of events when she stepped up rapidly behind me, seized the collar of my suit jacket, and jerked it downwards off my shoulders – the buttons at the front held, and the result was to pinion my arms to my sides, like some impromptu strait-jacket.

‘Well, if you’re giving out pussy, I think I’ll have some too!’ growled this fearsome female, as she propelled me the short distance into the living room and then shoved me forwards, so that I fell onto a large leather couch, my face down on the seat with my knees and legs resting on the deeply-carpeted floor. As I turned my head to utter a cry of protest, I saw an arresting sight. The woman stood towering above me like an Amazon warrior, with her legs straddling my prone form. With a single swift motion she tugged undone the tie of her wrap and flung the garment aside, revealing that beneath it she was wearing only a pair of traditional stockings that were held up by a lime-green garter belt which matched her bra, and the latter garment, which proudly displayed her full bust – I’d guess she might well be a 34D cup size. Her smooth-shaven naked cunt was fully exposed, the outer labia prominently puckering outwards, and as I stared at her commanding form a lustful glint came into her eyes and she rubbed one hand up and down her pussy, thrusting it forwards in my direction.

‘Do you want it?’ she purred; ‘do you want it, you little strumpet? Well, you’re gonna fucking get it, that’s for sure!’

I gave a little shiver at hearing the aggression in her promise, and she laughed harshly. I tried to rise, but with my arms still trapped in my jacket this was a futile effort even before I felt the weight of her taller and heavier frame come down on my lower back, and the pressure of her breasts rested below my shoulder-blades. My first noise was a weak protesting squeak, as the woman expertly pulled my tight black mini-skirt up around my hips, and then with one forceful tug she ripped my skimpy thong-style panties down to just above my knees. The next thing – making me squeal shrilly – was that I felt a hand take a firm grip on my now-naked and defenceless pussy, squeezing my labial lips together and rubbing remorselessly along my cunt. Her fingers slid slickly over my sweaty skin, feeling the juices that were seeping from my widening slit.

‘So, you’re dripping wet already, are you – you teasing little bitch!’ hissed a voice just behind my right ear, ‘are you gonna give it – or am I gonna take it?’

I was washed away in a whirlpool of sensation, and gave only an incoherent noise in reply – but my body spoke for me, as I opened my hips to give her easier access to my pussy and arched my back, thrusting my ass upwards to grind against her pelvis.

‘Yeah, you’re wide and wet and willing to give it, aren’t you, you lezzie slut!’ she grunted, and then my stomach fluttered and my vagina flushed with warm juices as she added, with a lustful rasp in her voice: ‘but I’m gonna take it, anyhow!’, and with that she rammed two long fingers straight into my hole, making me gasp and sob with the sudden intrusion and the erogenous impact of her masterful presence.

It’s true that, ever since my lesbian initiation at the hands (and pussy) of my mother’s younger cousin, when I stayed with her for a summer holiday at the ripening and malleable age of sixteen, I have always been most turned on by older authoritative women, and submissive to their commands and demands. Even so, I could hardly believe it: here I was being hard-fucked, almost raped, by a woman who I had never seen until a few moments ago and who’s name I didn’t even know – and I was loving every pussy-pounding second of it. She was obviously my boss’s lover and live-in partner, and it looked like they had just had a row and this woman had subsequently been drinking – I could smell the wine on her breath as it brushed my cheek. It certainly released all of her inhibitions, and her taking me by storm in this way surely released all of mine – I was just putty in her hands, eagerly willing her to do anything she wanted, anything at all!

I gasped something to this effect, pleading with her to take me, have me, fuck me any way she wanted.