0 comments/ 43683 views/ 0 favorites Hard At Work By: nyprince My friend Rob asked me over to his home to help him build a deck in his backyard. Rob lives with his girlfriend Carrie who I must say is very hot. I always tell Rob what a lucky guy he is that he goes home to a piece of ass like that every night. Carrie is about 5'6" blonde, 36C and a size 6. I arrived at Rob's place at about 11AM. I wore work clothes, tank top and jeans. Rob already bought all of the tools and supplies that we were going to need so we were able to get to work right away. About half an hour later Carrie appeared for the first time. She was looking as hot and sexy as I have ever seen her. She wore a skimpy bikini that could barely contain her breasts and showed a lot of cleavage, and the bottom shaped her legs and ass perfectly. You guys look thirsty she said. I will bring you something to drink. She came back with three glasses of ice water, two for us and one for herself. After handing us our drinks, she pulled up a lawn chair for herself and lay down to tan. I could not help but stare at her as she rubbed the tanning lotion all over her body. I watched as her hands rubbed her breasts, and then ran down her tummy, and between her thighs. After the pleasant distraction had passed Rob and I got back to work. While we were working, I caught Carrie glancing over at us periodically. She seemed to enjoy the sight of two well-built men at work with sweat glistening off their bodies. The next thing I noticed was Carrie taking an ice cube and running it down her neck and between her breasts. I noticed her nipples almost immediately stood up from the chill of the ice cube. Carrie knew we were watching her and she seductively licked the ice cube and sucked it into her mouth. I felt a bulge start to grow in my pants. I decided that two could play at this game, and if Carrie were going to put on a show and tease me then I would do the same for her. I took off my tank top, went back to work shirtless, Rob followed suit, and removed his shirt too. We went back to work shirtless. Carrie was watching us even more attentively now than before. I looked up again at Carrie when I heard a soft moan escape from her mouth. The sight of her got me aroused right away. Her top was off and her legs were draped over the sides of the lawn chair, one hand was in her bikini bottom and her other hand was teasing her now bare nipples. Watching the two of us, work got Carrie so hot and bothered that she had to start playing with herself now. Rob smiled at me conveying his approval of my watching his sexy wife pleasure herself. I told Rob that if he did not hose me down soon with cold water that I might have to jump his wife. Rob just told me to try to calm down and save my energy for later. I took a cold drink and somehow managed to calm myself down. Rob and I got back to work despite his wife playing with herself on the lawn a few feet away from us. As things would turn out, I would not have to wait or hold myself back for very long. In fact, Carrie lost herself and gave in to her carnal desires first. Topless, lustfully, and seductively she approached us. She went straight to Rob. She wrapped one arm around his neck as she kissed him, and her other hand went directly to his crotch. Seeing Carrie in heat like this really had me turned on. Rob and I had never discussed a threesome before, so I was not quite sure what to do now. Almost instinctively, I reacted by pulling out my cock, and I started to stroke it. I watched as Rob took Carrie's nipples into his mouth causing her to moan. Carrie looked over at me and licked her lips when she saw my cock in my hands. She stepped away from Rob and got down to her knees in front of me. She pushed me back against the frame of the deck and tugged my jeans down around my ankles. She took hold of my cock and then lowered her mouth over it. Her mouth was warm and wet. She rolled her tongue around my shaft as her head bobbed up and down over my cock. Rob smiled at me as he bent down behind Carrie. He pulled down her bikini, then raised her ass and spread her legs. As Rob started to lick her pussy, she sucked on my cock harder. I held her head down on my cock as her body shook from her first orgasm of the day. Rob took Carrie by the hand and started leading her back to the lawn chair. Carrie took my hand leading me to follow them. Rob sat down on the chair and guided Carrie to straddle him. Carrie grabbed Rob's cock and held it as she lowered herself down onto him. Rob played with her nipples as her breasts bounced up and down as she rode him. I bent down behind Carrie and pushed a finger into her ass to see if she would like it. The presence of my finger in her ass made he fuck Rob faster, so I started fingering her ass while she fucked him. Carrie was moaning with pleasure and she told me to get my finger out of her ass and fuck her with my cock. I spit into my hand to lube up my cock and then I got on top of her and pressed my cock into her ass. Her ass was nice and tight. Carrie moaned in pleasure as Rob and I both pumped her with our cocks. Fuck me! Fuck me! I am coming again! She squealed as her second orgasm shook her body. Her orgasm made her ass tighten around my cock, the sensation was more than I could handle and I came into her ass. Right after I finished Rob came in her pussy. When we were all done, Carrie licked our cocks clean of any juices left on them, and then she went upstairs to shower. Rob and I got dressed, and when our strength came back, we finished our work on the deck. He told me that Carrie always thought that I was the hottest of his guy friends and that she had been interested in getting me into a threesome for a while now. I told Rob that I still thought he was the luckiest guy in the world but now I felt like the second luckiest guy in the world. He smiled and suggested that we go upstairs to see if Carrie had gotten out of the shower yet. Hard At Work If there are any stereotypes about the kind of people who work in a computer call center, then I fit the one of the lanky guy with glasses and unfashionably styled hair. If I flatter myself for being a reasonably handsome fellow, that opinion only comes from the self-confidence earned through maturity. It was not a view I particularly held at the time, which partly explains why I was still single when I could have and should have been doing rather better. Naturally, I yearned for a mate, but in the absence of a willing girlfriend to expend my romantic energies on, I filled the void with issues of Penthouse and erotic novels. I was quite shameless in my daily masturbatory habits, but in the confines of my own bedroom, I tend to doubt that my activities were much different than those of any other men. This 'normalcy' would change and evolve over time, as my desire for sexual release led me to greater forms of experimentation and risk than simply jacking off in bed. The actual job I held was not especially remarkable, and given the true nature of this story I will refrain from giving away too many details. Never especially on the cutting edge of technology, the tools of our trade consisted of a keyboard plugged in to an orange-on-black monochrome computer monitor, a keypad telephone and headset, and several sheaves of reference papers. I had some very lovely co-workers to ogle, though opportunities for real interaction were pretty rare (not counting my own natural shyness). There wasn't a lot of sexy dress on display, but when you're a randy young man with a dirty mind, even a nice head of hair or a glimpse of nylon-clad calf can be enough to spark a fantasy. Standing up from my chair to stretch my limbs, I'd invariably take a few minutes to girl-watch, quite certain I wasn't making my lascivious attentions obvious. The turn over rate was such that there was almost always a new face (or at least the back of their head) to appreciate. But that was only a brief and minor distraction, not enough to fuel my imagination during the course of an entire shift. Bringing something to read was a popular option, though not ideal, given the frequent interruptions that work demanded. More typically, I'd bring in some gaming and science magazines to flip through, as well as a sketchbook to help sharpen my modest artistic skills. Between my libido, and this need to find things to do at my desk to help kill the hours, led eventually to my smuggling in pornographic magazines and books. As long as they were concealed by the covers of more innocuous publications, and largely shielded by the walls of my cubicle, I discovered it was a fairly easy thing to steal long lingering glances at these erotic images or read at my leisure the most provocative literature. As you can imagine, it was impossible not to get aroused while doing this, and I frankly enjoyed this furtive self-inflicted teasing. It became something of a game, a test of my will to see how long I could go without having to press down into my lap, to tease myself even further with the pressure of my hand through my pants. On this particular day, I brought a book called, 'A Man With A Maid'. I'd just bought it from the back room of a local used bookstore, which had become a favorite haunt in my break hour. As soon as I saw the name on the spine, I immediately took it from the shelf, eyes wide. If there was one fantasy that was sure to make me instantly hard, it was the prospect of a Victorian maid –a submissive house servant who is bound to please all her masters wishes. I would soon learn that the story it contained was a bit different than I'd imagined –and, in fact, a great deal better. Having been spurned by his would-be fiancé, the author relates his capture of Alice inside his basement 'snuggery', within which he gradually strips the young woman of all modesty and dignity. Perhaps all shy, retiring kind of guys have these secret fantasies of control, but whatever the case may be, this book captured my imagination immensely. I was far too impatient to wait until I got home to start reading, and once I'd started, found it nearly impossible to put down. Nearly every detail seemed calculated to have a strong erotic effect, and from the first moment that Alice was bound to her chains, my prick hardened to full erection. I admit that I was nervous, because while I had done this sort of thing before, I'd never felt so compelled to keep on doing it. Whenever I wasn't typing on the keyboard, my hand was firmly pressed close to my crotch. I could feel the entire length of my cock straining at the cotton fabric of my underpants, and I kept up an unrelenting, rhythmic pressure with my palm. There was some danger, obviously, but as long as no one was looking directly over my shoulder, I let myself believe it was safe. What might have seemed to be a bit of masculine scratching was really a subtle attempt to directly rub and stimulate my member through the crotch of my pants. It felt extremely good, and even when I as able to wisely put the book aside, it did little to stem the demand for attention from my prick. By now I'd driven myself to such distraction it was becoming futile to keep on working. So, pulling off my headset, I made an ungainly beeline for the nearest bathroom. I doubt anyone took much notice of my plight, and hopefully assumed a very different reason for my rush to the toilet even if they did happen to spy my obvious bulge. With the door locked behind me, I finally had enough privacy to give in to what my cock begged for -the contact of bare skin on skin. Undoing my trousers, I promptly reached under the waistband of my plain white briefs, which were clearly marked with a translucent circle of pre-cum. Pulling my member free entirely, I sighed out loud at the welcome sensation of my hand closing over my too-eager shaft. Applying a little more pressure, I coaxed yet another drop of crystal-clear fluid to emerge from the tip of my penis. Using only the pad of my index finger, l smeared it all around the surface of my glans in slow circles. I was so completely lost in the feelings generated by that wonderful friction on my most sensitive part that I'd nearly forgotten just where I was. I glanced over at the toilet, thinking how easy it would be to lean over and stroke myself hard and fast, pumping my semen into the waiting pool of water within. It was a temptation I allowed myself to consider for only a moment before regaining my self-control. To ejaculate now would end the game far too early, to deny myself the wonderful warm time of relaxation that comes after the orgasm, and make the rest of the shift only that much duller to get through. All I needed to do was hang on a couple hours more. Swallowing dryly, I gave my exquisitely hard penis a last few strokes before reaching down to gently tug at my scrotum. My testes had drawn tight to my body, which was another sure sign of how tense and ready I was for climax, but I'd discovered that pulling them down helped ease that tension. As it was, there was no way I could comfortably return to my cubicle without some further adjustment. Finding little other solution, I pulled the entire length of my cock through the front opening of my briefs. With the way it naturally curved a little to the left, it rested more comfortably against my body once I'd redressed, and I found I could easily reach in and touch it through the thin fabric inside my pants pocket. Once back to my booth, I resumed my usual work rote, letting the strength of my erection naturally subside as my mind focused on other things. I didn't take long for me to catch up, though, and I once again started flipping through the pages of my newly acquired favorite-book-ever. As I took in the details of Alice's continued erotic torture, I could feel my cock assert itself again, sliding against my inner thigh as it rose. Looking around to make sure I wasn't being watched, I let my left hand drift to my lap. With the easier access I'd created, I could touch the shape of my glans through the inside pocket, gently pressing and rubbing it with my fingers as I leaned back in my chair, legs still under my desk. With increasingly desperation, I wondered if I shouldn't tear a hole, to get that bare contact with my naked prick. I think only the interruptions of my job prevented me from taking things too far past the point of no return. My head was pretty much swimming by this point, so I very deliberately put my book aside and concentrated on what I was being paid to do. For a change, the monotonous plod was actually rather welcome, saving me from my own lasciviousness, and I was rather surprised at how quickly the time went beyond that point. Perhaps 'quickly' isn't exactly the right term, since I never stopped yearning for the moment my shift would end and I could reap that reward I'd been teasing myself with for the entire second half of my shift. When I logged off my terminal it was well past midnight, and I had a long walk ahead of me until I'd arrive home. Taking in the night air, I felt a surge of energy, renewed and refreshed despite the late hour. Freed from my tiny desk, I felt like I could do anything I wanted –but there was only one thing I really wanted to do, and for that, I'd have to head directly home. Walking along, I realized that my prick still dangling partly out of my briefs. I had the strange luxury of being able to covertly stimulate myself without making the action obvious to the few people who where out on the sidewalks. There was a row of high end fashion stores that happened to be on my way, and every time I passed by there, I always took a long appreciative look at the mannequins in the window. Tonight was no different, and I paused a short while, putting my hand in my pocket as I imagined caressing the smooth plastic thighs of those artificial beauties under their skirts and dresses. I wondered at the practicality of turning one of those things into a personal sex toy; if they were cheap enough to buy, and if it wasn't too perverse a thing to do to fashion some kind of opening between their legs. These kinds of distractions only served to titillate and delay me, so I hurried on, letting my cock mercifully soften as I got closer to home. By the time I arrived, it was late enough that the people I was renting my room from were asleep. I entered the house with deliberate silence, leaving my shoes at the doorway before padding upstairs to the sanctuary of my bedroom. Turning on the light, I immediately dropped my briefcase and threw myself on the bed, exhausted but still strangely energetic. Unbuttoning my pants, I quickly shuffled them down off my legs along with my briefs, not bothering to remove my shirt as I cupped my bare genitals in my hands. My balls fairly ached from the long repetition of arousal and denial -a problem that would soon be solved. I reached over and opened up the briefcase to retrieve my new book, finding the place where I'd let off. The author had an amazing yet maddening way of stretching out the action, lingering in such a way that simply taking off Alice's clothing occupied close to three chapters. I was no longer in a state to be teased, so I scanned ahead to find the real meat of the action, where the tied up young woman would be made to experience more than just feathers and spanking. My cock swiftly responded to the pressure of my hand and the fantasy of the book. Clasping it firmly by the base, I let it stiffen of its own accord. I stared down my chest as my glans rose to point nearly directly at my face. Putting the novel momentarily aside, I spent a few minutes just watching as I slowly stroked the taught skin of my prick; infinitely glad to be able to enjoy this post-work stress reliever. Resuming 'A Man With A Maid', I found the bit where Alice was being sucked and licked over her virgin cunt, experiencing the crest of sexual arousal for the first time in her life. Those poor, sexually repressed Victorians; to think that what I was doing right now would be considered unhealthy 'self-pollution!' Stroking my cock with greater abandon, I milked a drop of pre-cum and used it to lubricate my glans with my thumb. Awkwardly holding the book in my free hand, I rolled onto my side, absorbed in the details of Alice's submission to the author's tongue. Hardly aware of my actions, I rocked my hips back and forth, fucking my fist as I squeezed. My toes curled, and my muscles began to stiffen all through my legs. I knew myself well enough to know what was about to happen, and despite the fact that my towel was completely out of arms reach, there was nothing I could do to stop it –hell, I didn't want to stop it. Rolling onto my back again, I tossed the book away from me as my hips slightly arched off the bed. Everything became very hot and very tense, and as my hand squeezed and stroked, I finally felt the dam burst. I held the base of my cock hard as the first jets of semen shot forth, landing high on my shirt in thick warm spatters. I don't think I breathed for the entire length of my orgasm, wonderfully frozen by the long delayed moment, not caring what a mess my pent up procreative fluid was creating. I could live with it; I could live with anything, to experience those waves of pure unmitigated pleasure. When it was over, I lay there, completely and wonderfully spent. My hand lolled to the side, hanging off the bed. I closed my eyes and just lie there, letting my cock droop wetly on my lap. This was the reward for those hours of work, of teasing, and self-control. All these years later, I doubt that that job still exists, having probably been shipped over to India. I wonder if some young man over in Bangalor right now is standing up from his cubicle, stretching his stiff limbs, and looking at the young women working all around him. He perhaps lets his mind wander to what they must look like naked under their colorful saris, and if he too feels the strains of an erection begin to grow beneath his loose fitting pants. Hard at Work Stepping out of the elevator, and into the plush lobby, I have one thing on my mind. The last email he sent wasn't his usual flirtatious banter, it was a very simple request. A plea that I am only too happy to answer. "Fuck me," he'd typed. Smoothing the fabric of my dress over my hips, I stride confidently towards his office, oblivious to all but the thoughts of this man, and what is about to happen. I don't knock. No need, I know that he's waiting for me. The heavy wooden door opens smoothly, and I step into the opulent office. When I pause, he rises from his seat, watching me intently. Within seconds, the door is closed behind me, and I feel his breath on the back of my neck. His hands on my hips, I am guided back towards the door. My hands rise to press against the satin wood, as his palms glide over my buttocks, squeezing ever so softly. He sinks to his knees, and I feel the press of his lips behind my knee, just as I feel those hands now rising beneath my dress to peel off the lace panties that have become dampened in anticipation. Carefully, I step out of the wisp of fabric, and then his hands begin their journey upwards again. Standing once more, he guides my flame red dress over my head, and I am left leaning against the door wearing only the heels he had bought for me a week earlier. When I can no longer bear the silent torture, to be so near, but not touching, I turn. My eyes meet his, and then our mouths collide, hot and moist. Devouring. My hands cup his handsome face, his hands are on my breasts, teasing nipples so hard. Between the cool wooden door, and the fabric of his suit, my body is tingling with sensation. He pulls back, leaving me gasping. He removes his clothes with quick deliberation, watching me all the while. The rise of my breasts with every breath, the clenching of my fists, the way I twist my heel into the carpet, nothing escapes his heavy-lidded gaze. And not one inch of his delicious frame escapes mine. I fall to my knees before him, encircling his hips with my arms, and I stroke his hard buttocks. A small moan of pleasure escapes me as my tongue darts out to caress his heavy balls. I lick the length and breadth of his thick shaft, and he throbs in anticipation. Opening my mouth wide, I take as much of his cock as I can, licking and sucking. He groans, and with his hands on my head, moves against my enveloping mouth, his body becoming tenser with every movement. He eases out of my mouth, and joins me on the carpet. I am pulled to him, and he kisses me hungrily, his tongue exploring my mouth. His hands are on my breasts again, stroking, teasing, and then they move over my ass and between my thighs. I relish the feeling on his body against mine, the hardness of his cock against me. Feeling my own wetness, I grind myself even closer to him. He gently pushes me backwards. Smiling, he crouches over me, spreading my legs wider apart. His hands on my buttocks bring me closer to him, and he begins to place soft kisses on my inner thighs. My faint moans urge him on, and his tongue finds my clitoris, and is then plunged lustily inside me, apparently ravenous for my taste. I grind myself against him, writhing, lost in ecstasy. Suddenly he stops, withdrawing, and I feel acutely the loss of him there. But not for long, as I glimpsed his engorged shaft momentarily, before he plunged inside, farther than I thought possible. I respond instantly, matching his rhythm, wrapping my legs around his back, the leather of my high-heeled shoes teasing the taut skin of his ass. Before long we are both consumed, release overwhelming us. He collapses over me, shuddering, as we gasp for air. Clutching me to him, he rolls until I am resting above him, his cock still inside me. I place my hands on his chest, and lean forward to drop a single kiss on his brow. "I hope the door is locked! As good as that was, it was definitely you fucking me. I came up here to fuck YOU. And I do so like to finish what I've started." With a broad smile on my lips, and a teasing look in my eyes, I clench my muscles around his hardening cock. Neither of us will be getting much work done today. Hard At Work Her ass meant sexual employment for his dictation! Ms. Therrisa Athena Cleopallis could be a real B I T C H of a boss. She wasn't often, and her administrative assistant, Randolph Stefano, liked her, a lot; in fact he liked her in a certain way - way too much. He would have liked to make love to her, but she was his employer and she didn't socialize with the staff. He couldn't even have thought of asking her out, much less hitting on her for a liaison. It quite late this Wednesday evening and they were both at work finishing a project for a fresh ad campaign that would be presented the day after tomorrow. They were the last to leave. Actually, Randy was done with his end and just waiting for Ms. Cleopallis; Terry, as she allowed him to call her in informal settings, to approve the final draft of the presentation, then copies could be run off tomorrow in time for the meeting on Friday with the new clients. The CEO of the firm which she had started six years ago was a drop gorgeous gal, a dead ringer for Farah Cassidy, the flame-haired actress who played the executive secretary on the popular American Network series, "Legal Ties"; the show where all the lawyers wore color coordinated shirts and ties, and grey conservative Brooks Brothers' type suits. The redheaded 'paralegal with legs' and the 'clever one with cleavage' as she was sometimes referred to by the male cast members in their scripts was a knockout. He was about to don his suit coat that hung on a brass hook by the side of the door, just then he heard a knock. He opened it to see Terry. "Randy, could you come into my office? There is something we need to discuss." He followed her the few feet to her corner office on the 17th floor of the Manhattan skyscraper. The view to the south looked over Wall Street and the Statue of Liberty, to the east was the Seaport Museum and Pier 17. A spectacular view, though the best looking thing to be seen in that office was the lady herself, to Randy's perspective. "Need any final revisions for the presentation?" he asked expecting last minute jot and tittle corrections she found to make; she was a perfectionist in everything. "No, it's something else entirely." Terry turned to face him and indicated for him to take a seat at his usual spot where he took dictation. But then, as he was just getting settled, she made an 'up' wave with her hand and spoke again. "Better yet, for this why don't you bring in Jane's chair. It'll be easier to roll through the door than your comfy lounger." He did as she requested, and when he returned with the typist's more utilitarian perch, his hottie-honcho pointed indicating he should roll the chair to sit next to her. With her other hand she turned the computer screen so that they both could see it. The desktop screen was an aerial view of her family's home island in Greece. Her father was a shipping magnate; he had financed her move to be independent when she wanted to split from the agency she had spent her apprenticeship with. The company The Ad-riatic Agency was one of the fastest growing firms in the field according to a recent report in the Wall St. Journal. Randy was of Greek decent also and at thirty-five, just three years younger than his boss; he had a George Clooney sort of look but with a larger proboscis. "Mr. Stefano," she began with unexpected formality, "You understand that this new client's account will mean that the pair of us will be required to be traveling to far places and spending several days at the locations associated with the campaign? He nodded, she continued, "As my administrative assistant I shall need you at my elbow to help not only with the business at hand, but to keep me appraised on any developments back at the office that would need my attention." He nodded again; it was in his job description, so he knew all of this already. What was she getting at, he wondered? It was strange for her to review something that was a given, which they both were well acquainted with. "Our IT department runs an internal scan of all the computers once a week. This is made clear to all of our employees. Any other items such as laptops for taking home to work on etc. are also checked." she paused, "and if they find something on a desk, such as a company phone they will check that as well." She held up a thumb drive, "These too." Oh, oh! Randy recognized it by the white-out he had put on one end to insure that special one was distinguished from his others. Therrisa put it in a slot on the desktop and clicked the menu to open the list of files. When she put the pointer over the one titled 'Drop Dead Ringer' he got an ugg in his gut and a thrill in his crotch at the same time. He perfectly understood that his secret lust would be now exposed and that he might well be fired this very evening. She didn't just click; she opened the slide-show function and let the review begin. Several dozen pictures began to be displayed, dissolving one to another as Farah Cassidy's photos gleamed from the internet got progressively more and more risqué from business attire to casual to bikini to a few nudes even. "It's not actually pornography," Randolph tried to defend himself, a futile attempt he knew even as he spoke. "But there is more, my fine fellow!" She interrupted his focus on the beauty shown on the computer screen with a tone that contained both amusement and scorn. She used her mouse and a file within the file began to present even more damning pics. This was the much the same set, but with Ms. Cleopallas face photoshopped over the star's, and included some of her from the office which he had surreptitiously snapped with his phone. His obsession was obvious. "Legal Ties - eh?" Terry gave a dismissive snort to punctuate her short sentence. She clicked with her mouse and a new photograph appeared on the screen. One he had never seen before; one he had not collected or modified, one of his employer on a beach in a tiny swimsuit. Randy's eyes were riveted to the image, capturing the radiant and ravishing russet-haired siren for his memory. The stunning image stultified his brain as she had intended. "Give me your tie!" she demanded. To his 'huh?' she reiterated, "your tie - GIVE IT TO ME NOW!" The command of the CEO, the warrior goddess of Greece as her moniker implied, made male staff jump when she used that tone, she understood how to rule. Meekly Mr. Stefano undid his neckwear and offered it to her as a supplication. She took it from him with a firm pluck and moved behind him. With surprising strength in her slender arms she brought his right hand behind the seat, held it with a knee and reached for his left. With the deftness of a rodeo champion she had his wrists bound in just seconds to the central support of the chair's back, like a calf-roper binding the legs of a dogie. With a detached understanding of her reason for this particular seat to be used, simultaneously he wondered what the hell the bitch was going to do to him as punishment for so egregious a violation of her trust in him. "Let me make you a little more comfortable." Terry spoke gently, as she undid his collar button. "You don't like the way I dress? This suit I'm wearing is an original Chaz Stacy outfit, you've heard of the famous designer?" The executive removed her jacket, turned and took a few steps away from him. He could see her firm globes beneath the skirt as her legs moved. She swiveled around to face him, swung the jacket over her shoulder, and then she struck a pose like a model on a runway in a fashion show. Gracefully she gestured to her shirt, in the process calling attention to her ample breasts. "The blouse is from Channel, a chic and sheer silk." She popped the highest snap on the garment. You could see her lacy brassiere underneath through the translucent material now that the short coat had been removed. It was very alluring apparel indeed. Randy was getting a rise even though his mind boggled at the bizarre behavior the exposure of his infatuation with his boss had unleashed in her. She tossed the grey tweed top to the credenza along the wall and closed the gap between them. Purposefully she undid the leather strap around her middle. "I'm taking off my Chaz Stacy belt, Randolph; you like word-play so much, don't you?" The last words said with a sultry lilt. Suddenly she knelt and whipped the belt around his ankles; slipping the end through the buckle she secured his feet. "Hmm - the male-chauvinist pig is now hog-tied!" she said with a smirk on her mouth and a glint of fire in her eyes. "You missed that picture didn't you; she said pointing and drawing his attention back to the computer display of her near nude beach layout. "That's from the Playboy issue that had the 'Vestal Virgins of Vassar' one of the college-girls editions. It didn't show up when you Googled to ogle, because I used my nickname," she bent low to whisper in his ear, 'Theena'," and in an even more breathy and seductive timber she added, "And I was no virgin!" With that statement and still bending down to him, she undid the second snap of her white sheer silk. Then another. Next she unbuttoned the second on his shirt. "You see, my dear Randy - oh so fitting a name, right? - or should I say, Mr. Stiff-ano?" He could give as good as he got, "You're the one who is the executive sexy-Terry!" "Oo," she snickered, "banter my boy? Well, as I was saying, you see you're not the only one who can play at this fantasy-foosball of photo erotica," she undid a third button on his shirt, "see what I found?" She reached for the mouse, did a couple of clicks and his underwear shoot from back in his modeling days began to run as a slide-show, the tighty-whities giving way to a selection of high cut bikini briefs which left little to the imagination of what equipment he was packing. It made him smile. "Turnabout is fair play." He quoted the adage. "Oh, we haven't begun to play, and it's my game, not yours Mr. Peek-a-boob!" she now undid the remaining snaps, though the skirt held it together at her waist. "How can I go traipsing all over creation and run my advertising business too when I am saddled with an adjunct who adores me and is an Adonis? Do you imagine that I don't dream about your masculine muscles, especially the jumbo magic-marker in your pants?" "That's a white-out pen," he replied. "Yeah? Well why are you using your company PC for a cum-puter? You masturbate when you're working in here late at night by your lonesome?" Her accusation struck home and his guilty look gave him away. "You do - don't you! "Hah! I knew it!" In a flash she grabbed the edges of his shirt and ripped it open, popping the rest of his buttons left and right, then wrapped it back to encase his arms leaving his chest bare. "Didn't see that coming, did you?" she crowed. She moved in back of him once more and gave a sharp smack to his hairy chest with the flat of her palm. "RANDY!" she took his head by the hair above his ears and gave it a little shake, "How the HELL am I going to trust you when we get adjoining suites at the hotels while we travel on business? Now I'm going to be wondering if you will make a play for me if we are away from New York and in exotic locations. What were you thinking? Something like - 'well I'm single, she's divorced and not with anyone; maybe she's lonely, maybe she's horny like me?' Did you think I'd be vulnerable?" "Jeez! I'm a CEO of a multi-million dollar business, I eat the jerks that try to come-on to me at bars for breakfast, and spit out the boners, I'm the toughest bitch those boys ever met and I can lick my weight in wimpy weenies!" "Randy tilted his head and spoke unabashedly, "I believe you may have made some Freudian slips in that last statement." "Oh there was lots of Freud, but no slip-ups when I spoke of slurp-ups." Ms. Cleopallas came around and got on her knees in front of her admin. She loosened his belt and then with some slight struggle, and help from Randolph hiking his hips, she got his pants and jockeys around his ankles. Without another word she opened her fine featured face and engulfed his cock. She knew what she was doing alright. He watched the mane of tawny locks bob on his boner and send delight to his dick. It was a dream cum true, his sensual-mouthed boss that he longed to love was swirling her luscious lips around his pole, and making his meat quiver with ecstasy. His nuts were tightening and feeling full. This wild, wonderful woman was finally giving him head. He wanted to kiss her, to tangle their tongues, to mash his mouth in her crotch and drive her to abandon any sense of propriety, to get as down and nasty as she could be - with him, her subordinate becoming the dominant one. To bring her to orgasm time and again until she was his and he had conquered this fierce female who was now granting him the fellatio of his life! "Are you trying to get me to contribute to the Semen's Fund?" he quipped. She pulled back and stood. "No, you dumb jerk." She discarded her blouse. You've worked for me for more than two years and never once tried to get into my pants." She unhooked her bra then unzipped her skirt and shimmied out of it. "While that was professionally smart, because I would have canned you on the spot!" She stepped out of the fabric folds at her feet and kicked off her shoes. "You nonetheless got to be invaluable as an aide, and under my skin as a male, and were heartwarmingly sweet as a person." She paused to escape her pantyhose. "But," she hooked her thumbs in her scanties, "you see, my dear Randy, as the saying goes, while 'a good man is hard to find - a hard one is good to find'; especially one with abs like yours and buns that make a girl want to bite big. Speaking of big . . ." she stripped the last of her clothing, "you are about to be the one giving dick-tation now." Her triangular thatch matched her marvelous mop on top. Terry stepped up to her seated rampant Randolph and straddling him, easing down with practiced aim that put his wand right where she wanted it. "Don't you get it, Randy, dearest dummy?" Her labia parted with the burning head of his pillar. "If I make you my lover now, then I won't be distracted later by wondering when and if we are going to get it on." She sank oh so slowly until he was balls-deep in her; she arose and dropped with the tightness of Kegals and practice. Again - she made him penetrate her warm wetness, and yet once again she repeated the cycle; the agonizing pleasure thrilled his every fiber of being. She whispered in his ear, "Call me by my nickname, Theena, that's our secret, she's not a 'Virgin Queen'! "Theena" he called and sucked at her tit, "Theena" he repeated before switching to the other one, the nipples rosy caps on white soft flesh, the nubs like erasers but tasting of promises and possibilities. "THEENA" he cried as she rode him; her hips rocking and their thighs slapping; the moans were as groans and the groins were grinding; their breathing came as ragged gasps and then sweat dripping as if in a sauna. "T h e e n a . . ." he exhaled hoarsely with the mindlessness of having been taken to the place where all is sensation and no thinking happened, just feeling, feeling better than he ever felt before! She hugged him as her shudders signaled her own paroxysms, her fingers clutch, grabbing for his haunches, her head aside his, her whimpers in his ear. Then she was tearing at his tie, desperate to free him. It didn't take much and his arms encircled her; bringing breasts to chest, the pillowing pulchritude to his firm pects as his manhood resurrected with the frantic energy of her desire. He lowered them to the thick, rich carpeting soft as a blanket, the padding both at once cushioning and supportive. He kicked the silly belt strap free, the buckle never having been securely fastened, and arching over her began to pound the pussy he had lusted for the two years of serving and never dared to hope having. Her legs spread wide, her most secret place opened in full, her itch at last being truly satisfied by a man who would take orders, but now was taking her. Taking her to heaven and the isles of Aphrodite where the divine goddess born of the waves sent the foam of passion frothing from her loins. She came and came and OH GODS!! how she came! As they lay there cuddling in the afterglow of corporate copulation, she smiled. She had picked the right man to be on her staff and she had chosen the right staff to be stuffed with, and Theena was filled with love! Randolph broke the mood. "Isn't this like that Michael Douglas movie?" Catching her breathe, she spoke, "you mean 'Disclosure' don't you? Before he married Zeta-Jones he seems to have gotten into all sorts of sexual trouble, there was 'Fatal Attraction' . . ." "Right," Randy responded, "and 'Basic Instinct'." "Don't forget 'War of the Roses'," his lover, Theena, added. "What did he win the Oscar for?" She thought for a moment, "Both he and Sharon Stone were nominated for 'Basic Instinct', but he won for 'Wall Street'." "Greed is good" he quoted the famous line. "Richard Gere told Julia Roberts in 'Pretty Woman', 'We both screw people for money', but the most appropriate Oscar quote is from Mr. Wilde who said 'Everything in the world is about sex except sex. Sex is about power'" Randy lifted up on an elbow and kissed her, "So who has the power now, Therrisa, Terry, or Theena?" His paramour who presided over her own company swung a leg over his prone torso and pinned his hands above his head. She worked her magic on his middle, reviving the hunk of sausage that firmed beneath her twat. "Cleopallas in the boardroom, Therrisa in the office, Terry on the road and Theena in the bedroom." "Where does Randolph fit into that corporate structure?" "Oh," she spoke in a casual tone that belied the fire in her belly as she fed his log into her furry furnace, "Randy will always have a place in the middle of the action. I'm a firm believer in business affairs being kept private, but there's always a place in my organization a hard working man." She took him again. When they were finally finished with their one on one conference the sun was dawning over the Atlantic through the eastern glass. She had cornered him in her office, but it had been an exciting knight!