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Executive Ass.'t

By: jvalet45



DISCLAIMER: The following work is an homage to the writing of Literotica's TheTalkMan, an author whose writing I thoroughly enjoy and encourage you to check out. As such, this story is somewhat outside of my usual remit, and does not include either incest or mind control. It does, however, include such themes as, cheating, betrayal, cuckqueaning, some light femdom and reluctant sex. IF THESE THEMES ARE NOT TO YOUR LIKING, do not continue to read, or, if you do, don't complain that the story wasn't written to your liking. You have been forewarned. 

*

Kristen was the only woman in the office with the audacity to wear leopard-print shoes to work, Martin knew that much for sure. Technically, they were boots, he supposed, not boots, but they stood out from the corporate uniform like a sore thumb. With five-inch heels and a platform to boot, they raised the statuesque, frosted blonde to new heights; she paired them with some black skinny pants that appeared vacuum-sealed to those long, muscular legs and sweetly-curved behind, and a white blouse that she'd left open just enough to show off a healthy volume of cleavage and occasionally the upper edge of one of her bra-cups. If anyone dared to mention the tightness of her pants or the glimpse of her lacy bra, they'd get a withering look and a sharp tongue for their trouble, not to mention their calls would mysteriously fail to reach them.

Martin, to his credit, noticed neither the prodigious swell of her tits or the sweet peachiness of her behind; a married man of a whole two weeks, he only had eyes for his high school sweetheart and brand-new wife. So, while he'd heard murmurs among the cleaning staff and other guys in the offices next door about Kristen, he didn't see the big deal. He did notice her boots, though; they were too outstanding to ignore. He saw the bold pattern and the high heel and the gold charms swinging from the brass zipper -- tiny hearts, each imprinted with "mine."

As far as he was concerned, she was just the oldest woman in the office -- Martin had heard that she was pushing fifty, which seemed ancient to his 25 -- and at the same time, the newest secretary. His boss, a notorious tyrant in J. Jonah Jameson style, had been through three in the last year. Kristen had only started three or four weeks ago, but already Mr. Petersen seemed happier, so everybody was a little happier.

Even his wife, Melody, seemed happier after he'd told her about Kristen. After a train of cute young girls had traipsed through the office, his loving, generous, kind -- if a little plain -- wife had relaxed visibly once she learned that the new secretary was almost as old as both of them put together!

"I'm telling you man, fucking prime MILF!"

"I don't believe you, Rodriguez. That shit doesn't happen outside of porn."

Martin didn't look up from the briefs on his desk. Sounded like a couple of the cleaners, coming in at the end of the day to empty the garbage.

"You go down there and look for yourself, man. Five bucks says you come back with a hard on!"

Martin coughed loudly. He really didn't want to hear this shit. Mostly what he wanted was to get home to his wife before it got late. He was already in the doghouse for postponing their honeymoon to finish up the Pauling project, but the trip they could take with the bonus he was looking at would more than make up for it. He checked his watch, then looked at the clock on the phone; he picked up the receiver, just to make sure it had a dial tone. Where the hell was Pauling, anyway? The weekly teleconf was scheduled for 4:30; it was almost 5!

One of the cleaners wandered past, pushing a mop bucket. He nodded to Martin. Martin looked back at his work. Down the hall, he could hear Kristen and the cleaner talking about something, then laughing. A few moments later, the cleaner passed his office door again. He nodded. Martin ignored him.

"And?"

"Holy shit I owe you five bucks!"

"I know, right?"

"Fuck I've never seen tits like that!"

"Perfect fucking MILF tits, my friend."

"What do you mean? Tits are tits, yo."

"Fuck you. Don't you watch any MILF porn? Big ol' cougar tits are the way to go!"

"You'll have to hook me up after work."

"Damn straight, son. Nothing beats fat, creamy, beautiful MILF tits; except maybe a perfect, round MILF ass."

Martin tried to ignore them. Same damn thing every damn day. What was the big deal with MILFs, anyway? It seemed like every time he turned around, guys were all "MILF this" and "MILF that." He much preferred his young little wife: sure, sometimes she was a little reluctant about sex, and maybe she didn't always want to--

"Don't you two have anything better to do than stand around all day?" Kristen called out from the other end of the hall; embarrassed silence followed, then hushed whispers as they wheeled their buckets back out. Heels *clacked* sharply down the hall soon after. Her face appeared around the corner, a frosted blonde mane of loose silky curls bouncing around her features.

"They bugging you, Marty?" Some people in the office said she'd had work done, but there was sign of the tight, frozen features worn by folks who'd gone the way of Botox; a few stray lines around her eyes and mouth betrayed her age to some extent, but otherwise her skin was clear, almost translucent. Mischievous hazel eyes twinkled at him as plush, pink-glossed lips spread in a smile. Other guys in the office would stare, sometimes, not really sure what or how to address a beautiful older woman; Martin, thinking only of getting home to Melody, was too distracted to notice.

"No more than usual." He said. Nobody had called him "Marty" since he was fifteen; normally he'd object, but running against Kristen's iron will struck him as a bad idea. Who cared what she called him, so long as he could get out on time?

"Let me know if they do. I'll take care of ya." She winked at him. Martin blushed. Kristen was nice, so long as you stayed on her good side. This was true of all secretaries, but she'd been slightly nicer to him than the rest of the office. Every morning this week, he'd come in to find a steaming cup of coffee on his desk, made to order, without any input from him. Every now and again he'd find a candy or something sitting on his chair. Nothing weird, of course; she was probably just settling into the office and trying to make friends. They were both outsiders, after all; she had just come in from an outside department, and he had only started a few months beforehand. She was the oldest person in the office by (reportedly) a decade or so; he was the youngest by at least five years.

"Thanks, Kristen. I'm fine, no worries." He gave her a slightly disingenuous smile, feeling the minutes slip past, and knowing he'd have to rush to beat the traffic. Martin checked the message light on the phone again, just in case he'd missed a ring or something.

"You look pretty worried to me," she said, stepping into the doorway. "Anything I can do?"

"Are you gonna be here for a while?" He checked his watch again.

"Here til six, probably."

"Can you keep an eye out and text me if Emil Pauling calls? I've gotta get out of here."

"Heading home to the little woman?"

"Yeah. Do you mind?"

"Not a problem, Marty." Kristen winked at him.

"Thanks!" Martin practically leapt out of his chair, and hastily scribbled his number on a post-it. "Here's my cell. Don't tell Petersen you have it or he won't give me a minute's peace."

"He won't hear it from me. It'll be our little secret, I promise."

"Thanks, Kristen. I really appreciate this. I owe you one" Martin swept some papers hastily into his briefcase. "Nice kicks, by the way."

"Why thank you , Marty," she gushed. "Sucking up to me will get you everywhere."

Martin laughed. "Don't let Melody hear you say that. She gets kinda jealous."

"Sounds like somebody not as secure as she'd like to be." Kristen winked again. "It's our little secret. Have a good night, Marty."

"You too." He grabbed his case and his jacket, letting the jab at Melody slide. "See you tomorrow."

*

His phone didn't buzz on the way out of the building. It stayed silent on the drive home. There was nothing during dinner, or while he did the dishes, either. It wasn't until after he and Melody had curled up together on the couch

Scrambling, he yanked his phone out of his pocket.

**hey marty its kris**

**just fyi no call from pauling**

Martin cursed under his breath. Pauling lived about four and a half hours to the east -- it was way late over there. There was no call coming tonight, which would mean a long day tomorrow trying to sort shit.

"You okay babe?" Melody asked; she was snuggled up comfortably in thick fleece PJs. Enormous stylized pigs leered out at him from the fabric.

"Yeah." He ran his hand through his hair. "This Pauling thing is gonna take longer than I expected, I think."

He thumbed a response to Kristen. **Dammit. :-( Thanks. I appreciate the heads up**

Melody pouted and got off the couch. "We're never going to have a damn honeymoon at this rate." She walked away, towards the bedroom; Martin was about to follow when his phone buzzed again.

**no prob bob**

He stood up, turned to flick his phone on the couch and it went off again.

**what u doing?**

**Nothing, just hanging out.**

**with the little lady?**

**not anymore**

**oh. can I ask a quick q?**

**Sure. I owe you one anyway.**

**I need ur opinion on something.**

**Ask away.**

**got a date tmrw with a dude about your age. think he'd like?**

What followed was a slightly grainy mobile phone picture. Ostensibly, it was a photo of a shoe: it was peach, with a towering heel, a subtle platform and a lacy mesh covering from peep-toe to ankle. Most of the picture was dominated by a long sweep of creamy white skin from upper thigh to pink-painted toes. For a moment, all he could do was stare at that long, gorgeous leg; all unblemished skin and smooth muscle with nary a hint of cellulite. Even Melody was starting to show signs of the stuff, and she still hadn't hit the second half of her 20s!

He stared, then closed the text conversation, heart pounding. What if Melody had seen that? What was he doing? He hadn't even looked at any pornography in three months out of respect for his new spouse -- not that he'd ever been a great consumer of smut -- he definitely shouldn't be looking at a co-worker's gams!

The phone vibrated again.

**well?** Appeared on the lock screen.

*Well, your legs are magnificent,* ran briefly through his mind. With a disgusted noise, Martin threw the phone down on the couch, and went after Melody.

*

"Hey Marty, you never answered my question," Kirsten complained over the phone the next day, just as Martin was thinking about lunch.

"Yeah, well I'm not sure it was an appropriate question to ask somebody you work with." he replied testily, not looking up from the Pauling stuff.

"Sorry Marty, I didn't realize. You didn't get in trouble with the little missus, did you?"

"That's not the point! You shouldn't be texting me stuff like... like that!"

"Jesus, it was just a leg, Marty, not a picture of my pussy." Kristen said. "Look: I'm dating a guy around your age - he's actually a little younger than you - and it seemed natural to ask you if he'd like it. I figured it'd be safe to ask a married guy; one who wouldn't mistake it for a come-on or something."

Martin's face flushed when she said 'pussy.' He'd never heard a woman use language like that before in his young life, and certainly didn't expect it from one old enough to be his mother.

"Sorry, Kristen. I didn't realize."

"No prob, bob. What did you think of them, anyway?"

"They were," he paused, remembering. "Great. He'll really like them. You really date guys my age?"

"No," she demurred. "I usually date guys a little younger than you. You'd be amazed, really. The older I get, the more I attract younger dudes. It's the same for all my friends. They all say that the younger guys all want a 'milf' or a 'cougar,' whatever that means."

Martin opened his mouth to explain, but nothing came out. His brain was too busy trying to parse what Kristen had said. He'd heard the terms before, of course; he even knew of the websites offering quantities of older-woman porn, but he'd always figured that it was just a passing fad, a flash-in-the-pan fetish of the moment.

"Um." He said, grasping for words. "Well. Anyway. Do you have those files I was asking about?"

"Yup!" Kristen enthused. "They're here at my desk if you wanna mosey on down and pick 'em up."

"Uh, sure?" Martin was taken aback momentarily; he was gathering up the words to tell her to shuttle them on down to his office like any other damn secretary in the building, but then the other end of the line clicked. He looked at the dead handset in his fist. "Oookay."

He debated silently with himself on the question of whether or not it was worth the time, effort or possible ramifications to call her back to tell Kristen to just deliver the files. Shaking his head, Martin pushed away from his desk and stood. Less fighting would be more better.

Strolling down the hall, he noticed that just about everybody had already cleared out for lunch; most of the office doors were closed. Had they all gone out together and not told him? Again? Even Kristen wasn't at her desk.

"Great." Taking care not to touch anything, Martin craned over her workspace, trying not to read any filenames or documents but scanning for the Pauling files he needed.

"Marty, is that you?" Kristen's voice came from behind Petersen's closed door.

"Yes?" He said, wondering what was going on in there. He could hear the rustling of clothes and tried not to think about what that probably meant.

"I'm just changing real quick before I head to lunch, but I tucked your files in my desk drawer for safe keeping. I didn't want to get 'em mixed up with anybody else's. You can grab 'em if you want. Bottom drawer, left-hand side." Easing around the side of the desk and feeling like he was invading her privacy, Martin saw that Kristen clearly made use of the space underneath it as an extra shoe closet. Half a dozen pairs of heels lay in a jumble down there, including the peach platforms she'd texted him the night before. Whatever she'd been doing last night, the odds were good the secretary had come straight from there to work.

Reaching down, he slid open the bottom-left drawer. Inside, it was mostly empty, except for a pair of turquoise Nikes tossed on top of a scrap of black fabric. He heard Petersen's door open.

"Oh, shit. Sorry, Marty!" Kristen was standing in their boss' doorway, wearing a skintight pair of bright-pink running tights that read "JUST DO IT" up her left thigh. She looked like she'd been poured into the tights, which flowed into every curve and hollow from ankle to hip, and the muscles in her calves and thigh bulged as she posed with one bare foot hooked behind her knee. Her turquoise tank skimmed over her plush chest, showing not the barest hint of cleavage but doing nothing to hide the luscious swells of her breasts; she raised her arms to lean against the doorway, and a hint of smooth skin poured out of the side. "Bottom-right, I meant."

Pointedly looking away from the mature blonde vision, Martin hauled the other drawer open to find papers stacked up to the brim. At the top was a baby-pink folder with the label "Pauling."

"Sorry, hon." She said with a laugh. "I always get those two mixed up."

"No problem." Martin tried not to sound irritated, tossing the file on her desk.

"Could you do me a solid and grab my sneakers while you're over there? I'm going to the gym for lunch." Kristen unhooked her foot from behind her knee, and wiggled her pink-painted toenails at him. He suppressed an eyeroll, and reached into the left drawer.

Pulling out the sneakers, he could see that underneath them was a little pile of black fabric. Curious, Martin poked it with the toe of one sneaker, and it unrolled to reveal a tiny disheveled eyepatch of a thong, the first he'd ever seen in person. Melody didn't own any, only a cheeky pair of tiger-print briefs she'd bought as a joke for their wedding night. The fabric was a smooth, shimmery black except for the crotch, which had been stained white with-

He slammed the drawer as fast as he could, and stood up.

"Marty? Hon? Are you okay? You look like you just saw a ghost." Kristen was looking at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes, but if she knew what he'd seen, nothing of it was revealed elsewhere in her face, which was a mask of concern.

"Yeah, I'm alright." He gave her a weak smile. "Here's your shoes," he waved them at the secretary.

"Can you bring 'em over? I don't want to get my feet dirty on this awful old carpet."

"Sure." Glad to get away from her desk, Martin walked out from behind it and proffered the shoes to her in an outstretched arm.

"You're not going to put them on for me?" Kristen asked, glossy pink mouth screwed up in an exaggerated pout. She unhooked her foot and wiggled it in front of him; looking down, he could see that her toenails had been detailed with tiny hearts against the shocking pink.

"Uh-" he started to say, but the word 'no' caught in his throat.

"Marty!" The blonde laughed with a throaty chuckle. "I'm joking! God, you always take me so seriously. I'm a grown woman. I can put my own shoes on." Kristen took the sneakers from his hand and gave him a wink. "I already know you're a Prince Charming; I hope that little wifey of yours appreciates it." She bent to put them on, smooth bare arms pressing into her outsize chest.

"Anyway, I'm off." Kristen whipped her hair back into a ponytail, all lazy blonde loops shot through with silver, and produced a white ballcap from somewhere. "I look okay for the employee gym, right?" She did a slow spin for him, revealing twin half-moons of bare, sculpted back where the racerback of her tanktop cut in; the tights poured into the thick musculature of her behind, thick rounded globes that swallowed up the pink spandex between them. "Normally I wouldn't wear so much, but I don't want to give the execs a heart attack."

"No, you uh- you look fine." Martin dry-swallowed, suddenly lost for words.

"You can't see through them, can you?" She grabbed a handful of ripe, mature ass, long fingernails digging into firm flesh, then released it. Her ass jiggled a moment, then settled back to perfection. "This old girl's gotten a bit thicker since the last time I wore these."

He closed his eyes and shook his head. "Nope, nope. Not at all."

"Thanks, Marty! You're a peach." Kristen gave him a slightly-sticky peck on the cheek and walked away. Martin, to his credit, didn't watch her striding down the corridor, legs flashing and ass sashaying back and forth.

Well, not for very long, anyway.

*

Martin spent the rest of the afternoon poring over the Pauling file with his office door shut and his phone muted. He didn't even poke his head out until well after Kristen rapped sharply on his door, bid him a good weekend, and clacked her way out of the office. Only then, when he was sure he was relatively safe, did he slink away with his papers, secure at least in the knowledge that he had an exciting weekend of working from home ahead. He even managed to put the memory of Kristen's semen-stained panties out of his head for a while - all the long way home, all through dinner with Melody, all through dishes afterward and Netflix on the couch.

As they sat through yet another episode of *Lost*, Martin's phone buzzed on the kitchen counter. He and Melody looked at each other.

"Who's that?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Work, probably." He said with a sigh.

"Mar*tin*," Melody said petulantly. "You told me you'd *never* give work your personal number!"


Executive Ass.'t



"Then I guess it's not work." The phone buzzed again. "I don't know who it is, but everybody important tonight is right here. Just a wrong number or spam or some damn thing."

"Good," said his wife, who snuggled in closer. Fifteen minutes later, the episode rolled to a close, and the credits started. Melody stretched and arched her back, pressing her tiny breasts against the kitten-embossed t-shirt she was wearing.

"I think I'll turn in," she said. "It's past my bedtime." Marty checked his watch. It was 10 o'clock. "Are you coming?"

"Yup, just give me a few to get the lights off and stuff."

"Okay," Melody leaned close and kissed him on the nose. "See you there." She walked off to the bedroom with a little wave.

Martin turned off the TV and the box, and walked into the kitchen. Picking up his phone, he thumbed open the lock and opened up his text messages.

**hey marty, i was wondering if i could get ur opinion again**

The next message was a selfie from Kristen, taken with a full-length mirror in a bedroom somewhere. She wore a knee-length black cocktail dress, but the length of the hem was the only concession to modesty made. Made of some skintight black fabric, it skimmed the dramatic curves of her hips and waist, showing off even the indent her navel made in an otherwise flat stomach. A sheer black panel dropped in a dramatic "vee" from her neckline to somewhere below her sternum, and her compressed cleavage swelled impressively out beneath it, exposing nearly half of her fat, mature breasts. She stood upon one flawless leg, muscles outstanding as she perched atop a pair of black peep toe booties with a four-inch wedge heel. The other leg was crooked in a jaunty angle as she gave the camera a duckface pout with her luscious strawberry-pink lips.

"Jesus," he muttered under his breath, feeling a stir in his pants. All he could do was stare, really, although his thumb was poised to swipe and delete it.

Martin put the phone down and took a deep breath. There was no doubt he should delete the picture. None. But-

His phone buzzed, and his heart leapt into his throat. Then it went off again. And again.

He picked it up, fingers shaking. The last message was displayed on his lock screen.

**omg Marty im so sorry delete that last one! dont look!**

"Martin, are you coming?" Melody called out from the bedroom.

"Yep, just a sec, sorry!" He dismissed the last notification, and thumbed past the lock.

**maybe if ur a good boy tonite u can have this**

In the next pic, obviously taken moments from the first one, Kristen had turned around to present her ass to the camera, bending over at the waist and rucking the skirt up to the bottom curve of her ass. Even though she stood with her legs pressed together, a tiny keyhole of light appeared between them at the apex of her legs, where the tiny pouch of a robin's egg blue thong cradled the pouty peach of her pubic mound. An insignificant blue filament traced up inside the crack of her magnificent mature ass, apparently billiard-ball smooth and perfectly round. The fingers of one hand that were dug deep in the flesh of her behind, prying it just far enough apart that Marty almost thought he could see the tiny pink star of her asshole.

Had he ever even *seen* Melody's asshole before? His own wifey- wife's most intimate hole.

Martin's erection surged in his pants. Momentarily weak, he saved both pictures and deleted them from his text history.

**marty? answer me hon. i didn't mean 2 send that 2 u! that was 4 my date tonite!**

**its done. you look spectacular, btw. have fun!**

Deleting the rest of the conversation, he locked his phone, powered it down and left it in the kitchen.

When he entered the bedroom, the lights were already off and Melody buried under the blankets. Cock throbbing insistently in his pants, Martin peeled them off, along with everything else he was wearing.

"Martin?" Melody said as he crawled into bed. "Are you *naked*?"

"I thought I'd try it out for once."

"Kink*y*," she said. "Oh! Honey, is that your...your thing? I don't think it's ever been that big. It's not even Saturday yet."

"I know," Martin slid his arm over her, kissing his wife. Her lips worked against his, and he pushed his tongue into her mouth on a whim. Hers lay there, not engaging. Pressing his bare cock insistently against her hip, Martin eased his hand up her shirt, seeking a nipple, and finding them both quite flat. Slowly, gently he began to rub one, and was rewarded by a gasp from Melody as it began to swell up and thicken in his fingers.

"Oohh, Martin," she said, pulling away from his invading tongue. "That's nice, sweetheart, but maybe a little rou- ow! Ow! Martin! Do *not* pull like that! Stop."

"Oh my god oh I'm so sorry Melody," Martin yanked his hand out of her shirt like it had been burned. "Maybe we can try again? Start over?"

Her brow furrowed. "Okay, just kiss me." They began making out again, Martin kissing his wife as gently as the raging rod between them would allow. He put his hand on her waist, and began easing it inside the waistband of her pyjamas, reaching back as he ground his hardon into her.

"Ow. Martin! No! That's- ow! You can't grab my- my- my *butt* like that." She pushed him away. "Stop. Just, stop. I'm not in the mood at *all*. I don't know *what* has gotten into you." In a huff, she rolled away as far as the bed would allow, leaving him with a powerful erection that showed no signs of flagging.

Martin rolled over and thought hard about going to get his phone, thinking of Kristen's perfect legs, the thick meatiness of her ass, the way her pussy filled up the eyepatch of her thong. Wondering if she would fill the blue one with cum as she had the black, fucking the hell out of a "good boy" who was his age with her mature pussy.

Soon, Melody began to snore. As quietly as he could, Martin rolled out of bed and padded into the kitchen. Picking up his phone, he weighed it in his hand, knowing there was no good in what he was thinking about, knowing that looking at his boss's secretary that way while his wife slept in the next room would be the worst thing he could do.

He set the phone back down firmly without turning it on. Instead, he sat his naked ass down at the computer desk, and turned it on. As quietly as he could manage, somehow wondering if Melody could hear which letters he was hitting, he typed "MILF" into Google and hit the search button.

The top results were a slew of news pieces.

>**MAY-DECEMBER ROMANCES ON THE RISE, SCIENTIST SAYS**

>Seattle, WASH (AP) -- "It's all there in the numbers, a statistical fact," said Dr. Oleanna Wu, speaking at the

>Kincaide Sociological Institute today. "Young men are turning to women half-again, twice their ages by the

>thousands, not only as viable or possible partners, but as preferable partners. It's a..."

There were half a dozen of these, all with the same quotes. He gave half a thought to reading one of the articles, but the pounding erection between his legs hadn't really gone anywhere.

The next link led to an Urbandictionary definition, and then the porn sites started.

Martin checked to make sure the volume on the computer had been muted, and began a trip down the rabbit hole of MILF porn.

*

The rest of the weekend passed in a sleep-deprived haze for Martin. By day, he and Melody went about their usual routine, if a little stiffly. Following Friday night's performance in the bedroom, she had decided that a chilly detente would be the best course of action, and shied away from the least touch from her husband, though on the surface she was the very model of loving politesse. He on the other hand, longed to lay hands on her, if only as an outlet.

Under the guise of "working on the Pauling file," he spent each night glued to his computer screen, watching hungrily as ripe, mature women took on thick young cock in every combination and colour imaginable. Martin had never been much of a watcher of pornography before, and was instantly fascinated by luscious bare flesh presented to the viewer, all thick curves aching to be grabbed and manhandled. A good feminist, he'd been brought up to believe that pornography was inherently degrading to women, but these MILFs didn't seem to be degraded; if anything, their instant, natural command of the cocks in these videos venerated their sexuality. Even when they were taking on more than one man, they always appeared to be in control, taking what they wanted rather than the other way around, and taking with an ease that Martin found almost hypnotic.

Sex with Melody was never so easy. She was small and narrow and difficult to wedge himself into, even after half an hour's foreplay, and never seemed very comfortable with having him inside of her. He was too thick, she said. But these women, these juicy MILFs appeared not only to be able to take it, but wanted it, driving girthy young shafts inside of themselves with a will that sent flesh slapping against flesh in sharp, rhythmic reports (as he found out when he plugged in a pair of earplugs).

By Sunday, he'd become so enraptured that he was sneaking views while Melody was in the kitchen, cooking breakfast or in the bathroom or just looking somewhere else. But he still hadn't cum. He'd come close, certainly, riding right on the edge for hours, in the case of Saturday night, but when Martin hit his vinegar strokes, he was overcome with guilt; cumming for these women felt too much like cheating on Melody, which was something he could never do to his new wife.

And so, when he rolled into work on Monday, Martin was an exhausted, frustrated, slightly sweaty mess. He was sitting at his desk, trying to just figure out the damn page order in the Pauling file when Kristen poked her head in.

"Happy Monday!" She enthused. "Oh wow. You look like shit, Marty. Little woman keeping you up nights?" She gave him a wink.

"Please, go away." Martin said miserably. "This is really not a good time."

"Marty," Kristen said, stepping inside. "Are you okay?"

"Listen, just-" he rubbed a tired eye. Kristen closed the door behind her. Petersen's secretary was wearing a shimmering red satin blouse stretched tight over the pendant globes of her tits, despite having undone a number of buttons to relieve the strain, or show off a yard of creamy cleavage. A grey pencil skirt was tightly wrapped around her legs down to her knees, showing off the broad sweep of her hips; when she turned to grab the extra chair he kept in his office for meetings, Martin noted the exaggerated curve of the zipper as it struggled across the deep cleft of her ass, and the slit as it soared up her smooth, luscious thigh. Wheeling around, she sat down and crossed her leg primly at the knee; the bright red, 4-inch sandal that encaged her foot in crimson leather up to her ankle bobbed up and down, the colour a match for her toenails.

The older blonde peered at him over the rims of thick black glasses and primly interlaced her hands over her knee. She'd put her mane of hair back up in a bun, held together with a pen. Kristen pursed her pillowy lips, then,

"Martin, I don't know if you know this, but I'm not very...popular around the office." He looked up at her, and opened his mouth to protest. "No. It's true. The other girls around here don't like the way that I dress," she toyed with the hem of her skirt, letting it rise up above her knee, "or do my make up," she tongue appeared at the corner of her mouth for a moment, "or think that I'm too 'familiar' with the other staff. And you know what? I don't particularly care about their fat, stuck up asses." Kristen winked at him again. "I didn't come here to make friends, I'm at work, it's a place for work, and they can go to hell."

Despite himself, Martin laughed. Kristen smiled and recrossed her legs, and he caught a brief flash of the creamery-smooth skin of her inner thigh.

"And I know you're pretty much in the same boat." She winked and pointed at him. "The other associates don't like you, Marty. That's why they don't invite you to lunch or weekend circle jerks or whatever else they're doing."

"Thanks?" He said.

"Hey don't worry about it," she waved her hand dismissively. "They're assholes. You're not an asshole. That's why I like you Marty."

"Really?"

"Fuck yeah," Kristen enthused. "You never noticed that you always get your messages first, your mail goes out first, I stay a little longer for you if you're still here at night?"

"Well-"

"Marty, I just want to be friends, okay?" She nodded at him. "You and me, against the world. Or, you and me separately and alone while we're here."

"Okay, friends." Martin smiled and nodded. Kristen reached over, and offered him a hand, which he took and shook. Her fingers were warm and long and the nails painted crimson to match her toes. He noticed that there were tiny chains painted in white on the thumbnails.

"Great!" Her fingers lingered a little long in his palm, and then she sat back, recrossing her legs. He watched her sandal bob up and down, up and down. "Now, what friends do is talk about the shit that's going on and why they look like shit. What the fuck is wrong with you this morning?"

"Melody and I had a fight on Friday," he began.

"Oh shit, it wasn't because I-" Kristen made a picture-taking motion with her hands.

"Nonono, it was a, I mean a kind of a, sort of-" he flailed about kind of uselessly.

"A bedroom thing?" She winked. "It's more common than-"

"Not like that!" Martin said, panicky. "Really, it was more like- uh, I mean, it was just- Jesus, it's complicated, I guess."

"That's a relief! I was pretty sure you were packing heat down there, hon." Kristen assured him. "But sometimes, people just aren't that compatible in the bedroom, you know?"

"I...guess?" He said. "I don't really have that much experience in that field."

"Really?" One perfectly-plucked eyebrow arched up. "Handsome guy like you?"

"I met Melody in highschool," he explained. "I've never been-"

"Wow! Seriously?" She sat back and gave him a look of shock. "You didn't have girls crawling all over you?"

"Look, Kristen-"

"Anyway," a manicured hand waved away her concerns. "I'll give you a for-instance." She adjusted her glasses and arranged her hands in her lap, like a principal addressing a recalcitrant student. "As you know, I've been seeing a young man, let's call him 'Jeffrey.' Well, 'seeing' is probably a very formal way to put it, but this is a work environment." Kristen gave him a long slow wink. "Jeffrey and I met at a bar last weekend, and there was a lot of sexual chemistry, and I really hoped that I'd finally found somebody I was compatible with; but when we went out the other night, it turned out that Jeffrey was, well-" she raised her index finger, then slowly curled it inward. "I mean, he was, um, generously endowed, but he just couldn't keep up, you know?"

"I'm not sure I-"

"It's a question of stamina, Marty." Kristen rolled her eyes. "I mean, poor Jeffrey certainly enjoyed himself, but he just exhausted himself too quickly. Like, one and done." She shook her head, and a blonde curl looped out of her bun and dangled over her forehead. "I just need someone who can keep up with my appetites, you know?"

"I guess, yeah." Martin tried not to think about the discarded panties he'd seen in her desk on Friday.

"But I'm sure you kids will work it all out." She smiled brightly. "Do you have a picture of her? I bet she's gorgeous."

"Yeah, yeah sure." He said, unlocking his phone without really thinking of it. "Here." Martin handed it over.

Kristen started thumbing through his pictures. "Oh!" she gasped. "Marty! I told you to delete that!"

"I forgot!" His eyebrows shot up, and blood drained from his face. "Oh my god, I forgot I swear."

"Don't worry about it, hon." The secretary gave him another slow wink. "I'm sure you- oh, this must be her. She's...cute, I guess. Small, like a, um," Her glossy mouth pouted in thought. "Mouse, I guess? Adorable, really." She handed the phone back. "I never would have thought that a little thing like that could snare a good-looking fella like you, but..." Kristen shrugged.

"Thanks?" He looked down; Melody smiled up hopefully from the screen. The next photo in the stream was Kristen's selfie. "I'll, uh, I'll delete the pictures."

"I said don't worry about it." Kristen stood. "If you and Melanie-"

"Melody." He corrected her.

"Sure." She shrugged again, and the double globes of her tits jiggled underneath the thin fabric of her shirt. "If you kids keep on fighting, you may need some relief." Another long wink. "See ya later, buddy." On her way out the door, Kristen blew him a kiss and a little wave.

Martin listened to her clacking her way down the hall, and looked down at his phone again. Flipped back and forth between pictures. His erection began to stir again. Shaking his head, he slammed the phone down, and buried his head in the Pauling file.

*

Monday ground on.

Working through lunch, he finally straightened out the actual physical file itself, and started in on the last draft of the contract. Every now and again, he'd reach over and fondle his phone, but not actually unlock it.

Around two, his phone buzzed. It was Melody.

**Hi, Honey.**

**hey**

**How's your day?**

**monday :)**

Melody was composing her reply when a message from Kristen came in.

**hi buddy!!**

**oh hi. just talkin to melody right now**

**oooh making up with the little woman, i get it ;)**

He flipped back over to the conversation with Melody; she was still writing. Usually, this meant an extensive missive.

**can i just get ur opinion rq** An image from Kristen followed. Seeing that Melody was still typing, he flipped over. Kristen had taken a shot of her legs from under her desk; they were crossed at the knee again, but she'd changed her shoes. A black slingback pump with an exaggerated heel and a thick platform dangled from her left foot. She'd had to ruck the hem of her skirt halfway up her thigh; the luscious flesh of her thigh looked silkysmooth and oh-so touchable, just waiting for someone's hand to slide up and under that skirt.

**those or these?**

In the next picture, she'd swapped the slingbacks for a pair of skyhigh wedges in a bright blue peacock print, and recrossed her legs; the hem of her skirt had crawled up even further, and his eye caught a glint of matching blue peeking out from underneath it.

**wait this ones better**

She'd recrossed her legs again, and he could definitely see the tiny blue pouch of her thong; the fabric was pressed tightly between her lips, and Martin stared at the revealed cleft.

**the blue ones** he responded. **definitely the blue ones** His hand had fallen to his lap, and he was gently massaging his growing erection.

**thanks hon! i've got so many fuck-me heels its hard to pick!** The words 'fuck-me heels' sent a shiver down his spine as he thought about his weekend binge watching, how many plush bodies with their feet up in the air, heels pointed at the ceiling, shrieking and ordering the fat young cock inside to-

**MARTIN** Melody's text turned out to be the third she'd sent in the last ten minutes. There was a long, involved apology in that conversation. Picking up his office phone, he dialed Melody's number to offer his own apology live. Meanwhile, in his lap, he played with his phone, scrolling back and forth through his gallery.

*

"Hey buddy!" Kristen's head poked around his office door again, at five after five. She'd pulled her hair out of the bun she'd been wearing earlier, letting it loose in all its lazy loopy glory. "Workin' late?"

Martin looked up and smiled. "Nah, just putting the last touches on this contract before I send it off to Pauling."




Executive Ass.'t



"Ohhh you finished it!?" The secretary walked into the doorframe. She was wearing a long blue coat, wrapped tightly around her, and the peacock heels. "Are you planning to celebrate?"

He laughed. "I'll be lucky if I'm allowed to come home at all. I'm planning to hit a florist on the way. Hopefully that'll do the trick. What about you? What are you up to?"

"Oh I'm just closing up shop," Kristen said. "Seeing if there's anything else you needed before I head home."

"No, I'm good." Martin said. "Just gonna email this over, and let the good times roll." His desk phone started to ring. "Oh, it's Mel!"

"Marty, I just want to thank you real quick for your advice earlier." The blonde strode into the room. "You really liked the blue ones?" His hand on the receiver, he looked up at her.

"Yeah," he said enthusiastically. "I mean, they look great." He looked over at his phone, which he'd spent most of the afternoon looking at. The phone kept ringing, and he began to lift the receiver.

"Hey Marty," Kristen said. "She can wait a minute." With a shrug, she let the coat fall to the floor of his office. It pooled around her feet on the carpet as she kicked the door shut. Martin's jaw literally dropped open as Kristen's nude form came into view. Fat, creamy tits jiggled slightly as the secretary held her shoulders back, thick pink nipples perking up in the cooler air of the office; they looked soft and deep enough for a man to drown himself in. Her stomach was flat, but not muscular, a soft firm plain of touchable flesh broken by a deep navel. Her narrow waist was defined by the peacock blue string of her panties as they dipped low below her stomach, barely covering her pussy, though they couldn't hide the prominence of her pubic mound. Kristen did a slow spin for him, revealing the meaty twin globes of her mature ass and the deep cleft that swallowed up the thong. She reached back to grab one cheek, fingers digging deep into the flesh as she had in the photo he'd spent so much time trying to avoid looking at.

"You can breathe now, hon." The secretary completed her spin, giving her grey-highlit hair a shake. The phone stopped ringing. "But you can keep staring, if you like."

"What- what are you doing?" His phone began to buzz. "I- I- I-"

"I'm about to give your life an upgrade, Marty," She sat back down in the office chair she'd occupied earlier, crossing her legs as before. One wedge heel dangled from her foot. "We both know it's what you want, anyway."

"No! No, I'd never!"

Kristen chuckled. "No? Marty, you mean you didn't save my pictures so you could look at them later?"

"Hey, I said-"

"I know what you said, hon. It would be a lot more convincing if you weren't staring at my tits." She reached up and cradled one, letting its weight fill her palm, then gently teased the nipple. "Mmmm, and I can't blame you. Boys like you line up around the block for my tits, simply begging for a glimpse." Kristen twisted the nipple. "Or a touch. Or a taste." Her tongue peeked out from between glossy red lips.

"Poor little Melanie's got nothing on my tits, does she?"

"It's Melody, and there's nothing wrong-"

"That's not what I said," she lifted the nipple to her mouth, and gave it a gentle suck. "My tits are superior to hers in every way, aren't they? They're bigger, smoother, I bet they're even firmer than those little fried eggs nailed to an ironing board that your wife calls tits." She laughed. "I mean, breasts. I mean, if she calls them anything at all. Unlike my perfect tits." Kristen hissed out the last word between pursed, plush, pillow lips.

His phone stopped buzzing, unanswered.

"Oops! Distracted, are we?" Kristen laughed and recrossed her legs. His eyes zeroed in on the tiny patch of blue between them. "Naughty naughty," she waggled a finger at him. "Face it, Marty, my ripe body is better than your wife's, I am better than your wife, and really, you belong with me anyway." She let the heavy globe of her breast fall, jiggling back into shape.

"Kristen, you've gotta get out of here! This is crazy!"

"I'll tell you what, Marty," she crossed her legs a third time, slowly. He stared at her pussy pouch and licked his lips. "Look me in the eye and- my eyes are up here, sweetie. Look me in the eye and tell me what you were fighting about with your wifey. If you can do that and tell me it had nothing to do with me, I'll pick up my jacket and leave, and we'll never talk about this ever again. I'll go back to just being the screamingly-hot older secretary you secretly fantasize about while you're fucking your flatass wife. Go on." Leaning back in the chair, Kristen waved him on.

"Look," he began. "We were having-, I mean making-" the secretary put one endless leg up on his desk, then the other, crossing them at the ankle, and Martin found himself talking instead up her gym-toned stems. She waggled one wedge heel at him.

"You mean fucking," Kristen said, emphasizing every consonant in a way that sent electricity up his spine.

"No, we definitely didn't-" he caught himself, then. "We were starting to, and I was a little overexcited and-"

"You didn't cum early, did you Marty? A little premature spurt?" One long fingernail lazily circled her wet nipple.

"Nothing like that, no! I've never had a problem like that."

"Mmmm, good boy." The older blonde purred, tugging at the nipple. She recrossed her legs, refocusing his attention.

"Anyway, I got a little too riled up, and things got," he struggled for the words. "Rougher than Melody likes it, I guess."

"Poor little doll," Kristen pouted. "I bet she needs things real slow and gentle, hey?"

"Well, yes." He said. "Anyway, she got mad and I had to leave and we've been on the outs ever since. Satisfied?"

Kristen had tilted the chair on its back legs, kneading the creamy smooth flesh of her breasts in both hands. "Not hardly." She arched her back, showing off the flatness of her stomach. In a flash, she rocked forwards and stood up, then put one knee on Martin's desk, looming over him. "You didn't say what got you all riled up, Marty. What was it that made you manhandle poor little Melanie?" Her breasts hung so achingly close now that he would only have to tilt his head forward to bury his face deep in her cleavage. His mouth watered, despite himself.

His desk phone started ringing again. Desperate for refuge, he snatched up the receiver before Kristen could say anything.

"Hello?" A surge of relief washed over him. "Hi, honey. No no, I was just in the bathroom." He turned his chair away from the temptation of Kristen's visage, hunching over his phone. "No, I won't be working late tonight, I promise. I just finished the Pauling contract. No, no I know what happens when I miss-" There was an insistent tap on his shoulder. Glancing over, his vision was filled with the smooth, porcelain skin of Kristen's mature, peach-shaped ass. She had come around the corner of his desk to stand behind him. Her hair, a silky, silvery golden waterfall fell down the muscles of her back.

"Just touch it," the secretary said in a firm voice.

"What? Nono, that's just Kris- I mean, the secretary." He shook his head and mouthed the word 'no' at her. "Yes, she's the older- mpph!" Kristen had taken a half-step backwards, and Martin found himself overwhelmed by the smooth warm texture of her ass, like heated satin. Firm, muscled flesh pressed insistently against his cheek, and he instinctively turned towards it, closing his eyes and opening his mouth to-

"Nothing! Nothing's wrong. Why do you ask?" He pulled his face away from the magnetic pull of Kristen's ass, but kept his eyes glued to her perfect skin as her own hand reached back, kneading the thick, ripe meat of her behind. Suddenly, she slapped it, and the sharp report made him sit up; the cheek jiggled and rippled with the impact, then immediately resumed it's shape. "No, I just dropped something, honey. Can you hang on for a second?" He pressed the receiver against his chest.

"Touch it, Marty," Kristen said, again. "You know you want to."

"Look, if it'll make you go away..." he reached up and laid one hand on her ass.

"Mmmm, there you go, hon. Good, isn't it?" His fingers luxuriated in the plush decadence of her skin, hand sliding over the satiny smooth surface of that rounded globe. "Melanie doesn't have a butt like this, does she? A nice thick booty, built for one thing."

"N-no," he admitted. "Hers is nothing- nothing like this."

"I bet it's nothing," she giggled. "Now, tell me - what got you so riled up Friday night, Marty? Honey, you can grab tighter than that." He sank his fingers into her cheek, taking a full handful of gloriously firm ass. On the phone, Melody was still talking away. He raised the receiver to his ear, never letting go of Kristen's thick cougar behind.

"Mel, sorry honey the secretary just brought something in."

"Was it this, Martin?" Kristen asked aloud. "Is this what did it?" She laid one long-nailed hand on top of his and pressed it harder into her flesh, letting out a wet little gasp. All he could do was nod. "I knew it." She gave him a predatory smile over her shoulder. Letting go of his hand, she grabbed the receiver from his slack fingers.

"Hiii Melanie!" Kristen said brightly. "This is Kris. Yep, that's me. Can I just take your hubby away from you for a moment? I need his hand with something. We won't be too long, I promise. Thanks, hon." Replacing the receiver on its cradle, she stabbed the hold button. "How long is too long to take you away?" She asked Martin, flexing her ass in his hand. "Forever?" She laughed.

"You don't seriously think-" he reasserted his grasp on her ass.

"Use both hands," the secretary said. Without really even thinking about it, he grabbed hold of the other buttock, finding it just as firm and glorious as the first. "Mmmm, that's good, baby. You've got strong hands. You know what I love about you young guys, Marty? You're so pliable, so easy to control."

"Hang on, now." He objected. "I am not-"

"I think, deep down, you're all just waiting for an older woman, a woman like me to come along and make all your decisions for you." Kristen pushed back into his hands, and Martin found himself staring into the deep crevasse of her ass. Despite himself, he pulled her cheeks open a little to see the narrow g-string that spliced them.

"You're crazy!" He exclaimed. "I'm happily married! You just put my wife, my wife of two weeks on hold!"

"Ugh, what a waste of time that was," she rolled her eyes. "You're a nice guy Marty, and I know you felt like you had to, but it's not going to be a long marriage."

"You bitch," Martin said, growing angry. His hands dug even deeper into her fleshy ass.

"Mmmm, yesss." Kristen purred. "Just like that, hon. Now tell me Marty, say it out loud: was it this ass that got you so riled up on Friday?"

"Yes, alright? Yes!" Admitting it felt good. "You sent that picture, and I got kind of excited, okay?"

"What was so exciting, Marty?" She flexed her gluteal muscles. "Tell me. Surely your little Melanie's got an ass on her."

"Not-not like this," he said, mauling her cheeks. "It's nothing like this."

"My ass is so superior to hers, isn't it?"

He hesitated, then: "Yes, yes. You've got the most magnificent ass I've ever seen."

"Little Melanie's got nothing on my ass, does she?"

"God, no." Martin was fascinated by the way her flesh moved, so springy under his fingers, so malleable but yet so ready to jump back into shape. "Melody," he said mildly. "Her name is Mel-"

"Her name is what I say it is," Kristen said. "Including mud, if I say so." She flexed her ass for him again, refocusing his attention. "Tell me, Marty: what was it you found so exciting about my ass? It wasn't just its size, was it? Or how gloriously round and smooth and tight it looked. What was it, Marty?"

He glanced over at the phone, where the hold light continued to blink, then back at Kristen's ass.

"No," he said in a quiet voice. "I could see- I could see your-"

"My what, Marty?"

"Your hole, your asshole," he admitted, eliciting a deep groan from her.

"You can look at it all you want now, hon." Kristen said softly, relaxing the muscles in her ass. Feeling almost as if his hands belonged to someone else, Martin pried them apart, revealing the narrow strip of fabric that split her cheeks. Her thong did a woeful job of hiding the roseate pucker of her asshole, pulsing and winking up at him. She reached back and hooked the g-string to one side with her index finger. "There you go. What do you think?"

"It's beautiful," he said in a hushed tone, and meant it. Never in his wildest dreams had he ever thought he'd find an asshole attractive, cute even, but Kristen's seemed gorgeous to him; it was a delicate pink, much as her lips had been the other day, with the tiniest aperture in the centre of the delicate folds, pursed almost, as if waiting for-

"You can kiss it if you want, hon." Kristen said in a husky tone, and it winked at him invitingly. Drawn inexorably inward, almost as if by gravity, Martin leaned forward until his nose was flush with her fleshy behind, and planted a kiss on her rosy asshole. The sphincter pulsed and seemed to draw his lips in. "A real kiss, Marty." His tongue slid out from between his lips, circling around the swirled pink wrinkles; it tasted of sweat and musk and something else and it was delicious. Fingers digging deep into the muscle of her ass, he began to eagerly tongue the secretary's mature asshole, pushing his tongue inside even as it sucked him in. "Oohhhh yessss," she enthused, resting her weight on his face, driving his tongue even deeper in her rectum. "Do it, Marty! French kiss my nasty old asshole! Kiss it like I'm sure little Melanie never let you kiss her mouth." He slurped and sucked at her like a pig in a trough, vigorously tonguing her depths.

Reaching over, Kristen picked up the phone and pressed the hold key again. "Melanie, honey? Yes it's Kristen again. No, Marty's just helping me out with a special project; he's a real asskisser- sound? What sound?" She paused to listen. "Mmmm, no honey. That's ah- that's just on your end, I think. My end is just fine. Just perfect." The middle-aged blonde pushed even harder down on Martin's face. "Ooohhh, I think I'm going to have to put you back on hold. Just a minute." She put the receiver down and stabbed the key.

The leggy secretary pulled Martin's face from the cavity of her asscrack. His face was flushed, chin dripping with spit; as the cold air hit him, a look of petulant disappointment crossed his features.

"Tell me, Marty, did you like it?" She wiggled her ass for him. "Did you like kissing my ass like that?"

He nodded, out of breath.

"Did little Mellie ever let you kiss her like that?"

"N-no," he stammered, hands shaking. "Never."

"Not even on her mouth?"

"No, not anywhere," he said emphatically.

"If you had your choice, Marty, if you could pick, right now." Kristen prised her asscheeks apart for him. "If little Mellie was here right now, which would you want to kiss more? Her lips, or my perfect asshole?" Martin stared at the pulsing, wet pink star between her cheeks, still dripping with his spit.

"You," he said in a low voice.

"Me?" She laughed haughtily. "Oh I know you'd rather kiss me, honey. You haven't even tried my lips yet. Believe me, they're worth it." She wiggled her ass in his face. "I mean my asshole, Marty. Would you rather kiss my asshole or wifey?"

"Don't do this," he pleaded. "Don't make me-"

"I'm going to count to three Marty, and if you don't give me an answer I'll take it away forever." Kristen waggled a finger at him. "One...two...thr-"

"Your ass!" Martin shouted, desperately. "Your asshole, okay? I'd rather kiss your asshole."

"Naughty, naughty Marty." Kristen shook her head. "My asshole is better than your precious little Melanie's whole mouth?"

"Yes!" He said. "I love your asshole!"

"Mmmmm," she purred, turning around and breaking his hold on her ass. Kristen leaned over and kissed him, hard on the mouth. Her lips forced his open, her tongue darting and diving inside; after a shocked second, his began to play along, entwining with hers, sharing the taste of her ass between them. "I can see why," she said, pulling away and smacking her lips. "I'm delicious, honey. And you haven't even gotten to the best parts yet."

She hopped up on his desk, and hooked her legs over the arms of his chair, spreading her thighs. The eyepatch of blue fabric was stretched taut over her peachy mound, dripping with moisture. Kristen dragged her heel down his chest, and one of his shirt buttons popped off, unnoticed. She rested one shoe in his lap, lightly tapping the tent there.

"Let's see it," she said. "I want to see my handiwork."

"Kristen, it's not right, I can't-" he looked significantly at the blinking hold light.

"Marty," Kristen said. "This is what you need, hon." She dragged the toe of her shoe along the strained fabric of his pants, drawing out a guttural moan. "Just admit it and give in." One of her hands began to toy with the wet fabric of her panties. "How long do you think you can resist?" Little squishy schlick schlick schlick sounds emanated from between her legs. He stared as her juices poured forth, foamy and pearlescent. She ground the flat sole of her wedge into his rampant cock.

"Oohhh, god." He grunted.

"Come on, Marty." She gave him a coy look. "After all you've already done? What's a little peek now, between friends?" Sliding her legs off the chair, she sat up and leaned in, letting him have a faceful of creamy cleavage; unable to resist, his hands filled themselves with heavy warm titflesh, kneading it like Melan- Melody never had. He gave her nipples a twist, and Kristen gasped with pleasure.

Her experienced hands crawled all over his lap, deftly slipping his belt open and unzipping his fly. Martin began to protest from deep within the cocoon of her tits, and she quickly slid one thick pink nipple into his mouth. He began to suckle at her, lips and teeth worrying away at her while she let out a delicate wet moan into his ear. Her hand slid inside his pants, gripping the thick shaft of his cock, and drew it out to stand proudly from his crotch; it was thick and hard as steel, and her fingertips traced the angry pulsating veins that ran along the it.

"Ohhhh, Marty," Kristen cooed in his ear. "It's just the way I like it. Young and thick and rock hard." She began to stroke it, milking out his dewey precum. "A cock like this is just wasted on little Melly, hon. I bet she's never taken half of it before." He shook his head, unwilling to let go of her tit. "This is a cock for a real woman, Marty. Someone who can bring it to heel and fuck it the way it deserves to be fucked. Hard. I'm going to tame this cock and make it mine, Marty, and you're going to love it." Whatever reply he made was swallowed up by her glorious cleavage, but his cock didn't flag a millimeter.

Roughly, she shoved him away. His chair rolled back a foot or two, and Kristen reached down to grab the sides of her panties. With twin snaps, they tore away from her body, and Martin watched her mature pussy unfold in all its glory. A narrow strip of greying pubic hair pointed the way to thick, pouty labia that framed the long, scarlet folds of her pussy as they dripped with cunt juice, spiraling down to pool on the floor. Unlike Melan- Melody's delicate little clamshell, this was a pussy that begged to be fucked. Kristen spread her legs, perching her heels on his desk like a porn model. He watched the folds of her cunt open, and a needy, pulsing hole appear.




Executive Ass.'t



Fuck me, it seemed to say.

With an animal roar, Martin surged forward out of his chair. He grabbed her hips, taking a double-handful of ass once more, and shoved his cock roughly inside her.

"Nggghhh," he grunted. He'd never felt anything so luxurious in his life. Kristen's pussy eagerly swallowed all the cock he had to offer, sucking him down into her hot depths even as she tightened around him, massaging the shaft with the walls of her pussy.

"YES!" She shrieked, whipping her head back. Kristen wrapped her legs around his back, locking her ankles just above his ass. He soon bottomed out, his balls slapping against meaty ass with a wet report. "FUCK ME, Marty! FUCK ME!" Feeling his oats, Martin was only too happy to comply, ramming his cock into her decadent pussy so forcefully her tits jumped with each thrust.

It felt so good to be buried so deep inside her, so natural, like his cock had been purpose-built to slide inside the knowledgeable cunt of an older woman. Her pussy clung and sucked and slurped him in, letting him pull back only reluctantly as he slamfucked her into the desk, scattering files and office supplies everywhere.

"It feels so- ah! So good, doesn't it, Marty?" Kristen grabbed her own tits, fingers pulling her nipples hard.

"God, YES." He enthused, ramming his cock home once more.

She clamped down hard on his cock, halving his fucking speed.

"Do you love it, Marty? Do you love fucking me?"

"YES!" He shouted. "Your pussy feels so FUCKING good!" He pulled down hard on her hips, trying to fuck deeper and deeper, restrained by the iron ring of her pussy.

"Do you want to stop, hon? Go home to wifey?"

"Nnnghh," Desperate, he ground his hips into hers. "No! Don't stop, don't ever stop, please!"

"What if she was right here? What if little Melanie was right here in the office, Marty? Would you stop then?" Kristen rolled her hips around, relishing the fullness of his young cock.

"No, no!" He roared, bending down to slurp one of her fat tits into his mouth.

"I'm better than she is, aren't I, Marty?" Her pussy sucked hungrily at his cock, then let him slide back. "I'm a better fuck than she is, I'm so much more beautiful than she is, my ass is so much better than hers, my tits are perfection, aren't they?"

"YES!" He shouted, shoving his cock back into her with a will.

"Tell me you'd rather kiss my asshole than her mouth."

"God, your ass tastes so good!" He pried her asscheeks apart and slapped one thick globe.

"SAY IT." She insisted, clamping down so hard on his cock that he was trapped, unable to move.

"I'd rather shove my tongue up your ass than kiss her!"

"Mmmm," Kristen purred, and the muscles of her pussy rippled along his shaft. "Tell me you love my mature body more than hers."

"Ngghhh," he grunted, balls slapping against her ass. "Your- your body is so much better, you're like a fucking sex goddess compared to her!"

"Yesssss," she hissed. "Tell me you were made to fuck my cougar cunt."

"Your cougar cunt makes hers feel like a dry fucking keyhole," he groaned, feeling the wetness sluice out around his shaft. "Its perfect it's perfect I never wanna leave it!"

"Close enough," she chuckled. "You can have it every day, Marty. Any time I want you to have it, it's yours. All day, every day. Here, in Petersen's office, on my desk, in the washrooms."

"YES!" Martin shouted, mind reeling with the possibilities. "God I love your cougar cunt!"

"I know you do, hon." Kristen squeezed his shaft. "You two were made for each other. I bet you love it more than your wife, don't you? You love it more than Melanie?"

"GOD YES!" He said, not really aware of the words that were coming out of his mouth. "I LOVE IT I LOVE YOUR PUSSY I LOVE YOUR COUGAR CUNT MORE THAN MELANIE."

"Good boy!" She enthused, and suddenly her pussy went slack around him. Raising one long leg, Kristen planted her foot on his chest and shoved him away. His cock, dripping with her pussy syrup and his precum, slid out with ease as he took a step back. She turned around and bent over the desk. "Now, FUCK ME."

Martin stepped forward and grabbed her hips again, slotting his cock easily back into the leaking socket of her cunt. He slammed his hips forward, relishing the sight of her asscheecks rippling with the impact.

"GOOD BOY!" She shouted. "You're such a good boy, Marty!"

Looking down at the shambles of his desk as he pulled back to slam into her again, he saw that the telephone receiver had fallen from its cradle. The hold light was off.

"Mel- Melody?" He gasped in shock. Without even pulling out of the secretary, he picked up the receiver. The other end of the line was dead.

"You didn't need her anyway, hon." Kristen pushed back on his cock, her pussy feathering around his shaft. "We both know she can't compare to me." The MILFy secretary reached down between them and grabbed his sac.

"N-no, but I-" his words were lost in a groan as she massaged his swollen balls.

"Trust me, it's better this way." She smiled up at him. "Little Melly would only get in the way, hon. You'd never be able to fuck her like you'll be able to fuck me." Kristen squeezed his shaft. "We'll fulfill every nasty thought that's ever crossed your little mind, and more. Every fantasy you've ever had is about to come true, hon, every filthy thing you've ever seen in porn, I've done it and loved it." He grabbed a handful of her hair.

"YES!" she shouted. "Do it! Pull!" Martin yanked on her mane as he fucked forward into her, angry and horny and feeling betrayed.

"Oh God, Marty." She moaned. "It's going to be so good." Kicking her feet off the ground, Kristen locked her ankles behind his ass again as she let the desk bear her weight.

"We're going to run this fucking company, and fuck like we were meant to." He pulled on her hair like it was a horse harness, and she screamed in pleasure. "Those assholes don't like you because they're scared of you, Marty. Once you close the Pauling file, you'll be Petersen's number one boy and Petersen's on his way out." She flexed her legs, driving him deeper inside of her cunt. "By the end of this year, you'll be running this department, and with me beside you, you'll be running this company in five!" Her knuckles went white as she gripped the desk, trying to keep her hold on it.

"Oh GOD MARTY! FUCK ME! FUCK ME FULL OF YOUR YOUNG CUM!" Letting go of her hair, Martin's hands slid back to her hips as fireworks began to spark behind his eyelids. As the cream rocketed up his shaft, he could see it, see his future spiralling away, every moment he'd intended to have with Melody, every second they'd planned together, fucked away into Kristen's needy cougar cunt.

"NNGHHH KRISTENNN!" Martin's voice ascended to an incoherent roar as he plastered her ripe pussy with his cream, both of them electrified with an orgasm that crashed over and through them.

After a minute, their bodies slowly disengaged, covered in a sheen of sweat. His cock slid out of her, their mixed creams splattering on the floor, and he collapsed into his office chair, spent cock lying against his thigh, still semi-erect.

"Oh no you don't," Kristen said, standing between his spread legs. She looked magnificent, a sex goddess walking among men, her body flushed pink with exertion, heavy chest heaving and jiggling hypnotically. Slowly, she sank to her knees before him, taking his dewey cock in one long-nailed hand. He watched the white chains painted against the red background of her nails sliding up and down his shaft, slowly, tenderly, using their combined excretions as a lubricant. Despite himself, he began to thicken. "I knew we'd be a good match, Marty."

As his cock stirred to life once more, she sandwiched the thick staff between her pillowy tits, wrapping them in a sweat-slick cocoon. Her blonde hair, shot through with silver, half fell over her face as she began to titfuck him.

"Tell me again," she said, giving him a hungry look. "Tell me again how much better I am."

*

The assholes who were Martin's colleagues never quite figured it out, even as he was promoted over their heads. It was obvious that he and Kristen (now his secretary, or Executive Assistant, as he insisted she be called) were close, but they never saw anything untoward, anything they could call back to HR over.

Kristen had said that Petersen was on the way out, and he soon was, vanished in a haze of mysterious complaints about misconduct - sexual and professional - and she was only too happy to stay on with Martin as his partner, his friend, his confidante as he began his rapid rise through the ranks.

There were rumours, of course. Martin and his Executive Assistant were inseparable, for one. They often went on trips together - vacations and conferences - though they always made sure to book two rooms on separate floors. And there was the matter of Martin's wife, who some said suffered a nervous breakdown and had been committed.

Eventually, they divorced, but that was kept strictly on the qt.

Some eyebrows were raised when Kristen announced that she and Martin were going to be married, but by then he was sitting on the board, above reproach, and she was six months pregnant. Not that being pregnant stopped her from visiting the office, tottering in on towering heels and scandalously tight skirts for long prenatal massages from her fiance.

Eventually, as is the way of things, she gave birth to a little girl.

They called her Melanie.

END



Executive Assistant



Sandra been working as a pool secretary at Logan Distributing Incorporated for just over two months when word began leaking out that the secretarial pool was going to be cut to near nothing because of computerization. The late owner, old Mr. Logan, had resisted stubbornly the idea of relying upon machines to do what people could do quite well, thank you. It had taken her nearly a year to find this job and she was just to beginning to pay off bills which she had accumulated over the period of her unemployment. 

Her parents out in the country had mocked her for wanting to come to the city to work. They had said that she couldn't make it, that she wasn't smart enough or tough enough to deal with city people and pressures. Not being able to find a job and having little in the way of real qualifications, she had nearly gone back home in defeat when, at last, she finally landed this job. She had since vowed that nothing was going to send her back home until she could go home victoriously.

Friday morning late, Mr. Murray, the general manager, began calling secretaries into his office. First, was Emma, middle-aged lady who had worked at the company for 22 years. After about 30 minutes in his office, Emma came out red-eyed and puffy faced, obviously having been crying. Still sobbing softly occasionally, she quickly cleaned out her desk. When the other secretaries went to her to comfort her and find out what had happened, she simply told them that she had been let go because of corporate down-sizing. About that time, the intercom called for Sarah, another longtime employee to go into Mr. Murray's office. Thirty minutes later the same scenario was carried out. 

Just before lunch, Janie, a chubby, infectiously happy, one year secretary was called in and released. Everyone in the secretarial pool was on edge and Sandra was near panic. 

Just as the lunch chime sounded, her was name called and her heart sank into her heels. She got up with tears already beginning in her eyes and reported to the head secretary who told her quietly to report to young Mr. Logan, the late old man's 40 year old son who was now president of the company. She wondered why she was being called to his office instead of Mr. Murray's but she timidly presented herself in his office to the lovely, young receptionist there. She buzzed Mr. Logan on the intercom and sent Sandra straight in. 

Mark Logan was a handsome, well-built man with the self-confident ways belonging to one who has always been a winner. A star athlete in high school, a social and academic standout in college, married to a lovely woman, the father of three beautiful kids and the new owner and president of Logan Distributing Inc., he certainly had everything a man could want. 

When Sandra entered his office, Mr. Logan was sitting behind his enormous desk reading some papers. He looked up and gestured to a chair in front of his desk. Sandra sat down and waited with her heart sinking into the void in the pit of her stomach.

After a short eternity, Mr. Logan looked up and said, "I have good news and bad news -- and this is not a joke!

"Sandra, your current position is, regrettably, being phased out of our operations as are many others which have outgrown their usefulness given our current level of technology. I'm sure you've noticed that several of your fellow secretarial pool workers have already been dismissed. That's the bad news.

"I'm sure, also, that you've heard that my executive assistant has been dismissed as well as my personal secretary," he continued. 

"Are you aware of what services they rendered to me, Sandra?" he asked. When no indication was given by Sandra, he inquired, "Have you heard the rumors as to why they were terminated?"

After a moment of furious mental assessment, Sandra quietly said, "No sir. I haven't heard."

"Sandra," he said with exasperation in his voice, "that answer either qualifies you as a liar or as someone who is hopelessly out of touch with what is going on in this company -- neither of which I'm in the market for. Instead of asking you which is the case, I'm going to ask for clarification on whether or not you've heard the rumors as to why those two ladies were fired from my personal staff."

Quickly now, Sandra replied fearfully, "Well, yes sir, I have heard some rumors but I didn't give them any credibility."

With a hint of a smile of his face, Mark Logan queried her, "What was the exact cause that the rumors are saying led to the two ladies being released?" 

With her mind whirling with indecision, Sandra finally answered, "The rumors say that they didn't live up to your expectations."

With a snort of a laugh, Mr. Logan replied, "That' very diplomatic, but you're going to have to do better than that. What exactly are the rumors saying about their firing."

Resignedly, Sandra answered, "The rumors say that you used both women for sex, especially when they traveled with you and that they were fired because they refused to have sex with some clients that you told them to entertain. But I never believe rumors, Mr. Logan!" she hastened to explain.

Without blinking an eye, Mark Logan said, "The rumors are correct on both accounts."

After hesitating for a moment which was filled with shocked silence, he continued. "Both of those ladies knew that sex was part of the bargain when they signed on with me, making much, much more than any of you in the secretarial pool or any other executive assistants around. They were let go when they refused to fulfill my desires."

After letting that information settle in Sandra's mind, he again spoke. "The position of executive assistant is now open. My executive assistant is responsible for making sure that my travel arrangements are made, that I have all of the necessary information regarding clients and business arrangements, and that I have all of the information necessary for negotiations to go as smoothly as possible. If necessary, she may be part of the negotiated settlement, on a very short term basis, of course. She usually travels with me, as does my personal secretary, and they are both responsible for seeing to my personal needs and desires. When those needs and desires relates to others, so be it! 

"My new executive assistant will, of course, be responsible for getting a new personal secretary to fill the vacant spot on my staff and will be in charge of my office and business affairs."

He waited for several seconds and then added, "Sandra, your old job is now gone, but I'm offering you the position as my executive assistant if you want it. I want you to make your decision with your eyes wide open, so if you have a question about what that means, ask now."

Sandra knew that taking the job meant becoming Mark Logan's personal toy and sexual pawn -- in essence, his personal whore. On the other hand, she desperately needed the job and would be making more than she ever dreamed, not to mentioned being bedded regularly by one of most sought after "hunks" around.

Embarrassedly and with her eyes downcast, Sandra timidly spoke, "Mr. Logan, I'm not a virgin but I'm also not very experienced. I don't think I would be very good for what you want. I need the job but I just don't think that I'm good enough at sex for you."

While she was speaking, Mr. Logan's eyes were glued on her. Those eyes roamed from her shoulder-length hair past her lovely face, down a delectable figure to marvelous legs. When she was finished with her speech, he laughed and said, "Sandra, look at me."

When she had looked up and into his eyes, he continued, "Knowing what you know about the requirements of this job, if I think you qualify and if I would teach you what you need to learn, do you want the job? Yes or no!"

Sandra thought a minute about the implications of the answer that she had almost blurted out. If she took the job, she would not only be a normal executive assistant, a tough job which she had never done before, but she would also be his mistress, on call whenever and wherever he pleased.

On the other hand, she could return home soon in triumph with a legitimate job, a good car, nice clothes and plenty of money to show her family and everyone in town that she was worth something more that being a hill-billy's wife.

If she had stayed home, or didn't take this job and had to move back home, she would probably end up marrying some pig farmer that she didn't even love, much less like, and screwing him whenever he wanted it on top of raising his brood and keeping his shack.

"Yes sir! If you think that I can do the job and if you'll teach me what I need to know -- I would love to have the job!" she said more firmly than she had said anything in a long time.

"Excellent!" he said with excitement. "Your pay will be $1000 a week with most of your traveling clothes and all of your traveling expenses paid. There will be generous bonuses of cash and other nice things for jobs particularly well done, not to mention little gifts of appreciation and affection that some of our clients will see fit to bestow on you." 

When Mr. Logan mentioned the salary, Sandra nearly lost her breath. When he continued with the other benefits, she nearly cried for joy. She felt like rushing around the desk and hugging his gorgeous neck.

"Tomorrow morning," he continued, "I want you to report to Rene's Boutique on 42nd Street for a complete outfitting. In the meantime, think if there are any other women in the secretarial pool who can do the job of executive secretary, who have the looks and figure to appeal to me and other men, and who would accept the requirements of that job. Speak to me before speaking to any of them about any choice you might think of. 

"Now, come over here and let me see what I'm going to be enjoying for the foreseeable future," he said, waving her around the desk to his side. As she stood and walked around to his side of the desk, trying to sway seductively as she walked, Logan continued to talk. 

"There is something that you need to know about the relationship that I demand between me and my girls. It is merely an extension of the same philosophy by which I operate in all of my dealings. I believe in honesty. I believe in being up front. I call a spade a spade and I seldom use euphemisms unless the person I'm dealing with can't stand the honesty.

"Sometimes that may seem to come across as crude but I'm merely trying to strip away the manipulation and coyness. I want you to do the same by following my lead. You'll learn soon enough what I mean," he said like a teacher.

Feeling more secure, seeing how he was looking at her body appreciatively and the manner in which his hands had rested on her hips, Sandra decided to try a little honesty. 

"If you believe in honesty, Mr. Logan, why do you fool around on your wife?" she asked bravely.

Drawing her around and maneuvering her to sit on his desk directly in front of him, Mr. Logan chuckled again and said, "I don't fool around!"

Seeing Sandra's look of incredulity, he explained.

"Fooling around assumes that my wife knows nothing of what I do with other women. That couldn't be further from the truth. She knows each of my girls, and several of them very personally, and she knows what goes on both here and on the road. 

"Don't be surprised when we are joined on occasion by her, and sometimes, she even brings a friend. 

"One of the things you will learn soon, if you haven't experienced it already, is having sex with another woman." 

Seeing the stunned reaction on Sandra's face, he quickly said, "Having a sexual experience with another woman does not make you a lesbian, Sandra. Come on now, be a big girl.!"

With that, he placed his hands on her knees and slid them slowly up under the white pleated dress which she had worn that day. As his hands slid up her thighs, the dress was drawn up along with them. She watched in horrified fascination as her stockinged legs were laid bare before this man who was neither her husband nor her lover.

The thought, impelled by panic, flashed through her chaotic mind, "He's not my husband or lover, he's my user!"

When his hands reached her waist and he found that she was wearing pantyhose, he slid his hands back with disappointment on his face and said, "In the future, don't ever wear pantyhose."

Eager to please, and in truth, aroused by his sensual touch, she blurted out, "I could take them off, sir!"

Smiling kindly, he said, "Thanks, but it wouldn't be the same. Tomorrow, Rene will fit you with the proper clothing and give you some excellent advice concerning wearing the clothes and applying your makeup, though I must say that you do both nicely. 

"She will tell you which outfits are for the office and which are for the road; which are for business and which are for entertaining. Just listen to her and get all that she has to tell you. If you have a full closet, you might consider thinning it out.

"Which reminds me. You will be needing to move into an apartment near here that I will furnish for you from company accounts and it will be a silent benefit of the job. I think you'll find it adequate for our needs," he said somewhat smugly. "Norma, out front, will take you to the apartment as soon as we are finished here, and give you a key. She will help you pack, in your present apartment and show you how to make the arrangements for having your stuff moved as soon as possible. Do you have any questions for the present?

"Yes sir," Sandra replied. "Why haven't you asked Norma to take the job as executive assistant?"

"You're assuming that I haven't, of course, and assuming can get us both into trouble. However, I did not ask Norma to take the position because I do not see in her the drive that being an executive assistant demands. I know that right now the foremost thing on your mind is the matter of sex, but I assure you that sex plays only a minor, however pleasurable, part in the business relationship that I have with my assistant. 

"Norma is pretty, sweet and very sexy. She will often join us, especially here in the office, but she really doesn't have the secretarial skills or the organizational skills that I've been assured by your recent supervisor that you have.

"By the way, Sandra -- and answer me honestly now -- did old Murray ever try to get into your panties?"

She thought for a moment, then answered with smile, "Not really. He took every opportunity to stand behind me and look down my blouse or sweater, but he never really put his hands on me or suggested that we do anything together."

"Good," responded Mr. Logan, "I will not stand for sexual harassment in this company!"

Hearing that statement while the president of the company was sitting between her legs while she sat spraddle-legged in front of him on his desk, struck her funny and she giggled.

"What's funny?" he asked.

Thinking that she had done something which she shouldn't've, Sandra answered, "Oh, nothing, sir."

"Now Sandra," he prompted, "Remember that I demand the truth from you. The whole truth."

"Well," she responded to him, "It just struck me funny that you are speaking so resolutely about not allowing sexual harassment after just telling me that I didn't have a job unless I was willing to have sex with you."

"Let me explain the difference," Mr. Logan said with a small sigh. "Your job was terminated no matter what. This job was open and available if you want it. No one is taking your place in the old position and you would not have had a job here if you had not taken this one. Therefore, you could not've maintained your old job in any case. This is a new job opportunity and one about which I have tried to be very up-front. Would you like to reconsider your answer to my offer?"

"Oh, no sir!" she exclaimed, "I just didn't really know the difference and I thought that it was kind of funny that you were talking tough about sexual harassment in the office-place while I'm sitting on your desk with my legs spread in front of you," she said with another giggle.

"And I might add," he responded immediately, "that your offer to remove the pantyhose is sounding more exciting every moment."

Taking his hint, and steeling herself for this first real exhibition of her life, Sandra bent her left knee and swung her left leg in front of Mr. Logan and slid off of his desk. 

Stepping a few feet away from him with her back to him, she kicked off her heels and gathered up the hem of her skirt in front and hooked her thumbs into the waistband of the pantyhose and pulled them down to her ankles in one smooth pull. 

Stepping out of the stockings, she dropped the hem of the white skirt with the narrow pleats and turned back to her boss. Seeing his intense interest, she decided to continue the action while she had the emotional momentum. 

Reaching behind her waist, she unbuttoned the skirt, unzipped the zipper and let the thin garment slide down to her bare feet. She reached immediately for the waist band of the thin, white slip and, likewise, pulled it to her knees in one motion, allowing it also to fall to the floor in a pool of silky material surrounding her feet.

Now she stood before her boss in a red satiny blouse and a pair of white, high-cut bikini panties. She had never displayed herself like this before. Her previous sexual experiences had been hurried and furtive with no necessity or inclination for the slow process of seduction. In her circles, seduction was something the guys tried, and rather clumsily at that.

"Don't stop now," Mr. Logan said in a hoarse voice.

Sandra unbuttoned the bottons of her red blouse beginning at the bottom. Slowly, oh so slowly, she unbuttoned them, never taking her eyes off of her boss, who never took his eyes off of her torso.

When the top button was loosed, she spread the edges of the satiny blouse and allowed it to slide off of her shoulders to the floor.

Now she stood before Mr. Logan in nothing but her white bikini panties and a thin white wispy bra. Without looking, Sandra knew that he could see that her nipples were distended from arousal. She had never known that arousing a man could be so erotic in itself.

Motioning her toward him, Mr. Logan commanded, "Now let me finish the job."

After she had strolled over to him with a sexy, loose-hipped gait, Mr. Logan placed his hands on the outsides of her knees, and slowly, softly slid them up and around behind her to gently rub and knead her bottom cheeks. He slid his hands under the thin fabric of her panties and gently took hands full of her buttocks as he buried his face in her taunt, quivering tummy. He slid the flimsy material off of the backs of his hands so that it bunched into the crack of her fanny, leaving her nether mounds exposed for his closer inspection. 

Leaving her bottom for a moment, Mr. Logan reached up and gently unhooked the connector at the juncture of Sandra's two bra cups. Slowly, as though his hands were hers in a strip-tease, he pulled the cups away from her taunt breasts, allowing them to swing free and proud.

With a look of absolute bliss on his face, he simply said, "Oh, my!"

Those two words were the greatest compliment that Sandra felt she had ever received, and she had received many of all kinds.

"Do you like them?" she asked tentatively.

"Honey," he said, as his hands followed his gaze and almost worshipfully took the orbs into his grasp, "When God designed tits, these were definitely what He had in mind."

His hands gently but firmly squeezed Sandra's breasts and thumbed the already erect nipples causing an involuntary moan to escape her lips. He bent his head to first nibble, then, ever-so-lightly, lick his way from her navel to the valley between her breasts. After nuzzling there for a brief moment, he moved his lips lightly to the aureole of Sandra's right breast. There he licked, light-as-air, the sensitive puckered, brown skin around the nipple producing a roiling somewhere in the core of Sandra's body. When he clamped his lips onto the erect nubbin and slowly--ever-so-slowly--sucked it into his warm, wet mouth until half of her breast was hidden there with his rough tongue rubbing the highly sensitized nipple, she nearly fell to the floor because of the weakness in her knees. The few men who had gone to bed with her had never taken even the short amount of time Mr. Logan had taken to arouse her senses. They had quickly grabbed her breasts, shoved their fingers between her legs, and before she could catch her breath they had mounted her and gotten their rocks off leaving her feeling used and extremely unfulfilled.




Executive Assistant



She'd been asking for at all day. She'd been very bad, pushing the underlings around before her big boardroom presentation. She needed to be taught a lesson. She needed to be turned around from the chart made by other people that she pointed to proudly. She deserved to be grabbed by the shoulders and laid out on the conference table, her red hair fanned out around her head. 

"You've been very unpleasant all day, Ms. Lowry. You've been asking for it."

She deserved to have her panties ripped off and slid over her lush round hips. She was instantly so wet. Her body tensed as soon as my breath was close enough to touch her pussy. Her back arched, moving her pussy closer to my face. I let my tongue dart quickly over her slit, just for a half-second. She gasped audibly, no longer able to pretend she didn't like it. 

"Sorry for the interruption gentlemen, won't be but a minute. Feel free to look over your packets," I took my attention away from her ripe wetness to excuse our lack of professionalism. 

The men were speechless and red faced. I'm sure they were grateful to be sitting at a table with their laps covered. I never cared for men, but the thought of them stiffening and throbbing as I set Ms. Lowry straight made my pussy swell and drip. I heard some flies unzipping. 

I buried my face is Ms. Lowry's pussy, lapping at her with full force for just a few seconds. I made sure it was too much. I wanted her to be overwhelmed and red hot. I wanted her to see light and I wanted her to wail and moan in spite of herself. 

I pulled myself completely away from her and watched her writhe as the pleasure pulsed through her body. As she caught her breath, she let her knees drop open to give me a look. She was so wet her thighs were glistening. She rocked her hips back and forth on the table, so turned on she couldn't sit still. I brushed my index finger along her swollen lips and took back with it a string of her sweet, hot honey. She whimpered as she watched me taste her off my finger.

I heard a grunt from one of the executives. 

"I don't want to hear any of you. Ms. Lowry's about to give a concert and you're very very lucky to be in attendance. I want no distractions and no mess, understand?"

Their faces shined with sweat as they gaped back at me.

"Do you understand?"

"Yes," that all answered like sheepish school boys.

"Very good."

I turned my attention to Ms. Lowry. I climbed up onto the conference table. I pinned her hands together above her head and tied them together with her soaking lace panties. I lowered my face very closely to hers as I hovered over her on all fours.

"You want to cum, don't you?"

"Please," she whimpered. 

"What makes you think I'll let you?"

"Please let me," she moved beneath me, raising her hips up towards mine. Her eyes pleading. I pushed her back down onto the table with my hand firmly on her mound, so she'd feel it in her clit.

"No."

"Please, make me cum. I need it."

"You want to cum here? In front of all these respectable business men?"

"Yes!"

I slowly unbuttoned her shirt and slid it up her arms to where her hands were bound. I ran my tongue from her collar bone up to her earlobe, which I sucked into my mouth and flick my tongue over like I would her clit. Her moans were deep and breathy. She squeezed her legs together in an attempt to relieve the pulsing pleasure in her pussy. I reached down and pried her legs back apart.

"None of that. You have to wait."

I pulled my sweater over my head, folded it and put it under hers. I sat back to look her over. Her skirt had ridden all the way up to her waist. She was covered only by a sheer lace bra, her nipples hard and pink underneath. I felt my pussy begin to throb. Teasing her was teasing me. 

"You're very lucky today, Ms. Lowry. Lace turns me on." 

With that, I took her soft, lace-sheathed breasts in each hand. I felt their weight and their warmth. Her nipples pressed into the palms of my hands, hard as rocks. I lowered my hips to sit on her torso, my pussy square on her mound. I took each nipple between two fingers. I rolled and pinched and tugged at them while grinding my pussy on her mound, temporarily relieving my throbbing pussy. Her head lolled back, releasing a frustrated wail from the bottom of her lungs.

"Can you feel me though my panties?" I asked her.

She nodded while she whined and panted.

"Do you feel how wet I am?"

"Yes," she groaned.

"You've done a very good job, Ms. Lowry."

I reached behind me and unclasped my bra, I let the straps slide down my shoulders. My bra fell away and I lowered my round, full tits to her face. She lapped at them greedily until I put my left nipple between her lips. I felt all the muscles in my pussy constrict and she suckled away at me and swirled her tongue around my areola. I reached down between her legs to feel the table beneath her pussy, pleased to find a small pool of her juices.

"You're almost ready, Ms. Lowry."

I had made her wait long enough. At this point, I was sure most of the clients had already cum and started round two. I had their undivided attention as I played Ms. Lowry like an instrument, taking the time to tease her and build her pleasure, something I'm sure all men are capable of but never consider doing. 

My hands wet from her overflow, I rubbed her tits through her bra, then lowered my mouth to her right breast, licking her nipple through the soggy lace. I'm sure this sent a jolt of electricity down to her pussy and practically screamed a sharp 

"Ah!"

"Please! Please fuck me!"

"In front of all these people?"

"Yes!" She bucked her hips in spite of herself. There was no more teasing her. She'd reached a level of sensory overload and she was ready to release. Every breath that escaped her was accompanied by a desperate moan. Her body glistened with perspiration. 

I decided she'd waited long enough. 

I took her left nipple into my mouth and sucked hard as I fluttered my tongue over the tip. At the same time, I plunged my hand between her leg, hooking two fingered inside of her. She was so wet and hot. He pussy hugged my fingers and I could feel her pulse as my fingertips touched down on her g-spot. I strummed her clit with my thumbs, conducting the guttural, staccato cries of pleasure. My fingers slid in and out of her easily, making a lovely sound as I fucked her.

Keeping my hand inside of her, I moved myself down and lowered my face to her pussy. I replaced my thumb with my lips as I sealed them over the top half of her pussy, sucking her clit and the surrounding area into my mouth. I let my lips act as a vacuum while I lapped at her clit from beneath it. All the while, pumping my fingers in and out of her, putting pressure directly on the rough texture of her g-spot. I left my free had float up to pinch and roll her nipples, for a little added touch. 

She humped my hand and my face, moving and sounding like a wild animal. Her moans started to crescendo to wild frantic hollering. Her muscles constricted harder around my fingers, holding them in. That just made me fuck her harder.

I came up for air and looked right into her eyes.

"Cum for me." I demanded, calmly and directly. 

Her back arched and her face burned red. I took my fingers out of her and firmly rubbed her clit as the orgasm I held over her for so long washed over her body. Her whole body bucked as she came, practically howling with pleasure. She exploded with a stream of clear cum that I let splash onto her precious flow chart. 

I slid my fingers back into her and fucked her gently to milk her orgasm just a little longer, to let her down easy. 

Her body relaxed on the table on as she caught her breath. I wiped my hands and face on her skirt. 

She stayed tied up while I rifled through her brief case. I produced a copy of the contract that the whole meeting had been over and placed it in front of the head honcho. 

"I think we've shown you all there is. Would you like a pen, sir?"

He nodded wordlessly as I handed him a pen and showed him where to sign.

With that, I got up and held the conference room door, open for them. Their cue to leave. 

"It's been a pleasure. We look forward to working with you." I shook each of their hands as they passed.

"Jessica," Ms. Lowry whimpered my name. "You...you're in for a promotion."

I pulled down my soaked panties, climbed back onto the conference table and straddled her head on my knees.

"Oh no, Ms. Lowry. I love being your assistant."

Before she could answer, I lowered myself onto her face and let her tongue part my lips and probe my pussy. 

It was my turn.