The Wicked Virgin: An Office Romance

by Cassandra Dee

  But Tammy gave new meaning to the phrase “Fuck me.” Even now, breathing heavily, her flanks covered in a slight sheen of sweat, all I wanted to do was to fuck my dick into her, make that curvy body take every freakin’ inch of my pole until she was screaming, creaming hard while feeling me ram all the way to her cervix, my dick shooting all the way into her uterus if I had my way.

  Because that’s my thing. I’m what you’d call a dirty old man, I’m forty-five and I love the young ones, the ones who look virginal and sweet, who aren’t a day over twenty. And Tammy fit the bill exactly. I’d looked her up in the company database late last night and sure enough her stats popped onto the screen. Year of birth? 1998. Holy shit, the girl was eighteen, just my style.

  But the best thing about the young, innocent-looking ones is that they’re not innocent at all. Fuck no. The ones who look like angels are usually the dirtiest sluts, the one who’ll fuck you this way and that, let you do anything to their bodies, and Tammy was turning out to be no exception.

  Yesterday, witnessing her little masturbation scene in the women’s restroom? Fuck yeah. Seeing her filthy fantasy on her work computer? Fuck yeah. And the drawer full of sex toys? FUCK YEAH. In fact, one of the reasons why I’d moved her to headquarters was because I had every intention of trying out all those sex toys on her beautiful body … one at a time, making her cream and gasp with pleasure.

  And we’d gotten off to a rarin’ start. The little girl was panting still, face down on my couch, her generous ass in the air as she struggled to recover from her orgasm. The panties I’d used were crumpled in my hand still and I brought them to my nose for one last sniff before dropping them in my desk drawer. Hell yeah. If I had some dull conference call or some stupid long email to write, I’d just whip that baby out and wrap it around my dick, massage myself to heaven and no one’d know for the better.

  And the office was filled with her sex smell still, the female musk rolling off her curvy form in waves. What I wouldn’t give to bottle that scent, have it follow me around in a cloud like a heady spice.

  But fuck, I hadn’t come yet and my dick was still dripping like a faucet, had been for the last ten minutes as I worked the little girl to her climax.

  “Tammy,” I ground out, “come here.”

  She looked up from the couch, breathing heavily, her eyes wide, dazed, as if she’d never experienced such pleasure.

  “Come here,” I ground out harshly. “I’m not going to say it again.”

  And the little girl obeyed, but not the way I’d expected. Instead of getting to her feet and wobbling over on unsteady legs, instead she got on her hands and knees and slowly crawled over to where I sat at my desk. Fuck, the sight was fantastic. Her curvy body, slightly flushed, her pale skin covered with a sheen of sweat. Those big boobs, swaying this way and that as she crawled, that huge ass bumping in the air with every movement. I was ready to cream immediately.

  And as if in a trance, the brunette came to a stop before me, right between my parted legs.

  “Yes Mr. Martin,” she breathed, her eyes mesmerized by my dick, mere inches from her face. The tip was running wetly, oozing down my length to soak my balls, my sperm copious and dripping.

  “Lick it,” I ground out.

  And the little girl obeyed. Her pink tongue flickered out and sampled the head of my shaft, lightly tasting the sperm there, caressing my glans. Oh fuck it felt good and I almost ejaculated right then, my balls were so high and tight with repressed need. But I had more in mind for the little girl.

  “Suck it,” I commanded her again.

  And this time the little girl took my shaft in a small hand and delicately placed her pink lips around the tip of my dick, pursing that perfect cupid’s bow, her tongue massaging my tip as her lips applied suction. Fuck, she was wearing some shade of pink lipstick, was that shit going to rub off on my dick? If so, it was going to be the best souvenir ever, I might not wash my dick for a while.

  But I didn’t have a chance to figure it out because like a hungry baby, the girl began to lick my cock everywhere, tracing that delicate pink tongue up the pulsing vein on the bottom, flattening her tongue and taking deep, long strokes against my shaft, stretching the skin on the top of my penis tight and burrowing her tongue in my slit. And fuck if I my fuckpole didn’t start dripping even more, a literal faucet now, the jism running down my shaft like a fountain.

  “Fuck you’re good,” I breathed, my chest heaving, abs painfully tight as the girl worked me. “The innocent looking ones always give the best head.”

  And the girl looked up at me from her knees, smiling slyly.

  “Is that so Mr. Martin? Am I so innocent?” she cooed.

  And I threw my head back and laughed.

  “You’re such a whore and you know it,” I ground out. “You fuck yourselves with sex toys at work, you watch porny videos on your work computer, and look at you now. Blowing your boss on your knees without a stitch of clothing on.”

  And the girl just smiled demurely at me, her pink lips sucking my cock still, wiggling her ass in reply. Oh fuck, it was so good that my hips shifted involuntarily, the tickles of her tongue, the incredible suction of her cheeks so strong, so powerful that I was ready to come in record-breaking time.

  And the girl worked it like a pro. Her cheeks hollowed as she suckled, her little hand going down to squeeze my balls slightly, massage them before wandering further still and stroking my perineum, that sensitive spot between my balls and ass.

  My eyes flew open.

  “Careful there,” I growled. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

  But the girl merely smiled around my penis again and let her fingers stroke backwards all the way to my asshole. With a grunt and a heave, her finger penetrated my back hole, that little digit working its way into my anus.

  “Oh fuck, baby,” I gasped. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  But the girl didn’t let up, instead moving her finger in and out, then in circles before slipping a second finger in as if stretching me out, scissoring her digits to loosen my anal walls. All this time I was groaning in my desk chair, my big body tilted backwards to give her better access, my butt at the edge of the chair, pants down around my ankles as she sucked my dick and massaged my prostate.

  “Fuck you are an expert aren’t you?” I groaned, dark streaks slashed across my cheeks, chest and abs tight. “Fuck, what a butt slut.”

  And the girl merely smiled at me coyly again, her mouth stuffed full with dick, increasing the pressure of her fingers, sucking harder and harder, mixing her strokes with incredible mewling sounds, as if she couldn’t get enough of my dick.

  My balls rose, tightened and I felt the beginning of a geyser erupting deep inside. But before it spurted, I changed course. I roughly grabbed her hair and pulled her head off my cock, the brunette choking and coughing at the surprise, hacking a bit as my penis reappeared from between her lips, slickly wet from a mixture of saliva and cum. Her fingers were still buried in my butt and it was enough to send me off. Like a fucking fountain, I erupted, coating her face in a sticky mixture of jism, my sperm erupting in stream after stream of hot white, spurting into her hair, her eyes, her nose, her mouth, dripping down to the tops of her breasts.

  And like a whore, the girl opened her mouth, holding her tongue out to catch as much as possible, smacking her lips like a dirty slut, almost as if she were bobbing for apples, going in again and again for the good stuff. It was so fucking nasty, so fucking wrong that my orgasm went on for twice as long as usual, unloading every single sperm onto her face and chest, the brunette lapping it up like it was ambrosia, the best stuff on Earth.

  Meanwhile, her finger hadn’t stopped its stroking in my ass. She kept massaging my male g-spot, prolonging the sensation, making my big body writhe and twist in the chair until finally I was utterly spent, every drop drained dry, milked until the tanks were empty. Only then did the brunette pull back, slowly wiping her lips with one hand, blearily blinking through
the mess of cum coating her lashes as she popped her finger out of my ass.

  I expected her to do something dirty sure, like rub that finger on her tits, maybe massage her pussy a little. But she was a winner and instead held it up to her lips, sampling my musky ass taste before sucking it, eyes closing as she enjoyed the taste of a man’s butt.

  “Mmm,” she moaned, incoherent with lust. “Fuck, man meat is good,” she winked at me coyly.

  And just like that, I was diamond-hard again, ready to take, to fuck, to mark this girl all over again.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Tammy

  The next day I showed up at work again, dressed in my second-best outfit. This one was a little less professional, it was a swishy dress in a floral fabric, knee-length with a bodice that hugged my boobs. I put on a pair of high-heeled Mary Janes, the overall effect innocent and sweet with just a bit of saucy.

  Sliding into my cubicle at work, I wondered if anyone noticed. After all, I’d fucked the boss yesterday in his office, my moans loud and hard, my body shaking with lust as explosion after explosion overtook me. But the only person who probably noticed was Jeanette. Not that I wanted her to, there was just no other way since she was basically a sentinel stationed outside his office.

  And yesterday she’d eyed me suspiciously as I’d waltzed out of Mr. Martin’s office with my head high, my cheeks slightly red although I’d done my best to clean up. My dress still had the coffee stain but my skin was scrubbed clean after the facial. I’d slowly wiped off Nick’s jism with a wet towel in the private bathroom, sensuously running the rough terry cloth over my nipples, my lips, stroking my breasts as I cleaned up the last of his semen.

  But the smell was still there. He’d marked me, his semen massaged into my skin and the blonde secretary had a nose like a rabbit, twitching this way and that when I came out of the office, beady eyes fixed on me like I was a petty thief. But I’d taken nothing but her boss’s jizz and it made me feel fantastic inside, proud of my body, my jiggly curves, my ass. Because I’d made an alpha billionaire come hard, had tasted his butt, massaged his balls, done all sorts of dirty acts to him and with him. And how many girls can say the same?

  So I sailed out with my head high, my curls bouncing and a pleasant expression on my face, careful not to give anything away. The blonde secretary just sniffed again and turned back to her monitor, her eyes stealthily following me as I made my way down the hall.

  But today, I wasn’t sure how we were going to work it. Was Mr. Martin going to summon me again? Was I going to parade my pretty ass past Jeanette again, wiggle it in her face, show her that I was the one he wanted? Sure, there was nothing wrong on the surface – Nick could be doing dictation while I took notes, but I dreaded the walk past Jeanette’s station all the same.

  So I sat at my desk, staring at my monitor blankly, on pins and needles waiting for the summons to come. And sure enough, not five minutes in, a message flashed onto my screen.

  You’re late, it read. Come to my office.

  I sat paralyzed for a minute. It was nine fifteen! Did he expect me to keep up my old hours, getting in a seven a.m.? Supposedly headquarters started work at nine, no one was around before then. And was I supposed to just walk in again, slip into his big office and let him fuck me head over heels with Jeanette floating outside, her ear probably pressed to a crack in the door? But a second later, another message pinged into my inbox.

  Use the women’s restroom, it read. There’s a door in the handicap stall.

  Now I was mystified. Was this some kind of secret passage? What the hell? Slowly, I got up from my chair, smoothing my skirt furtively. Of course, no one was paying attention but I sang out, “I’m headed to the restroom” just in case.

  Only silence greeted me. I sat in a dead zone in the office, the other cubes empty for the most part, the nearest person at least thirty feet away.

  So I made my way to the restroom and slowly pushed the swinging door open. The bathroom was empty. It looked like any other restroom, institutional with beige tile, long mirrors, and plain fixtures. I made my way to the back where the handicap stall was and let myself in, slowly latching the door behind me. Hmm, nothing out of order, a toilet, a steel bar for support, a paper dispenser.

  But something caught my eye in the tile of the wall. What looked to be a crack was actually a straight seam, like someone had taken a chisel and carefully hammered out a portion of the wall. I pressed my finger slowly against the tile and gasped as it swung open revealing a dark corridor within.

  Swallowing heavily, I stepped into the passageway. This better not be some kind of trap, I was spooked already, the air inside musty, so dark that I couldn’t see well. There were a few fluorescent lights scattered here and there, but I was going to break my neck hobbling blindly in these high-heeled Mary Janes. Shit.

  Softly shutting the trap door behind me, I began walking forward, assuming that it would take me straight to Mr. Martin’s office. But instead, the corridor went on forever, twisting this way and that, at one point even doubling back. It was like the Labyrinth where the Minotaur lived, and I was a naïve virgin sent in for the sacrifice. I bumped my head a couple times, my hands feeling along the walls as I tiptoed forward, taking step after tentative step.

  But finally a crack of light appeared and the maze came to an end. I pushed against the surface in front of me and it swung open on greased hinges so that I stood in Mr. Martin’s private bathroom. Holy shit! The billionaire had rigged a maze to go straight from the women’s restroom to his office? He was devious and an architectural genius to boot.

  Stepping into the light, I took a deep breath. It was like Dorothy arriving in Oz, suddenly everything was crystal clear, colors bright once more, like I’d arrived into the land of the living. I took a deep breath and smoothed my hair, glancing into the mirror to make sure I looked okay. And as if on cue, a deep chuckle rang out, accompanied by a growl.

  “Come in Tammy,” a deep voice rang through the door. “I’ve been waiting.”

  I slowly made my way into Nick’s office. God, the man only got better and better looking. His black hair was swept off his brow today, his blue eyes gleaming, that massive form draped in an elegant navy suit as he sat carelessly in his chair, fingers steepled under his chin in thought. I blushed for no reason then, his presence making me tingle, my insides rush in pure female delight.

  And a sly grin crossed his face, like the big man could read my body.

  “How was the walk?” he asked softly, his voice caressing.

  “It was okay,” I replied slowly, “Kind of dark, but okay.”

  He frowned then.

  “It’s dangerous with high heels,” he nodded at my Mary Janes. “Not that I don’t appreciate the shoes, they make your legs look fantastic,” he ground out, “but I want you to be safe too. I’ll put in some new lights,” he frowned.

  “Maintenance goes in there?” I asked curiously, a quirk to my chin. “But wouldn’t that be giving up the secret?”

  “No maintenance staff,” he said smoothly, never taking his eyes from my curves, “I do it all myself. Believe it or not I built my real estate empire on sweat equity and my own handiwork. So yeah, I can keep our little secret safe.”

  And that made me cream because I loved, loved the fact that he could swap a lightbulb, fix stuff around the house, probably even re-do the plumbing in a moderately-sized building. Guys who know real shit, who aren’t just paper pushers turn me on, and it seemed that Nick had all the goods, massive wealth, enormous influence, king of an empire as well as the real bona fides to lead a construction and development outfit.

  And our eyes met, practically sizzling with suppressed energy. But the man leaned back, casually handsome still even though I could see a tent forming at his crotch.

  “Did you bring a toy?” he asked, his voice smooth.

  And slowly, I brought my hand out from behind my back, revealing the ten-inch dildo I’d carried with me from my desk. Although the big man hadn
’t given me specific instructions, I wanted to play with him, to explore with an alpha male, to bring out my dirty side again.

  And the big man chuckled when he saw my offering, the rubber life-like and real, huge and obscene in my small hand.

  “You like ‘em big, don’t you?” he rumbled, his eyes sweeping up and down my form. “Good, because you’re small and I’m gonna love working it into you. Get undressed,” he commanded.

  And just like yesterday, I obeyed without question. My floral outfit hit the floor in a New York second and I stood before the big man, curves quivering, cunny running wet.

  “No bra again?” he asked, eyebrows quirked, taking in my big Double Ds, creamy and luscious, the nipples like bullets already.

  “No bra,” I said in a breathy voice. “I find them so confining and uncomfortable.”

  And the big man merely chuckled.

  “Come here,” he commanded. And slowly I made my way over to him until I was standing between his legs. He looked at me closely, studying my white flesh, the blue veins marbling my huge tits, my tiny waist, my little cunt totally visible through sopping panties. But Mr. Martin didn’t say anything. Instead, he bent forward and licked a nipple, laughing as I gasped, a throaty moan emanating from my throat.

  “You like, don’t you little girl?”

  And with that, he began alternately sucking and licking my nips, loving the flesh, trailing his tongue in circles around my tits, laving them with the flat of his tongue.

  “Fuck, I love big boobs and you’re such a slutty slut, yours are the best,” he rasped into my skin. His fingers had found the edge of my panties now and were playing along the lace, tracing the seam between my thigh and pussy until slowly shifting the fabric away, sweeping it aside so that my cunt was bare.

  “Beautiful, just beautiful,” he rasped, breaking from a breast for a moment to stare at my gleaming pussy, a smear of female cream already on my thighs, my clit poking out through my engorged lips.