by Bridy McAvoy
“Okay.” She rose to her feet and disappeared toward the downstairs toilet. I checked the clock—it was already eleven, and I had to think about work tomorrow. Still, there was obviously a lot of her story still to go, and even if I didn’t want to hear it, I had to.
While she was out of the room, my mind drifted back to that moment in my car, where I’d believed it was her first time to blow a guy.
“You don’t have to do this, Sam.”
“I know.”
Her hand was wrapped around my cock, stroking it slowly. She’d done this several times in the last few weeks, and each time she’d bene quick enough to catch my spunk in a wad of tissues she held in her other hand. Her blouse was unbuttoned, her bra unclasped, and my hand was rubbing a nipple as she bent forward so her head was only inches from my cock.
“Sam, sweetheart, not unless you’re ready.”
She turned her head and looked up at me, smiling. “I’m ready, honey, I know I’m ready. Just warn me before you squirt. I don’t want to be spitting it up all over you and the car.”
“Okay.”
That was supposed to be the biggest lie in the book, but I meant it, I really did, as she turned her head back down toward my cock and inched closer to it.
Her hand slowed, but I could feel her fingers trembling. She’d twisted round in the car, so I couldn’t reach her breasts any more—but I could reach her ass, hitherto forbidden territory unless we were dancing. On the dance floor a little rubbing was allowed, but away from that situation, nada. My hand dropped to her ass where she had knelt up onto the seat in order to get her face close to my dick. She was close—I could feel her breathing on it. I knew she was studying it, drinking in every vein, and every detail in the half-light inside the car. She flinched as I cupped one butt cheek with my hand, but she didn’t say anything, didn’t object. I’d breached another barrier.
One thing about Sam—when she let me pass one barrier she never, ever, re-erected it. Her ass was now fair game for me, and so, in a moment, would her mouth.
Her tongue flicked out, licking the tip of my cock, tasting me. I felt her tremble become a shudder then she seemed to calm down. Even the trembling stopped. The touch of her tongue had been electric, but when she leaned forward and engulfed the top inch of my cock inside her mouth, I almost jumped off the seat.
My hand clutched her right cheek in a spasm, squeezing it until she grunted and lifted off me.
“Not so hard, honey. Not so hard.”
“Sorry. I was just enjoying what you were doing.”
“Oh, you like it?”
“Oh, yeah.”
I hadn’t been a virgin when I met her, and a couple of my high school dates had blown me. In the weeks before we met I’d had a lot of contact with college girls, several of whom loved to give head. With Samantha, though, it felt different. After all, it wasn’t our first date, we’d been going out for ten months at that point.
I stopped thinking after that as she did it again, this time sealing her lips around the head and sucking on me. I wasn’t going to last long, couldn’t—didn’t. I slapped the top of her head with my free hand.
“I’m gonna cum!”
Quick as a flash she lifted her head off and used the tissues she held wadded up ready in her hand to catch it as I shook and jerked through an orgasm.
Three weeks later she swallowed for the first time. Two weeks later she took me into her throat. That had been the day I’d seen her fully naked for the first time. Two weeks after that, on the anniversary of our first date, I’d proposed and she’d accepted. Three weeks later I’d popped her cherry, or so I’d thought.
Sammie sat down opposite me again, and interrupted my reverie. “Shall I continue?”
“Is there more to tell?”
She nodded. I was surprised to find my voice had softened during the break. I could see Samantha had noticed the change too and, for a brief moment, hope flared in her eyes, but just as quickly died. I didn’t need a roadmap to know her next confession was going to be even more painful than the previous one—for both of us.
* * * *
One Wednesday, about four weeks after I’d swallowed his load for the first time, he came up to me just before closing.
“You’ve been holding out on me, Sammie.”
“Oh. How, Mister Bryant?”
His voice had been playful so I’d guessed he was talking about tomorrow rather than something work related.
“You told me you bought two sets of white lace underwear a couple of months ago, and I’ve only seen one set. Isn’t the second set thinner?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Wear it tomorrow, with a thin blouse and a mini-skirt.”
“But…”
He didn’t answer, walking away before I had chance to protest.
Of course, that left me in a bit of a quandary but, as I left that night, I saw he’d put a hand-written sign up at the door. Library closed for stock-taking and re-organization. Obviously the old lecher wanted more than a couple of hours of my time tomorrow. There was no stock-taking or re-organization taking place. I’d have known about that. After all, most of the work would have been my job, not his.
As a result, when I went into work the following day I’d worn my tightest, shortest black mini-skirt and my thinnest white blouse. The blouse was one I only ever wore with a camisole underneath as well as a bra. Today, though, I wore the very thin underwear set he’d asked for. The white garters held up nude stockings but, just in case, I had a white pair in my purse. On the back seat I had a bag with a spare, thicker, blouse, just in case. Standing in front of the mirror I could clearly see my nipples through the two thin layers of fabric covering them. When I hitched my skirt up I could see almost every detail of my slit as well. That was getting worse, because I was already getting wet, my lips puffing up and becoming even more prominent.
I was scared shitless as I drove to work, sure that everyone could see how little I was wearing, and knowing everyone one would be calling me a slut for dressing so provocatively. It was a good job the car windows were tinted! I was in one heck of a state by the time I got to work—a heady mixture of arousal and embarrassment. I’m not sure which one was winning—it was a close race.
I opened the library, cancelled the alarm, then opened the blinds, locking the door behind me. There was a note on my desk.
I’ll be slightly late, keep the blinds closed.
I hurried back to the door and closed the blinds again, then sat at my desk, fired up the computer, checked my e-mail, and did a few admin jobs while I waited. It was a bit spooky being there all alone like that, knowing that at any moment my boss would walk through the door and make outrageous sexual demands of me. He had the whole day to play with me. I wondered how many times I’d swallow his cum, and how many times he’d eat me to orgasm. How much of the time would I spend exposed? Some of it? All of it?
I was in a state of sexual fever. The anticipation was driving me to the edge of reason and a couple of times I had to forcibly pull my hand from between my legs to stop myself from masturbating. I was pretty sure what he planned, but I couldn’t be certain it wasn’t some kind of snap audit from state—but there again, he’d asked me to dress so outrageously.
I heard his key turn in the lock and a moment later he walked in and, turning, locked the door behind him. That meant there was just the two of us, and I guess I was relieved more than anything.
“Good morning, Samantha.”
“Good morning, Mister Bryant.”
He walked toward me, his eyes raking over my chest, drinking in my exposure. “You look very nice, today, Samantha. Very nice. Tell me, were you dressed like that as you drove from home?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you didn’t cover up with a jacket?”
I shook my head.
He smiled. “Good. Still, as nice as you look to me, you’re still a trifle overdressed.”
I couldn’t suppress the shudder. He’d closed th
e library on a whim, there was no re-organization. I’d been right, he wanted more than a couple of hours alone with me.
“I see you’re wearing different underwear. Is that the set I asked you to wear?”
“Yes, yes it is.”
I was trembling but I didn’t know why. I guess it was the idea of being naked for something like seven hours, rather than the more usual couple of hours.
“Lose the blouse, Samantha. Show me your tits.”
My breath caught. He hadn’t had to threaten me with dismissal for weeks. Everything he’d asked for, I’d done willingly. As a result, his instructions had become polite, his words circumspect. Now, he was using far cruder language. I realized now he was trying to shake me out of my complacency about our relationship; the relationship he was moving onto another level. At the time, though, it was simply shocking.
Despite that sudden shock, one that had doused my building desire, I still did as he said. I rose to my feet behind my desk and, right there where I booked customers’ books in and out of the library, I removed my thin blouse, revealing the even thinner bra. My nipples, already hard inside the thin mesh of the cups, hardened further. He beckoned me to step from behind my desk, then turned me round so he could sit on it with me standing in front of it.
“Very nice, Samantha. Very nice. Are the panties as thin?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Show me, Samantha. Lose the skirt. Show me your slit.”
He could have been cruder—he didn’t use the ‘c’ word—but held it back. Wordlessly, I did as he asked, undoing the button and zip on the skirt then wiggling it down over my hips, letting it fall.
“Very nice indeed. Pity you’re wearing nude hose. You’d look fabulous in white stockings.”
“I have a pair in my purse.”
“Good girl, prepared. You can change into them shortly. For now though…” He gestured toward his crutch and I knew he wanted to start the day off with a blow-job. I glanced at the clock. Five to nine. It wasn’t even officially the start of the work day and I was already half naked and about to let him cum in my mouth. Somehow, I knew the day was going to be a very long one.
As always, with the first blow job of the day, he didn’t take long. I’d only just worked him into my throat, something that was still quite new to me, and I was tentative about it, when he blasted his load straight down my throat. I sucked him clean as he softened then straightened up again.
He smiled at me. “Good job, baby, good job. Now, why don’t you retrieve those stockings and sit here on your desk and change into them for me.”
I guess his compliment made me bask in his approval a little. I didn’t hesitate, simply changed my stockings for the white ones right there in the middle of the main body of the library. A few minutes later he made me gather up my clothes and stash them out of sight behind my desk, then parade up and down the stacks again, in just my very see-through underwear. If anything, I was disappointed. He hadn’t eaten me out at all, but he had plans—he just wasn’t sharing them with me.
It was now nine-thirty, and he’d had a half hour of recovery time. He smiled at me from where he was sitting at my desk as I walked around the library. “Why don’t you make us both a cup of coffee and bring them through to my office, Sammie. There’s a sweetie.”
I guess I was muttering to myself as I made the coffee. I was annoyed. He’d cum but I hadn’t and the frustration was building. When I walked into his office carrying the two cups I found, he’d used the time quite well. His desk was clear, even the phone was now on the floor, and I could see from the blinking red light that everything was switched through to the answer phone. The chairs had been moved too, the two armless visitor chairs nearly touching each other in the center of the room, while the one with arms had been shoved to the wall out of the way. His chair was pushed back away from the desk too, and he walked over to me, smiling. I could see the smile didn’t reach his eyes—they were dark.
To be honest, the only thought in my mind was, finally—now I was going to get off as well. The frustration evaporated.
“Keep hold of the coffees, baby, don’t spill any.”
“Why, what are you going to do?”
He just chuckled and, walking round behind me, pressed himself against my back as his hands came round and cupped my breasts. I concentrated on holding the two mugs in front of me. I didn’t want to spill them, especially with so much of my naked flesh in the potential target zone. Even though the coffee effectively froze me on the spot—his obvious intention—I couldn’t prevent the gurgled moan that rose in my throat. He chuckled again, then started to massage my breasts. After a minute or so his fingers dug into the cups of my bra, found my nipples and started pulling and twisting them. I was already hot, but this never failed to get me hotter. I didn’t like my nipples getting too much attention but Mr. Bryant had become an expert at applying just the right amount of pressure on the sensitive little pebbles.
My legs started to feel weak—his fondling of my breasts were having a huge effect on me. I could see the ripples on the surface of the coffee in the mugs. I didn’t think I’d be able to take much more of this without dropping them.
“Please…”
“Please what, baby?”
“Please, stop for a moment… Let me put the coffee down.”
“Only if you let me do one more thing.”
He tweaked my nipples exceptionally hard and I gasped as my knees started to buckle.
“Anything, baby?”
I gave in. there was no point in fighting him over this and I really needed to put the coffee down so I could allow my body to react. I wanted to cum, I really wanted to cum. “Anything.”
He let go and I panted for air as he stepped back slightly. I’d known he was hard again, I’d felt the way he was pressed against my butt. I could hear him moving behind me, some rustling of clothing, but I didn’t hear him draw his zipper down, so I guessed he was taking his jacket off. He wasn’t.
“Close your eyes, Sammie. Close your eyes.”
I felt something soft slither over the top of my head then settle around my eyes. Opening them, I couldn’t see, and I realized he hadn’t been taking his jacket off, he’d been taking his tie off, and he was now tying that in a tight knot behind my head, below my pony-tail, as a makeshift blindfold. Makeshift? It was effective, I couldn’t see a thing. I moaned in apprehension, but the fear was overlaid with the desire that he’d stoked within me.
“Stand still, baby, I’m not going to hurt you, not really.” His hands returned to my chest, fondling my breasts, tweaking my nipples again, stoking the fire deep inside me once more. He stopped after a minute or so, and I felt him move round in front of me. The weight of the coffee mugs lessened as he took hold of them.
“Let go, now, Sammie, and stand still. I’ve got them.”
As he walked away—I assumed toward his desk—I allowed my arms to drop to my sides in relief. I didn’t try and remove the blindfold—I don’t know why, other than the fact he hadn’t said I could. I guess I was now totally under his spell.
A moment later he grabbed my hands and, lifting them in front of me, led me one small step at a time round the two chairs until I reached his desk. He turned me round until I felt the lip of the desk against my ass, then he put his hands to my waist and boosted me up and back so I was sitting there. His palms pressed against my inner thighs, getting me to spread my legs to allow him in closer, then he guided me back until I was lying down, the smooth maroon leather cool against my back.
This was a situation altogether more familiar to me. He’d laid me on his desk to eat me to orgasms many times before. This time, though, there was the blindfold, but I didn’t let it faze me. I was going to get what I wanted, the blessed relief of a cum. There was another difference, though, one I didn’t understand had any significance. My butt was right at the edge of the desk, with nothing to support my feet.
The positioning of the chairs now became obvious as I felt him drag o
ne up to one side of me and lift my left foot onto it. Then he repeated the same thing on my other side. My feet were now on the chairs, my legs splayed wide apart, my knees up, rotating my hips so my pussy was in perfect eating position, right at the edge of the desk.
He pulled my panties to the side and I lay back and luxuriated in the feeling of his familiar tongue as it lashed up and down the length of my slit. He, of course, paid special attention to my clit, teasing it to full hardness. Within three or four minutes I was thrusting my hips up into his face, using the chairs as leverage for my legs. A minute later I was screaming as the orgasm carried me away. He let me pant for a few seconds then leaned forward across my very wet loins and removed his tie from my face so I could look into his eyes. I could see his face was wet and shining from my juices.
“Did you enjoy that, baby?”
I smiled and nodded, still feeling my pussy slit pulsing as I came down from the high.
“Good, now for round two.”
He returned to what he’d been doing, eating me, and within five minutes I was threshing around in the throes of another orgasm.
This time, though, when I came down, something felt different. I could see him standing between my legs, very close to me, very, very close. I could feel something touching my outer lips, something hard and hot, something that was familiar, but not in that position. It didn’t belong there, had never been there before. I could see his hands holding my waist. Realization dawned. What I could feel was his cock. He was about to fuck me! Somebody was about to fuck me for the very first time. That somebody was my boss.
Panic flared, but he’d timed it perfectly, the last vestiges of my orgasm were still rolling through my system. The two emotions warred within me as I scrambled up onto my elbows, my face a mask of shock.
“Ssh…baby, it’s time, past time in fact. Why do you think I got you on the pill?”
He pushed forward, and for the first time I felt a cock press between my outer lips. The feeling was different, but not in any way unpleasant, and my head fell back as I moaned. Already I could feel another orgasm building. He gripped my waist, holding my body still as he pushed a little further, his cock parting my lips and entering my pussy. I could feel myself stretching around him, and he kept his movements slow, even gentle, as he pushed toward that final barrier.