I'm on probation in an ad firm, an assistant to its directors, Charlie and Sarah. Charlie is 28, married, 6'4", lean and tanned, strong chin, cute smile, with hair like Hugh Grant's. The minute I laid my eyes on him, I just wanted to fuck his brains out. And that was before I saw him in jeans that stretched tight over the above-average bulge between his legs.
Oh, I'm Honey, single, 36DD-24-36, 24 years old, raven haired, with bee-stung lips and a mouth that's, as one professor said, made for sucking cock. My dancing eyes, pert nose and full lips produce, well, a heady effect on men. I developed an insatiable fuck-appetite at 16, when another cheerleader and I agreed to be broken in by half the soccer team one night. That first experience makes for my bent for getting it hard in all orifices, and for girls too. My libido is so bad that I frig my clit 8 or 10 times a day without fail. Evenings are a different matter -- rarely do I need to masturbate at night since I always have a fuck lined up. Thus, I am always on the look-out for potential lovers, and the more difficult the target, the more my juices flow. I'm always prepared for exposure, my standard dainties being silk suspenders, white lace thongs which just about cover my shaved pussy slit and leave my ass bare, and white lace bras with cups so low that they reveal the beginnings of my aureolas. Yeah, these too are not of the garden variety: they are large and pink-brown, tipped with longish nipples, and the contrast against my fair skin sends guys and gals wild.
It was Charlie who interviewed and hired me. I was wearing a powder pink blouse and a tan short skirt that day. When I roved my eyes over him, my nipples hardened and threatened to pop out over the low bra-cups. Of course he noticed, for even as he'd opened the door, his eyes had latched on to my titty-mountains. However, as the days went by, I came to realise that hubby Charlie was too pussy-whipped to stray. He was always friendly and polite, and stealing longing looks at my boobs -- but that's about all. Which is why my #1 priority in life had become to get him where I wanted -- into my wet cunt.
To tell you the truth, I was making life very hard for Charlie, excuse the pun. See, though I sat in his cabin's reception area, my desk was bang opposite his. When the door to his office was open, as it almost always was, we could see each other. Whenever I felt he was looking, I'd pretend to be busy writing, and let my thighs part and flash him my lace-covered cunny. Then I'd "unconsciously" reach down to my knees with my left hand and scratch at a spot on the inside of my thigh. This made my skirt ride higher and Charlie could see my pussy lips where the narrow, flimsy gosset slid into my shaved, moist slit. And did I yell you, I have the chubbiest mound ever, with fat, glistening lips begging to be chewed. Knowing that he was staring at my damp core would me turn on more, and sure enough, Charlie would soon call me in for some work. When I went to him, I always opened a button or two of my top: I didn't even have to lean forward or anything -- his eyes would always be hungrily at the swollen tops of my boobies. But, he never made a move. Which was frustrating me to no end. I don't really like doing it all alone in the ladies' loo...
One day, I got the chance. It was evening, everybody in the office had already left, and Charlie had to stay back to finish a project. Of course, I also stayed back late. I gave him an hour or so to work and then made my move. I reached inside my blouse and pulled my breasts up till my nipples just peeked over the top of the bra. I poured a 7-Up in two glasses and carried them in...
"You need a break, Charlie. Split a soda with me and take five."
Charlie glanced at me and I could see the effect that my nipples poking through the sheer white silk blouse were having on him. I knew he could see their darkness through the white fabric. No matter how much a man tries, he can never hide the lust that leaps into his eyes... My cunt began to ooze. I handed him a glass and sat down.
"What are you working on? Can I see?"
"Sure", he said.
I went around to the side of his desk, put down my soda and leaned over, giving him a good palooza of my double-Ds. I breathed hard through my nostrils, each breath inflating my breasts and accentuating their rise and fall. As if unconsciously, and for a mere moment, I fingered a spot in my cleavage, just where the swell of my left breast began. I could see from the corner of my eye that Charlie's mouth hung open. He licked his lips as he stared at my exposed flesh. I straightened and picked up my drink. Just as I knew, Charlie was so flustered (I'm sure he was well into an aching boner), that he busied himself with arranging his papers...
I didn't waste a second: Before he could look up, I splashed the soda over the front of my blouse and yelped, "Oh shit, now I'm done for. I didn't even bring a jacket today!"
The wet silk clung to my skin, dipping into the deep valley between my twin mounds, revealing their swollen contours and the details of my now rock-hard nipples. I made like I was brushing off the liquid with my palms. But I did it slowly, over and over again, fluttering over the transparent cloth sticking to my voluptuous front. Charlie's eyes glassed over as he watched me touch my breasts and nipples.
I didn't give him time to think: "Charlie, do you mind if I dry it on the air-vent?"
"N-n-no."
I went to the vent near his window, drew the curtain close, quickly removed my blouse and lay it on the vent. Then I turned around and swayed back, making sure that my tits jiggled with each step. His eyes were rivetted on them and his breath was short. As I got close to Charlie, I looked down and said, "Oh dear. This is a bad bra," and slowly, deliberately, pulled the edges of each cup forward and adjusted my nipples to just under the lacy tops.
Charlie now had the Tower of Eiffel in his pants. I pretended not to notice.
