JILL'S CHRISTMAS GIFT
Frank was her boss for a few months. Jill was a good professional secretary and her looks were a distinct advantage to Frank, whose clients were only too pleased to look her up and down as she served them coffee in his office, admiring her slender figure and shapely legs. Her smile even suggested a promised intimacy they could only dream about. They told Frank what a lucky guy he was!
And certainly, Jill was a very attractive lady of thirty years. With straight, glossy shoulder-length dark copper-colored hair, she looked at least ten years younger, with clear unblemished skin. With white even teeth and full lips, she looked for all the world like a film starlet – a young Audrey Hepburn perhaps. She was of average height, but with a narrow waist, not too full in the hips, having a superbly shaped bottom! It showed at its cheeky best when she walked from the hip, with upright bearing, head held high.
Her breasts complemented her bottom in size and shape, self-supporting perfection, with coral-colored areola, tipped with rose-colored cone shaped nipples, which would swell to considerable proportions when aroused – which they often were. A ring of goose pimples surrounded the nipple. Not that Frank had seen them. Only wished he had!
When she looked at her naked body in the mirror, Jill would run her hands over her shoulders, breasts, belly, resting on her furry friend. She was proud of her body, touching her clitoris lightly with her middle finger, feeling it throb slightly, sending a mild shudder through her loins. Between her thighs, her plump vulva with the inner labia pushing out, her long legs, perfectly shaped with narrow ankles, completed the picture. No wrinkles on her body anywhere. Firm, smooth skin. No sign of her having had two children. Yes! She was very proud of her body – with every reason. It was perfect. Well, she thought so.
Wherever Jill went, men turned their heads. She was the envy of all her friends, and the center of attention of their husbands. All wanted to take care of her, to father her. Which really meant that they wanted to make love to her. Jill was aware of this, of course. It made her feel good to be admired for her looks.
In spite of her beauty, to look at Jill, you wouldn't think butter would melt in her mouth. She was the ultimate in child-like innocence. Her soft smile, her blue shining trusting eyes, all added to her appearance of vulnerability. Which is, of course, what the men found most attractive about her. If she caught them looking at her with lust in their eyes, one of her tricks was to cock her head slightly to one side, smile sweetly at them with a look of sympathy, as if to say 'Sorry! I know you're dying to fuck me – but I'm not available.'
Her innocent face belied her sexual appetite, however, and her experience of men. Men of her choice of course. If only her admirers knew how much she adored the penis – the feel of it in the palm of her hand, the penetration her most secret treasure – they would have been less reticent at chatting her up. She too would give a furtive glance at them and fantasize about what lurked behind the flies of their trousers. She had a vivid imagination.
Of all the perfect parts of her body, Jill believed that none were more so than her vulva. She knew every wrinkle of it. She studied it in a mirror quite often, whilst grooming it. She admired the soft pubic hair, it's coppery, silky curls, covering the pronounced mons, which hardened noticeably when aroused, before encasing the entire vulva in its silken web. Some wisps of hair were allowed to stray into the inner thigh on both sides. Other stray wisps were plucked to keep the shape neat and tidy.
The outer labia were plump and full, whilst the inner lips, rather darker in color, draped from the tip of the vulva, as though hanging from the sensitive clitoris, before their folds reached their fleshy thickness on either side of the entrance to her rose-pink vagina, then joining together again at the base of the vulva. The overall effect was of an appealing entrance to her sensitive passage of delight, held in place by a golden web of beauty. The flesh of the inner labia was of a lightly marbled texture, which swelled up when aroused, to become smoother. The puckered vagina itself was set a little higher than usual for an English lady, making it that bit more accessible to a visiting penis, of which there had been quite a few afforded that privilege.
Being the keeper of such a perfect piece of feminine mystery, it's not surprising that Jill treasured it. It was the very center, the core of her physical being, besides the focal point of her emotional being. She was always aware of its existence. It was ever present in her mind. As she grew older, it ruled her life more and more. It was her furry friend. Her constant companion.
As usual in any office environment, of course, sexual innuendo was rife, with the men lusting after the secretaries – and vice versa in some cases. It was soon made clear to Jill that her boss was hungry for her. He couldn't take his eyes off her when they were in the same room. And when the rest of the staff realized this, they backed away from her, leaving the field clear for Frank. He was a handsome, distinguished-looking man in his early forties. Tall, clean-shaven, well dressed. Jill was perplexed. She wondered why her boss fancied her, when his wife was an elegant lady with looks and style - most men's idea of a perfect sex partner.
For some reason, Jill was used by her friends as a shoulder to cry on. Sympathetic and quietly encouraging. It was quite amazing the personal secrets people would confide in her. And not just her lady friends. Their husbands also told her rather embarrassing secrets. Of course, she was completely discreet!
It was during one of those intimate conversations sitting across from him at his desk, in which Frank was feeling rather maudlin after a few lunch time whiskeys, that he unburdened his troubles with her. It came as a surprise to Jill to hear that he was not getting his conjugal rights at home. Sleeping in twin beds kept the married couple apart and, he confessed in an unguarded moment - or perhaps in a more calculated moment - that his wife had repelled his sexual advances time and again, until he felt that there was no purpose in trying any more.
His wife Jacqueline had never shown much interest in sex, even before marriage. And, to be fair, Frank was only too eager to be allowed to fuck her gorgeous slender body. He didn't make love to it - he fucked it. Jacqueline (never Jackie!) would lie there between her sheets, with her legs apart, knees bent, looking at the dark ceiling, thinking of her next shopping expedition, whilst Frank humped and grunted over her until had discharged into his condom. She never reciprocated. She had married him for his money and his prospects, as they say. Not for his cock. After he climbed off her to dispose of the condom and climb into his own bed, she would turn on her side and go to sleep.
'She finds sex repulsive and nauseating,' he confided to Jill. 'She pampers her own body, soaking in the bath for ages. I'm sure she masturbates for her own pleasure – as I have to for mine.' He smiled ruefully.
He wasn't aware that his wife had found another lover. An equally elegant, sophisticated lady. They were wildly in love with each other, finding every opportunity to lie naked together and make love to each other's beautiful body. After that, Frank never got a look in.
Jill, it must be said, was rather taken aback at Frank's openness. Most men would consider it a failing on their part to be denied sex with their wife. But not Frank. So Jill decided to offer him some rather obvious advice. 'You should find yourself a mistress,' she told him with a smile. 'Someone to love you and take of your needs.'
He looked at her. 'How are you fixed?' he responded hopefully.
