Fuced on the New Guy's Des

I'm the most experienced member of the team in my office but somehow I always go to pieces every time I speak to the new guy. I can't explain it - I don't even like him! - I just get flustered and clumsy whenever he looks at me. And he knows it.

Last Friday, I had already shut down my computer and was walking towards the door when he called me over. I was on my way to a date and in no mood to deal with him.

"Hey Frieda, come here a second."

Not even a please, as usual.

I should have told him to save it till Monday but got drawn in against my better judgement. He wanted help pulling some data out of a spreadsheet for a presentation but he didn't even seem to know which figures he was looking for. I sighed and texted my date that I'd be half an hour late, then put my phone to one side and tried to help him sort it out. Everything in my carefully-constructed spreadsheet looked wrong and I didn't even know where to start.

"What have you done to the formatting? I told you not to touch anything." I grumbled.

"No it's fine, I've got it written in here somewhere..." He said breezily.

He shoved the contents of the desk aside to accommodate his folder, but as the keyboard jerked backwards it knocked my phone down the hole the cables disappear into. Thanks for that dickhead. I silently rolled my eyes.

Any normal person would have moved back to let me retrieve it without getting uncomfortably close, but he just watched me with the weirdest little smirk on his face. I blushed and quickly ducked under the desk to hide my face, trying to ignore the leg barely a couple of inches from my face. The number of cardboard boxes under there would have given the fire warden a fit, but I could see what looked like the edge of my phone at the back and I decided to let it pass this time. I squeezed myself awkwardly between the two biggest boxes and grabbed for it with my left hand. Not quite - just a little further...

He rolled his chair back and whistled.

"Nice. Do you usually wear stockings to work?"

My heart sank as I tugged my skirt down as best I could with only my right hand, but it was no use. There wasn't enough of it to cover my stocking tops at this angle. Now my face was really burning. I knew this outfit had been a mistake. No-one wears black Bettie Paige pumps to the office. I must look like such a tart.

"No! I mean, I'm going on a date later. Not that it's any of your business. In fact, I'm already late so I'd better get going."

I started to wriggle back out but suddenly he was out of his chair and kneeling behind me, gripping my ankles hard.

"You're not going anywhere."

"What?" I replied, weakly.

A long moment passed while I tried to work out what to do. Everyone else had left an hour ago - there was no-one left in the building to help me even if I shouted. I tried to turn around but just banged my head on the underside of the desk. I felt oddly lightheaded.

He shifted my ankles so that they were crossed, held in place with one hand. Which meant his other hand was...where?

"What are you doing?" I asked tentatively.

"Nothing you don't want."

Stunned into silence, I just sort of waited to see what he did next. His fingers started to slowly - very slowly - trace a path up the outside of my leg, only the thinnest layer of nylon separating his flesh from mine.

He wasn't wrong. My body was responding to this more than it had to any of the (many) dates I'd been on lately. As he reached the soft skin at the back of my knee he switched over to the inside of my thigh. I closed my eyes. I breathed in sharply when his fingers moved from nylon to stocking top to soft bare flesh. But at the very last moment he pulled his hand away. I involuntarily made a small surprised sound and he sat back and laughed.

Surely he wasn't going to just tease me and leave me like this? Was this all just to embarrass me?

No. I felt him grab the hem of my dress and push it up around my waist. He didn't say anything, but I knew he had a clear view of my lacy knickers. He grabbed one side of my ass and squeezed. My blood ran a little warmer. He squeezed harder. And harder. And then REALLY hard, digging in his nails.

"Ouch!"

I tried to catch his eye over my shoulder but there wasn't enough wiggle room. Without warning he gave my ass an almighty SLAP.

That really made me yelp - there would definitely be a bruise there tomorrow.

"Why are you...?"

But before I could finish my sentence he brushed his hand across to exactly where I wanted it and all my urge to protest evaporated. He rubbed his fingers up and down and inside with the perfect amount of pressure and rhythm. It didn't take long. I gripped the cardboard box beneath me and let out a long cry.

He stopped moving his hand, but didn't take it away. After a minute I had caught my breath and he began to make the tiniest back-and-forth motions. Once he was sure the over-sensitiveness had worn off he made the movements bigger and I moved in time with them.

The hottest thing in the world has to be the sound of a man undoing his belt and zipper.

He finally released my ankles and I spread them wide apart invitingly, arching my back. I was well past the point where I felt any shred of shame or self-consciousness and just needed to be fucked. But to my horror, he grabbed hold of my dress and pulled me out from under the desk. Honestly, I almost cried.

He sat back into his office chair, laced the fingers of both hands through my hair and guided my head onto his hard cock. Now, I love giving head, but right at that moment he knew damn well I was in the mood for something else. I tried to lift my head to tell him what I wanted but before I could speak he just pushed it down again, so my mouth was full. Well - I guess I knew what I needed to do. I tried looking up occasionally and making eye contact but he just smiled and carried on.

Just as I was starting to lose hope he grabbed me by the upper arms and turned me round, pushing me face down onto the desk. Right on top of the damned folder that started all of this. In one smooth movement he hooked his thumbs into the sides of my knickers and pulled them down to the floor, and I stepped out. He lifted one of my legs up onto the desk for better access. I could hear myself panting. Every nerve ending inside me lit up as he pushed himself in up to the hilt. He fucked me so hard that it took all my effort to keep my balance on the edge of the desk, and he was hitting all the right spots inside me. For a minute I forgot where I was and let him know vocally how much I was enjoying myself, not thinking about whether the security guard might be able to hear me from the front desk. That was apparently too much for him, and he gripped me hard by the sides of my hips. He let out one loud grunt and then I felt him relax and pause for a moment.

He stepped back and I heard him zip himself back up.

"See you on Monday."

He walked out without looking back, leaving me dishevelled and speechless on the desk.