**Note to the reader: this is my first story for Literotica, but I’ve already developed a bit of a thing for this character. If you would also like to see more of Morgan, then PLEASE encourage a tentative author (me) with a bit of feedback or some suggestions for future adventures – or even vote for the story.**
It hadn’t been the best of days at the office.
Morgan couldn’t blame Mary-Anne for trying to get her fired. Last month she’d walked in on Morgan getting it doggy-style over the photocopier from a certain courier boy who just happened to be engaged to the bottle-blonde receptionist.
This time the little airhead had gone too far though - she'd caught Mary-Anne fucking with next-week's presentation, and when she'd checked it out there had been a huge chunk missing from it. She'd have to work all weekend to replace the chapter, and she had a date with Matt that would have to be cancelled.
That creep Tony had grabbed her arse twice today – and he definitely wasn’t paying her enough to touch her at all. There wasn’t much she could do about it though.
And to top it all off, the air conditioning had died mid-afternoon, so by the time Morgan got home she was hardly in the best of moods.
The tension and frustration of the day was simmering in her veins, and the result was a sexual heat so strong that she was shivering.
Had the desperate need to relieve her aching not been so blinding, Morgan might have noticed that the curtains were already drawn and the lights on in her home, but she was in too much of a hurry.
Her white satin blouse clung to skin dampened by the humidity of her office, and as she strode purposely through her living room, her small breasts bounced and swayed beneath it. Dark amber nipples pressed against the once-opaque fabric.
She yanked at the zip to her knee-length pencil skirt, and it sank in a pool of green cotton that contrasted with the cream of the hallway carpet.
Morgan flung open her bedroom door, not thinking of the fact she hadn’t closed it that morning, and reached her bed with a moan. The slightly ajar closet door also escaped her attention, despite the contrast to the rest of her carefully arranged spotlessness.
Her breath coming in gasps, Morgan flung herself onto her navy bedspread. She knelt up, and dipped her fingers between her legs. The lace there was so hot and wet that it was darkened. She slipped her hand beneath the white thong, and she moaned as her other hand found her left breast through the damp satin of her blouse.
She brushed her thumb over her nipple, her small tight breast fitting snugly in her hand. She dropped her head back with a slight moan, exposing her creamy white throat, and her long red hair cascaded down her back. Her green eyes were closed in pleasure, her pale pink lips parted.
Morgan let her middle finger slide into her slit, skimming across her swollen bud. Her breath came in hot whimpering gasps as she slowly pressed one, then two fingers into herself. She flicked her clit quickly with the side of her thumb and moved her fingers in excruciatingly slow circles, and a sharp cry escaped her lips.
Morgan dropped back onto the bed and slid her wet thong off. She reached under a pillow for her vibrator, then pushed herself up against the headboard of the four-poster, and brought her parted knees up til they pressed against her breasts.
