It was impossible to concentrate on work after my first real
humiliating experience with Steve in the shed this morning. I
spent much of the morning daydreaming about what I’d done; about
his large, sturdy cock and what it felt like in my hands;
how my hands seemed small in comparison to the size of it; how
my fingers, as long and slender as they are, could scarcely wrap
even half way around it. I though about the smoothness of its
tip lightly kissed against my lips; the sharp saltiness of the
clear fluid which seeped from it; the unusual hard-soft
sensation of the swollen cock-end packed in my mouth; the way it
seemed to press out in all directions in my mouth, immobilizing
my tongue under its heavy weight. I spent the morning after this
wanting to retrieve the large black dildo from my handbag to
practice sucking on it.
The dildo’s length was much the same as Steve; a little longer
perhaps, but Steve’s cock was considerably thicker. And it was
far more solid than the dildo, which was made of a strange sort
of jelly-like latex which tended to buckle when pressed against
any resistance; like my tiny, tight anus. I fantasized about
Steve taking me anally. It was a fearful thought but it was
strangely arousing at the same time. Compelling. With a lot of
lube, patience and gentle persistence I discovered my ass could
accommodate the full length of the dildo. But it was a painful
struggle nonetheless and I seriously doubted I could withstand
an onslaught back there of Steve’s cock no matter how slick with
oil he was. His cock was truly awe-inspiring in the way it
commanded a sense of power over me.
All of these thoughts had been swirling around in my head all
morning, distracting me from the usual monotony of my job. By
mid-morning my nostrils had begun to tingle and twitch from the
odor now noticably wafting up from my shoe; my toes by this
stage feeling cold, clammy and wrinkled like prunes from sitting
in Steve’s jism for so long. By mid-morning I realized much of
the smell in my office was also coming from me; from my loins
which were hot and dampened by the surreal fantasies playing out
in my head.
Steve wandered into the library sometime just after noon. I
could see him approaching my office, making a beeline towards
me. I pretended not to see him coming and waited until he was
standing in front of my desk before looking up. I clamped my
knees together under my desk and gently bit my lower lip, unsure
of what to say to him. He was as garrulous as ever, laughing and
talking at me the way he usually did. I just sat there staring
blankly back at him, not comprehending a single thing he was
saying.
Eventually he seemed to wind down, occasionally looking over his
shoulder back out of my office as if to see whether anybody
might be close enough to hear what he was about to say. Seeing
nobody he sat himself on the edge of my desk, leaned close to me
and, in a conspiratorial tone whispered “if you’re not back down
in my office by 1pm, I’ll tell Jeff all about you and our little
secret…”
I had planned to be there anyway but the sound of his thinly
veiled threat made me feel more urgent about being on time. He
went on to demand I immediately surrender my underwear to him. A
rock-hard ball of nervousness momentarily blocked my throat. I
glanced past him to the main room of the library outside my
door. The room was deserted except for my assistant, David, who
I caught a glimpse of between the shelves at the far end of the
room. He was too far away and mostly hidden behind the stacks of
books to see what I was about to do. I reached up under my
skirt, hitched my thumbs into the elastic waistband of my cotton
briefs and quickly wriggled free of them. My skirt even though it was
a conservatively cut knee-length made no difference to the way I
suddenly felt: nude beneath it.
My bra proved troublesome to remove without first unbuttoning
most of my blouse so I could reach in, unhitch the small hasp
between my breasts, and then contort my arms in an almost
spastic position to slip the bra straps off each elbow and pull
it free through the arm hole of my blouse. It seemed an
afterthought to Steve, but he asked for my shoes as well. My
feet felt strange out side of them; I felt a peculiar sense of
liberation to be wearing nothing but my navy skirt and white
cotton blouse. I could already feel juices leaking from my pussy
as I watched Steve disappear silently from my office, taking my
underwear and shoes with him.