The Kinky Secretary

There is a secretary at work that is somewhat of a
‘shared girl’, meaning that her secretarial services are
split, or shared, between a couple of offices at my end
of the building. She is probably almost 10 or 15 years
older than me, making her to be about in her mid to late
50’s. Her name is Amy.

Amy takes very good care of herself. She is always
eating right, at least at work, and drinking water. She
always talks about going to the gym before work at some
insane hour like 4:30 or something of that nature. A
time of day when any less fanatical person would be
sawing logs, not putting in miles on an elliptical
machine.

Whatever her workout regimen was, it worked. She was
smokin’. Amy always dressed conservatively, but the very
well endowed features of her womanly physique shown
through anyway. In fact, I am not so sure that she
didn’t subtly dress in a way as to hint to the treasures
she was allegedly covering with her clothing.

Her hair was a faded type of brunette with a hint of
silver poking through. Just enough to hint at her age
and the fact that although she could be someone’s
mother, she was definitely not a grandmother. Her full,
buxom breasts always filled out whatever top she was
wearing and they always seemed just a little too tightly
confined in that lucky garment whose material was
pulling just enough on the buttons. It was almost as if
she was making a subtle show of them…

Her legs were well toned and muscular enough to say she
worked out; however, not so much as to scream Mrs.
Olympia. She frequently wore skirts that were above the
knee and wrapped her very nice legs in stockings.

However, beneath her skirts, slacks, or whatever else
she wore, was the feature that brought it all together.
Her heart shaped ass. The kind of ass that firmly
jiggled as she stepped down. the kind of jiggle that
comes from well toned muscle. An erotic and sensual lure
to just about any man that draws breath and stands
upright. Not that Jell-O like wave that comes from too
many desserts while watching TV and not enough activity.

Finally, but definitely not lastly, was her face.
Perfectly clear complexion, rosy hue and always alive
with activity. Amy was a very pretty woman and all the
pieces fit together very nicely. Completely and tightly
like a well drafted and constructed project, Amy was
very attractive for any age.

Amy and I got to know each other very well over the
years that she worked between the four offices in my
area. We spent time chit-chatting at the copier and had
split more than a few lunches at our desks while trying
to complete some last minute projects.

We talked enough that I knew her husband was a drunkard
and showed very little physical interest in Amy and she
knew that my wife and I kept our eyes open and our
‘heads up’ for anything coming down field. She also knew
that we kept no secrets from each other and that we
communicated openly about everything that we did.

Her life was a complete contrast. Amy told me repeatedly
how closed minded and self centered her husband was. She
always had such grand plans during the week. She would
talk about things she wanted to do, experiences she
wanted to have, a place she wanted to go for dinner. Her
banter grew more excited, more urgent as the weekend
approached and Friday afternoon came.

I would wish her luck, but I always knew what the result
would be. Inevitably she came back to work on Monday,
crestfallen. Sometimes the tell tale tracks of tears cut
across her firm cheeks. Her plans dashed by her
husband’s drinking, or some manufactured excuse for him
to slip away from her.

On those blue Mondays she always needed a shoulder to
cry on. I was happy to oblige. You see, usually
secretaries have their inner circle of people that they
can confide in and usually they are other secretaries.
People who can understand their lingo and experiences.
It helps you get through the day.

For Amy that circle did not exist. Partly because she
was not in the main secretarial pool and assigned to
specific offices so they looked at her as outside of
their clique. Mostly, I believe, because even though she
was their elder by a few years she did not give in to
‘secretary spread’ or any of the other diseases of
complacency or aging that plagued her counterparts. She
stood out. She was pretty, attractive, desirable and
above all she was smart. That is why I found her
interesting.

More than once I had cut and spliced a mental
pornography together featuring Amy in some contrived
office scenario. The plots were admittedly thin, but,
then again, how thick does the plot have to be? The
little movies always got me hard and I took care of
business. That was what was supposed to happen, right?

Everything was humming along fine at work. My little
movies were entertaining me and I was able to function
as a human being. Until the day came that Amy showed up
with the little red mark on her cheek.
She had tried to conceal it and, in the end, that is
what probably drew my attention to it. Maybe she used a
little too much concealer on purpose. Maybe she let her
eyes well up on purpose, maybe not. Whatever the reason,
she caught my attention that Monday.

I called her into my office on the pretense of taking
some dictation (oh, the irony..). I had her sit down,
her notebook in hand, her legs crossed very daintily as
she sat in the chair before my desk. Her skirt and
customary hosiery were perfect, maybe the skirt was even
a little shorter than usual…

Her white satin blouse had a slightly plunging neckline
that revealed just the faintest hint of her plentiful
cleavage. It was just enough to be seductive; to whisper
sexy and not cross over the line and scream ‘whore’.
The little choker style necklace she was wearing just
added to the hint of the passions that burned beneath
her clothes. Camouflaged but not completely hidden. A
trick in the seductive arts that an experienced woman
knows how to play.

I told her that I had brought her in to talk to her
privately, that I had noticed the little mouse swelling
and redness on her cheek. I asked if everything was ok?

The floodgates opened. She placed her face into her
palms. Her silent sobbing just barely audible with the
air conditioner fan humming away in the corner. The tick
of the clock on the wall seemed interminable as she
cried.

What had I done? Amy was crying in my office. She sobbed
silently. Her chest heaving, shoulders scrunched
forward. If she could have reduced herself into a ball
of lint and rolled under my desk I have no doubt she
would have done so. I wanted to help her. I wanted to
find out what was bothering her and help. Instead, I
felt like a heel. I hadn’t been the one to strike her,
but I was the one that made her cry.

I did the only thing I could think to do. The natural
thing that way down deep inside instinctually tells a
man what he must do when he sees a woman crying and in
pain. Perhaps it was what she was baiting me toward
after all.

I knelt beside her and placed my hands on her forearm. I
comforted her, stroked her hair and told her that
everything was going to be ok. She hiccupped a few more
sobs and then dropped her hands.

Her eyes crested over the tips of her fingers like the
moonrise over snowcapped mountains. The eyeliner and
mascara trailing faintly down her cheeks. Carried in the
rivulets of her tears. More tears, waiting to breach
over her eyelids and join their sisters working their
way down her face to her neck, sat ready to go.

At that moment, that precise moment, in her
vulnerability I saw her at her most feminine. I saw her
at her most beautiful. I could feel the stirring in my
loins. Something about her vulnerability was sexually
exciting to me.

I took her hand and began to tell her everything was ok.
I stroked the side of her face, wiping away her tears
using my index finger like an impromptu squeegee. I
cleared her short cut hair from her face and she cupped
my hand in hers.

I saw the look that set it all in motion. The look and
the posturing of her head and neck that sent out the
signal. The signal like the landing lights put on for
the pilot flying in at twilight, guiding him in to home.
The look that said ‘kiss me’.

Before I could think about it I leaned in toward her
lips. She accepted me as I lightly landed my lips on
hers. She opened her mouth and I felt her tongue
prodding inquisitively at my own lips. I parted them and
our tongues met, swirling around each other as I held
the back of her head in my hand and she placed her hand
on the side of my face.

Her kisses tasted like strawberry. Strawberry mingled
with the saltiness of her tears. There was also the
familiar hint of electricity you feel when that special
connection is made. The connection that tells you all
things are possible, if you dare to proceed.
I dared and she lead me.

Our kiss lingered several moments. Each of us taking the
time to thoroughly explore one another. I broke the kiss
and stood up, taking her hand in mine. We kissed again,
this time wrapping our arms around each other and
drawing ourselves closer.

At that moment I was very aware that my cock was
growing. It was stirring and there was no hiding it or
stopping it. I was also aware that the most obvious sign
of my sexual arousal was pressing against her leg.

She drew me closer. This time she broke the kiss and
looked up at me, her 5′ 1″ frame considerably below
mine.

“It seems as though you are excited. Does my misfortune
excite you?” She looked me straight in the eye as her
hand twirled around on my chest, playing seductively
with my tie.

In that moment I knew that I had misread her all these
years. Sure I had seen the confidence in her walk and
the way she spoke, but I had always believed that she
was proper. That she was classy, that there was no way
she could be a temptress. I was about to learn how wrong
I was about her.

My wife is a very seductive woman. The kind that emits a
sexual energy that draws you in, makes you want to be
possessed by her. Very dominant and in control, her
sexuality is overt and commanding.

Amy was the flip side of the same coin. She oozed
sexuality with her very feminine frame and mannerisms,
but, unlike my wife, she was not the type of dominant
personality that you wanted to take you.

Amy had a submissive vibe that was alluring, a vibe that
she obviously knew how to play. A vibe and an attraction
that played the other side of the feminine seductress
role. The kind that appeared vulnerable, luring you in.
The kind that screamed out ‘take me’, making you feel
like you were chasing her down like a cheetah on the
Serengeti. All the while she was the one actually
stalking you from the shadows, waiting to pounce while
you were distracted by the lures she had put forth,
shimmering to attract you.

She knew how to play her cards well. She parted the top
of her blouse slightly and drew my head forward to her
bosom. As her top opened up I could see that she was
wearing some style of support bra that held her breasts
up and out while leaving her nipples uncovered.

Her breasts were magnificent. Easily a firm and well
cared for D cup. Her nipples and areoles were large and
inviting, daring me to suck them.
She kept bringing my head forward and I opened my mouth
taking one of her large, inch long nipples into my
mouth. I began sucking as I fondled the other breast
with one hand. I grabbed her ass with my free hand and
pulled her closer to me. She responded by grinding her
hips into me, focusing her gyrations on my cock.

She began moaning, “Oh, yes. Suck my tit. It has been so
long, no one sucks my tits anymore.” She continued
talking, “My husband never sucks my tits.”

I was more than happy to do that for him.

She cooed into my ear, sucking on it and sticking her
tongue in it between her words, “I can feel your hard
cock on my leg. Do you want to stick it in me? Do you
want to fuck me? well, do you?”

I did not voice an answer to her question.

I let her tit fall from my mouth, still moist with my
saliva. Her nipple distended even more from the force of
the suction I had been applying. I spun her around, bent
her forward at the waist. She instinctively placed her
chest across my desk, assuming the perfect doggy style
pose. She looked back at me and began to sway her ass
back and forth, taunting me. Inviting me. Challenging
me.

My instincts to breed her, pushed on by her seduction,
took over. I was on auto-pilot now.

I raised her skirt slowly, rolling it up over her ass,
gathering it up in a heap on the small of her back. I
could see then that she was wearing a thong. A garter
held up her stockings. Right in the center of my gaze
was the sweet peach of her vagina. Her excitement
evident from the soaking stain and the aroma of her
musk.

She spoke, softly and pleadingly, “Do you like what you
see? Do you want what you see?”

“It has been so long since anyone has fucked me… My
husband drinks too much to bother with fucking anymore.
Will you fuck me and make me cum? Please?” The tone of
her voice and the sexual pleading in her doe eyes were
killing me.

The questions seemed all that much more naughty, sordid,
with her bent over my desk looking back over her
shoulder at me. Her eyes were burning with temptation,
her ample tits pressed against my desk blotter. Her legs
spread oh so slightly and her ass high and waving at me.

All of it was too much for me to even pretend at being
able to resist. I drew aside her panties to reveal a
neatly trimmed bush, not shaved, but well taken care of.
The lips of her pussy were swollen, opening like a new
flower before the sun, the dew of her excitement
gathering on the petals of her lips. I traced the edge
of her pussy with my finger, a ghostly light touch, just
enough for her to feel my presence at her threshold.

“Oh, my god… That feels so nice! Play with my pussy,
no one does anymore but me.” She hisses through her
teeth, her breath slowly sucking in as she savors the
long absent touch of a man on her engorged slit.

I knelt at the altar of her sex, a pilgrim paying
homage. I could feel the heat and smell the musk of her
pussy as it was readying itself for mating. It was
intoxicating. I blew lightly, stirring her pubes and
raising slight goose bumps on her flesh as I continued
to trace the outline of her lips with my finger. I
kissed her softly. First on the cheeks of her ass, then
at the shelf where her legs gave birth to her ass. I
continued kissing along her inner thigh to the moist,
warm target between her legs.

I lightly kissed around her soaking pussy, tasting the
her sweet juices for the first time. I sucked on the
lips as my tongue dives deep, exploring new territory.
Her juices flowing at an alarming rate, soaking my chin,
lips and cheeks.

All I can smell is her pungent aroma as I begin working
in earnest on her clitoris. I lavish attention on the
long abandoned center of her excitement.

She reacts immediately to my ministrations. She begins
to moan so loudly I am afraid someone might come
knocking on my office door! She is also obviously aware
of her lustful wails as she sticks her mouth in the
crook of her elbow and lets forth a muffled scream, her
face twisted with pleasure.

Her body convulses on top of my desk, my day planner and
assorted pens and pencils fall, scattering across the
floor. Her legs stiffen as she arches her back and
raises her head as if she is trying to howl like a wolf,
but no noise escapes. Her body is all but frozen as her
orgasm really takes hold, just some slight twitching of
her muscles as I continue eating her pussy and sucking
on her clitoris.

“Wow! No one has ever done that to me before! I mean, my
husband tried a few times when we first met, but…” She
sounded crestfallen admitting that her husband could not
please her, her voice trailing off to nowhere.

“This isn’t about him, this is about us.” I tried my
best to not sound judgmental as I marveled worked on her
pussy.

I released her clitoris and looked at her pussy as I
insert first one finger, then another. Her vaginal
entrance is very tight and resists the foreign digits. I
feel her muscles relax slightly and my fingers ‘pop’ in.
The suction of her underused organ is unbelievable,
almost as if she was a woman in her late teens,
unfamiliar with man-cock penetrating her. I work my
fingers around, trying to stretch her a little to
prepare her for my girth.

“My God, Amy, your pussy is so fucking tight!”

“I told you it has been a long time. I don’t even finger
myself much anymore, I don’t want to get myself all
worked up and not have anyone to help me out. Fingers
can only satisfy so much for so long, you know.” She
looked at me. Her look seemed to be a mix of regret and
desire.

“You know, if you are not comfortable with this we can
stop…” I gave her an out as I stood up behind her.

She rose from the desk and kneeled before me without
uttering another word. She caressed my cock through my
pants. She moved closer and began tracing the outline of
my cock with her lips. I wondered whether she would
leave any lipstick on my slacks. That might be tough to
explain.

Amy had a little bit of rust on her moves. I could tell
that at one time she was very gifted, but she had fallen
out of practice through no fault of her own. She was a
little out of practice, but she was quickly getting her
groove back.

She drew down the fly of my pants with her teeth and
then sat back as if contemplating her next move. She
fished my hardened cock out from my boxers and regarded
it.

My cock was not the biggest in the room, only about 7
inches, but it was very thick. Thick and capped with a
wide, blunt mushroom head. My cock would swell and seal
the pussy of my lovers so well that my juices remained
inside them until I withdrew. Nothing leaked out around
the sides like those thinner cocks.

Amy marveled at the girthy snake before her. She licked
the head tentatively at first. One quick lick. Then she
looked up at me.

“I hope you don’t mind but it has been a while since
I’ve done this. Probably about twenty years!” She
giggled nervously, then lowered her head onto my
cockhead.

She had a little difficulty with the width at first, but
soon enough she was rendering a world class blowjob unto
my cock that would make any man happy. She was a
fantastic cocksucker.

She blew me for a few minutes; alternately working on
the head, taking the whole organ into her mouth and
sometimes just licking around the head, shaft and my
swelling balls. Her soft mouth felt wonderful and I
truly lack the words to describe how great she was.

She stopped sucking my cock and stepped out of her
underwear as she returned to her position draped over my
desk. She rolled her skirt up over her ass and simply
looked at me. The soft look of her eyes giving me all
the permission I needed. She looked wonderful.

My cock needed relief. I needed to be in her. I was
going to fuck her and I was going to cum inside of her.

I positioned myself behind her and began sliding my cock
up and down along her eager slit. The lips of her pussy
wrapping around the mushroom head of my cock, coating me
with her juices. I continued to work the doorway to her
center, teasing her with my size.

She looked back at me, took hold of the edge of the desk
and ordered me, “Put your cock inside me!”

I began pushing forward slowly entering her. I could
feel the seldom used muscles of her vagina stretching to
accommodate me, gripping me as tightly as if her own
hand was down there squeezing my shaft tightly. The heat
of her pussy was immense, volcanic and, yet, softer than
imaginable.

She rolled her hips up to meet me, opening herself up
even more to allow me in as far as possible. I reached
bottom, the head of my cock rubbing against her cervix.
The taught grip of her pussy, the warm moist heat and
the heavenly smoothness made me want to just ram myself
in and out of her. I wanted to fuck her so hard she
would be screaming. I wanted to show her how good
fucking could be, what she had been missing. What she
had been needing and longing for.

I knew I couldn’t fuck her with reckless abandon. Not
here. Not this time. So I decided to take her on a
slow, grinding, forceful journey back to a familiar
land. Or, in her case, to a strange new land driven by
my wide cock plunging steadily into her, pushing her to
another orgasm.

I took hold of her hips and began to work myself in a
circular motion, keeping my cock as deep in her as
possible. I kept the pressure forward, my hips trying to
drive through her as I rolled my cock around inside of
her like I was some sort of deviant churning butter.

The pressure of my wide cock in her practically virgin
canal was intense. I would semi-withdraw from her and I
could see the lips of her pussy clinging to my cock,
following it as if begging it not to go. I would force
my cock forward again, banging into her cervix, resuming
the constant forward pressure.

She widened her legs more, rolled her head around on my
desk and bit her lower lip. She was constantly moaning,
groaning a low growl of pleasure as I fucked the shit
out of her. Her knuckles were white from the grip she
was putting onto my desk.

I withdrew a little again and slammed forward as hard as
I dared while also trying to be as quiet as possible.
Her ass jiggled. I gave her a light slap on the ass.

I asked her, “Whose pussy is this now?”

She didn’t answer at first, just continued her low sex-
growl as her orgasm approached. Her body starting to
stiffen, her head raising off the desk, her back
arching. The silent wolf was returning.

I gave her one good, hard slap on the ass. The clap of
my hand striking her ass was unmistakable.

“Whose fucking pussy is this now??” I asked as loud as I
dared.

I could hear people outside the office door on their way
to lunch, no doubt. Well, go ahead mother-fuckers, I am
getting laid right here. Go eat your fucking tuna salad.

“Y-Yours!” She moan-sighed as she came. Her pussy
clamping down on my cock. She stiffened her whole
body…

Do you have any idea how hard it was trying to fuck
against her well toned muscles? Her body was locked into
a state of pleasure. I kept forcing myself forward into
her, churning my cock around inside of her, winding her
up.

I continued fucking her as she came down from her peak.
The seed in my balls boiling forward and up into my
cock. I could feel the head swelling against her love
tunnel, the shaft expanding to provide a rocket groove
for my cum as it would soon be launching forth in ropy
strands into her belly.

She sensed my impending release. “Cum inside me,
please?.” That did it. I had never really had any one
ask me like that before, in THAT tone. I would not
disappoint her.

It was AWESOME. I could feel every seed, every sperm
cell, as they spilled forth into her womb. I came and
came and came. Her extra tight newly fucked pussy
milking every drop from my balls. I swear she must have
worked every ounce of my essence up the shaft of my
throbbing cock and into her under seeded womb. It was as
if her pussy was sating its desire and thirst for the
nectar it had been missing.

After I had delivered my cum into her my cock would not
fall out. She was still so tight and my head so swollen
it was as if we were locked together. I pulled back and
drew myself out. An audible ‘pop’ echoed in my office as
my cock escaped the suction of her pussy. A torrent of
our mingled juices followed, running down her thighs
toward her shoes.

She quickly took some Kleenex from the desk, wiped the
juices off her thigh and pulled up her panties. She then
took my cock in her mouth and cleaned me thoroughly. My
member began to harden again.

“Oh my! Again?! Really? My husband never…” She laughed
and stroked my cock as she looked at me.

I tucked myself back in, “Maybe we will save that for
later.”

She turned to leave my office, stopped and turned,
“Lunch? Tomorrow? A friend of mine has a place down the
street…”

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