The conservative, tight-assed little bitch walked by me in the hallway at work every day, nose in the air, little ass swinging back and forth, not giving me so much as a glance. She was from the South somewhere, and her accent showed it. She spoke with a syrupy southern drawl and talked a lot about "God and Jaysus" and that kind of crap. She loved talking about how she was "saved" and that she read the Bible every day.
Right.
I got a weird vibe from Krissy once in awhile, though. Once, when we were both in the copy room, I caught her sneaking a look at me. I thought I saw her checking me out from the corner of my eye, but when I turned my head she was leaning over the copier, trying to figure out some complicated thing like making two-sided copies. She didn't even seem to know I was in the room. But I'm positive she looked at me for a second.
Another time, as she strutted past me in the hallway on her six-inch stilettos, she stumbled and dropped a file she was carrying. Being a gentleman I bent to help her. She was already down on one knee, gathering up papers.
"Why, thank you, Bobby!" she drawled in that sweet southern-belle voice. She was leaning over, and I did a double-take.
Her low-cut top was hanging open, and I was getting a front-row seat to the most perfect pair of tits I'd ever seen. Krissy was wearing a see-through mesh bra that left nothing to the imagination. Her cleavage was on full display, and beneath the gauzy mesh I could see the small dark circles of her nipples. They were hard, and poked out the fabric of the bra deliciously.
The little slut! Miss Holier-Than-Thou was wearing trashy lingerie under that tight dress. Who knew?
Krissy was taking her time picking up her papers, bent down on one knee, exposing her cleavage and a length of smooth, tanned leg as well. Her high heels gleamed - they looked brand new and expensive. I was getting the distinct feeling this display was being put on deliberately for my benefit. I stood rooted to the spot, unable to take my eyes off her perfect body.
She glanced up at me, a small smile exposing her gleaming white teeth.
"What's wrong, Bobby? You look just like the cat that got into the cream!" She winked at me, then stood up and walked off down the hallway. She must have known I'd be staring after her, because she put an extra pert little swing in her tight ass as she walked.
It took me a minute to regain my composure. Krissy Williams, prima donna conservative bitch, had just flaunted her wares right in the hallway, for my eyes only! What a fucking cocktease! Underneath that bible-thumping exterior was a Frederick's of Hollywood-style trashy tramp. And the thought of defiling the little slut and exposing her for the whore she really was made me almost cream my pants right there. As it was, I was already sporting a throbbing hadron.
A few days went by after the "hallway incident," and I didn't see Krissy around the office at all. There were rumors that she was ill. I had my doubts. Knowing her, she was using her royal salary (earned doing the difficult work of smiling pretty and exposing leg and cleavage on the air) to take a jaunt down to the Caribbean or something. A few days turned into two weeks, and I began to wonder if she'd left the company for good. Then, nearly a month after Ms. Williams had given me her little show in the hallway, she returned. And I immediately knew why she'd been out.
When the little bitch-whore strutted into the office, making some kind of grand entrance, flashing her brilliant smile and saying "Why, thank you!" to all of the people welcoming her back, my jaw about hit the floor. Krissy was wearing a skin-tight blue minidress and strappy fuck-me stiletto heels. Her gorgeous legs, as always, were on full display. But what had my attention, and my cock's too, was her chest.
Krissy's boobs had magically grown at least two cup sizes during her absence. Before, they had been delectably perky, maybe a C cup at most - deliciously suckable, don't get me wrong, but still a bit under-proportioned. Now, she was sporting a pair of girls that were at least double-D's. They pushed and stretched the sheer fabric of her dress, leaving no doubt whatsoever as to their exact size and shape. The dress wasn't low cut, in fact it was almost a turtle neck, so no boob was actually exposed. But holy shit, it didn't have to be! Her tiny waist, cinched with an oversized black belt, only accentuated the size of her new, decidedly unChristian titties. As she walked, they bounced gently, and I'm sure she was deliberately giving them an extra little jiggle with each step.
All the guys in the office were staring just like I was, and I knew what each of them was thinking: Give me one hour with her and I'll titty-fuck the shit out of those gorgeous boobies. All the women were staring too, and I can guess what they might have been thinking: either "Damn she's hot, I want her plastic surgeon's number" or "Fucking bitch, now I'll never have a chance at any dude in this place."
I happened to be sanding just outside my office, watching Krissy's grand entrance, and I noticed she wasn't heading toward her own office, which was in another part f the floor. Instead, she was making her way through the cube-land where the peons all worked toward my hallway. I raised my eyebrows casually as she approached and looked her n the eye, trying not to stare at her jiggling boobs. She slowed down as she walked passed me, glancing at me sidelong with a gleam in her blue eyes.
"It's OK Bobby, you can look if you want to," she drawled in a whisper. "After all, I did it for you."
What the fuck did she say?
"That's right," she purred over her shoulder as she went by. "I hope you like them, Bobby, because your face is going to be between them later."
With that, she turned a corner and was gone.
What the hell just happened? Did Krissy Williams just tell me she was planning to fuck me? For a second I didn't believe my own ears. In spite of her "hallway show" from a month ago, I didn't really think she was anything more than a little cocktease underneath her preachy exterior, like so many conservative women are. But I began to wonder if she had given any other dudes in the office a good look at her assets like she'd given me. Nobody had said anything, and I'm friends with all the guys in the office. If Krissy had done anything like that I would have heard about it. God know I'd told several guys about what had happened with me; they'd all blown it off, either not believing me at all, or writing it off as bitchy teasing. I began to think I was the only one she was showing off for, as unlikely as it might have seemed even a few weeks earlier.
I went back into my office and sat down. An e-mail had just popped up on my computer screen; it was from Krissy. Somehow I wasn't surprised. She must have sent it as soon as she got to her office. The subject line read "Southern belle seeks real man." I opened it.
The message contained a single line of text. It was an address in the high-end part of town, along with the words "9 PM tonight" and a little kissy icon.
Holy fuck.
I made her wait a bit, and showed up at 9:15. Her house was a sprawling Tudor-style mini-mansion with about a million acres of lush green lawn and tall shady trees. On the huge front porch were several pieces of expensive-looking furniture, along with a small statue of Jesus with the words "Are you saved yet?" engraved on the base. I chuckled at that, knowing what I did now about Krissy's "other side." I rang the doorbell.
After a minute I heard the clack of high heels on tile, and Krissy opened the door.
"You're late, Bobby," she said in a mock-reprimanding tone.
I hardly heard her.
Krissy obviously had a separate wardrobe for off-hour use. She was dressed in a skintight sheer black body stocking and eight-inch spike heels. The body stocking wasn't see-through, but it clung to her gorgeous body like a second skin. Every curve was on display, including her jutting new boobs. The neckline of the body stocking was low enough to expose just a little of what I was sure was ample cleavage. Her hard nipples pushed against the sheer fabric, and I could just barely make out the dark circles of her small areolae. Just looking at them made my dick react. The stocking covered her delicious legs to the ankles, and her arms to the wrists. She held out her hand.
"Welcome, Bobby. Please, do come in." Her southern belle charms were in full effect now, and I almost involuntarily took a few steps forward. She held out her hand, and I took it. I noticed her nails were long and manicured, painted a light pink. Her skin was pleasantly cool to the touch.
She turned and led me to a flight of stairs going up. As she walked, me a half-step behind, still letting her lead me by the hand, my eyes were glued to her ass. The body stocking showed how perfectly round and tight it was, far more than the dresses she wore at work. It was small and pert, and just the thought of taking her doggy-style and slapping the shit out of her little ass cheeks made my dick throb.
"Like what you see?" she cooed.
