A Temporary Affair

Friday, May 15, 1992, 8.50am.

Rachel Lindsay: Arrive at Anderson Fashions and report to reception, Another temporary secretarial job. It's not expected to last. Friday - what a day to start! To the loo to check I look OK. I'm dressed for business. Dark blue suit and shoes. Half heels. White blouse. How much cleavage? My breasts are always a problem. Nobody takes a woman with big tits seriously. Mine are large. 38DD cup. Ronnie always said they make me look like a whore. One button undone or two? Best not to be too forward. First day in a new office ... but I want to make an impression. I need the work since my split from Ronnie. Let's see what the boss is like first. Decision: one button undone. There we are - the perfect secretary. Out of the loo and up the corridor. The door has a plaque on it. 'John Anderson - Managing Director'. I knock and enter.

'Good morning Mr Anderson. Rachel Lindsay. Top Temps Agency.' Mmm. Distinguished. Black hair, touch of grey at the temples. Slim. Tall. Well clipped moustache, also touched with grey. Smile that reaches his eyes. Dishy in fact. Worth at least two buttons. He gets up, comes round the desk and holds out his hand, 'John Anderson, Mrs. Lindsay. Welcome to Anderson Fashions.'

I work in an outer office. I'm to fill in while something permanent is arranged. Of course if the temp displays personal qualities and professional abilities which are indispensable ...

He stands over me while he explains the office procedures. He can't keep his eyes off my tits. At first he sneaks discreet glances - when he thinks I'm not looking. Then getting bolder he just looks. He settles me behind a desk and sits in a big armchair opposite me. No front panel to the desk. I feel his eyes up my skirt as I sort out the day's correspondence. I cross my legs leaving my skirt high on my thighs to encourage him. When I look up his attention is riveted on my legs. He catches me watching him and smiles, 'I hope you enjoy your time here, Mrs. Lindsay.' He makes it sound like I'm checking into a holiday hotel.

'I'm sure I will, Mr Anderson. I'm looking forward to working with you.' The telephone in his office starts ringing. He goes to answer it.

I sort out the letters and go through to his office to take dictation. Outside his door I undo a second button on my blouse. He pulls my chair beside his and we start. He swivels sideways to watch me. Eyes all over my body. Instead of asking me to read back what he's dictated he stands behind me, leans over my shoulder and pretends to look at my shorthand. I can feel his breath next to my ear. He is more interested in looking down the front of my blouse than checking my shorthand.

12.15pm

John Anderson: Jesus Christ. What a stunner. Mrs. Rachel Lindsay. Long wavy dark brown hair. Smouldering brown eyes. Big breasts. Long legs in a tight dark blue skirt. Vibrant body. But what really turns me on is her mouth. It's sensational. Wide with full lush lips that always seem slightly open. Every time I look at that mouth I imagine it opening to slide over my prick.

Close shave just before lunch. She was licking stamps to put on envelopes. Using that beautiful big mouth of hers. I sat on the edge of her desk to chat - and watch. She put on a big production, licking her lips, then putting her tongue out and moving the stamp all over it. I got a hard on just watching. Then she looks up at - all innocent-eyed and asks, 'Is there anything else I can do for you Mr Anderson?'

Sounded like: 'I've licked these. Is there anything else I can lick for you Mr Anderson?' Instant horn. Felt like saying: 'My dear Mrs. Rachel Lindsay, I certainly do have something else for you to lick. Concealed within these trousers is one very excited penis, rigid with anticipation and absolutely burning hot to be introduced. I wonder if you'd mind welcoming him into that superb mouth of yours and licking him until he overflows with pleasure?'

Jesus! I was so hot from my thoughts I was actually reaching for the zip on my fly when Agatha Middleton walks in and tells me some rep is waiting to see me. Two minutes later and God knows what dear old Agatha might have walked in on. Exited quickly with a sheaf of papers covering the bulge in the front of my trousers. I get the impression Mrs. Rachel Lindsay wouldn't have minded too much if I had unzipped and fished it out for her to suck. Must find somewhere a bit more private this afternoon. The records section in the basement?

1.45pm

RL:Egged him on a bit before lunch licking stamps. He sat on the edge of my desk and watched. It wasn't hard to read his mind. He wants me to suck his prick. Then I asked him if I could do anything more for him I swear he was reaching his hand up to to unzip his fly. But just then there was a knock on the door and this middle-aged women opens it. 'Mr Bailey to see you Mr Anderson.' He picked up the letters and walked out of the room. Shame really. Our little game had really got me in the mood to suck.

Five minutes later he's back with the offer of lunch. Accepted. We drive out to some pleasant little pub near the river. He is quite charming in a roguish way. Nice car. Blue BMW. Smell of luxury leather. Lovely deep seats.

Before the meal I go to the ladies and undo another button. Every time I lean forward to take a forkful of lasagne his eyes are into my blouse. Wants to know if I've ever done any modelling. Says I have the figure for it - and the personality. Could be some money in it for me. He's hoping for a strip tease.

Back in the car he makes a joke about having to individually tailor the seat belt to my contours. German cars and all that Vorsprung durch Technik stuff. He says I've got more Vorsprung than the person who usually sits in the passenger seat. Who's that? His wife Norma. Oh. The 'need' to make some complicated adjustments gives him the excuse to put his hands everywhere. We've both had a couple of drinks, a meal and a light-hearted few minutes. We're relaxed and the atmosphere is mellow. If he'd taken out his prick I'd have gone straight down on it. A little slurp of cream to finish a convivial lunch. But he's concentrating on me. His hands linger on my breasts and when he leans across to fiddle with the adjustment down at my side his left hand rests on my stockinged thigh and then slowly slides up under my skirt and gives my bare flesh a big squeeze. I move around to 'help' him. Before long my blouse is wide open and my skirt's at the top of my thighs. He looks down at my mouth from no more than six inches and his eyes are all glazed and I'm all ready for his mouth to come down on mine and my thighs start to spread and welcome his hand into my rather wet pussy and - Jesus - the noisiest wreck you've ever seen pulls in right next to us and four greasy youths start hollering and shouting at us and we've no alternative but to drive off to get away from them.

2.15 pm

JA: Lunch at the Lamb. Very enjoyable Good food, pleasant atmosphere and Mrs. Rachel Lindsay flashing her tits. When we get back in the car I make a big thing of adjusting her seat belt. Nice excuse to let my hands roam her body. Not that I need any. She just says, 'Nice to know I'm in safe hands' and lets me get on with it, moving her body about to 'help' me. Within no time her blouse is wide open and I've got my hand up her skirt. As soon as my fingers touch her bare skin she opens her thighs nice and wide and I'm just about to dip my fingers into her wet cunt when a rusty old Ford Capri with a spread eagle painted on the bonnet pulls into the parking space beside us and a load of yobbos get out. They sum up the situation in a second and start whistling and cat-calling. Damn! Damn! Damn! I drive off at speed. Only begin to relax when we've cleared the car park. She adjusts her blouse, pulls her skirt down and smiles at me. 'No peace for the wicked eh?' She leans back in her seat crosses her legs and looks out of the window, I feast my eyes - and my imagination - on her thighs. I think about stopping the car somewhere quiet, opening her door, kneeling beside her seat, licking my way up the inside of Mrs. Rachel Lindsay's spread thighs and burying my mouth in her cunt, but the way things are going I'd just be getting the tip of my tongue on her clit and the local chapter of the Hell's Angels would arrive for a prayer meeting or something. I think we need to search for some very important papers in the basement this afternoon.

3.15pm

RL:We have to look for some invoices his accountant needs. Down in the basement. We descend in a small lift. He says the files might be a little dusty - perhaps I would like to take off my jacket? But of course Mr Anderson. How thoughtful.

It's incredibly hot down here. Pipes all over the place and stacks of box files on yards of steel shelving. He gets out a ladder which clips over the shelves. Wouldn't you know it - the files he needs are on the top shelf? I climb the ladder while he holds it steady. I rest a box file on an empty shelf to check for the missing invoices. I raise my left foot and rest it on a higher step twisting my body sideways. The position pulls my skirt up my thighs and gives anyone standing below - Mr John Anderson, Managing Director, Anderson Fashions - an uninterrupted view up my skirt. I concentrate on the search and let him enjoy himself. He clears his throat. Heavy silence broken only by the sounds of me scuffling bits of paper. And then the sound of a zip being undone. I look down. Mr John Anderson's right hand is stroking a very thick, very stiff prick. He clearly needs my help.

3.45 pm

JA: When I suggest she goes up the ladder to search for the 'lost' invoices she just gives me a wicked grin. Will I hold the ladder steady as she has no head for heights? Then up she goes. The view is incredible. The whole of her lower body open for me. Long silken legs. Powerful thighs with dark stocking tops against creamy white flesh. Black suspender belts leading up to her buttocks. Her thighs are parted, stretching the shiny fabric of her lace panties across her mound. Whisps of dark cunt hairs escape from the side of her panties. It is all too much. I unzip my fly, reach inside and bare my rampant prick. The rasping noise as I unzip cuts through the silence. She looks down at my erect prick. 'Shall I come down for a minute, Mr Anderson?' I clear my throat and answer thickly, 'Yes. Do. Please. Mrs. Lindsay.'

As she climbs down the step-ladder I put my hands on her skirt and lift it over her hips. She gets to the bottom and turns in towards me. I push my tongue into her mouth and her hands come up to hold both sides of my face and she starts sucking on my tongue. I go wild. I grasp the silky fullness of her buttocks, pull her body into mine and start humping my prick into the softness of the tops of her thighs. I go for her blouse, tearing at the buttons in a frenzy. She drops a hand to encircle my prick and begins milking me. I bring my mouth down onto her breasts, sucking her nipple through the silken lace of her bra. Reaching up to push the narrow bra-strap off her shoulder I pull the cup of her bra away, freeing her big heavy breast. My mouth covers her bare erect nipple. I flatten my tongue and use it on the dark brown circular spread of her nipple, coating it with saliva. I suck it into my mouth and we are both hot as hell and panting like crazy and all ready for the fuck of a life-time and then - bloody hell! - if the damn lift doesn't suddenly start up. Jeeeesus!

3.55pm

RL:Christ! He's got my skirt over my waist and my nipple in his mouth and I'm pulling on this beautiful big prick and just about to bend down and feed him into my mouth and suck his balls dry and there's the sound of the lift coming down. Hell! Panic stations! I've just about got everything back into place and the lift door opens and this middle-aged blonde walks towards us. Turns out to be Norma, his wife. Christ knows what she thought. Give him his due, he was pretty cool. Takes her away after asking me to find the invoices and fetch them upstairs. Gives me chance to check that everything is tucked in and I'm the perfect secretary again. Except that my knickers are sodden.

When I get back upstairs to my office he's nowhere to be seen. Comes in half-an-hour later with the works foreman. Turns to me quite casually and says would I mind working late tonight he needs to prepare for a sales meeting in Birmingham tomorrow.

'Certainly Mr Anderson.' How accommodating can a girl get on her first day at work?

Don't see him again until nearly five. Then he walks in with half a dozen blouses over his arm. Would I choose one and model it for him? He takes me into his office, puts the blouses on his desk. 'I'll be back in a minute. I just want to lock up.' And off he goes.

They are all at least a size too small for me. Either his judgement is out or he's hoping for a display. I decide I will give him one. I pick a sneer white blouse with big floppy edging. It's see-through. I take off my own blouse - and my bra - and put it on. It's cut very low. Needs a necklace or beads to set it off and bigger ear-rings than the discreet business-like ones I'm wearing - but he'll certainly get an eyeful. I'm wet again and my nipples are already erect.

5.50pm

RA: Tell George the caretaker I'm working late and not to be disturbed. Close down the switchboard. Back to the office. Mrs. Rachel Lindsay looks sensational. She's fluffed her hair and is just putting the finishing touches to the application of new lipstick - a deep reddy-brown colour.

She puts her hands down, turns and says, 'What do you think?' My heart starts thumping. She's taken off her bra. Her large brown nipples are clearly visible. The front of the blouse is cut low to expose the slopes of her breasts. I snap the inside lock on my door, turn and move towards her. I can hardly speak. 'Gorgeous,' I croak. I reach out and undo the front of the blouse, pull it out of her skirt and hold it open. Her breasts are superb - full and heavy and beautifully shaped with big, puckered, dark brown circles around dark red nipples. I reach out with my fingertips and lightly touch the heavy underside of her breast, then I lower my head and gently tongue the nipple. It is her turn to gasp. Her nipple hardens and grows on the tip of my tongue. With my left hand I reach for the nipple of her other breast. It feels glorious, full, smooth and heavy in my palm. I take her nipple between my finger tips and squeeze roughly. She sucks in air through her teeth. Her eyes narrow. Her fingers scrabble to undo my shirt and then she finds my nipples and tweaks them hard. It is my turn to gasp. She tweaks again. Sharp pain shoots through me.

Her mouth is set in a pout and she sucks in air in time with her continued attack on my nipples. Her eyes are devilish. I fight back pinching the ends of her nipples hard. She gasps and renews her attack on me. It is maddening. I push her back to gain some respite. My nipples are tingling from her attack. I am hugely erect. I reach down, unbuckle my belt and drop my trousers to the floor. My prick is enormous, jutting up thickly from a tangled undergrowth of pubic hair. I close my fist round the swollen shaft and pull the skin back, flattening the bulging red end and making it glisten.

'Suck me.'

It is half command. Half request.

Mrs. Rachel Lindsay sinks to her knees in front of me. Her eyes are focussed on my prick. She reaches out a hand and closes it round my bobbing prick. Then looking up at me she cradles the sack of my balls in her other hand and lowers her parted lips over the end of my prick. I look down and watch her mouth descending over my shaft. Beneath the thick bridge of flesh formed by the shaft of my prick disappearing into her mouth, her full breasts jiggle slightly as her hand begins to masturbate the base of my prick. Then I close my eyes and concentrate on the feel of her warm, wet tongue and lips moving over my taut-stretched flesh. She is superb. It is as though my entire prick has been dipped in warm butter which is slowly oozing everywhere. All the while her hand is pulling at the root of my prick. The sperm starts to bubble deep down at the end of my prick. I cannot wait mich longer. I am teetering on the brink.

'Yes! Yes! Now!'

Her hand stops moving. Her mouth slowly leaves my prick. The swollen purple end is drenched with saliva. She rests it against the corner of her mouth and looks up at me with mischievous eyes.

'Do I take it I've got this job - permanently - Mr Anderson?'

Still looking up at me she sticks her tongue out of the corner of her mouth and puts the tip of it on the hole at the top of my prick.

'Yes. Yes. Please - Mrs. Lindsay. Rachel. Please.' Her mouth descends again. Her hand moves fast over the base of my prick and I groan and release a stream of come spurting and splashing into her mouth.

Is this going to be permanent? Am I ever again going to get any work done? Do I care? Do I fuck. A partnership? 50/50? Agreed? Then it's my turn to use my mouth on you now Mrs. Rachel Lindsay. Sit down on the edge of the desk and spread your thighs nice and wide so I can lick my way up into the promised land. Please.

She does. I do.

I would welcome an email from any woman reader whose erotic imagination has been tickled by this story. Please share your pleasure. I could do with the encouragement. I find women's reactions to the erotic fascinating - and liberating.