Cindy works as an administrative assistant in the same large engineering firm that I do, and she is a sight to behold. In a nutshell, she is petite, beautiful and naturally busty. But to fully appreciate her, I have to elaborate a little. She is 5'-2" and slender with long, silky, wavy, chestnut hair that could be in a shampoo commercial. Her face is angelic, but her pouty lips add a kind of sexual aura to her innocence. She has smooth tanned skin, beautiful deep blue eyes, and a radiant smile framed by her long, luscious locks. Her gorgeous body is highlighted by a pair of sweet, full natural breasts that seem slightly over scale for her slender frame. Her torso tightens to a tiny waist and swells back to a pair of swaying hips and a perfectly protruding butt atop long, well-toned legs. She is the girl next door, bursting at the seams.
When she passes by you can barely see (if you're staring hard enough) the tiny jiggle of each ass cheek as her foot hits the floor. Her walk is a study in fluid motion – long striding legs, ass twitching, breasts roiling, hair bouncing – she is impossible to ignore. I know she always wears a bra to work, but her breasts still gently bounce and seem to strain for release, like they're not meant to be captive under so much material. She rarely strides down the long corridor between the work cubicles without leaving craning necks in her wake. She is 22 and dresses conservatively, yet her assets are impossible to hide, even in her workday attire.
While I knew her well enough to say hello, I had always assumed she was attached – Hell, she could have any man she wanted. I'm 15 years her senior and I figured she would always be someone I would fantasize about from afar. Until one day in the break room. I was getting coffee when I felt someone standing beside me.
"Hi Ben! Julie the receptionist tells me you're a really good guitar player. I love the guitar. What kind of music do you play?"
Holy shit! An opening! I couldn't believe I was staring into those gorgeous eyes. Most guitar players, whether they admit it or not, pick up the guitar in their teen years for one reason – girls. And here I stood, ready to grab that opportunity all musicians dream about. I told her I'm a singer/songwriter, mostly do original stuff, got a little recording studio at home, I'm working on a CD, it's a serious hobby, blah, blah, blah – the usual line.
"Sounds wonderful. I would love to hear you play sometime. Are you playing around anytime soon?" She tossed her hair and smiled. I could smell her sweet, fresh scent and melted in her steady, direct gaze. I was trying really hard to be cool, but the proximity of this gorgeous creature was making my brain crazy. I wanted to sink my lips into the smooth skin on her neck and nibble my way up to her ear. But I maintained eye contact and acted as blasé as I could as my heart raced.
"Yea – Friday night – I'm doing an open mike at Bottoms Up. I can always use moral support. Why don't you join me?" She displayed all her beautiful teeth in a big smile and said she would "love to – what time?"
I had only gone for a lousy cup of coffee – I had not figured on having a life-altering event in the break room - but it was set. I'd pick Cindy up on my way to the club Friday night and see where things went from there. I could barely concentrate on my work the rest of the week. I practiced like crazy for the open mike and waited for the week to end.
I picked Cindy up Friday night at her apartment. She looked exquisite, and had on an outfit that was definitely not daytime attire. She wore a white, low-cut sundress that was tight around her bust and waist, and then splayed out to a loose fit around her butt and thighs. The skirt swayed with her hips. Her breasts sloped gently down from her shoulders, their fullness cupped in the thin material of the bodice. There was no evidence of a bra. Her cleavage was there for anyone to behold. I could see the slight outline of her nipple sitting high on her breasts, pointed up and away. Her high-heeled sandals set off the tight muscles of her calves. Her smooth thighs disappeared provocatively under the hem of her short dress. She smelled heavenly and I melted when she smiled at me. I was dumbstruck and could only mumble, "You look great." I am so smooth sometimes.
We drove to the club, did the small talk thing on the way. On arriving I signed up for a time slot (my 15 minutes of fame) and we snuggled into a booth not far from the stage to wait my turn. We watched the other performers and talked. She had her body turned slightly in the booth and I could feel her thigh, warm against mine. Occasionally her breast brushed against my arm. She laughed at my jokes, stared sweetly into my eyes and occasionally glanced down into my lap. Her sweet scent was intoxicating and the soft confidence of her voice made me harden.
My name was finally called. I did my 3-song set to a rousing response and headed back to my seat. I had killed and Cindy was glowing. "You were fantastic! My God, that was great! The crowd loved you." Oh man – was this going well. "I want to hear more", she crooned in a low, sexy voice.
"Can't do that here, Cindy. But I'm all juiced up to play some more. Let's head over to my place – have a little wine. I'll play for you as long as you'd like – a private concert."
"Awesome! Let's go." I slid out of the booth and used my guitar case to hide the bulge in my pants. She grabbed my arm and squished her breasts into my arm. They were so soft. We drove to my apartment – a small, but comfortable abode – popped open a bottle of Merlot, lit a few scented candles, and settled onto the couch for a mini-concert. Cindy curled up sideways on the couch with her legs tucked under her. Her dress rode up her long, smooth thighs. She watched me intently as I began to play. I strummed, sang, joked with her, laughed, drank some wine and sang some more. I could feel her intense gaze as I played. Some women really respond to a guy singing and playing a guitar – and Cindy was one of them.
I finally toke a little break, laid my guitar gently against the couch and turned to Cindy. She looked so incredibly beautiful in the candlelight. "That was fantastic, Ben. I can't believe how talented you are. I could listen all night. Thank you so much." She reached out with her right hand and gently squeezed my thigh. I wanted to reach out to her, but I resisted.
"So how about some reciprocation?" I said. "I entertained you – you must have some talent you can reveal to me. Magic tricks? Jokes? Juggling? What's your hidden talent?"
She smiled coyly, got up from the couch and headed over to the stereo. She picked out a Bryan Ferry CD, slipped it into the changer, turned seductively as the music started and said, "I'll show you my talent, Ben. Sit back, loosen your seatbelt and relax."
The music pulsed - a thick, throbbing beat - and as the room flickered from the glow of candles, Cindy closed her eyes and began to sway to the music. Her hips ground slowly to the beat as she turned and moved her hips in a back and forth motion. Her hands began to follow the contours of her body as she stuck her tongue out and licked her lips. I could see her nipples straining the fabric of her dress. Yup – there was no doubt about it – Cindy was about to strip for me. My cock hardened and bulged against my slacks as she continued to find her groove. I tried to relax, but I was stiff as a board.
