This story is dedicated to Dai, my own naughty one...Everything I wrote I plan on doing to you, soon.
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"You, you, wanted to see me, sir?" my secretary stammered as she stepped nervously into my office. I could see that her eyes were slightly downcast through her conservatively styled glasses. "Was there something you needed, or did I do something wrong?"
"Wanted", "see", and "need", those words rang through my ears as I beckoned her into my office, signaling her to close the door. What I "wanted to see," was her luscious looking breasts, breasts which were always barely contained by her daily series of constricting blouses and jackets, wrapped around my extremely hard cock. What I "needed" was to impale myself within her and release myself fully, my hands gripping the ass which I had admired every time she bent to retrieve a file. I wanted to spread her thighs wide and taste...
"Are you okay, sir? Your face got red all of a sudden. Would you like a glass of water, or something else?" she inquired, concern now shaping her face. She was standing now mere inches from my desk. She had crossed the room while I was locked in my reverie, mesmerized by images of her face contorted in orgasm, the music of her sighs filling her ears.... Or maybe she was a screamer?
I shook my head quickly, trying to bring my attention back to the room, and to Dawn, my delicious secretary, who by now must have thought of me as quite odd. Why had I summoned her? I had lost my train of thought again, reveling in the imagined feel of her heels pressed against the back of my thighs, her nails raking my naked back as I...
"Whoa," I thought, "I'm really losing it." I'd best get her out of here before she called for an ambulance or before my turgid organ erupted in my slacks, neither of which would do my career any good. "No, Dawn, I'm fine, really I am. I wanted to talk to you about something but it can wait until morning. Why don't you run along now?"
A look of surprise mixed with relief crossed her face. "I thought you had heard what I had said about you, and that you wanted to fire me, or punish me." The last two words were almost a whisper, almost wistful.
"What do you mean? What did you say about me...and to whom?" I asked, now fully in the present moment. Just what had she done? Had she called me a slave driver or jerk or something harsher? I thought I had always treated her decently, maybe even went easy on her because she was so attractive, so sweet.
Now it was she who turned red. Was that a blush? She looked down again, "I told my best friend, when she called earlier, that I didn't mind working late for you, because I thought you were hot. And I hoped one day that I'd make a mistake, and that you'd get so mad that you'd want to spank me. And I'd let you and then I hoped you'd bend me over your desk and fuck me hard." The last few words flew out of her sweet mouth at such a torrent that I wasn't sure what I'd just heard.
"Dawn, did I just hear you say 'spank?'" I asked, my mouth dry, suddenly wondering if once again I had slipped into fantasy. Maybe I was having some sort of a stroke, or the stress of the job was getting to me. Perhaps I was still asleep in my bed, and my whole nine-hour day, including this fantasy, was part of a dream... "Yeah that's it," I thought, "I'm dreaming and when I awake my shorts will be sticky from the first wet dream in twenty-five years."
This couldn't be real. Dawn wouldn't really be asking me to spank her, and fuck her hard here in my office. In our two years of working together, she'd never exhibited any hint of sexual attraction to me, or any hint of sexuality, period. Although she possessed a body that could only be described as "luscious," and a face that men would fight battles for a chance to kiss, she always seemed so prim and proper...She almost embodied the word "spinster." I had even pictured what her home life was probably like, caring for an elderly aunt, numerous cats, and sipping tea from fine china while Vivaldi played softly... not bouncing off the walls in sexual ecstasy.
"Yes sir..." she smiled wickedly, all sense of the demure leaving her face, "I would like..." She slinked, slowly, almost catlike, around the side of my desk. I slid my chair back, not sure if it was from timidity, or to make room for her. My secretary stepped into the space I vacated, "For you..." She turned around, "To spank..." Bending slowly over my desk, "Me..." her right hand slid languidly down the length of her medium length pinstriped skirt, gripping its hem. Bending completely onto the surface of my desk, Dawn drew her skirt upward, "Hard," she moaned, "I need you to spank me hard."
Stunned, I leapt to my feet, gazing down in awe at the sight spread before me, my cock an iron bar... My once seemingly prim and proper secretary was bent over my desk, her skirt lifted, presenting her ass for me to spank.
"Ass" seemed such a vulgar word to describe what my eyes beheld, for hers was truly a work of art. Two perfectly shaped, milky white globes bisected by a reverse triangle of red lace panties, reminded me of a juicy ripe peach. The panties were French cut. I bemused that it was this combination of lace and skin that must have led to the invention of the word "derriere," the loveliest of body part names. Her rear was visual feast of such shape, proportion, and color that it was worthy of a master painter... and I was about to redden it, mar it... worship it.
The sexual tension in the room was so palpable that it replaced the oxygen in my lungs...my chest tightened as I lifted my hand. My sudden movement caused Dawn to inhale sharply. From fear, passion, or a combination of the two, I wasn't sure. She squirmed downward, grinding her crotch against my desk blotter, and my nose became aware of her desire; a moist combination of sweet perfume and musk...the smell of lynx in heat and jungle wildflowers...the scent of Heaven... And my blotter would forever carry it.
"God...Please...Now..." She pleaded, "Spank me now!" My hand swung sharply downward...
"Here's where I wake up," I thought in the heartbeat before my hand connected with my secretary's deliciously exposed rear, "there's no way in hell this is real". I closed my eyes, fully expecting to reopen them in my bedroom, the alarm clock jarring me awake.
"WHACK!" The sound of the slap was sharp, like a single gunshot. The stinging of my hand felt real, as did the hot globe of flesh it was suddenly cupped against... But some dreams were that way, achingly, erotically, real...
"OH YES!!!" A voice screamed...Dawn's voice, "Again!" Pulling my hand away I snapped my eyes open. This was real, as was the raging hardness between my legs. Her right cheek had a red hand print on it, adding to the mottled peach illusion...but this was no illusion...I had just spanked my secretary...and it felt good...really good...I swung my hand down again.
"OH GOD!" She moaned, grinding against my blotter. Digging her pelvis against the smooth felt padding, I became more aware of her heat...her moist perfume once again filled my nose...I breathed deeply of her...I was enflamed.... I struck her one more time.
She howled and writhed against my hand, her banshee scream ringing in my ears...and bringing me instantly back into my body, back to reality. At once I felt remorse for what I did, forgetting it was her who instigated this to begin with...surprisingly the guilt I felt did nothing to alleviate my hard on...my yearning to fill her...