The following day I arrived at my desk to find a post-it note on my chair. I read, 'There's a present for you in the top drawer'.
I tentatively opened it to find yesterday's knickers scrunched up into a ball. I stood up and looked over the screens surrounding my cubicle in the main open plan office and couldn't see anyone who looked like they were going to visit me so I took them out and examined them.
I was nearly overcome by the smell of sex as I unfolded my soiled thong. The satin material was absolutely coated in hardened cum but the crotch was still sticky and warm! The dirty bugger must have used them this morning and I wondered if that was in the office. I threw them back into the drawer just as the secretary that all the sub editors shared walked in.
"Good morning Jayne," the twenty-something year old girl with the seemingly impossibly short skirt and equally impossibly long legs said flashing me a lovely smile. "Are you ok? You look a bit flushed?"
"Did you get what Steve left?"
Panicking a bit for I wouldn't have put it past the dirty bastard to have told Susie that he was returning my panties I said. "What was that?"
"I have no idea, but he popped in here earlier, I couldn't stop him."
"Oh yes it was a file, it's back," I said waving a hand towards the filing cabinet.
The afternoon dragged by. Every time I saw movement outside my cubicle, I looked up half hoping and half dreading it would be Steve, but it never was. I annoyed and excited myself by several times looking at and secretly touching and sniffing the soiled, dirty knickers that he had used to masturbate in. I couldn't believe just how incredibly horny that made me feel. Every now and then I would find myself opening the drawer and looking at the soiled panties. The smell of dried sperm was very nearly overpowering. In fact, the stench and feel and the squalidness of the sight made me the horniest I'd felt for ages. So much so I was even tempted to go into the ladies' toilet and masturbate, but I resisted that urge.
I finally spotted him around five thirty just as everyone was leaving. He smiled and mimed drinking a cup of coffee. My stomach was spinning as I smiled and nodded agreement that I wanted a cup.
Ten minutes later he sauntered into my cubby hole with two cups of coffee. He slumped into a chair across the desk from me and sat with his legs wide open as we chatted about work generally and what was planned for the evening. Until lowering his voice he added.
"Might as well take your knickers off before we start Mrs. West as they'll come off some time."
"Shush," I said looking around to make sure no one could hear and trying to remain calm but all I could think about was the pair of soiled knickers in my drawer.
Just as he finished his coffee he grinned and asked.
"Why not take them off now?"
"What do you mean? Don't be crazy."
"It's not crazy, I'd love to see you taking them."
"Yes, I bet you would but you won't."
"But I bet you'd like to," he muttered shocking me with his perception as, in a way, I'd would like to but luckily he changed the topic slightly by asking.
"Did you like my little present?"
I instantly blushed but nodded.
"I wanked off into them twice last night," he said looking very pleased with himself and not the slightest bit guilty at the crude statement.
"They were er, um still were," I stammered. "Still damp well wet actually."
"I thought you'd like that," he grinned. "I cracked one off in here this morning too."
"You truly are a disgusting man," I told him, with a little smile.
"I bet you fingered yourself when you got home," he said in a matter-of-fact way.
"I did not," I told him indignantly, "Anyway, I wouldn't tell you even if I did!"
As we worked that evening I tried to remain dignified as he pestered me about the knickers I'd given him the previous night and what he'd been thinking about while he was wanking into them. He took great pleasure in telling me exactly how much 'stuff' he'd ejaculated or, as he put it, shot, each time. As his vile words washed over me, I tried to hide my feelings especially as I thought that my pussy might explode but eventually my erect nipples gave me away.
Gradually the journalists and editing and admin staff drifted off home. Our papers were weeklies and were published on Thursdays and Fridays so Monday and Tuesday evenings were always quite slow, particularly when compared to the manic Wednesdays and Thursdays. By eight thirty or so we were alone in the main office which was separate from the printing works. My whole body was tingling and my heart was pounding.
Steve was standing behind me watching me work on a screen. I was sitting on a low back chair. I had removed my jacket and was wearing a sleeveless top. He moved very close and stood there for a moment or two with his waist about level with my face. Neither of us said anything. I waited in anticipation. He moved even closer and then rubbed his erection against my back moving the material of the top so that my bra strap was exposed. When I didn't complain he muttered.
"You know I imagined fucking you when I jerked off last night and this morning don't you?" he said rubbing my shoulders.
"How could I know?" I asked in a tight voice.
"No, you couldn't but I do."
"Do what?" I asked.
"Know."
"Know what?"
"What do you mean you know what?" I asked innocently falling into his clever verbal trap.
"What you were thinking."
"When?" I asked digging myself unknowingly into an even deeper hole.
"When you jerked yourself off last night."
Without thinking I fell for it hook, line and sinker and asked. "How could you know?"
Laughing for he knew that he'd got me he said.
"Well of course I couldn't really know but I reckon I was a pretty good fuck, wasn't I?"
I didn't reply and looked away embarrassed that I had as good as admitted that not only had I masturbated but also imagined that he was fucking me.
"Don't worry Jayne, I've fucked you in loads of positions," he went on sliding his hands down my arms with his fingers brushing across the sides of my breasts and pausing making me at first, sigh but then jerk and push his hands away telling him that we had work to do.
As the evening wore on, he kept asking what my underwear was like and making lewd, suggestive comments.
Around nine thirty we stopped for a break.
"Are you going to give me your knickers again tonight?" he asked as I organised some sandwiches.
Without hesitating I teased him by saying.
"I haven't decided."
He continued like this for a while as he tried to guess what I was wearing and telling me again how much he'd enjoyed wanking into the pair the previous night. It was crazy that him telling me about wanking into my panties had become almost commonplace. It was no longer a shock to hear the near pervert talk about 'fucking me' or 'wanking thinking about me' or the positions he'd fucked me in. I couldn't really believe that not only was it not that big a shock as in some ways I thought it should be, but that hearing him say such things was turning me on and I was feeling aroused; I half-hated that.
Tonight, I didn't have the vodka to boost me so I had no idea what made me say. "If you can guess what colour they are, you can have them." I giggled.
"Pink," he immediately replied.
I was stunned and pulled a funny face.
"How did you guess?"
"Posh birds like you always wear the same colour bras and knickers," he smiled.
He was right there as I did nearly always wear matching underwear. But then I realised, he must have seen my bra strap earlier when he ran his hands down me.
"Can I have them now?" he asked.
"Why now?"
"I want to watch you working knowing you haven't got any knickers on for the rest of the night."
I gulped. That was exactly how I was feeling, especially after being knickerless the previous evening had been such a turn on.
I smiled and made to walk out of the kitchen.
"No," Stevie said grabbing my arm and stopping me. "Take them off in here in front of me."
We were quite close together. Close enough that I got whiffs of his smell and his stunningly, almost hypnotic ice-blue eyes were locked on mine. I knew then that I would do as he asked, but equally, I knew how crazy it was. I had never done or wanted to do anything like this before. It was as if the office was a cocoon, a parallel universe and inside it I could do things that would be unthinkable out of it.
He obviously saw my hesitation.
"Come on Jayne take them off, you know you want to."
I turned my face away so he wouldn't see my eyes for they were the giveaway. I did want to, but didn't want to admit it.
"Or shall I? Would you like me to take your panties off Jayne?"
The blunt words crashed into my mind and I realised I wanted to take them off for him and in front of him. Jesus what a slut I was becoming. I turned to face him again and I held his gaze. Then without saying a word I hitched my grey pleated skirt up to my thighs and fumbled for the elastic at the top of my thong.
"Oh fuck me yes," he groaned and that made me feel good. "Higher, lift it higher than that," he demanded in a low voice.
My heart was pounding as I lifted my skirt until it was bunched around my waist. Holding it there with one hand whilst I took hold of the panties with the other, I began fumbling them down my legs hardly believing the sensations roaring through me. I couldn't believe what I was doing or why I was doing it. I had numerous suitors around who were far more my type of man than Steve, but I ignored them. Yet here I was in the office where I worked, my skirt hitched up, our gazes locked as I slid my fingers into the waistband of my pink, lacy panties preparing to take them off and give them to the lecherous, sleazy bastard who for some unfathomable reason turned me on so much. Maybe it was opposites attracting, who knows?
He grinned broadly and muttered something that I didn't quite catch but I knew he was getting a clear look at my thatch of blonde pubes that I had recently trimmed into a landing strip in an effort to coax more sex from Kevin. When I lifted my foot to step out of the panties, I knew he would be able to see the pink wetness of my pussy as well and that sent a surge of sexual arousal through me. I realised that I was revelling in doing such outrageous things and in such sordid circumstances. But I had no idea why or where it was leading. I'd never felt like this before.
As I threw my panties across the room to him, I straightened my skirt as if I'd just done the most natural thing in the world. Stevie easily caught them and pressed them against his face and inhaled my musky smell.
"Mmmmmm," he purred, "I love the smell of a warm pussy." Then he placed them in his shirt pocket with a little bit sticking out like a handkerchief.
It felt really odd, but sort of liberating, if that isn't too poncy a term, for that's how I felt wandering around the office and working with no knickers on under my skirt. Of course, him being there and knowing that I had nothing on under the tight skirt added considerably to the sensations I was experiencing.
As we worked, he kept asking questions about my underwear and if I had French knickers, thongs, crotchless panties or bras with holes for the nipples to poke through. After a while I overcame my inhibitions and was conversing quite normally about my lingerie as we worked archiving all the data.
"What about stockings? Do you wear them?"
"Now and again yes."
"Ones that stay up by themselves or with a suspender belt?"
"Both actually," I replied in a matter-of-fact way as I inserted into the database one of the complicated logarithms he had designed that would cross refer one story to another.
"What do you prefer?"
"I like both it depends on what I am wearing over them."
"Why wear anything?" he leered at me.
"Because I wear them when I am going out to a do or a dinner and dance."
"I see and what's over them got to do with it?"
"Well I wouldn't wear suspenders if I was wearing a very right dress."
"Why do you wear them and the other sexy undies?"
At first, I told him I hardly wore them and preferred plain cotton undies. As he persisted, though, I admitted to buying some sexier stuff.
"Where do you get them?"
"How do you mean?"
