Janet Smith Cocteaser Cocsucer

"You just put your lips together and....blow."

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She had the bedroom eyes, smoldering sexuality, and the husky, 1-900-number voice of a young Lauren Bacall. Her chest, however, was more reminiscent of Jayne Mansfield's. (Or as Dick Cavett once so famously introduced her onto his show..."Ladies and gentlemen, here they are...Jayne Mansfield.")

She was also the executive assistant to my boss who had hired me into the company just three weeks ago, and she conducted herself with the haughty air of a woman who was far above the mere masses. The other women in the office generally loathed her while envying her position in the company and her magnificent body, while to the men, she was just an unattainable pipe dream, an instant professional pink-slip to anyone who dared even flirt with her. So, they ogled from a safe distance. Oh so close, yet oh so far.

Janet Smith was her name, approaching her forty-sixth birthday. I had just turned thirty-four and, rather naively, hadn't yet sampled a woman that much older than myself, preferring to still chase after the younger chicks who, as I realized only after Janet turned me into a poster boy for Warren Zevon's song, 'Poor, Poor, Pitiful Me', didn't have a clue when it came to the timeless art of fellatio.

You know the song lyrics. C'mon, hum along with me. "She really worked me over good, she was a credit to her gender. She put me through some changes, boy, sort of like a Waring Blender."

I was invited out to join in a Friday Happy Hour with my new colleagues to celebrate the departure of one of the college interns, Anna Cousins, who was returning back to Drexel for her last semester. Anna and I had discreetly chosen to celebrate in our own way, as the tall blonde coed had drunkenly accepted my invitation to come back to my townhouse for a personal exit interview.

I was making a trip to the restroom before meeting Anna in the parking lot for our rendezvous. I realized that I was taking quite a risk as a newbie dipping his pen into the company ink, but what the hell, I figured, an exception could be made for a departing intern. It's funny how we men can always rationalize our transgressions and risk our careers when a twenty-two-year-old blonde wants to fuck, isn't it?

And, so, imagine my surprise when none other than Janet Smith met me in the remote corridor, so narrow that her tits were essentially pressing into my own chest. I looked around nervously, but there was nary a soul to either observe or rescue me. Until that very moment, I hadn't even been aware that she was in the bar. Not that it really mattered, because she hadn't yet spoken a word to me during my short tenure with the company, not even so much as a 'hello'.

"Um, hi, Janet," I stammered, glancing around as much in anxiety as it was in a conscious effort not to stare at her heaving chest. "Uh, gee, I hadn't seen you, when did you get here?" Small talk was never really my thing. Lucky for me, Janet wasn't interested in superfluous banter.

She raised the glass she was holding and bit on the thin straw with her thin, pink lips. "I want to suck your cock," she breathed in that impossibly seductive rasp.

Talk about memorable opening lines.

I had no witty repartee to respond to that, although in hindsight, the word, "OK", might have sufficed just fine. Instead, I just gazed at Janet, my mind trying to absorb what she had just said. Just then, another patron in need of relief stumbled past us in the hallway, causing Janet's tits to mash even harder against my own chest. Her face was so close to mine now that I could feel the warm, rum-flavored breath coming from her mouth.

"I want to suck your cock," she repeated, in a level, matter-of-fact tone, as if she was asking me to turn in my expense reports. It wasn't as though I had missed what she had said the first time. I tend to pay attention to such utterances. I must admit, though, that my reply was less than eloquent.

"You do, huh?" I was trying to buy some time, but my cock had already caught on and was with the program. It hardened beneath my zipper as she felt the involuntary response and imperceptibly eased her pelvis into mine.

"Yes, I do. I want to suck your cock."

"Here?"

"No."

"Um, where, then?"

"In your car, on the way to my place. Anywhere. And then I want to suck it again. Then again."

"You do, huh?" Hadn't I asked that already?

Her tits felt so soft against my shirt. "Yep. And then again. All night long. As much as you want me to. I'll suck your cock until you're bone dry." She licked her lips. "Until you're out of cum, and it's all in my stomach." She then offered Plan B as an option. "Or all over my tits, your choice." That was polite of her, I thought.

Just then, with less than impeccable timing, I saw Anna Cousins' pony-tailed head peering around the hallway corner. Her look was one of astonishment mixed with disgust. But her appearance gave me a convenient escape, and I made the split-second decision to extract myself from the hungry cougar who had momentarily treed me with her surprise attack.

"That's quite an intriguing proposal, Janet, but I really have to go now. Can we discuss it further come Monday?"

Anna made no pretense of camouflaging our joint departure from the bar, and out of the corner of my eye, I noticed own assistant, Jennie, give me a congratulatory 'thumbs-up' as Anna snuggled up against me as went exited. Anna was high on tequila and God-knows-what other concoctions as she slobbered a wet kiss on me when we reached my vehicle.

"I can't believe that old lady. Did she want to fuck you? It sure looked that way."

I decided discretion was the better part of valor as I hurriedly ushered Anna's lithe body into the passenger seat. "Actually, she didn't say anything about fucking. She just wanted to give me a blowjob."

Anna looked at me wide-eyed initially, but then decided she was up for the challenge, the oral gauntlet having been laid down from a woman twice Anna's age. "What does that old hag know about blowjobs?" Anna leaned over in her seat, unbuckled her seat belt, and buried her head into my lap.

One minute later, she passed out into a coma on my lap, and I had to carry her young, lean body up the steps to my condo as she snored and drooled all the way.

In Anna's defense, though, when she did wake up seven or so hours later, we did fuck our way into her next semester, punctuating the completion of her internship with the company with a vigorous banging session. Or three. I abbreviated her clumsy repeated attempts at a hummer by flipping her over onto her stomach each time and fucking her senseless, which wasn't as hard as it sounds. She had a head start.

But, as I patted Anna's tight little ass as I dropped her back home on Saturday morning, never to be seen again, my thoughts were with Janet. Monday at the office promised to be most interesting.

And it was.

Though I arrived early, Jennie was already at her desk, and greeted me with a Cheshire-cat smile. Jennie was about my age, and happily married to an ex-Marine, so she was off-limits on several levels. However, Jennie was also a good protector, and she felt the need to break the news to me as she held up her Blackberry. "Looks like Anna advertised your goods, boss. Your days living in blissful anonymity are over. Seems you've been pegged as quite the stud."

I read the e-mail where Anna extolled the pleasures of our evening (morning?) together, explained in graphic detail, including name, rank, size, thickness, stamina, and serial number of my cock.

"Um," I gulped rather bashfully. "How many people did she send this to, Jennie?"

"Oh, not many. Only about half of the administrative assistants in the company, from what I can tell. Maybe you should lay low for awhile and I'll fight off the inevitable curiosity seekers that'll be coming your way." I cupped my head in my palms, legitimately concerned about my future with the company if this correspondence made its way to my boss.

Fortunately, the rest of the day passed rather uneventfully, except for the lingering stares of more than a few of the women in the office. I tried to stay at my desk as much as possible, even eschewing a lunch break, and before I knew it, it was past six p.m. and most of the office had emptied out. I figured it was safe to leave, and perhaps the worst was over, the storm had blown over. I packed up my briefcase, preparing to depart down the back exit.

That's when Janet Smith suddenly appeared in my doorway, holding her own cell phone. She wore a pale blue button-down linen blouse that accentuated her boobs terrifically and a tight black skirt with the usual high heels. "Truth in advertising?" she asked coyly. "After all, Anna was assisting in marketing, and it seems like she did some product research on a package that was supposed to be delivered to me." I tried to stop my rapid breathing from being apparent, and sank back into my leather chair.

Janet shut the door behind her so that it was left open only a crack. She walked over and sat on my desk, directly in front of me, and crossed her legs so that the tight skirt rode up and exposed the lacy tops of her thigh-highs. "Now, just what do we propose we should do about that, Mr. Intern Fucker? What might Mr. Jackson say if he got wind of his new hotshot exec banging his niece on her last day with the company?"

My face flushed with fear. Anna was Mr. Jackson's niece!?!? No, it couldn't be, could it? Just my fucking luck. This was getting worse by the minute. Janet reached over to grab my tie and she twirled it in her hands, pulling and stroking on it firmly, toying with me as she licked her lips. "But, maybe we can work something out so that we can make sure that doesn't happen." She stuck a finger in her mouth and sucked on it seductively, the digit disappearing down her throat deeply.

Despite myself, I couldn't help but feel the blood rushing directly to my heightening cock. Janet loosened a button on her blouse, revealing the lace of her bra on her impressive full breasts, and uncrossed her legs, showing me a glimpse of a sheer panty covering her crotch. The scent of the woman's arousal began to permeate the small room. She leaned down, giving me a clear look down her blouse, and eased close enough to nibble on my right ear. "Because, in case I hadn't made myself clear, I want to suck your cock."

Just as quickly as she had arrived, she then got up from my desk, refastened her button, and left down the hallway.

I jacked off on the ride home, unsure about what subsequent days would bring, but turned on beyond belief, caught in the cougar's mind-fuck clutches.

On Tuesday evening, I stayed late once again, almost hypnotized by an instinct that Janet would have wanted me to do so. At almost exactly the same time, Janet walked down the hall with a shoulder bag, and before she reached the bank of elevators, she made a quick check of the surroundings. She made a U-turn back to my office. Without a word, standing next to the doorframe, she extracted a huge pink dildo from her bag and began licking on the bulbous head. My door was wide open, anyone could have walked by and witnessed the brazen display.

Janet slowly eased about half of the thick shaft into her mouth and started to suck on it enthusiastically, small streams of spittle oozing from the corner of her mouth. She walked over to the chair in front of my desk, sat down, put one leg over the arm of the chair, hiked up her skirt, pulled aside a sheer pink white thong, and stuck the thick head of the device into her bare twat. She twisted the dildo eagerly in small circular motions, then began to pump it in and out of her slit with alacrity, all the while staring me right in the eyes. Precum began to leak out of my cockhead like a faucet and streamed onto my boxers, hidden beneath the desk.

With one final thrust, she pushed the pink pole deep into her gash, and then extracted it with a loud 'POP', the sounds of her splashing juices echoing against the walls of my office. She then snaked her long, pink tongue over the pink shaft of the toy before sucking the tip wildly, her hair hanging down and over the dildo now, licking her juices off of the play dong.

Just as quickly, she stood up, lowered her skirt back down, smoothed the material, and walked out of my office, but not before mouthing the words, "I want to suck your cock", over her shoulder. The whole escapade lasted perhaps ninety seconds, but long enough to have me shooting another load of jism onto my steering wheel on the commute home. I was sincerely regretting my decision to choose Anna over Janet on several levels, but was entranced by being held sexual hostage by this mature fellatrix of artificial playthings. I wasn't used to being the prey, but I was getting off on it, and wanted more.

I saw Janet earlier in the day on Wednesday, and was disappointed to find that she was wearing slacks. Granted, the navy-blue pants hugged her magnificent round ass like a second skin, but I thought that her attire today would preclude any visual entertainment at the days' end.

I was mistaken.

She arrived a few minutes later than previous evenings, but it was well worth the wait. Janet had on a lemon-colored blouse that buttoned down the front. She also had a gold necklace that hung down onto the top of her cleavage, barely visible, for now, with just two buttons currently undone. She actually looked a bit nervous, and glanced apprehensively down the hall before entering into my office. She had her streaked blonde hair up in a bun, but loosened the clip as her locks fell onto her chest.

She had a look of intense concentration, not the hint of the smirks from Monday and Tuesday's shows. Quickly, brushing the hair away from the front of her blouse, she loosened two buttons of her shirt so that it was open nearly down to mid-waist.

Her amazingly firm tits poured out from the support of the lacy chiffon half-bra that she wore, which cupped her tits in a manner that they almost pointed due north. I swallowed audibly as I had a full view of the largest areolas that I had ever seen. I glanced down at my desktop, looked at the coaster which was there to hold coffee mugs, and deduced that the coaster's circumference of about five inches wouldn't begin to hold Janet's dark brown circles.

Finally, she smiled, seeming to relax when she saw my display of shocked admiration. She took her hands and began to slowly cup her magnificent mounds together, emphasizing the fullness. Without taking her gaze from mine, slowly, with one hand, she lifted up her left breast, and her long, pink, wet tongue snaked from her lips, and she began to trace slow, long circles around her areola, stopping to suck on the erect nipple.

My dick began to do frantic push-ups beneath the desk, and my hand involuntarily lowered to stroke it, as much to stop it from painfully bursting through my zipper as anything. Janet chuckled as she saw she was evoking the desired Pavlovian response, and she repeated the action with her right tit, this time drooling a long strand of saliva from her mouth to her nipple, and then she sucked it back up as if she were slurping spaghetti, The necklace jangled between her tits like a leaf caught between two windshield wipers. She let out a soft groan as one finger began to tweak and pull on the nipple that she wasn't sucking, her actions clearly causing self-arousal.

This display went on for only perhaps two or three minutes, but it seemed like an eternity, almost as if time were suspended. When she slowly buttoned up her blouse and returned the incredible boobs to their encasement, her hard nipples protruded prominently through the light material. She came over to me, and only then did I consciously become aware that I was still stroking my lap, almost trance-like. "Mmmmmmm," she purred, her eyes riveted onto the trickle of pre-cum now puddling on my tan trousers.

She leaned down and whispered huskily into my ear, "I REALLY want to suck that big cock." Tonight, she had added the 'big' adjective to the now popular sentence. I took it as a compliment, rightly so, I presumed proudly.

Before she left, she stopped and gave me some fashion tips for the next business day, in a very succinct manner. "Don't wear underwear tomorrow."

On Thursday morning, I obediently arrived in the office, hoping that my dark blue suit would camouflage the reality that I was going commando beneath a business suit for the first time. Truth be told, I kinda liked it, too. It was comfortably liberating and, best yet, I felt....very naughty. Only problem was that I had to fight spontaneously-combusting hard-ons that popped up throughout the day, anticipating what had now become our own private end-of-the-day happy hours.

Just shy of five o'clock, always full of surprises, Janet appeared outside of my door, calling out to Jennie's cubicle, "I'll need about ten minutes to go over John's next assignment with him, Jen. Mr. Jackson asked me to cover it with him since he's out of town until Monday, but wants it done by close of business tomorrow. So, I'm going to close the door so that we're not disturbed, OK?"

Before I could even gather my senses, Janet clicked the door lock behind her, hiked up her tight black skirt, exposing a pair of badly swollen and puffy labia poking out from the perfectly bare slit, framed by the straps of her ebony garter stockings "Are you wearing the same color underpants as me?" she asked, sticking a finger into her gash. I nodded in affirmation. Janet grinned, and gestured with her head towards my crotch. "What a coincidence. Lemme see, I need to be sure. Don't want you violating the company's business-dress policy, ya know. Call it a spot check by the fashion police."

Who am I to resist such an order, it wouldn't be very professional, now, would it? Plus, it's only fair, she had showed me hers, showing me that she was 'not carrying', so to speak. I leaned back in my chair, and took my sweet time lowering my zipper, but then had to yank on my shaft a few times before releasing the hound, such was my excitement. There I sat, in all my glory, thick, hard, and proud. I kicked the leg of my desk and my swivel chair rolled backwards toward the window, so that Janet could have an unobstructed view of her own on the object of her stated oral desire.

Her eyes widened in obvious lustful appreciation, but then her next words almost deflated my ego for all eternity. "You call that a dick?" she asked disdainfully. For a few agonizing seconds, I was sincerely mortified. No woman had ever once complained about the ol' inventory. As a matter of fact, as my mind raced with insecurity, hey, I had it favorably documented by Anna Cousins just a few days ago, and not only that...

Janet interrupted my bruised-ego, internal ramblings, just in the nick of time before I felt myself beginning to wilt. "I call that a big slice of heaven. Holy shit, what a cock!" She walked over to me, holding her skirt with one hand, my eyes focused on the barely discernible glimmers of moisture coating her bright red pussy lips. She straddled me, lap-dance style, and gripped my shaft with one hand, wrapping it tightly in her palm.

"Unngh, Christ, I can barely grip this thing." We both looked down to see her fingers encircling my girth. "And I have pretty big hands, too. You are most definitely a two-hander." She took her other hand and pushed my cock against the opening of her slit, and began to rub and grind against it, not inserting the tip into her, but it was close enough so that I felt her juices flowing onto my cockhead.

She leaned harder into me, grinding more fervently, and grunted into my ear, "Now, which would you rather have? This dripping piece of hot ass or that skinny little bubblehead coed you had instead of me last week?"