It was 1972 and I had my first office job at a small factory outside of New Britain, Connecticut. The factory floor, where the pieceworkers were busy prying rubber gaskets and such out of the huge sheets delivered to their benches, was on the lower level along with the press workers and tool & die people.
The second story had the offices, overlooking the open factory floor. There were four executives, a half-dozen managers, a secretarial pool consisting of six desks in an open area plan, and of course the cafeteria and conference room.
I'm telling you all this so you get the layout, but of course that's not why I'm writing.
I was twenty years old and unmarried. I had a sometime girlfriend but we weren't having sex because of her strict upbringing, unless you consider hand jobs and pussy-fingering to be sex. We weren't in love, just heavily into "like a lot", I guess you could call it, along with both of us enjoying partying.
There was an office girl (that's what they were calling 'em then, today it's administrative assistant and god-knows-what-else) named Joan. We all called her Joanie. She was there to do work deemed too menial for the secretaries, like filing and document storage, but mostly she made coffee and ran errands.
She was a tiny, pretty little thing with long, straight honey-blonde hair almost to the middle of her back. She couldn't have stood more than five feet in her heels, but she was no mouse. In fact, considering that 80% of the place consisted of female workers, Joanie stood out, mostly by being very helpful and friendly.
Since the Connecticut labor laws required full-time employees to be at least 18, I know she was of age, but damned if she didn't look and seem younger. Maybe it was because she was so petite. My own hands, for instance, seemed double hers in size. I remember she always had a wry, humorous expression on her face, like something was about to make her laugh at any minute. Or, that she had a secret.
I discovered that secret one day when I went over to a manager's office door, one of several guys to whom I reported. I was accustomed to just walking in, even if his door was closed. Luckily, because of the weird sound I caught just as I turned the handle, I stopped myself from fully-flinging open the door. I say luckily because there was no way I could have coped professionally or socially if I'd been caught observing the activity inside.
The manager, Eddie Bowman, was slouching low in his high-back chair, facing somewhat away from the doorway. His huge desk was big enough to mostly hide the other person in the office with him from my view. She was kneeling before the guy. I could just see the top of her head, which was moving in an unmistakable way. It was Joanie.
The weird sound I'd heard was coming from Bowman. He was so deep into the pleasure of what Joanie was doing, he hadn't noticed me opening the door a crack. I stood frozen in place for a few moments, befuddled: why hadn't he locked his door? Was anyone else hearing this? How can I close the door without either of them hearing me? Why in the world would she be giving that ugly bastard a blowjob?
I came out of my trance only when Joanie lifted her head for a moment and looked my way, over the top of the desk. Even through the narrow opening in the doorway I knew she could see who was watching her. I remember her lips were shiny and wet, and her eyes were excited-looking. I closed the door as rapidly and as silently as possible.
I found myself in the men's room, standing at the urinal trying to piss, which I badly needed to do...but my dick was so hard I could barely go. She had been sucking him off! Right there in his office, with the door not even locked. By now he'd probably filled her mouth with his cum.
I couldn't get the vision of her moist and shiny lips out of my mind. My cock was so filled with blood I could barely touch it. I wished my girlfriend was with me right then. I thought briefly of stepping into a stall and relieving myself, but someone could come in at any time. I decided to zip up and get back to work and force my mind into concentrating on something else. Trying not to think of what I might say or do the next time I'd see Joanie.
My desk was behind the secretarial pool, with a low wall surrounding two sides of it, sort of like a cubicle before those became the norm. I made my way back to it with a file folder held in front of me so none of the women might notice the bulge in my pants, certain that my arousal must be obvious to everyone. I busied myself with tidying-up a few mounds of paper on my desk, putting stuff in its proper place, all the while with my mind straying back to that picture...of the sweet office girl Joanie and the way her eyes and lips had shone.
It was only a matter of minutes before I looked up to see Joanie standing there by my desk! She seemed to be studying me. My face grew red in seconds. I could feel the heat creeping up my neck.
"Here's that file you wanted, Mark," she said, loudly enough for others to hear. She handed me a folder with a title on it that was absolutely meaningless to my job, but I studied the name on it stupidly anyway, not able to meet her eyes. Then she lowered her voice.
"Are you free for break in an hour?"
"Huh?"
She smiled, like it was a cute game we were playing.
"You know, a break, at 3?"
"I don't know what you-", I began, but she cut me off with a short whisper.
"Meet me at your car out back, in the lot," Joanie instructed, then abruptly moved on to someone else's desk.
You can bet that things went through my mind in that hour or so until break. My first belief was that she wanted to keep me quiet about what I'd seen. That would be logical. Not that I ever intended to tell a soul. Our management and admin departments weren't a tight, chummy bunch of people in the first place, and it wasn't one of those places where the guys all get together to muse about the women and share tales of who might be doing who. So, Joanie had nothing to fear from me.
The next thing that occurred to me was maybe I should apologize for breaking in on her like that. Not that I felt sorry for doing so, really, but just to give her a break despite her risky behavior. Like I say, Joanie was a friendly girl who everybody in the place seemed to like and get along with, so why not act like it was no big deal?
Anyway, three o'clock finally came and I made my way cautiously out of the building. I wondered if anyone in the place would notice the two of us being missing at the same time. Most everybody else hung out in small groups in the cafeteria or took the two-block stroll to the Dairy Queen (this being summer) during break time, so I hoped no one else would be in the parking lot. Also, it would be great if none of the loading dock guys were hanging around out back. At least there were no windows in the back of the building, thank god.
I found her leaning against the passenger side of my car. Until that moment I wasn't even aware she knew what I drove, which right then was a '68 Camaro I'd inherited from my brother. It was dark blue, I recall, and had way too many miles on it. I approached her, my opening words running through my mind. She looked really nice with the afternoon sun shining on all that hair, slouching there with her arms behind her back in a white peasant blouse, a blue mini-skirt and black heels. Joanie didn't have a voluptuous shape but her body was all female, and she stood with confidence.
"Joanie," I began, "I'm sorry I nearly walked in on you and Bowman like that. It's none of my busi-"
"I've always liked this car," she interrupted. "Let's get in."
Taken aback, I gave her a long look as I fumbled for the keys. What was there about her that had me tongue-tied and embarrassed and helpless? And just exactly why were we getting into my car...?
I held the passenger door open and she scurried into the bucket seat like a little kid. Even in a compact like the Camaro she looked small. I let myself in the driver's side and turned to face her, realizing that again my face was red.
"We should go over there, by the trees," she pointed. Her voice held the hint of conspiracy. I found myself firing up the Chevy and maneuvering it to the far side of the back lot, away from the building and any prying eyes, sliding it into a space almost under the low-spread branches of a pine. I shut the ignition off and again turned to her.
"You just relax, Mark, but keep an eye in the mirrors and let me know if anyone's coming."
"Joanie," I began again, but stopped abruptly when she gracefully folded her legs down into the space in front of her seat, almost with a slithery move, and eagerly moved her body into a position so that her head was suddenly in my lap. The gearshift didn't even seem to be in her way.
Her hands deftly began working my crotch, one of them rubbing my equipment through my slacks while the other loosened my belt and pulled my zipper down, quick as a wink. My heart was pounding. I really hadn't anticipated this scenario. I was caught so much by surprise that at first there was no resurrection of the hard-on that had bloomed so fiercely, barely an hour or so before (and hadn't truly dissipated until almost 3), despite her earnest, educated caresses.
It was only when she fished me out of my Fruit of the Looms and uttered in a low, excited voice, "Oh, good, I love feeling it get hard in my mouth" that I began to react. This was really happening, I was really sitting out here in my car with a lovely girl about to put my cock where it had never been before.
To describe the wonderful sensation of her warm wet mouth engulfing me fully, while one of her small hands entered the opening in my slacks and underwear to gently caress my ball sac, is impossible. I'm sure I was making some sounds or other of pleasure, but there was an inner hissing in my head that sounded like an old house radiator's steam coming up, drowning out any of my vocalizations.
I could actually feel the blood entering my penis in a rush, bringing me to a full, throbbing erection that Joanie began working with loving, insistent care. Up to that moment I'd thought girls like this only
existed in stories. I managed to look down at her by craning my neck a bit, afraid even as I did so that this experience might not be real and would vanish before my eyes. Gingerly I moved her luxurious hair out of the way so I could get a look at her mouth as she sucked at the tip of my member and swirled her tongue around the head.
Swirling her tongue! I hadn't even imagined that. Sensing my need to observe, Joanie shifted
