It had been a lousy year. My wife of nearly twenty years had walked out on me. The only good things had been that the settlement had left me enough to buy my own place and that I'd moved to a better job in a big multinational. After months of only occasional and very vanilla sex now I was getting no sex at all except what porn and my ever faithful right hand could give me. Then I encountered Patricia.
Patricia was a woman in my office. She was about my age, early forties. She had curly dark hair and she'd kept her looks. She'd also kept a figure and legs a woman ten years younger would envy, which she displayed in boob-clinging white blouses, skirts tight over her bottom, sheer black or tan nylons, and shiny black high heels.
There was plenty of mini-skirted young eye candy in my office. But there was something about Patricia, perhaps because she was about my age, that excited me. Every time I saw her I felt that familiar stirring down below and my eyes locked onto her well-filled blouse, her sensuously swinging hips and her nylon-clad legs. Even more erotically exciting I began to notice that Patricia's eyes started to regularly linger on me. I thought she would just be a masturbation fantasy but one day it happened.
Most of my colleagues were away at a team meeting and I was almost alone sitting at my station in our open plan area. I saw Patricia approaching as if to pass by my station then a moment later she sat down on the chair next to mine demurely crossing her black nylon clad legs. She looked around as if to check all was clear. Then she smoothly swung her legs apart in a movement that pulled her skirt high up her spread thighs. As any man would, my eyes almost involuntarily went down to see if I could look up her skirt. At what I saw I almost fell off my chair.
I saw Patricia was wearing sheer black stockings with bare thigh above. Above that I saw her naked pussy with her pink vagina lips peeping through her bush of dark cunt hair. I was speechless. Then Patricia spoke.
"I recognise a lonely frustrated boy when I see one" she began. "And I know what lonely frustrated boys want. I provide a service that might go some way to meeting their needs." She laughed softly. "I also do the things that men want their wives to do but daren't ask them."
I was fast getting the message. I'd encountered the office whore. Before I could say anything Patricia continued.
"This is what's on offer."
From a cardboard folder Patricia took out a photograph and handed it to me. It showed a naked woman on all fours on a bed with her breasts hanging pendulously and her legs wide. The view was from behind showing her bottom with her hairy pussy peeping out just below her bum cheeks. Her face wasn't visible but the hair colour and style was Patricia's.
From the folder she next pulled out a pair of panties. They were simple thin white cotton with lacy embroidered hems and very brief. They were still warm and smelled of a mixture of her perfume and her juices. She handed them to me.
"One of my cunt hairs is caught in the stitching if you're interested."
I ran her panties hungrily through my fingers. Something about the feel of women's panties drives me wild, especially with that strand of dark pubic hair caught in a hem.
"I charge for my services of course."
You make yourself sound like a prostitute" I replied. I'd recovered my voice.
Patricia laughed.
"You could think of me like that. I see it as providing a personal service. Depends what you want. A theatre ticket, a bottle of wine, good wine mind you." Someone was approaching and she crossed her legs demurely again. She stood and adjusted her skirt. "Do keep our little secret between the two of us. Think about it. You know where to find me."
With that Patricia turned, and with my eyes locked on the backs of her stocking-clad legs and her swinging bottom through her tight skirt she left me.
After that encounter there was only one thing I could do. With the photograph and her white cotton panties in my hand and with the memory of her spread thighs fresh in my mind I went to the men's restroom and locked myself in a toilet stall. Fortunately the walls and door went right down to the floor giving me all the privacy I could want.
I propped the picture on the tank. I dropped my trousers and briefs. My penis bounced out already mostly erect. Gazing at Patricia's naked thighs and bottom and that glimpse of her pussy I fingered my penis to the peak of erection stiffness and pleasure sensitivity. I spread my legs and thrust my hips forward. I brushed Patricia's panties over my iron hard penis shaft and over its big soft lust- and erection- swollen and sensitised cock head. I ran her panties between my spread legs across my balls and anus and up and down my ass crack.
Then with my eyes locked on Patricia's gleaming smooth bottom and spread thighs I wrapped my hand round my straining penis shaft and masturbated. On the walls of the stall were stains from where I and other guys had spurted our semen before. This time my cum had a different target. As I wanked I held Patricia's panties just in front of my penis brushing my cock head with a light touch just like a woman's lips, tongue or gentle fingers.
With my eyes locked on the picture, in my mind my hand was Patricia's tight vagina squeezing and pumping my cock. I imagined the feel of those smooth spread thighs against my hungry hands. It had been so long since I'd enjoyed a woman's thighs. I held back and edged, prolonging the exquisite masturbation pleasure. When I came Patricia's panties twitched with the impact of my powerful spurts of semen. "Patricia!" I grunted as her naked body filled my mind. Finally I stood there with Patricia's semen-soaked panties in my hand and my still half erect penis dripping a strand of semen onto the floor for the next guy to find.
