Watch Your Mouth

Mr. Richards and I had a fine system that served us well for the past five years. My boss was to me what I am to the fax machine. No chit chat, no pleasantries, just the fax. He'd come in every morning at five to eight, I'd bring his coffee, he'd rattle off what he needed, and I ducked out to my desk in front to do what he asked. I'd place him somewhere between fifty and sixty, with a tight, fit body he suffocated under sensible suits. His hands were calloused with thick, manly fingers, like he perhaps enjoyed woodworking in his spare time. I don't know for sure. I only know he likes his coffee hot and his insurance office nearly silent when clients aren't there.

But I was expecting a juicy phone call that afternoon. As quietly as I could, I took this phone call. Maybe I should have gone outside. Maybe I should have waited for the voicemail. But I took the call. Heather's excitement on the other end went to my head. "Holy shit!" I half-whispered. "No fucking way."

I heard his chair scrape on the floor in his office. Heavy steps across the worn rug on the hardwood floor. He poked his head out of his open door.

I hung up in a hurry, as you can imagine. I threw my cell phone into my purse and tried to look busy replacing dates and names on an old letter he wanted to send out again this year. I smiled when he came out.

"Everything all right, Mr. Richards?"

He looked me over and his direct ice blue eye contact sent a shiver up my spine. I couldn't remember the last time he'd really looked at me. It seemed he couldn't either. "Do you always wear that lipstick?"

He caught me completely off guard, staring at my lips like that. I painted them a trendy, glossy apple red like a woman I'd seen in a magazine. "Uh, what? I...yes. I mean, not always but often," I stammered. And foolishly, "Do you like it?"

His gaze lingered on my lips, and then shifted back to my eyes. He may as well have had his hand around my throat for the paralysis I felt. "Was that you using foul language in the office?"

"I...yes and I apologize but--."

"Were you speaking to a client?"

"Oh, no, sir, I would never--."

"So you took a personal call on the clock?"

"Oh, sir, it was a short call and I just got caught up and I'm sorry, I will never, ever--."

His face was unchanged. "Sarah, go home." He started to walk back to his office, but paused in the doorway. He turned, set his blue eyes back to 'stun' and instructed, "I want to see you at 7:15 Monday morning to get this sorted out."

I was a wreck all weekend, alternately hunting for new jobs and thinking of what I'd do to keep my old one. He paid well, the office was close to my house, and I liked being left alone out front. As I entered his office Monday morning, I did my best to appear innocent and forgivable. He was on a phone call when I came in, and he didn't stop on my account. I stood awkwardly in the doorway. He stared at me for a long time before finally gesturing for me to sit.

He ended his call and took his jacket off. I could make out his muscles under the crisp white cotton of his shirt. When I looked back at him, he was looking at me.

"Your dirty mouth is unacceptable during office hours. This is not happy-hour-Sex-In-the-City time. This is a place of business and there are rules and expectations. Now, under normal circumstances, I would fire you for that little performance--."

"Oh, no, sir," I gasped.

"Don't interrupt me, Sarah, or I will fire you. Keep your mouth shut."

I did.

"Normally, I would fire you. But you've been a good assistant for these past years and I have a feeling you spent the weekend looking into other options. I have a feeling you've seen what's out there and you know it's not easy to find a good job these days. You know how many girls would love to be in your position. I can tell by your little nun's outfit and your lack of whore lipstick that you're trying to get back on my good side."

I had worn a modest pencil skirt and a blouse with white lace all the way up to the collar. I felt foolish sitting there trying to play innocent when he could see straight through me. He stood up and walked around to the front of his desk to lean on the front and really look down on me.

"Where's the lipstick, Sarah?"

I didn't say anything because I didn't know if it was a rhetorical question.

"Sarah," he prompted, calmly.

"It's in my bag."

"Put it on."

"Why?"

He exhaled through his nose. "This is an exercise in obedience, Sarah. I want you to prove your dedication to the company and to me. Put it on."

My hand was shaking as I got it out of my purse. I already knew what it meant, and I had fantasized a similar scenario in the past. I just never thought it would happen. I used a little mirror from my purse to get it just right. I knew he was watching my lips as I slicked it on. I got a fluttering between my legs before I even looked up at him and pressed my lips together.

"So...is that all?" I asked in the silence following.

"I want you to apologize to me for your behavior."

"I'm sorr--."

"On your knees," he said firmly.

I was quiet while I considered the point of no return.

"I don't have all morning. I want to be done in about twenty minutes."

"Twenty minutes? What are we--."

"Start on your knees," he instructed slowly, "with an apology."

I got down on my knees in front of him, my pantyhose sticking on the rug. His crotch was right in front of my face, even closer when he stopped leaning on the desk and stood up straight. I looked up at his eyes. "I'm sorry, Mr. Richards, for my dirty mouth."

He nodded and touched my chin, almost fondly. Then, he pushed his thick index finger into my mouth. I was so turned on, I shut my eyes and sucked on it. When he took it out, I looked up to see him smiling down at me.

"Very good. Now get up and lock the door."

I did as he asked. I'd have my own juicy story for Heather at lunch time. When I turned around, he was unbuckling his belt. He nodded toward the floor and I slipped back into my place.

"Now, I want you to make it up to me, Sarah. Prove you're here to work."

He let me do the unzipping. I could see the outline of his cock through his gray flat front trousers. He wore green boxer briefs underneath. I reached in and ran my hand slowly along his length.

"Don't waste time," he said, sharply.

I yanked his underwear down and took his dick in my hand in a hurry. I opened my mouth and he smirked down at me just as I took his head into my mouth. He was a little bigger than other guys I've blown, strong and veined like his hands and thick like his fingers. Even his penis was no-nonsense, going from balloon to hard rock with just a few stabs in my mouth.

I could taste his pre-cum beginning to leak from the head. He put his hands in my hair and guided me all the way to the base. I held my mouth open and let him take charge.

"Oh, look at that," he said, his voice deeper than usual. "Look at that mouth."

He eased up on me and I took an opportunity to breathe, busying myself nursing the tip and jacking him with my hand.

He moaned. "You've got those perfect whore lips. You were born to suck cock." His hand was in my hair again, but more gently this time before he prepared me. "Let me fuck your face. Hold still and breathe through your nose."

I looked up at him and he was smiling down on me as he thrust his hips into the back of my waiting mouth. I braced myself on the floor with one hand and tried not to be too obvious about the other hand between my legs. I was so turned on I figured I could come from the friction.

"Sarah likes it," he chuckled to himself as he pulled out. A strand of drool connected my mouth to his dick. My lipstick was smeared all over his crotch and probably all over my face. I could taste some in my mouth, mingling with the taste of his pre-cum.

"Get up, pull your skirt up and put your hands on the desk," he said, walking around his desk with an erect cock to get a condom. He started to roll it on and thought better of it. "Can you do that old whore's trick? Can you roll it on with your mouth?"

I leaned across his desk and tried my best to push it down with my mouth. It's a careful process and he moaned like crazy while he watched me work on it.

"Good, good," he said, practically skipping back to the other side of the desk, where I was exposed. He smacked my ass. "This'll teach you to watch your mouth."

I was purring, bent over the desk and waiting for him to fuck me. I needed it so bad.

His hands were finally on me, gratifying me for my hard work. He squeezed my breasts through the white lace of my blouse and pressed his hard dick into my backside. I moaned as he arched me back toward him, then pushed me forward.

"Ask me nicely, Sarah."

"Please, Mr. Richards. Oh, please, please fuck me."

"What was that? I didn't recognize you without the filthy mouth." He ripped my hosiery and twisted my panties aside.

"Fuck me, Mr. Richards. Give me your dick. I need it so bad. Fuck me like a whore."

He gathered my hair in one hand, used the other to brace my hips and drove right into me. I gasped and he chuckled proudly. "You like that dick, baby?"

"Oh, yes, yes, yes," I babbled. He fucked me hard and deliberately, like I've always dreamed of being fucked. I could no longer verbalize, only moan gutturally each time he nailed me.

"You're so wet," he complimented me, when he pulled out. I was worried we were done, but he turned me around and pulled me close for a kiss. "You little whore," he said, shattering my romantic illusions. "You've got a perfect mouth."

He liked it, because he laid me on my back on his desk and kissed me while he humped me. I was surprised to feel his big thumb moving over my clit, but not surprised when I came ten seconds later. I went stiff, unable to keep my eyes open or kiss back. My tightening pussy made him moan into my mouth. He pumped, pumped, pumped, and followed me off over the cliff into a grunting orgasm.

We lay together kissing and breathing hard in the afterglow, until I said, politely. "It's almost eight, sir."

"You're a good assistant," he said, pulling himself out of me. "Now go clean up and get coffee ready for Mr. Dale. He'll be here in twenty minutes."

I slid off his desk and centered my panties, pulled down my skirt, smoothed my hair. I was unlocking the door when he said, "Sarah, I'd like you to come in early every day this week. Consider it a probation period."

"Yes, Mr. Richards."