Bella, Bella, Bella.
I was taken with her the moment she walked into the HR office for the interview. She was just nineteen and luscious, at least to my eyes she was. She got the job. She was good, that's why she got the job. No other reason at all, but having such an attractive girl working for me was hardly unacceptable.
Bella is now twenty-four and has left the company. She worked for me until about a year ago and during that time she seemed to look on me as some kind of mentor.
Our relationship was never more than that of being friendly, although sometimes we would flirt mildly. Even though it was obvious from her comments that she was no virgin, I came to the conclusion that she was not very experienced sexually. She would however, eventually, give me cause to rethink.
She is dark haired and has a pretty, oval face with lovely green eyes. She has a particularly smooth neck, beautiful shoulders, and above all, fantastic boobs. Unfortunately, however, she usually seemed rather self-conscious about them, and almost always wore loose-fitting blouses or sweaters, presumably to disguised them.
After she left and started working for another company we retained our friendship and fairly frequently we would meet up, have a few drinks or go out to dinner. We were an improbable mix, and it was a slightly unlikely friendship as I am a lot older than she is. What with office politics, problems about sexual harassment, there was never any question of me making advances to her, and anyway, at the time, she had a serious boyfriend.
I was never sure if she realised that I was strongly attracted to her or if she thought that I merely looked upon her semi-paternally. Either way she kept any thoughts to herself, whilst often my own libido ran riot simply thinking about what lay under those loose blouses. The only hint of their magnificence came on the rare occasions when she stretched. Their exact proportions were then vaguely outlined and showed that they were certainly a good size and as far as I could make out, a perfect shape, round and very firm. Many of my fantasies at that time focussed around those fabulous twin peaks.
On this particular evening she was due to come over to my place as we were going to the local theatre to see some Spanish dancing, something that particularly interested her. We had a quick meal in a local restaurant beforehand, and then after the show we had a couple of beers at a local pub before returning to my house where we had arranged she should stay over, something she did from time to time. I was really looking forward to it as it would give us plenty of time to chat. Other than a quick cheek kiss there was never any physical contact and there was never any question of her spending the night anywhere but in the guestroom - alone.
We got stuck into a few strong German lagers, and soon both of us were feeling pretty content. We were never at a loss regarding what to talk about, gossiping on as usual about the goings-on in the office, and from time to time returning to our favourite subject - sex!
She would often go into the most intimate detail of her own love life, which I have to admit I found a great turn-on. She was that delightful ingenuous mixture, young, part earthy and streetwise, part naive. It was an appealing and even heady combination.
One aspect of our relationship was that she would often question me on various aspects of sex and lovemaking. For instance, she once asked me to describe, in minute detail, how she should give a good blowjob. At the time we were sitting in a restaurant with other diners around, which only seemed to heighten my latent excitement with the possibility that we might be overheard. Needless to say that when we stood up to leave, I wondered if the physiological manifestation of the inevitable rise in my blood pressure would be evident to any of the other diners, in other words, would they notice my hard-on when we stood up to leave.
There were similar occasions - for example, had I ever done anal intercourse? What was it like? Would I describe it, did it hurt and so on. In spite of all our erotic chat, the relationship was and always had been entirely asexual.
On this particular evening the subject somehow got round to masturbation. Like most women on the subject, she started with, "Well, all men do it, don't they."
Noncommittally I answered that probably most did, but then so did many women. Not surprisingly, being the inquisitive soul she was, she was not going to be satisfied with that sort of answer.
"Do you do it?" she wanted to know. Slightly taken off guard, I admitted that I did. "How often," she pressed.
"Well," I said, "it varies."
"Yes, but on average, how often?"
I didn't know what to say to her. Being, from her point of view at least, somewhat long in the tooth, I guess my sex drive was hardly that of an eighteen-year-old, but nonetheless I still considered myself pretty hot-blooded.
In the end I decided to answer truthfully, "Sometimes not for a week or so, very occasionally twice or very rarely three times in one night, but on average maybe two or three times a week. Then she wanted to know where and when I did it. "Mostly on or in the bed, usually at night." I omitted to tell her about doing it in front of my home PC.
She pondered this for a while and then said, "I have never really seen a man wank."
I wondered where the conversation would go from there, and taking advantage of the pause, I went and got another couple of beers.
When I got back to the sofa, we sipped our beers in silence and then she leant against me, and provocatively cocking her head slightly, said, "Pee J, if I asked you, would you do something for me?"