Beginning

CHAPTER ONE: BEGINNING

"Oooohhhhhh ... fuckkkkkkk."

Bob laughed from behind me. I glanced over my shoulder as another tremor ran through my body. "What's so ... funny?"

With a chuckle, "You, my dear. I remember the first time when you said you had never used that word."

"Well, I hadn't. Oh, Bob ... you have the nicest cock."

"Thank you. I'm quite fond of your pussy ... and ass ... and mouth, too." He got a chuckle out of me that time.

I was leaned over the desk in his office. The president's desk. The company owner's desk. I was stripped down to my sheer black thigh-high stocking and heels. My long black hair was clipped away from my face to cascade over my shoulders when I stood. Now, strands of hair fell everywhere and swayed like my breasts as he thrust his cock into my pussy from behind. I could feel the juices from my pussy on the insides of my thighs. He wasn't the first to fuck me today, but, as I often felt, he was probably the best. His cock was long and thick and he used it with the same confidence and ease he used in running the company.

I was close to an orgasm. Lately, it wasn't unusual for me to have several before he climaxed. The first time that wasn't the case. We had both been without our spouses for a number of years. But, he quickly rediscovered the staying power he said his wife had honed into him and now I was the lucky recipient.

Just as I thought I was going to crash into my orgasm, "Mike!" I turned to look behind to see the door to his office was partially open. Mike, the newest and youngest whiz-kid who filled in as both product designer and website designer came into view. Bob made it a point to know everyone in the company by name and some personal facts. "Mike, are you rushing off to something important right now?"

Mike stuck his head fully into the office he might never have entered before. "Ahhhh ... no sir ... I was just going to see Miss Mason about some supplies." He chuckled, "I see she's busy, though. I'll just come back ... um, when she's not."

Bob never missed a stroke, his long cock pulling out and sliding back inside me until the head bumped deep inside. I had the feeling he was personally deepening my pussy as his cock didn't impact me inside nearly as often.

"Mike ... Miss Mason is Patty. I'm Bob, not sir. Remember?" He must have given some physical response because Bob continued. "If you aren't rushing off somewhere, you can help here. She's going to orgasm soon and it might be a big one. You know how she likes to make sounds, right?" There was nothing verbal, so his response must have been a nod. I looked back over my shoulder and saw the nervous but intense look in the young man's expression. "Why don't you come over here and stick your cock in her mouth. That should muffle her a little, don't you think?"

I heard Mike chuckle, "Yes, sir! I mean, yes, Bob."

I wasn't positioned well for a cock at both ends, so I dutifully pushed back against Bob and turned to the corner of the desk. In less than a moment, Mike appeared with his jeans opened and dropping to his feet. He had a nice average sized cock. I used one hand for support over the desk and the other to hold the new cock. I mouthed and licked it to lubricate it, then engulfed it into my mouth. The young man gasped and moaned as his cock head came to the entrance to my throat.

I could count on Bob doing something like this to heighten the experience, some unexpected addition to what was happening. When his fingers wound underneath me and trapped my clit, my reaction was exactly as he predicted. I orgasmed wildly. My body shook and both hands were required to stabilize myself, Mike's cock still deep in my mouth, my nostrils flaring with each breath. As predicted, I cried out with moans and gasps and groans liberally mixed in. Even 'muffled', as Bob called it, I was sure many outside the office would have heard my response.

Of course, that sound wasn't anything new for any of them.

* * * * *

It had started innocently enough. I was busy at my workstation at the end of a busy Wednesday. The office was quiet, already an hour past closing time, and it was now just the president and me remaining in the office.

My workstation was a custom designed and fabricated cell especially for me. It was like a donut in the middle of the five offices lining the two walls with an opening into the donut on each side. I had a phone, printer, computer and two monitors, and personal filing for each of the managers spread around my circular work area with a copier on the back side. I could easily turn in any direction to face and respond to any of the managers when they stepped to their door to say or request something. There was a coffee room/conference room that balanced the office arrangement. At the front of the office were the four development and design guys. Their open office layout separated the front door from the executive offices. At the back was a door that exited our small office building to the larger fabrication building across a parking and truck access paved lot.

I worked for a small manufacturing company specializing in custom office furniture and workspace equipment. It was mostly desks, cabinets, credenzas, work tables, etc. It involved wood, particle-board, and metal fabrication. The front office had the president, Bob Hansen who was the son of the founder (I only knew him as Mr. Hansen); Stan Jacobs who was the head of sales and marketing; Jim Williams and Dan Booth who were sales dealing mostly with showrooms around the region; and, Marty Adams who was head of product development, design, and the website.

This was the kind of company operation that had no walk-in business. Everything came in through website or showroom orders. We had the occasional vendor sales people coming in but most of them dealt directly with our production manager, Bill Clancy who had his own office in the fabrication building and all those visitors were limited to Wednesday so he could manage the interruptions in his day.

I handled all the letters and official correspondence for the company, data input into the computer for new orders from either the website or showrooms, which directed the appropriate group to take action. Some orders were standard designs already in the system and went directly to fabrication and some required a modification, or even a new design completely, which needed to be handled by the development group and possibly design approval by the customer. It was mostly shuffling electronic data with some filing, copying, and correspondence. The managers all handled a lot of their own correspondence and were equally adept at moving orders and data through the system, if needed.

I heard Bob shut down his computer, gather his things, and turn off the lights in his office. Then, I realized there was no sound and found him standing just outside my workstation. I glanced up at him, keyed a few more lines into the data sheet and closed the program and computer. I pushed back in my chair and sighed.

"Long day, huh?" He was one of the nicest guys I had ever known. To be honest, though, everyone in the company seemed to emulate this man's attitude to the company, the work, and each other, which influenced how others responded.

I smiled, some of the tiredness finally allowed to take hold of me after separating myself from the work. "Getting into that showroom in Denver appears to be paying off." He nodded with a smile. He had to be talked into that venture, which he thought was outside our circle of influence, but he was pleased to have been proven wrong. Inwardly, he was also pleased that this secretary was so aware of what had caused the sudden influx of orders and interest. He loved it when a hire proved so beneficial.

He was just standing there awkwardly and it made me nervous. There was something on his mind but I didn't know what so I didn't know how I could ease his issue. I turned in my chair to face him and waited. He was in his early 40's while I was 36-years-old. He had been widowed for seven years to my divorced five years. Two very awkward people in dealing with idle chit-chat socially. He was very real as a person and insisted from day one that I call him Bob, just like everyone else did.

"Patty, the world is a very difficult place with the current attitudes regarding sexual harassment, especially in the workplace. Don't get me wrong, I fully agree that men need to be more considerate of the women they work with and ..."

I smiled at him, "Bob, relax, what's on your mind? I promise I won't scream harassment, you're too nice of a guy to mean anything negative so just spit it out."

His shoulders sagged as he took a deep breath and let it out. "I'm really out of practice with this stuff." He gave me an awkward smile, then seemed to gather some strength of purpose and pushed on. "We're both single due to no choice of our own and we go back to empty homes ... I was wondering ... would you care to join me for a casual dinner tonight, maybe a drink or two?" I wasn't looking for a new relationship. I was wanting to explore who I was without the girls around. This was completely new to me. I told him exactly that. He nervously pushed on carefully, "No, I understand and I didn't mean to sound like I was asking you for a date, though ... Anyway, maybe just friends passing some time together? No commitments or entanglements. Just office friends."

I smiled, "Office friends. You're my boss, Bob." I watched him and he had a look about him that looked real with the disappointment. Maybe sometimes it really sucks owning the company. "Not a romance." He shook his head, encouraged that I was now carrying the idea. "Okay, thank you, Bob, I think I would enjoy that."

We agreed on a place and I told him I would meet him there shortly and to order me a red wine, maybe a Merlot. He left looking much more spritely than the way I had seen him standing outside my workspace.

* * * * *

We laughed and drank. The thick steak and potatoes he talked me into certainly helped balance the wine I drank and for the first time in a very, very long time I was having a great time interacting with a man. For a long time during the evening, I reminded myself that he was my boss, the owner, in fact. As easy and laid-back he seemed, it still seemed like a potentially dangerous situation for an employee who had been with the company for only about six months. But, the more we interacted, the less that potential seemed to be real. He shared details of his wife's illness and death. They had been unable to have kids and it was something they both regretted, but managed to not let that regret come between them. I felt happy for him. Not for her death, obviously, but for the life they shared together.

I found myself sharing my own story, though I was reluctant because it might seem like a downer in comparison, he gently prodded it out of me.

Raised in a proper, conservative home, Patricia Mason (me) was taught morality, propriety and the role of the woman in the household and marriage. With old-fashioned ideas of the woman taking care of the house and the man providing for the family, it all seemed to clash with the world-view I encountered in society around me, my high school experience, and the media. My rebellion after high school resulted in first becoming pregnant, then getting married to the father. I was only 18-years-old. I followed the obvious leanings of my family in finding a role in raising the twin girls, keeping the house, and supporting my husband. My exposure to the business world was non-existent but also unnecessary. As it turned out, my husband advanced in his career quickly and often. He ended up traveling for work and was gone for days at a time and frequently for days each week. I settled into my own life with the girls and developed a functional and loving environment for them, whether their father was home or not.

When he gave me the divorce papers five years ago, I was stunned and unprepared. I thought our lives were nearly ideal but that was only my narrow perspective from the home. That was also reflective of the fantasy I had created for myself and the girls with the increasing absence of my husband. He had found another woman, a younger woman who was more exciting, sexual, and adventurous. Of course, the other woman didn't have twin girls to raise and wasn't stuck in the house all day with no job or contacts with the world. The divorce was contentious. I didn't share more about it than that, but my lawyer was a pit bull who seemed to have a personal vendetta against men who discarded caring wives and their own families. It turned out in the legal discovery that he had not only done well in his career but very well. I ended up with a supportive alimony, child support, college fund for the girls, and the older car with the house.

I mused to myself, lost for a few moments in the red liquid in my stemmed glass. After the girls left for college, I sold the house and downsized to a townhome. Four months before the girls left for college, I finally ventured out of the home to find a job in preparation for the rest of my life. I discovered many things, not the least of which was I was completely awkward and bewildered with men in dating and social situations. But, that wasn't all bad, either. I was not in a hurry to venture anywhere near another serious relationship, but I became increasingly aware of other needs, needs that my husband had satisfied with another woman or women other than me. And, that seemed, somehow, to make my needs more intense and demanding. But the internal quandary of wanting to experience the sexual excitement I had been denied all those years, but avoiding the trap of another relationship, made the process of discovery more difficult than I imagined.

His hand reached across the table and touched mine lightly. "As much as I am sorry you experienced all that, I am honored that you shared it with me. You were an anomaly to me when you showed up for the interview. There were certainly other women who were more experienced ... hell, experienced at all ..." We both laughed, we both knew I came to him with almost no experience to show for myself. "There was something about you, though. I am pretty good about my feelings about people and I felt there was a lot more to you than what could be put down on a resume." He looked a little embarrassed and I knew I was by the way the conversation had gone, the depth, the sharing, and the emotion. "I'm glad I took that chance, Patty."

He seemed to realize how late it had become and we were soon making our way through mostly empty tables to the door. We stood awkwardly just outside. I saw his car to the left and mine was on the right. Neither of us seemed to know what to do next. Do we say 'goodnight' and how?

Finally, I surprised myself. I turned to him and stepped very close to him, "Bob ... are we still just friends? Friends who maybe understand each other a little better?" He nodded. He might have been holding his breath. "Would you ... would you like to come to my house for another drink? I don't know what I have there, but ..."

He put his index finger to my lips. It felt so intimate. It was only a finger. "I'd love to. I don't care what you have there as long as you are." He looked at me intensely and I shivered. "Still just friends." I told him to follow me, but I wasn't sure my legs were going to carry me to my car. I felt like a school girl instead of a mature woman who just sent her twin girls away to college.

It didn't matter what I might have had in the house to drink. I never gave us the chance to look for it. I opened the front door and held it for him. When he was in and I closed the door, I turned him around and wrapped my arms around his neck. I kissed him with all the passion that I regretted not having for the past five years. He returned the kiss with his own passion and we melded into two lonely, love-lost people suddenly finding themselves thrown into the only welcome comfort and understand either had known in too long a time.

When I broke the kiss while gasping for air and my heart beating as if I had run a race, I gazed into his eyes with yearning and fear. I spoke the only words I felt were safe at the moment, "Still just friends?" He nodded numbly, his own breath as ragged and desperate as mine, a cautious smile spreading over his mouth, his eyes not leaving mine.

I took his hand in mine, brought the palm up to my lips and kissed it. "I want to do this, Bob. Tonight, we're just friends. No commitments. No entanglements. We both need this maybe, but I know I really do." He pulled me in and kissed me. My hands went to the buttons on my blouse and the buttons started opening as I continued to look at him. He shed his jacket, his tie, and began working on the buttons of his shirt. I dropped my blouse in the entry, kicked off my low heels, and started walking backwards toward the stairs to the upstairs. His shirt was off, too. He was pulling his undershirt over his head as he followed me. I stopped as my heel struck the bottom step. "I want you to just fuck me, Bob. God ... I've never said that before."

I turned to go up the stairs, my fingers working the clasp and zipper of my knee-length skirt. Halfway up I paused just long enough for the skirt to fall to my feet. I felt his hands untangle the skirt from my feet. I looked back at him as he discarded the skirt behind him, his belt loose and working his zipper down. I turned and continued up with my fingers working the clasp of my bra, then discarding that at the top of the stairs. I turned around to walk backwards into my bedroom. He had shed his slacks, stopped to remove his socks. Somewhere he had kicked off his shoes, too. He was standing three feet away in his boxers. I looked at him. I really looked at him. He was probably 5' 11" tall and 180 pounds, relatively toned and athletic looking. He was indeed attractive or maybe it was because he was about to fuck me. His brown hair was cut short and didn't show any hint of gray. As I was looking at him, he was also looking at me. I stood before him in my pantyhose and panties. I was 5' 6" and 125 pounds with a trim, if maturing body. My hair is long, wavy and dark extending past my shoulders. I know my breasts aren't as perky as they once were, but a jiggle in the breast is sexy, right. That's how I make myself feel better, anyway.

I closed the gap, kissed him, and took his hands in mine. I led him into my bedroom walking backward while looking him in the eyes with confidence I didn't know existed in me. Next, to the bed, I kissed down his chest, my fingers working his boxers over his hips as I finally knelt in front of him. His cock was already at half-mast in anticipation. I glanced up at him as I grasped his cock and held it to my mouth. I kissed the circumcised head, licked the first drop of precum, then slowly pressed my mouth over it, sucking, pulling back and pressing back over it. He stepped out of his boxers at his feet and lifted me up, pulling me into him, his hardening cock pressing into my abdomen. God! What a feeling ... a hard cock pressed into my flesh.

He guided me back to the bed and with a gentle push, I fell onto my back. He reached for my pantyhose and panties, stripping them from my hips, legs, and feet. I turned, reached for the top of the covers and pulled them and the top sheet down to the foot of the bed. I settle into the center and held my arms out to him. He ignored them. He moved between my legs and I gasped. His hands slid up the inside of my thighs and the higher they went, the more my sighs turned to gasps. His lips took the place of his hands as my legs seemed to open at the touch of his hands. His lips and tongue touched each thigh and moved higher each time he moved back and forth. I could feel his breath on my pussy, which is sparsely covered in hair. His breath sent a shiver through my body, but the first touch of his lips on my pussy lips sent a shock wave through me.