Joan was sitting in their shared office, at a large desk against the wall of the accounting office. She was focused intently on typing, wearing a pair of reading glasses perched precariously on the edge of her elfish nose. Her blonde hair was short, but elaborately arranged, and she wore a familiar vanilla perfume that brought back memories of working with her in the past.
She was in her mid-50s or early 60s, and had great skin and a plumpish cheeks that made her easily look fifteen years younger. She was around 5'6, and had thick legs that were always exposed beneath a skirt and sheathed in nude pantyhose. Her voluptuous, inverted heart shaped ass was always bound in a tight skirt that tapered to a small waist with a relatively flat stomach that seemed to maintain its fitness from having to perpetually support her massive upper body.
People throw around terms like macromastia. But her breasts were simply gigantic, mountainous features on her curvy frame, and no matter what she wore, they were perched outward, and yet bound against her with taunt fabric, making them seem to protrude and perpetually bulge, emphasizing her hourglass figure, making it seem like she had another dimension everyone else seem to lack. It was the first feature anyone noticed about her, she was like dolly pardon, and either the natural shape of her breasts, or her love of "bullet" bras, always kept them reaching straight out, defying gravity. They very often reduced men clumsy and dumfounded, or overly talkative, and with walking hard-ons as they would stare entranced at her bodacious, voluptuous body.
Honestly, she was the perfect person to hand deliver the bill to clients. When he asked he always seemed to get the runaround yet creditors always seemed to have the money for her. Otherwise, as sexy as she was, she had no mind for accounting. She wasn't as detail-orientated as the job required, and now that he was back on payroll, he was tasked with getting the accounting department back on track.
Working with Joan in the past had been fun and stress free. She would generally defer to him in most matters, and he would give her fairly tasks he knew she was good at completing. In the past, as much as he hated the firm, he enjoyed being in command in his office. Joan was quiet, for the most part, and gave him her undivided attention, commenting often on his life and actions, always interested in conversation and never seeming judgmental. And she was particularly interested in, and was always willing, to listen to his problems with women, what he wanted out of life, and especially his elaborate retellings of his weekends. She was supportive, listened closely, and commented often. She listened like a therapist.
To be perfectly honest, more than anything, she loved to make him blush, and would make everything vaguely sexualized, or would make double entendres, or just joke about abducting him and taking him home with her. He always assumed it was to keep his self-esteem up- to keep him from being too morose, or out of enjoyment from making him squirm from her relentless teasing. He never actually thought for a moment she was serious with her flirtation. But his love of huge tits did make him fantasize about her body many an evening after work. He'd masturbate in the shower, recounting her teasing as he fantasized about freeing her breasts from her blazer, blouse, and bra. From his past days working with her, he'd lasciviously watched her so many times without her knowledge over the years that her silhouette was permanently burned into his memory, but today, as he walked behind her desk and she turned to him from transcribing, he once again glimpsed her enormous chest perching precariously far from her body, with those rounded, tightly curving, white orbs of fabric stretching over her barely visible, but obviously elaborate, lacey brazier underneath that thin satin-like material of her blouse, he was frozen in place, completely shook to his core.
The micron thick fabric of her blouse outlined her torso so perfectly, with that blouse stretched to capacity and her impossible waist, she looked almost like a Victorian woman, he zoomed in and focused on her sexy underwear and could picture perfectly how the raised design in the rough woven texture of her bra would feel against every ridge of his fingertips as he mentally smoothed his hands over and under, exploring the curves of her ample bosom. He imagined his fingertips occasionally touching the cold, yet warm, creamy white skin of her cleavage, with his eyes and his vivid imagination. He looked hard at her body. For a moment, time seemed to stop.
As his eyes licked over the wide bust and her body one last time. He realized he didn't know how long it had taken him to make it to her face, but when he did, he saw her smiling, nodding, blinking knowingly at him. He became flushed, laughed nervously and shrugged, telling her it was good to see her again. She nodded, smiling even more.
"I see that." She said blinking again, smirking, and stealing one long look at his lower body before turning back to her work.
He looked down, seeing a bulge from his half-hard penis, contorted and bunched up as it inflated beneath the thin wool fabric of his trousers. He quickly adjusted himself, blushed more, and slowly sat down at his chair. Embarrassed, he compulsively began to organize his desk, waiting for the tension to ease, before finally making small talk.
The two caught up on life, as he transitioned to work-mode, beginning to ask questions about the current state of the accounts and the general finances of the firm; office related topics. She confessed that she had not been using the excel spreadsheets he'd created, and instead, had been keeping everything recorded on paper ledger, reverting back to a system that he helped replace years ago. After first thinking they could somehow easily upload the information from the bank records into their system, he soon came to see that it would not be so easy and that every transaction would have to be entered by him, with explanation, by hand. Realizing this, he sighed hard and embraced his fate, and began to manually enter in receipts and transactions. Joan, apologetic, helped along, reading the recipients and amounts, explaining the history behind many of the recorded items when needed, from memory, and her written records. The two talked and worked along side each other for hours.
Half the day went by, and boxes of expando-files were being emptied and sorted. Eventually, Joan took off her shoes, rubbing her feet and ankles as she read receipts. In nothing but her white blouse, nude stockings and pencil skirt, she got on her hands and knees digging through the contents of bankers-boxes scattered all over the carpeted floor. She would read the contents to him from one box and scoot over to another and read aloud, and he would enter the information. It soon got to be relatively efficient and they obviously still liked working together as a team, joking occasionally, and teasing each other with new and some really old private jokes.
He would stare down at her from the desk, looking down her plunging shirt when she was on her hands and knees. Her blouse had unbuttoned a bit at some point, exposing the full, round tops of her boobs, orbing overflowing her lacey bra into a deep cleavage that he couldn't help but sneak glimpses of. The supple whiteness of her skin and enormity of her chest viscerally enthralled him as her quad-boob spilled over in excess. Joan's tits seemed to dangle almost as if loose, swaying with her every crawling movement, wobbling and bouncing, even within that massive bra. They were jiggling as she spoke and brushing against objects whenever she moved; it was slowly driving him crazy.
