Craig liked to work late at the office. Left in peace he got more done, and when business was over he had time to himself. Time he put to good use.
A superfast Internet connection let him browse his favorite porn sites without the endless delays and dropped connections he suffered at home on his ancient PC. He knew the company had strict policy on viewing inappropriate material, but he knew more about the computer system than anybody in the office and was well able to cover his tracks. It was not that any of the sites he visited were particularly offensive or that he had much to hide, still he had to keep his after hours activity under wraps. He knew no-one would understand his peculiar taste.
Craig Alexander Brunswick, unmarried 24-year-old graduate of business and economics, temporary acting second assistant to the senior supervising partner for corporate affairs in LMX Industries (Southwest division), was a dedicated panty enthusiast. He simply loved panties and all things that could be done with them, always had and always would. His so far limited experience with girlfriends had only confirmed his attraction.
He had probably started his obsessive interest by daydreaming about the demure models posing in lingerie in his mother's shopping catalogs. Such wonderful concoctions of excitingly shiny or lacy fabric over smooth shapely forms, all delicate trimmings, exotic fastenings, contrast of colors, the women always so perfect. That real women could wear such things under their clothes had fascinated him as a young boy, and when he became old enough to masturbate he did, frequently and enthusiastically, thinking of those women, looking at their pictures, and coming joyously, most often with the aid of his own mother's underclothes to give solid dimension to his blissful fantasies.
However it started, his panty fancy took flight with the growth of the Internet. It seemed to serve up an inexhaustible supply of panty porn in one form or another, too much to fulfill a lifetime of looking, and he hadn't to look very hard to find what he liked.
His preferred imagery would in fact seem rather tame if it came to an inquest. No hardcore stuff, nothing distasteful and certainly nothing illegal. Not much that was offensive, or particularly unusual for those of a broad mind. When he thought about it, there was nothing really that involved actual sex, or much nudity. He preferred photographs of partially clothed women engaged in simple, seemingly innocent poses, not far removed from the catalog pictures of early yearnings. Any age, any type, pretty or plain; anything would go if panties were on show. Dressed, undressed, or undressing, alone or not alone; all he asked was that intoxicating display of feminine undergarments in their seemingly infinite variety.
Yes, harmless enough, it might even be thought quaint, but for better or worse that was his taste, and he would readily concede it was so peculiar to most that he preferred to keep it his secret. A guilty pleasure, but pleasure it was.
He stared now at a somewhat mature woman with short blonde hair and black underwear, smiling seductively as she lay on a bed, breasts cupped by her arm, transparent negligee slid off one shoulder, her relaxed hand fondling inside her panties. He could easily imagine burying his head in those fulsome breasts, breathing in her fragrance, his own hands running under those smooth silky panties.
His cock bulged in his pants, his loins ached. He had time to himself before the cleaners arrived, and the urge was irresistible. He unzipped, and grasped his erection, eyes fixed on that sultry smiling face and those pretty black panties as he rubbed his cock firmly up and down in slow steady strokes.
Voices and footsteps sounded out in the corridor. Quickly he tucked his erection into his shorts, and fastened his pants. He reached for some papers to look busy. There was no need; a door slammed down the hall and he heard raised muffled voices. After waiting a long moment for his cock to subside, he cautiously went out to look.
His boss had returned to the office with his young female assistant, a stuck up bitch if ever there was one. Model looks and she knew it. They had left an hour earlier, now they seemed to be having some kind of argument. Their voices carried along the corridor, but then quieted down. He crept nearer and peeped through the partly open blinds to his boss's office.
Holy fuck. His boss had his assistant bent over his desk, her panties and hose down around one leg, shoes off and skirt bunched up over her waist. Pants around his ankles, the boss held her roughly by the shoulders and pounded her from behind. "You like that, bitch?"
Evidently she did. Her hands groped behind to pull him to her as she bucked wildly, long blonde hair tossed back as she gasped and spurred him on. "Yes, fuck me, fuck me."
Unseen in the corridor, Craig slipped a hand inside his pants and caressed his cock, enjoying the show. He hardly dared breathe as he pressed his nose as close to the glass as he dared. They about had their backs to him, so he wouldn't be seen the other side of the blinds, even if they were not so absorbed, but still he made sure to keep silent.
The assistant's moans grew louder, his boss grunting on each thrust, her hair bunched in his fist as he pulled her head back, pressing down on her body as they rocked and swayed, humping faster and faster. They were like wild animals, and didn't seem to care whether anybody was left in the office, their lust obviously too hot to wait. They were ready for it too; in no time his boss came, barging the assistant hard into the desk, groaning as he bent over her still writhing body then collapsing on top, clearly spent. After the brief moment that they lay gasping he grunted, and tore away, pulling up his pants, snatching from her limp foot as he did so the panties, which he twirled from a finger as he slumped to the chair behind his desk.
Craig barely had time to get started, but continued to stroke his erection as he drank in the sight of the assistant's long legs and creamy bare buttocks. She lay over the desk, head down for a while, then brushed hair from her face, pulled the hose from her leg and reached for her shoes. She smoothed down her skirt and stood looking at Craig's boss, now smirking behind his desk. "Well?" she asked, coldly.
"Well, what?"
"My panties."
"Yours?" he laughed. "I paid for them."
"You bastard."
She turned on her heel and stormed out, stuffing her hose in her bag and tugging on shoes. Craig hastily zipped up, and flattened himself behind the water cooler, but she was too angry to notice him hiding there and went the other way, slamming the main doors as she left.
In the sudden quiet Craig dare not creep back to his own office, and peeped between the blinds again.
