I was very cross when I was overlooked for the job of Department Manager. My annoyance was increased when my new boss turned out to be Paul Petts, a young man, fresh from a business college, who was young enough to be my son! At least his predecessor had been older than me. Now aged 50, I found it was quite depressing to have a 24 year old manager.
My name is Rachel Simpson by the way. I knew there was no point moaning to my husband. Fred would be sympathetic at first but then he'd lose interest, preferring gardening to listening to me. We've been married for 26 years, but the spark had gone. I knew all about Fred's stash of girlie magazines in his shed and he knows that I know, but we both pretend that we don't.
Many women would have accepted their lot but I'm not like many women. I joined a gym, restyled and dyed my hair and defiantly refused to dress my age. My skirts became shorter, my blouses lower cut, my underwear much sexier. Soon I felt that I looked fabulous and I felt a renewed confidence.
Fred didn't notice at all, but to my surprise Paul did.
When he first started I was sure Paul had felt intimidated by me and he tried to cope by putting me down. However he soon realised that he needed my help to do his job properly and we began to work more closely. Then one day, when I was bent over his desk explaining something he had done wrong, I realised that he was unable to take his eyes of my cleavage. I finally caught his eye and then he blushed very red.
The next time, just before I went into his office I unbuttoned another button on my blouse; so that my lacy white bra was now clearly visible. The way I bent over his desk ensured that Paul noticed. He went very red and shifted uneasily in his chair. I wondered if he was getting an erection! Then I sat down and by hitching my skirt up a little and then crossing my legs slowly I gave him a very deliberate glimpse of her knickers. This made me feel so in control of him. He looked very embarrassed but couldn't take his eyes off me. As we talked I did it again, driven by the control I was exerting over him. When the meeting was over I felt a tremble of excitement -- I had just flashed her knickers at my boss and he had clearly loved it. He was trying to hide an obvious bulge in his trousers as I left.
I laughed as I saw him disappearing into the toilet. "Going for a wank probably," I thought. As I sat at her desk I had a thought. Carefully I reached under my skirt -- the gusset of my knickers was damp! Moving the material aside I could easily slip a finger inside my wet pussy! I decided that I also needed a trip to the loo. In my bottom desk drawer I keep a spare pair of knickers, in case of emergencies. Taking them with me, I went to the toilet. I have to confess I was about to start rubbing herself, when someone else came through the door. Too nervous to continue, I simply changed my knickers and left. Back in the office I popped the soiled knickers into the drawer to take home that evening.
When it was time to go home I was halfway to the car when I remembered the knickers. Returning to the office I opened the drawer. To my surprise they were gone!
"That's odd, I could have sworn I put them there," I thought, before dismissing the matter; if I waited any longer to leave I'd catch all the traffic on the ring road.
The next day I was even more puzzled when I opened the drawer to put in today's spare pair. There I found the pair from yesterday, replaced and freshly laundered!
As an experiment I changed knickers again that afternoon and again left them in my drawer. Just like the previous day when I returned to check, they were gone, but they were back, freshly laundered, the next morning!
On the third day, having left the knickers, quite damp after another day of flashing my boss, instead of returning I watched slyly from the stairwell. Two people went into my office, Brenda the cleaner and Paul my boss. "Now hich of them is most likely to be the panty thief and washer?" I wondered.
Next morning I got in early, before Paul arrived. As I suspected he came into my office and he was very flustered when he saw me there.
"Can I help you Paul?" I asked nonchalantly.
Blushing he stammered "um, d-do you have t-the Anderson report?"
"No Paul, I left it with you last night."
"Oh yes, that's right, I remember now." He was blushing a very deep shade of red.
"Is there anything else, anything you wanted to give me?" I asked sounding innocent as possible although I felt very excited.
"No its ok." He mumbled and left looking very uncomfortable.
Later that morning I made a point of telling Paul that I was popping out of the office and would be gone for half an hour. Sure enough on my return the clean knickers had reappeared in my desk! I barely suppressed a squeal of delight. My suspicions were confirmed -- he was the panty thief. For the rest of the day I tortured him by going in and out of his office, flashing my cleavage every time I leant over his desk and giving him a tantalising glimpse of my panties every time I sat down and crossed my legs; I felt so horny!!
At 3pm I went to the loo, taking the spare knickers with me. By now I was finding it hard to think about anything except my plan to confront Paul. In the loo I removed my skirt completely, hanging it from a hook on the cubicle door. "Flipping heck," I thought, "these knickers are already soaked!" I sat on the toilet with my legs open and rubbed my panties right into me. I had intended to leave when my knickers got quite wet but it was too nice. I rubbed and rubbed before I made myself cum! Afterwards I simply changed my dirty knickers and replaced my skirt and walked back into the office holding my soiled panties. I stopped in font of his desk and held my panties to my nose muttering "Gosh they smell a bit strong" and just dropped them on his desk in front of him. He seemed mesmerized as I walked away. Next day my panties were on my desk freshly washed and ironed.
For the following week we followed the same pattern. At the end of the day I dropped the soiled panties on his desk right in front of him. The next morning he placed them washed, ironed and perfumed, back on my desk. It was lovely. I could get my boss to wash my dirty knickers, but I began to want more...
A few weeks later Paul had to go away to a conference and he suggested that I should accompany him. I jumped at the chance and told my husband. Fred was so wet I had no worries about what he may have thought. He was probably just thinking which of his mucky dvds he would be able to watch.
