“Fucking hell, woman,” gasps Catherine Hart, the new attorney of Pussy Power, “where’s your clothes?” She gets up from behind her desk and scrutinizes my naked body. Catherine is a forty-something and very shapely brunette, dressed conservatively in a two-piece business suit. As she walks up to me, I see her gaze moves up and down by body and when it reaches my naked pussy, her eyes suddenly bulge like they want to jump out of their sockets. I smile. I like her reaction. I feel a tingling in my pussy. Victoria was right. This is definitely the best way to market Pussy Power’s products. (See A Nude Business Ethic)
I‘ve I just entered Catherine’s office naked. James picked me up earlier at our offices and brought me here to deliver a briefcase full of contracts and other important documents. On the way to the office, I had James masturbate for me, while I exposed my naked pussy to him. (See A Nude Business Deal) I walked to Catherine’s office dressed only in Pussy Power’s black stockings, high heels and a smile. My long blond hair is tied behind in a long ponytail. James has my step-out jacket draped over his arm to cover his wet crotch.
“I’m Jo-Ann, Pussy Licking (personnel) manager at Pussy Power.” I walk up to Catherine, kiss her on both cheeks and give her a naked hug. “This briefcase is for you.” I handed a dumbfounded Catherine the briefcase. She accepts it in a daze and drops it on her desk. Then she turns her head to the door, still keeping her gaze fixed on my nakedness, and shouts:
“James! Get in here!”
The door bursts open and in flies James, clutching my jacket. “Yes, ma’am.” He closes the door, softly.
“What the fuck is this? Who told you to bring this naked fucking whore to my office?”
“I’m sorry, but…” stammers the poor fool.
“I am not your naked whore, you old bitch.” I don’t like to be insulted. I walk right up to her to push my face and tits against hers.
“Victoria sent me to give you the documents. If you have any savvy underneath this outdated hairstyle and dress, you will treat Pussy Power as an important client.” I am steaming up. “If you don’t like my uniform, tough shit.”
I take her right hand in my left and wipe her fingers through my wet pussy slit. I bring her wet finger to her mouth. She automatically opens it and tastes my pussy juices. Anger is replaced by lust in her eyes. She quickly recovers, steps back and rests her behind on her desk.
“James, I want you to fuck her,” Catherine commands the poor sap. “Lick her pussy.”
James drops to his knees between my spread legs and roughly pushes his inexperienced tongue between my cunt lips. When he inserts a finger in my vagina, to replace his tongue, I have to do something.
“Who trained you? Catherine?” I turn to her and push James away. “Let me demonstrate how to pleasure a woman.”
I push a weakly protesting Catherine flat on the desk, unzip her skirt and pull her pantyhose and panty down in one fluid swoop. I kneel between her spread legs and indicate to James to come closer. An untidy hairy bush covers Catherine’s pussy. I ask James to get a scissors and immediately start to trim her brown bush. As I snip away at the offending hair, I can see moisture seeping through her thick puffy lips. It is such a shame that some of my sisters hide parts of their splendor behind unruly bushes. We should be proud of our slits and flaunt it to the world. Men love to gawk at it and lesbians adore the variety of different pussies. Why should we be ashamed of such exquisiteness?
“James, tonight before you fuck her, you must shave the rest of her pussy hair,” I instruct the trembling man. “This crew cut will have to do for now. You just pay attention.” I spread Catherine’s pussylips open and show him her erect clit, her wet pink pussy valley and her velvet hole.
“Men with big dicks think that pumping their cocks into a woman’s cunt will bring a her to orgasm.” I am beginning to enjoy my role as teacher. I might be able to prepare him for other lucky women. “But they are fools. Our pleasure is in our clits and pussy slits. That is where you must concentrate. Freud had it all wrong about vaginal and clitoral orgasms. Let me show you.”
Flattening my tongue, I lap Catherine’s spread pussy from her hole to her clit a few times. At the top of my tongue swipe, I harden my tongue to add more pressure on her pleasure knob. Shifting my focus just to her clit, I softly bite her love button and twirl my tongue around it. At the same time, I move the knuckle of my index finger up and down her slippery slope. Taking her sensitive knob between my lips, I suck on it while I flick my tongue over the top. I switch my stroking action from my knuckle to the cushions of two fingers running up and down her cunt.
I become aware of her free flowing cunt juices. Part of our individuality as women is the taste of our cunt nectar, each one tastes differently. I’ve already lost count of the number of pussies I sampled today, but each one is unique and I will never forget their taste. It is like good wine, and if I go down on Catherine, or Victoria, or Maureen, or Isobel, or Prudence blindfolded I will be able to identify them. Victoria gave my department the correct name – Pussy Licking (personnel) – because I just love to pleasure women with my mouth.
“Women will love you forever if you pleasure her with your mouth instead of trying to do it with your dick,” I inform James as I step away from Catherine’s spread legs to make room for him. I move to Catherine’s head and kiss her on the mouth, sticking my long tongue deep into her. She tastes her own juices on my mouth and heaves her clothed upper body in a sigh of pleasure.
I look at James’ progress and can see that he has learned something. Catherine clutches her legs around his head in a vice like grip, at the same time pressing his head down with her hands. My work is done here. Pussy Power has another satisfied customer. Gathering my discarded jacket and throwing it over my shoulder, I fish out my small purse from the briefcase and march out Catherine’s office into the staring eyes of a gauntlet of lusty men and women.
“They’re going over the papers I brought,” I say to the assembled crowd outside Catherine’s door with a sheepish grin.
Walking up to two admiring women, sitting at a desk, I ask them if they like the stockings. They nod their heads, too stunned to talk. I drop my jacket on the desk, with my purse still clutched in my hand, I change into my marketing role.