Alice at the Office

My husband, while he was still my boyfriend, worked for a long time to convince me that my legs were great and that I needed to show them off properly. He was the one who talked me into wearing high heels, nylons, garter belts, crotchless pantyhose and short skirts so I guess he can be considered responsible for the story I'm about to relate.

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I'd just been laid off and I was looking for a new job. A small sales firm had an ad in the paper for a secretary/receptionist and while the pay offered was lower than what I was looking for the job did have the advantage of only being a five-minute walk from where I lived. The money I would save on downtown parking and other transportation costs made it worth looking into.

I applied and was called in for an interview. I arrived for my interview wearing a nice summer print that came down to just below the knee and white pumps with a three-inch heel. The interview was one of the strangest that I've ever had. The first question that George, the owner, asked me was not about my typing skills, my familiarity with the phone system, my spelling or my ability to take dictation, but "How would you feel about being a sex object for eight hours a day?"

Apparently the look on my face answered that question and also told him that I was getting ready to stand up and go storming out of the place so he hastened to explain. The people who called on him during the course of the business day sometimes had to wait a considerable amount of time before he could see them. The longer the wait the more agitated the person would become. George said that he had discovered that the way to diffuse the situation was place an attractive receptionist, one who would not mind the attention she would draw, in the outer office. In fact, he said, the best receptionist's for his purposes where the ones who invited appreciative glances.

I must have softened my expression some because George smiled at me and said that he couldn't help but notice that I had great legs and looked very sexy in high heels. He said if I wore heels all the time I would be perfect for the job since the receptionist's desk was open front and my legs would always be on display. I told George that I had no problem with being admired, but I was not about to put myself in a position where I would constantly be fighting off unwanted advances. George assured me that none of his girls had ever had that problem. All I had to do, he said, was look good for the people waiting while I was performing my other duties.

"Just keep their attention so they won't think about being kept waiting."

I did have to admit that the job did appeal to the exhibitionist in me, but I was hesitant and I told George that I would like some time to consider. He told me that he could give until noon the next day, but that he considered me perfect for the position and he would up the salary by $250 a month if I would take the job.

To shorten the story, I took the job and everything was just as George said it would be. I sat at the desk and displayed a lot of leg and the callers appeared to be enjoying every bit of it. I took to wearing shorter skirts and opening my legs wider as I sat at the desk. I made it a habit to do a lot of filing in the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet (even though I did need to go back later and re-file some of it) bending at the waist so the skirt would ride up and show some panty. Cock teasing and I knew it, but hey, that's what I was being paid for, right?

Since I live close to work I usually walked if the weather was nice and on those days I would carry my heels in a bag and change when I got to work. This got to be a pain so I started leaving the shoes that I wore the most often at work. One evening, about three months ago, I left work to walk home and about three blocks from the office I remembered that I had left some personal papers in my center desk drawer. When I got back to the office I found two pair of my heels sitting in the middle of my desk which was strange because I had left them in the lower left hand drawer. As I bent over the desk I noticed that the light was still on in George's office and the door was partially open. I walked over to the door with the intention of asking George if he knew what was going on with my shoes, but as I got closer to the partially opened door I could see into the office and what I saw answered my question.

I could see George sitting in his chair with his trousers off, his cock out and erect, and he was stroking it with one of my white pumps while his nose was buried in it's mate. I froze and tried to stay quiet while I watched him masturbate using my pumps. I must have stood there ten minutes while he ran the pump all over his cock and some of the things he did had to be painful, but he didn't seem to notice - or care. He finally put down the shoe he had buried his nose in and began to furiously stroke his cock and, just as the sperm shot out, he put the remaining shoe where it could catch all the cum, some into it and some on the toe. I carefully backed away and left the office.

I don't know why, but I felt like I had been violated and by the time I got home I had decided that I would go to work the next day, confront George and then quit. I told my husband about what happened and he had laughed and said I should give the poor guy a break. After all, who was he hurting? Was he causing anyone a problem? What did I have to gain by quitting? I decided that my husband was right. George had always been a perfect gentleman toward me so what did it matter? And finally there were the two thoughts that kept creeping into my mind. Did George have a thing for heels, or was it me he was thinking about, and why oh why did I keep thinking about that fat cock he was playing with? By the time I reached work the next morning I had made up my mind to keep my mouth shut, keep quiet about things and just live and let live.

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Over the next few weeks I found several opportunities to watch George jack off using my heels. I got to the point where I would finger myself while watching and I always made it a point to wear the shoes he jacked off into at work the next day. My husband still thought that the situation was comical and he started telling me that I should, "Go on in and help the poor guy out." I got upset with him for even thinking that I could do such a thing and that just made him laugh more. And then one night, one an impulse that came from I know not where, I walked in on George. He was stunned. He froze in mid-stroke and stared at me. I put a finger to my lips to indicate that I didn't want him to say a word and I told him to just be quiet and enjoy. I walked over to his desk and sat on the edge. I kicked off my tennis shoes and put my feet around his cock, rubbed it a few times and then told him to take hold of my feet and jack himself off with them. I leaned back on the desk and fingered myself to an orgasm as I watched him work on himself with my feet. I could tell from the increase in pressure he put on my feet and the increase in the speed of his strokes and I started to talk to him.

"Cum for me baby, cum on my feet, cum for me" and he obliged by shooting a thick stream of cum all over my feet. I got off the desk and stepped into my pumps and then I walked around the office in them for a minute or so and then I took them off and set them in the middle of his desk. I peeled off my nylons and set them on the desk next to the shoes.

"I'll see you in the morning George" and I let the office.

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I could not believe what I had done. I was a virgin when I married my husband and the only cock I had ever or touched was his, and here, out of a clear blue sky, I'd let another man use my feet to masturbate with. I didn't just let him; I instigated the whole thing.

The second surprise of the night came when I confessed what I had done to my husband. He was so turned on by my description of what I had done that he pulled me down and fucked me right on the living room floor. When we went to bed that night he had me tell him the story again and when I did he fucked me for an hour.

In the morning he asked me if I was going to do it again and when I told him that I would probably go to work and find out that I'd been fired he laughed.

"Oh no you won't! He will probably be waiting for you in his office tonight and what might get you fired is not showing up."

"But what about us? I cheated on you last night. Don't you care that your wife let another man use her sexually?"

"You didn't fuck him so as far as I'm concerned you didn't cheat, and as far as "us" is concerned I think the way I reacted last night should have shown you that we are all right."

Still, the next morning I went to work in a very nervous condition. George, however, did not behave any differently toward me than he usually did. When I came back from lunch I found a package on my desk. Inside was a pair of red high heels in my size, six pair of nylons and an unsigned card that said, "Thank you for being so understanding."

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I had every intention of being the first person out of the office that night and to never spy on George again, but when five o'clock rolled around I found myself stalling until everyone else was gone. I put on my new red high heels and walked into George's office. He was talking to his wife on the phone and I walked up to him and pushed his chair back from the desk. I bent over, undid his belt, unzipped his fly and then pulled his trousers and his briefs off of him. Sitting on his desk I reached out with my high heel clad feet and started rubbing his cock. He made excuses to his wife, hung up the phone and then both hands took hold of my feet and he masturbated himself to orgasm while I leaned back on the desk and used my fingers to get myself off. When he had unloaded himself all over my feet I stood up, stepped out of my shoes, peeled off my nylons and put them on the desk and then I headed for the front door. During the entire episode not one word had been said by either of us.

That night my after I told my husband what I had done he went crazy and fucked me four times. That was the most he had ever been able to do and the poor dear was totally exhausted when he fell asleep.

That set the pattern for the next three weeks. Two or three times a week after everyone else went home I went into George's office for a mutual masturbation session. Sometimes he would use my nylon clad feet, sometimes he would leave my heels on and use them and sometimes I would take off my nylons and he would wrap them around his cock and jack off. George never spoke during these sessions and I limited my conversation to what was required to let him know what I wanted (which basically amounted to, "Cum for me baby, cum for me, etc., etc., etc..."). Once a week or so I would get a package with anywhere from six to twelve pair of nylons and occasionally a new pair of pumps and every night I would go home and tell my husband what I had done that day and then he would spend the night trying to fuck me to death.

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Last Wednesday I entered George's office and found him on the phone with his wife. He motioned for me to leave, but for some reason a streak of wickedness decided to show itself. I unzipped him and took out his cock - my feet were all that had touched his cock till then - and then I looked up into his eyes, smiled and started to jack him off. I could feel his cock throb as I worked it and I kept my eyes on his as he tried to hold a conversation with his wife. He dropped a hand down to take hold of his cock, but I pushed it away and started talking to him.

"Going to cum for me baby? Going to give me your cum? Come on George, give it to me. Shake your head George, let me know when you're going to cum. Think of my sexy feet George, think of my sexy toes, think of my high heel rubbing your cock. Come on George, cum for me."

Pretty soon George was shaking his head and I picked up the speed of my stroke as I reached down and took off my right high heel. I missed the first spurt, but I caught the rest in my shoe and set it on the desk. I continued to pump George until he went limp. I took off my nylons and used them to wipe him off and then I put my shoe back on and walked around the office. His eyes followed me as he kept on talking to his wife. I went back to the desk and sat down on the edge. I kicked off my pumps and started to masturbate myself. I did not hear George hang up the phone. The first I was aware that he was not still talking to his wife was when I felt a tingle in my foot and I looked to see George licking the cum from between my toes. When his tongue slid between my toes I had a tremendous orgasm and when I recovered I left my nylons and pumps on George's desk, went and put on my tennis shoes and ran home.

My husband was a maniac that night. He fucked me so hard and for so long that I wondered if I would be able to walk to work the next day. In the morning he hit me with the bombshell. He wanted to come down to my office after closing and watch. I was leery at first, but I finally agreed that I would let him in on Friday.

The next two sessions with George were a repeat. I masturbated George into one of my pumps, walked around in them, and then masturbated myself while George licked the cum off my feet.

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Friday after everyone else was gone I unlocked the front door and let my husband in. I warned him to be very quiet and then I went into George's office. The session started out with George using my feet to masturbate with. After a minute or so I got off the desk, knelt in front of him and started jacking him off with my hands. I had a high heel ready to catch the cum when George ejaculated, but at the last minute, just as the first spurt of sperm was leaving the head of his cock, and knowing that my husband was watching, I bent and took George's cock into my mouth and I sucked on it and licked it until it went limp. Without looking up at George's face I got up and left the office and went home where my husband kept me on my back damned near the entire weekend.

I suspect that I might have altered the relationship I had with George, but I won't know until I go to work on Monday. My husband wants me to bring George home for dinner some night. If I still have a job come next week, who knows? It just might be fun.