I'm your secretary, and I'm the reason you get out of bed every morning. Sure, your job is well-paid, and not too taxing, but could you handle sitting in that office everyday from 9 to 5 if it wasn't for my hot little body wandering around?
You certainly don't need me for the work - Our office is pretty small, and I'm not very good at typing. Sometimes I make so many mistakes you seriously consider letting me go. But then you look up, and see me sitting at my desk, immaculate hair and make-up, a tight white shirt stretched to its limits by my delicious tits. I stand and walk to the photocopier machine, your eyes transfixed on my long slender legs. Are they tights or stockings you wonder? I lean forward, reaching for something behind the machine. Your eyes move up my legs, over my tight little ass-hugging black skirt. You sit in your office imagining the feel of that ass in your hand, so smooth, so pert.
I turn and smile at you, you sit up, lulled from your daydream and smile back, embarrased. You curse silently as you remember I'm married. that's how I got the job, an acquience of yours said his wife needed work, you said yes without thinking. You sit and imagine what it must be like to have a woman like me come home everyday, watch me undress, get into bed. Damn! You have to get some work done!
Recently though, I've been kind of different haven't I? Not as friendly and bubbly as usual, alot quieter, almost sullen at times. You watch me in your office now at the end of the day, tidying up. There just isn't that spark that's usually there. I still look great, you're still desperate to fuck me, smell my hair up close, reach round and grab these heavenly tits from behind. What am I anyway, you wonder, 24-32-26? You've never been exactly sure what those numbers mean anyway, have you? But my tits are definately more than a handful.
You call my name as I'm about to leave.
"Oh, God, what is it this time." I snap.
Startled, you stare back at me, I've never got angry before, did I catch you looking?
Quickly the anger in my face melts away, my whole face drops into the saddest expression you've ever seen.
"Oh, I'm so sorry Mr.______, I really am." I sob. I drop down onto the sofa, head in my hands.
Interesting....
You come around your desk, stand over me, not sure what to do.
"What is it Emma?" You ask awkwardly, "What's wrong?"
I look up at you, and you concentrate on holding eye contact with me, as usual, a couple of my shirt buttons seem to have come undone.
"You don't want to hear my problems, it won't happen again, I...."
"Emmma" You interrrupt authoratively. I look up, a little surprised. "Tell me." you say gently.
So I sit and tell you about how things have been a little difficult of late. Greg, my husband, has lost his job, money is tight, and there's something else. You listen attentively to all this, hoping that I'll start crying again, so you'll have an excuse to put your arms around me.
"Something else?" You ask.
I talk around the subject for a while, feeling uncomfortable, but I have to tell someone. I make you promise not to breathe a word of this to anyone.
You stand directly above me, looking down at me, so small and delicate on the sofa. How old am I anyway? 22? 23? You never did find out.
"You can trust me Emma" you say, trying to visualise what my pussy might look like, imagining the sweet scent.
"Well..." I begin slowly, "What with all the stress and everything recently, Greg has been having, a few problems, he can't...well, he tries but he's finding it difficult to...you know..."
You look at me for a moment, I stare back. "Get hard." I whisper.
I talk a little faster, relieved to have revealed this secret to someone. It's been months since anything happened in the bedroom. It's affected Gregs whole personality, he doesn't even want to touch me anymore, it just reminds him of his inadequacy. You listen closely to everything, a deeply concerned look on your face. It's masking delight! What an idiot! To have this hot piece of pussy in your bed, dying to be fucked, and he can't even get hard? You check out my body discreetly as I talk, this divine beauty who's been so morose because she needs a good fucking.
"He won't look for work, he just sits at home, and I feel so useless. I feel like it's my fault."
I break down, sobbing, head in my hands again. You're not going to miss this opportunity, are you? You sit down next to me, put your arm around my shoulder, start to rub my back gently. You can feel the strap of my bra under the thin material of the shirt. You put your head against mine, whispering inanities about how things will be fine, your cock growing harder as you speak.
"It'll be ok," You whisper, kissing my hair delicately as you do. "Things'll be ok." Kiss. "It's not your fault." Kiss. "You've done nothing wrong." You're rubbing my shoulders, the back of my neck, your mouth is almost upon my ear.
"You're beautiful." You say, as your tongue darts out, licking the inside of my ear for the briefest of moments. It sends a shiver through my entire body. Your hand grips my shoulder as your head moves down over my neck, sucking on my lily white skin. My body is tense for a moment, half a moment, before i exhale, a low moan of pleasure. my body relaxes into yours. I feel your arm come around my waist, grab my side, move stealthily up over my breast. Mmmm, to feel a mans' hand there again, squeezing me, holding me.
