By design -- Ch 01
Introverted young man works with shy, quiet, but horny older woman. Loosely based on real life events. All characters over 18 years of age.
Chapter 1 Prologue
This detailed design was getting to me. The design engineer's calculations and obscure references to a standard I had no clue about were frustrating. I could see myself spending hours just finding the documents and hours more reading through them to get a feel for whether this design would work.
Nothing to be done except head to the depths of the file room-come library and start pulling the references. I'm Ben MacDonald, coming to the end of my first year as an engineer for this monstrous corporation, me being at the bottom of the food chain, checking senior engineer's designs for new plants I would be glad to get through with and on to my first very own project.
I settled at the small desk and began the task of ploughing through the papers I had found, checking the assumptions, design parameters and calculations. It was quiet and a little dingy in the room, with very few people wandering in. Time flew and it grew even quieter as people in the office headed out to lunch or the gym. I thought of taking a break, but I just wanted to get this done.
I felt a rustle behind me, turning to see Maureen O'Reilly, the middle-aged women who guarded the reception, did the filing, and referenced all the designs for the division walked by. Her loosely curled red hair like a red halo, framing the soft kind face, marred only by coke-bottle eyeglasses as she carried a pile of documents to the back.
Short and stocky, her dark green flowery dress doing nothing to set off her well-rounded figure, she moved past me, leaving a faint scent of a perfume lingering in her wake. Always quiet, but with a friendly smile, a faint Irish lilt to her voice when she did speak, she had nevertheless always been friendly with me in a motherly type way.
I felt a presence behind my right shoulder, turning in the chair to see who was there, bumping right into her thigh, as she stood there mute, and looking down on me with a faint smile on her face.
I started to stammer an apology, but instantly her hands came down and cupped my face as she leaned down and kissed me. Stunned, I just sat there as her lips assaulted mine, her tongue probing to gain entry to my mouth. All I could sense was her perfume, and the little sharp prickles on her upper lip as she crushed her mouth into mine. Her tongue probed into my mouth as she murmured into the kiss.
I gripped the arm of the chair, expecting her to lean over and kiss me again, wanting to feel that thrill again. She edged closer, and lifted the front of her dress, moving forward to straddle the arm and trap my wrist and hand on the arm of the chair. Slowly she began to rub her panty-covered pussy over my wrist and hand, her moist heat flooding through.
"She's soaked" I thought, her juices coating my wrist and knuckles. A slight moan escaped her lips as she pleasured herself on my hand trapped between her meaty thighs and moments later, I felt a flood as she came, drenching her crotch. She groaned into my mouth, her tongue raking mine as she suppressed her urge to scream out as her cunt pulsed.
"Now, that was hot" I thought, as she leant over and kissed me hard, driving her tongue down my throat before scuttling to the door.
Each time I went to the file room to work, I felt a stirring -- would she follow me again. And she did, almost every time.
I soon began to wonder just what made this 50-something woman tick, why she needed the release of stroking her pussy hard on my wrist each time I went to work in the file room. What drove her to put us both at risk by surrendering to her instincts to crush her knicker covered pussy on my hand in a desperate drive to bring herself off?
Chapter 2 A surprise encounter.
I slowed down to take a breather, my legs beginning to feel the effects of the long run in the early evening, a long weekend ahead of me was the genesis to head out and clear my head of the week long wrestling with heat exchanger design and a myriad of calculations on the size of the various plant distillation columns.
I'm 6' tall, in reasonably good shape, and having survived the perils of college, college parties, I am only too happy to be out in the workforce, earning, paying off college loans, and well away from my overbearing family. That's the good news. Now for the not so good. I'm relatively inexperienced, apart from a few fumblings in high school, and breaking my barren spell at a somewhat wild frat party. For the rest of my sex ed, the internet and tales from the bar after a soccer game filled in the blanks.
I made these evening runs to rehab a calf tear suffered a year of so back playing soccer, hoping that I could get back in the game in the upcoming season. Things were looking good as I could not feel any effect on my calf.
Slowing down to a steady walk I was able to take in the sights and sounds of the quiet suburban street, filled with older homes and cottages, one of the early areas built up after the war for returning soldiers.
A cab drove slowly past me and pulled up at a small ivy-covered cottage a few blocks ahead of me, idling as the driver got out, opened the trunk, and began to lift bags of groceries out onto the sidewalk.
A woman got out of the back seat, a long brown coat concealing her figure as she paid the driver and began to gather up the bags. As I approached, I smiled as I recognised the face, its distinctive glasses under a cowl of fiery red curls revealing Maureen's surprised look as I walked up.
"Ben!" she grinned, "what are you doing out this way?"
"Just winding down from the week at the office" I said. "Can I give you a hand with all those bags?" Always be the gentleman my mom had told me. Even when you're sweaty and dressed to kill in jogging shorts and a sweaty T shirt.
"If you wouldn't mind" Maureen responded, "it's getting dark and I don't want to have to make too many trips out to the sidewalk -- you never know who's going to be waiting out there for you" she teased.
Grinning, I picked up the last of her shopping and followed her up the path to her front door. She opened it for me, and I stepped inside to an impeccably tidy hallway. Maureen eased past me, slipped off her coat and hung it in a small hallway closet. I kicked off my runners leaving only my sock liners on.
"Lead on Maureen, where do you want the shopping", I asked.
"In the kitchen" she said and turned to lead the way. Her summery dress was light and swayed as she walked down the hallway to a brightly lit old English style kitchen, with a plain pine table, chairs surrounded by neat counters. She closed the blinds against the darkening gloom and turned on the subdued background lighting.