I had worked for the same small firm for years, and the help had come and gone. Now it was just the owner, myself, and one secretary. She had come to work 15 years ago after the lady she replaced had decided to leave. 4 years younger than I, at first I paid her no attention, other than required for the job. I was happily married, as was she. In some ways she was attractive, her hair was lustrous and full, and she had a happy personality. In her youth, she probably had been striking. But childbirth and time had stretched her skin and added pounds, as it so often does.
She was around 5-6, and had shoulder length black hair, parted down the middle. As I said, it fell onto her shoulders in a wavy mass. Her face was round, with a small mouth and a little upturned nose. Her eyes were dark and shiny, and she wore glasses. Her body was a collection of curves and rolls. She was not obese, by any means, with small feet, trim ankles, and slender calves. Her hands were small, with unpainted nails. From her knees up, her thighs became thicker as they went up. Her ass was wide, with prominent love handles on each hip. There was also a noticeable roll on her back, under each arm. In front, her breasts were wide, pendulous, and flat. Her tops often were low cut, showing a nice amount of cleavage, and when she bent over, giving a wonderful view of her breasts as they hung from her chest. No idea what her cup size was, except they were very large.
Below her breasts was a roll around her middle, which was more noticeable when she was sitting, and flattened out when she was standing. The waistband of her slacks was just below this roll, and below that was a large roll that bulged the front of her slacks. When seated, she would always sit with her legs apart, and this roll would droop between them. She usually wore tops that were loose fitting and not tucked in. In all, her clothes were more plain than fashionable.
I'm 5-9, and fairly trim in build. The muscle tone is no longer there, but I'm active and in good health. I have a 5.5" cock that still gets hard, and stays hard. As I've grown older, it takes longer to cum, but that isn't a bad thing. In my youth, I was always attracted to the so-called trophy girls, never giving the plain or the fat girls a second look. But now in my late 50's, I have come to appreciate the bodies that mature women have. Truly obese bodies still turn me off, but I am attracted to a set of large breasts hanging down on a round belly. And, after working with her every day, I came to appreciate the charms of our secretary. She spoke often of her family, although I wondered how happy she was. Her husband was a jerk, spending money on junk when there were bills to be paid, was never on time, and never did anything for her birthday or their anniversary. But there was no question of her devotion and loyalty, even if her spouse did not deserve it.
It started with her breasts. I've mentioned she often wore low cut tops. Every day, she would come to work, and lean over to turn on the desktop PC. From my room, I could see her bending over, her breasts falling forward until they were hanging straight down, barely held up by the cups of her bra. When seated, her breasts would flatten out and lay on the roll below them, with a clear view of her cleavage. Once in a while, her nipples would protrude through the fabric. They were large, thumb sized at least, and pointed inwards. Each day I looked forward to seeing her, wondering which top she would have one. A couple showed an amazing amount of pale flesh, and on those days I made several trip to her desk to take in the sight.
She must have had stiff or painful knees, because she never squatted, always bending forward at the hips to reach the bottom drawers of the files, or to pick up a paper. When she did so, the material of her slacks stretched across her ass, showing the outline of her panties. I would be at the front desk, and she would bend over next to me. Turning my head, I would be confronted with the expanse of her ass. As time passed and I found her more and more attractive, it became a challenge to only look, and not reach out and lay my hand on the large mounds of her ass straining against the fabric.
So it went for several years, gazing at her and fantasizing about her. But we were both married, and it never went farther than that. Then, two years ago, I lost my wife to a terrible disease. Our secretary was very supportive, willing to listen as I poured out my heartbreak, and once giving me a welcome hug on a particularly bad day. It was intoxicating, even in my sad state. Her lush body was soft and inviting as she held me, and I returned the embrace, my nose in her hair on her shoulder. She smelled of bath soap, and clean laundry, no perfume, and it was lovely. We held the embrace for a few seconds, then she patted me on the back and stepped away. Her face seemed a bit flushed.
Over the next two years, we became friends. After the owner would leave for the day, we would chat, talking about our families, customers, etc. This was when I became more aware of how poorly her husband treated her in so many ways. In addition being habitually late, to forgetting anniversaries and birthdays, to being sloppy and leaving a mess for her, he would often lose his temper over trivial things. He never cooked, but would complain about the meals she fixed for him. I could see she wanted affection, but he would never give it to her. In fact, she said he had made fun of her in front of his friends, making crude comments about her weight. They did not sleep in the same bed for various reasons, and she often had to sleep on the couch or in a recliner. But, she continued to cook and clean, and look after his every need. Her kids were more of the same, always making demands but never thanking their mother. She was a truly kind and caring lady. I made it a point to treat her with respect, and compliment her on what a good person she was, taking care of her family as she did, and how hard she worked at the office. She responded in kind, and our friendship grew.
I became more and more attracted to her, longing to hold her again, but his time not letting her go. I wanted to kiss her, and run my hand up under her top, feeling the warm white skin underneath. When she bent over, I wanted to walk up behind her, grab her hips, and grind my crotch against her plump ass. Most of all, I wanted to make love to her, letting know she was desirable, and giving her the pleasure I suspected she was not currently getting. Each day I hoped for a signal that she would welcome an advance. A couple of times, as I passed near her, I put a hand on her shoulder and said "Coming through." Each time, no response. So, I made love to her in my mind, while gradually losing hope.
Each summer, her husband would take off on a fishing trip to another state, leaving her on her own for several days. In the past, I had jokingly told her it was her vacation too, and she would laugh and agree. This year, when he left, I made the wisecrack about her vacation starting, and asked if she had any big plans, such as going to a spa? She just laughed, and said the first day or two she'd give the house a good cleaning. The following Monday, it was just the two of us at work, the owner having left on a business trip. She was very downcast and quiet, and made no attempt to chat or ask about my weekend. I let it go until late in the day, when the office was quiet and few clients came in.
I walked over to the desk next to hers, and sat down, noticing her eyes were red and puffy. "You look like you're having a bad day." I told her. She looked up, shrugged, and gave me a weak smile.
"Yeah, you could say that." She replied with a sigh.
"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked.
"Not really, but it will get out anyway. He called last night, said he's really having fun this year, so he's going to use up his accumulated vacation days, and stay longer. That was bad enough. Then I heard from the wife of one of his friends, that he has a woman down there, and he's been spending nights with her. Apparently, this has been going on for years." She put her hands in her face, and began to sob quietly.
I sat back, stunned. Without thinking, I stood up and went to her side, and put a hand gently on her shoulder. I didn't know what else to do. "I'm sorry." I said. "You don't deserve that, and he doesn't deserve you. You do everything for him, and he kicks you in the face like this." I was getting angry, very angry. I had never seen her cry before. My friend was hurting, and all I wanted to do was punch her husband in the mouth. She stopped sobbing, and lifted her head. I removed my hand, and fetched a box of Kleenex for her, watching as she wiped her eyes, then blew her nose.
"Thanks." she said in a cracked voice. "At least you care."
I sat down again, and slid my chair next to hers. Placing a hand on her shoulder again, I told her that I did care, that she had been there for me, and I wanted to do the same for her. That brought a tiny smile to her face.
"Yeah, I guess I did do that, didn't I?" she replied.
'You did, and it meant a lot to me. You're a very kind lady, with a big heart. But now you're the one who needs a shoulder. I'd like to be that guy." I said. I truly wanted to help her. My mind was racing, and glancing at the clock, I had an idea.
"How does pizza sound?" I asked.
