Unwelcome Thoughts

This is a two-part May-December confessional where a feared attack does not materialize, but an unexpected one produces copious results. He tries to be a good man and never acts on his impulses, but he has tormenting sexual thoughts of a young employee. Unknown to him, she knows that he masturbates alone in his office after work. A chance meeting in an airport years later leads to him to a visit and then to revealing his secret to her. Rather than cry harassment, she is encouraging. It is a work of fiction for which I am indebted to a favorite author for much assistance. All are over 18 and consenting adults.

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Lou hesitated before he hit SEND. Her email had lain in his inbox for two weeks nagging him for an answer. It was a simple enough email: Candi, his former employee, now a success in her own right, had been reassigned back to the state and she wanted to connect with him. That was all it was: on the face of it. They had run into one another at the airport in Denver a few weeks before and had, after the surprise, just time enough for a brief catch-up chat over a coffee. Lou said he would love to see her again when they were both back from their travels. She had said much the same thing.

Candi wrote to him almost before the plane pushed back from the gate. She invited him to meet again, soon. Shameful, exciting memories bubbled up from long before as he looked at his computer screen and stayed his hand from pressing the button. Memories he had stowed deep in his psyche.

Her invitation to meet in her new office was calling to him and he was torn about the answer he would give. What could go wrong? What could go wrong?

Candi—she went by Candace these days—was divorced, he had learnt. Her two boys he remembered from when they were little, were in college. She had had them in pretty quick succession. Irish Twins was what her husband had called them. Offensive, really, as a term but they had come in very quick succession. Candi had managed to finish her college degree in nursing after the births but had worked only part time as she had reared the boys and helped her now ex, Frank, to get his own career up and running.

Frank was not a bad sort and Candi and he had parted on good enough terms, but, from what he had learnt, she had clearly outgrown him. Lou had known them both. He had hired Frank and Candi years and years before at his medical supply company whilst they were in high school. Frank had helped with the stock and deliveries, Candi with the office work. Nice kids in a town where reputation mattered. Lou had known their parents and had taken an avuncular interest in them. But straightway he could see they were unevenly matched when they started dating. He had even tried to discourage that -- unsuccessfully -- but time had shown he had been right to do so.

They had dated all through college and had tied the knot in their senior year. Frank then had run a landscape company and was doing pretty well by the time their boys were in grade school. Candi had soon found she did not want her life to be summed up by keeping books and cutting paychecks for a bunch of landscape laborers. So, she had reached out to Lou to see if he could use her help again at the medical supply company.

He recalled telling her something along the lines of, "I don't know, Candi. Selling bed pans is not a glamourous alternative to landscaping." A teasing comment but he quickly agreed to give her some work.

He could not understand why she had not gone back into nursing. Nurses could work three days a week and get nearly a week's pay. She told him she liked the medical part of the job, but not dealing with sick people. It was the administrative work that appealed to her, but no one was hiring hospital administrators. So, she came back to Lou and the office work she knew so well.

Back when she was in high school, Candi had been a gangly girl with no shape to her at all. By the time she had reappeared in his life in her late 20's she was still thin but had grown into a real woman with child bearing hips. He had admired their nice flare and clearly the child bearing bit had worked fine. Her breasts had, of course, grown with her pregnancies and filled out her blouse a bit. Only a bit. Candi remained small-breasted. Her deep blue eyes had always seemed oversized for her face and that had not changed. The pixie hair cut she had worn gave her a casual appearance. The combination of slim figure and small tits, arresting eyes, short haircut, wide hips, a firm and ample ass made her appear elfish to Lou, like the wonderful Audrey Hepburn in old movies.

Lou had taken to the more mature Candi and had watched her as she went about her work. He would call her into his office just to watch her walk out again. Ridiculous really, but that had become his habit.

Because she needed no bra given her small breasts, as a result, she did not often wear one, preferring a camisole or nothing under her blouses. She was, seemingly, unconcerned that her nipples poked out because she had long since ceased caring about her tits -- or that was his conclusion anyway. He knew they would never be as big as the women in magazines -- the sort of magazines he bought on occasion. Why worry about that which she could not change?

Such unconcern was good for her, he thought, but terrible for himself. He noticed every time her nipples erected and strained the material covering them. It did not matter whether the material was cotton or sheer, thin or heavy, he was good at perceiving her responses to stimuli. They hardened when it was cold but also when she was angry or was about to cry. Like little semaphores, Candi's nipples signaled to Lou what kind of mood she was in. He loved her small tits with their eraser-like nipples. Her breasts plagued him with unwelcome thoughts, impure thoughts, tormenting thoughts.

He enjoyed working with her as much for her diligence as for her attractiveness. He was happily, if sexlessly married. It was not a case of considering an affair. There was the age difference for one thing, and it was not something he even considered. His trouble was more noble. He did not want to do anything untoward with her -- not really. He did not want to take advantage of a young woman he had known since he could not remember. It was wrong to lust after her. It would be worse to act on that lust and hurt her or his wife.

Lou masturbated. Men do but Lou did a lot. Sometimes he would jerk off two or three times a day. Even in his late 40s, Lou was still fucking his hand like a boy who found his dad's porn stash. And the focus of every round of wanking was the same, noble thoughts or not: Candi. It was not just at home but at work too because Candi was near at hand and so fresh in his mind. He timed his wank sessions to the end of the day when she had just left to get the boys. He always insisted she come into his office to say goodbye. Candi thought it was his way of looking out for her. It was merely his last chance to see her cute ass sashay out the door for the day. Before she was even in her car, he was nearly at full staff. As he heard the car pull out, Lou was extracting his cock from his pants.

He felt shameful every time he jerked off thinking about her -- which meant he felt shameful a lot. He buried the evidence of his cum showers in a wastebasket. The lube he used was a thick petroleum jelly that he kept in a small glass jar, the kind of jar they use to serve jelly in restaurants. He disguised its real purpose by pulling the jar out and dabbing some of the gel on his lips. "Good for chapped lips," he would say.

But the lube's real purpose was to get his cock nice and slick so he could shoot a load quickly. In less than three minutes, he could get his hard cock to spurt its cum into the wastebasket under his desk. To avoid getting the man-milk on his suit, Lou would get onto his knees behind his desk, cock sticking out of the fly, one hand furiously stroking up and down. As he neared his climax, a familiar tingling would occur between his shoulder blades. He would get light-headed with the feeling, causing him to breathe very deeply. Then a growl would start low in his chest and the cum would begin its course from prostate to urethra to glans to freedom, forced out by strong spasms and a clenched anus. After years of Olympic jerking off, he could send his seed flying quite a distance. Were it not for the intervening and slanted wastepaper basket, he would have quite the cleanup to perform. And though he was nearly 50, he still produced a nice volume of ejaculate.

No one ever came in, but he kept an ear towards the door in case they did, so he would hear the footfalls. His idea would be to stow his manly tackle whilst pretending to search for something under his desk. No one ever did come in, but that did not mean he was unseen. Candi saw him, not that Lou ever knew that.

Lou had become so accustomed to Candi's routine and so tied up in his ritual masturbation, his oblation to the wastepaper basket, that he eventually stopped listening for her car to leave the parking lot. That was a mistake.

Forgetting her shopping list one evening, Candi had walked back to the office recalling something she wanted to tell Lou and, opening his door, had seen Lou at his desk -- or rather on his knees behind it. Having so recently said 'goodbye' she did not think to knock. She stood transfixed in the doorway. Holding her breath, not making a sound she had witnessed the entire routine. She had seen him eyes closed, kneeling, his arm flailing, heard the breathing and the exhale of relief. She even heard the semen hit the papers in the bottom of the waste basket. Tip! Tip! And a flatter sounding Trat!

She watched as he Lou had sat back on his haunches trying to recover from an intense orgasm, eyes still closed, head titled upward, gulping air. That had given Candi time to slide quietly out of view and to leave. The click of the door latch was quiet enough it did not register in Lou's hearing.

It had not occurred to her before that it was a little strange for the boss to empty his own wastepaper basket into the trash can. He was the company owner. Lou had staff to do the cleaning up. As she was the most junior employee, it seemed an obvious task for he. The next day, Candi made a point of collecting the waste baskets despite Lou's protests that he could take care of it.

"Oh, silly! It's okay to let me do this," she had said. Either hand it to me or I'll have to wrestle you under the desk!" Her comment both shamed him for the immediate sensual stimulation she provoked and thrilled him for the same reason. As she reached in to retrieve the crumpled papers outside to empty them into the trash cans, she felt the cool dampness of his semen on them. Candi held several up to the sky and saw the spotty "water mark" smelled the earthy aroma of hours-gone semen. She never let on though, never made a comment, never looked at Lou any differently. But she knew she was touching his cooled ejaculations and inwardly, and strangely, she found she was happy at that.

Candi did not, though, make a habit of spying on Lou, but neither did she stop checking for the evidence and in a strange way was impressed at his daily ritual. Seemingly, he had more stamina than Frank. She wanted to get another look at his ritual. She wanted was to see him without the desk intervening. It surprised her to have such unbidden thoughts, but she knew she wanted to see more.

How big was he? Was he circumcised? Did he shave? How much did he cum? Well, she somewhat knew the answer to that from the cool damp papers in the waste basket. It was evident he came copiously as well as frequently. Sometimes in her bed at night, her hand inside her pajamas, she wondered how hard Lou spurted, recalling those sounds she had heard. What would it be like to watch him proceed from limp to erect to erupting? Candi wanted to know.

Lou was caught in a cyclone of emotions. Having the evidence of his shame plucked from the basket beneath his desk drove Lou's anxiety up. Every time Candi gathered the waste papers, he would swear he would not jerk off at work again. Yet, he had to jerk off again just to calm his racing heart. He would watch her carrying the basket and know just what she was carrying. The awful thought would come that she might discover his secret and then the shame would set in again.

Nonetheless, Lou did not try to hide the evidence of his masturbatory ritual. He just let his cum spray the papers in his waste basket as before. In a fruitless attempt to reassure himself, he reasoned it was alright for him to jerk off in his own wastebasket. He owned the company. He was not on display, exhibiting himself in some lewd way. He was being private. And no one would: a.) ever suspect it was cum and, b). if suspecting, no one would ever ask anything. The only person who could possibly be on to him was Candi, because she emptied the waste paper basket, and he was sure she was completely unaware.

Despite the torture of his impure thoughts, Lou kept masturbating to thoughts of Candi.

Candi's boldness grew. She now had a sense that he was checking her out when she left the office. Frank, her husband, always complimented her on her fine ass, even if he was hurtful about the size of her breasts. He told her guys always noticed her ass and followed her with their eyes. Her ass not her tits. If Frank and she were out, he would point out guys who were ogling her. When she turned to see, they would avert their gaze, proof of their being caught looking.

She began to tease Lou just a bit -- with her ass. She wore a thong under her pants so the top would creep above her belt line as she bent over picking up that waste paper basket. She would stand close to Lou seated at the desk and bend over enough that her top would ride up exposing the fact that she was wearing the scantiest of foundational garments.

Lou was usually a bit of stickler for smartness in the office, but in the summer, he relented a bit. Candi would wear shorts with rather full leg openings. But she would wear no panties to protect her from invasive looks should she sit unwisely. She did not care about that. It was completely deliberate. She wanted to show herself to Lou with it all appearing accidental. She had shaved all her pubic hair off. She was bald below, daring Lou to notice. And how could he not when the wide legs rucked up a bit and the sun was catching her thighs.

Lou spluttered, "What's different about you Candi? You look really healthy today. Like you're years younger." His impure thoughts set him teetering between sexual flirting and an uncle's flattery.

Candi knew immediately he had seen her delicate pudenda. Her nipples flushed with blood and stretched out. His cock was as well. She could see that.

Always, Lou was a gentleman with her. He would not take advantage, even when she gave him a peek up her shorts' leg. In a strange way, it made her happy that he jerked off. She hoped he was thinking of her. She was certainly trying to give him something to dream on. Imagining him jerking off to thoughts of her made her glad she could still give a man a hard on. So, Candi continued to tease and agonize him, confident all the while he would not cross the line with her.

And all the while Lou imagined showing her just how much she did for him. That evening he grunted through clenched teeth, "Here you go pretty Candi. Here is the icing for your sweet little cookie." And then let fly a wad of hot white cum into the waste basket.

Among the fantasies Lou tried to manage was about her ass. Her hips so nicely wide. Her skin must be so smooth, so round. He wanted desperately to bury his face in her slit, grab both cheeks in his hands and lick, lick, lick. Lou imagined Candi on the step ladder at chin height to him in a very short skirt and no panties. He saw himself grab her hips and pull her into his face, smothering him. In his imagined scene, Lou turned her round and slid his hands up her legs taking the hem of her skirt higher, exposing her lovely ass. He wanted to rub his cheeks on her cheeks and drive his nose into her and stretch his tongue to lap at her vaginal opening, perhaps to touch her clitoris gently with the tip of his tongue. He never thought of her having any smells other than her delicate perfume or bodily functions other than sexual wetness. And then with that so perfect image in his mind he would once again shoot his load into the open pages lying at the bottom of the wastebasket to the sound of (almost) rain falling on paper.

It was not only her ass that he was fixed upon. Her sweet breasts demanded his attention. Summer was always the best time to see them barely concealed by her blouses. When she leaned over his desk to show him a catalog page, asking if the product was one they needed to stock, his eyes took in, not the catalog, but her breasts. Candi seemed to linger as if allowing him to look as long as he wanted, making up things to talk about, never trying to cover the open neck of her blouse. She was almost, and he could not believe it for real, inviting him to look, to examine her small breasts close at hand. Sometimes too, in the summer, Candi wore sleeveless tops that opened provocatively when she moved her arms, exposing the soft, slow curve of her tits. Without much effort, Lou could gain a nice side glance at her ruby nipple sitting atop the smooth paleness of her gentle breast. A memory to feed the waste paper basket later.

Lou's wife, Delores, told him he needed to warn Candi about her dress in the office. He pretended not to understand and was able to silence her with, "What can I say? Do you want us to face an EEOC lawsuit for sexual harassment? You tell her, if it's that big a deal. Frankly, I don't care about that. It's Candi, Delores! Candi. Not some loose woman coming in off the street. You know that is not how she is." Delores was silenced but unconvinced.

The temptation became serious just before Candi left his firm to take a full-time job with a national firm. Lou had taken a booth at a convention of medical and hospital suppliers in Las Vegas. Because it was the largest convention in the country, he wanted to make a good show of it. He and Delores would get one room at the convention hotel and Candi and Frank would have another. They could see Las Vegas and still work the convention. That was the plan until one of their boys made it to the travel league soccer team, requiring Frank, as assistant coach, to stay home. No worries, Candi could use the break from her family and enjoy a big hotel room all to herself.

Then Delores' mother was back in the hospital and Delores needed to stay home as well. Delores had actually considered the risk of Lou and Candi in a hotel in Vegas, not that she said anything to Lou, but let it go. "Lou isn't attracted to Candi. 'It's Candi, after, not some loose woman'..." The thought just faded away.

Not for Lou and not for Candi. She was thrilled. He was miserable. She intended to have some fun in Vegas. Lou was just worried sick about his impure thoughts, his need to masturbate, his obsession with Candi.

Their rooms were adjoining, he had booked them at the same time with the hotel and seemingly the booking clerk had thought Lou and Delores and Frank and Candi needed a connection between the rooms. A hollow-core passage door separated the two rooms. Lou saw it as soon as he walked into his room and his eyes had opened wide in disbelief at the obvious temptation and opportunity. He had sat on his bed staring at it for minutes before unpacking. Not only was Candi going to be sleeping in the next room, perhaps even sleeping naked, but with just the separation of a thin door between them. Their bathrooms were adjoining. He could be showering -- naked of course -- inches from an equally naked, showering Candi.