I received an anonymous request in The Bacchae to give the backstory to it. I actually already knew it but it took me a year to post this. If that anonymous reader were to leave another message saying they read this, that would be great. For the rest, enjoy. No need to read The Bacchae to enjoy this.
The Boss
"Hello, Reginald," the tall blonde said as she sat in front of his desk. She was very business-like with a tan skirt suit, hose, a white blouse with a large collar. She wore severe black glasses and had her sandy blonde hair up in a bun and extremely sensible brown shoes with only a bit of square heel. But no matter how business-like she appeared, the middle-aged woman couldn't hide her inherent sex appeal. She had curves in all the right places. Inside that blouse were a couple of D cups, Reginald knew, and she had a narrow waist that flared nicely to big hips and a luscious big ass shaped like an actual peach.
"Hello, Mabel," he said, the woman's name as plain as she was not. Reginald, on the other hand, was definitely that plain. He had his own darker brown suit pants and jacket. His oversized belly didn't so much peek out the front as loiter, barely covered by his own white dress shirt, which strained, gaping below his belly button. He had on a nondescript tie of black and brown and his own shoes, under the table, were brown loafers. He didn't have glasses on his doughy face and his own hair, mouse brown with hints of grey, had betrayed him, leaving only the edges at the top which he combed over in a desperate attempt to appear younger than he was. His one asset was his huge cock and nobody besides his wife had seen that in years. And it wasn't like he could show it to Mabel. Luckily he was sitting behind his desk or she would have certainly seen the outline in his trousers. His desk was nondescript with a blotter, pens, pencils and a computer. Outside the glass walls of his office was the machinery of a chemical factory. His space was buried amongst the pipes so his adjacent lab could have all the tools he needed, such as gas and a chemical hood. By the connecting door, labeled "Lab. Do Not Enter When Closed." was his safety goggles.
The door Mabel had come in was another door labeled on the outside "Reginald Smutch, Chief Research Officer." His only furniture besides the desk was two old metal chairs, gray paint peeling, brown upholstery from a different decade. Mabel had closed the door, which wasn't good.
"Reginald," the statuesque model-like woman started, "you know how much we value your work."
"Uh oh," Reginald thought, "This can't be good." He was a generally optimistic man, so he hoped, "Maybe I'm just about to be reprimanded or corrected or something."
"And you know how much we value your years of service."
"Almost forty years," the sixty-five-year-old thought to himself. "This is going downhill."
"But times move on and we really want to start producing some scents that appeal to younger consumers, that can be worn at the club or the rave or, God forbid, knowing Gen Z, a political rally," the middle-aged woman continued. She was in her forties, twenty years Reginald's junior and had been working there for less than five years. She stopped. "What's that scent?" she asked.
Sitting on Reginald's desk was his latest creation, a masterpiece of nucleic acids, polysaccharides and polymers. Reginald had been trying to get a subtle mix of lemon, goldenrod, and patchouli. There was just a hint of it in the air. Leaning forward, the portly man took the glass wand from the little vial and waved it in the air for the younger woman.
Mabel followed the rod with her eyes, then tilted her head back, pulling in a lungful through her nose, her mouth closed and almost serene. "That's....that's....that's something," she sighed. Mabel looked back at Reginald. "What was I saying?"
Reginald waited for her to remember then, cautiously, "That you like my work?"
"Oh, yes, I do! And that's not all." Mabel said emphatically, standing up and lowering the blinds over the windowed walls and door of the older man's office. The tall blonde came around his desk and, bending over, her face close to his, she grabbed Reginald's chair in what he perplexingly thought was a violation of proper work ethics, and pushed it up against a wall. Pulling up her skirt, she spread her legs and straddled the portly man, giving him just a glimpse of the crotch of her pantyhose and, under the sheer fabric, dirty blonde pubic smooshed against her pale pelvis. Then she was sitting in his lap, legs on either side, arms over his shoulders so her hands rested on the back of the chair, looking down at him. "We shouldn't play around," Mabel said, and then leaned in to kiss the older man.
The kiss took Reginald by surprise and he froze for a second, looking at her closely, her eyes behind her glasses. Then he closed his own and opened his mouth. The younger woman's tongue was in his mouth, darting around, wrestling his tongue as she leaned in, her lips pressing harder and harder against his. Not certain what to do with his hands, he rested them gently on her back. Mabel, apparently, would have nothing to do with that. She grabbed his right hand and pressed it against her copious breast. Then, still kissing him riotously, the two of them breathing through their noses, she pulled her shirt up so his palm was on the lace of her bra, but only for a second until she pulled down her bra to expose her huge tit. Reginald's blood was boiling so he squeezed and mashed the huge tit, as big as his head, then pinched the rock hard nipple.
"Oh, Reginald, yes," Mabel moaned when she finally broke their kiss. Looking down at him with a conflagration of lust in her eyes, her arms were working furiously to doff her jacket, pull her tie over her head, undo her blouse and pull it off until Reginald was confronted by her beige lace bra. But then she was scrabbling behind her back to release that too, pulling it off, and Reginald was staring at her bare chest, her two large tits, both nipples obviously rock hard. Overcome by lust, the older man darted in and started sucking the one he wasn't already squeezing. Mabel cradled his head against her chest and started moaning as he sucked. With his free hand he cupped her ass and started rubbing it, feeling the roundness and size of it through the coarse polyester of her skirt.
Reaching down, the tall blonde grabbed his manhood through his trousers. "Oh, yes, Reginald," she moaned, "you're ready for me. And you're so big!" The older man's boss was in action again, getting off his lap and kneeling before him, working on his strained belt while her older, fat employee looked down at her. Her beautiful blonde hair was starting to come loose from its severe do and strands were falling down beside her face in what he thought was quite a fetching manner. He reached self consciously towards his own balding head as the younger woman tore at his slacks until he lifted his butt so she could pull them completely down around his thighs, revealing his hard, overly large, cock pointing at her, shrouded on either side by his shirt tails like a bald man pulling a blanket around his shoulders.
Mabel was fearless as she grabbed the pulsing member dripping with pre-cum. "Mmmm," she hummed. "So large, so beautiful, so hard." Then she was leaning in and rubbing the shaft aggressively up and down the sides with her tongue. Left, then right, then left again, and finally right again before she opened wide and snapped her lips around it just behind the head like a lasso around a cow's neck. Reginald moaned and scooted out so his butt was on the edge of the chair, pulling his legs out of his pants so he could spread his thighs wide. He looked down from above at the blonde hair, at the glasses perched on the cute little nose, the pale collarbones, her arms up so she could hold his cock with one hand and steady herself on his thigh with the other. Beyond that was her huge tits, filling his vision, beckoning it, barely enough out of the way so that he could see her knees in their hose and the hem of her skirt still bunched up, below.
Mabel sucked, hard, her cheeks caving in. Reginald could feel it as he looked down into her eyes. They were strikingly blue, he realized. She almost fell forward to get half his cock in her mouth, then back, then forward, then back. Reginald's fiery blood was taking over his brain. He gripped her blonde hair savagely at the back of her head, destroying the rest of her do so it fell down into her face and spilled over his hand. HIs boss swiped it out of her face and behind her ears as Reginald started thrusting against her, pulling her head in at the same time. The beautiful woman gagged and coughed but didn't open her mouth or stop sucking, air shooting from her nose and onto his cock, wet with her spit as she pulled back, assisted by his hand, so she could fall forward again.