Years ago, when I was eighteen years old and had just graduated from high school, I was still unsure of what I wanted to do with my life. I knew I would have to work for a living, of course but I didn't know what I would be doing. My father had worked in the same factory all his adult life, and my older brother had been working there for two years, but I had no wish to emulate them. There was no future whatsoever in working on an assembly line, and I wanted something better, although I didn't know what.
I grabbed the first job I could get, which was as an office boy in a nearby city. It didn't pay much, but I still lived at home and I would be able to get some work experience, and it might lead to something better. I had always wanted to be a free-lance writer, and I had always done well in English Composition and similar classes. I liked the idea of the independence, but I wasn't sure I could actually make a living at it, and working at any kind of job might give me some perspective.
One of the first persons I encountered in the office was Debbie Wade. I remembered her quite well from high school, but she didn't remember me, which was not surprising. She had been a senior and a cheerleader when I was a freshman. Debbie was the stereotypical all-American glamour girl, blonde and beautiful and popular, and dating the quarterback on the football team. From what I heard, she got knocked up about a month after graduation and, when her boyfriend found out about it he skipped town. Nobody I knew of ever heard from him again. She had the baby but, at that time and that place, having a child out of wedlock was scandalous, and Debbie left town also.
In high school, I had often seen her in the hall, in her tight skirts and sweaters, but I never dared speak to her, and she never deigned speak to me. To Debbie, I and most others in her world were on about the same level as the flies that could sometimes be heard buzzing against the classroom windows. To me, dating her or somebody like her was a goal I could barely hope to even aspire to, and something to think about when I lay in bed and masturbated at night. Even then, three years after the last time I might have seen her, Debbie was still a blonde beauty and somebody to fantasize about. She was also just as snooty as she had been in high school, in particular toward those, such as I, whom she considered to be beneath her. She was a secretary; at that time that meant that she would take dictation from Mr. Schwartz, her boss and mine, and type letters and keep his appointment calendar and do similar important jobs around the office. Debbie considered herself to be a skilled professional, and superior to those in more menial positions, such as the one I held.
As the office boy, I was at the beck and call of everybody in the office, and I made deliveries and ran other errands for anybody who requested or demanded my services. Late one morning, I was called on to take a monthly sales report to Mr. Schwartz. Usually, this would entail handing the report to Debbie, so she could do the actual delivery to Mr. Schwartz in his private office, but she wasn't at her desk when I got there. This was not a problem. I opened the door to the inner office, intending to hand it to the boss, or set it on his desk, and leave. However, when I entered the office, I beheld an amazing sight.
There was Debbie, on her knees in front of Mr. Schwartz. I couldn't see her face, but I easily recognized the long ringlets that hung across her shoulders, and the creamy white ass and blonde pussy were what I had thought of, day and night, for almost four years. Those very private parts of her body were clearly visible, because Debbie was completely naked, and I saw her clothing folded neatly and stacked on a chair in front of the desk. Her boss was wearing a shirt and tie and a smile, but his pants were around his ankles. As she knelt there, her head was moving up and down over his lap, and I realized that Debbie must have been sucking his cock. My sexual experiences at that time were strictly limited to discussions with my buddies and looking at a few dirty pictures. I had heard that girls or women sometimes did things like that, but it had never happened to me, and I had never heard of it happening to anybody I knew either, until that day.
I'm not sure why, but I closed the door behind myself, and that noise startled the two persons in front of me. Mr. Schwartz opened his eyes and stared at me, but Debbie was a whole lot more flustered than that. She remained on her knees, but turned facing me, one arm held uselessly in front of her breasts and her other hand trying to cover her pussy. She didn't succeed in hiding her body and, even if she had, my imagination was already filling in the blanks.
"Go away! Get out of here!" she demanded of me.
Apparently, Mr. Schwartz didn't take kindly to his secretary bossing people around in his office. "I'll tell people what to do in this office. And, I told you to suck me off, so get your mouth back here on my cock until I cum into it."
"Please tell him to leave, Mr. Schwartz."
"I will not." He looked up at me then. "George?" He was unsure of my name, but I nodded my head in reply.
"What do you think of Debbie, George? Sexy, isn't she?"
I could hardly speak at the sight of her, because she really was sexy, especially in her nakedness. She was still trying to cover her breasts and pussy with her arm and hand, but I saw enough of her and could still see enough that my cock was trying to rip its way through my pants. "Yes, she is," I croaked.
Debbie still didn't like having me look at her naked body, even though I had expressed sincere admiration for it. "Please make him go away. I'll suck you off if you do."
