Peggy Wilson loved her job as delivery manager for a large lumber company. She managed the delivery men in the shipping department, all in their early twenties. They seemed to be good guys, a little rowdy at times, but nothing she could not control; or so she thought.
The one guy that worried her, was Richard, he was the foreman for the loading dock, who liked to be called "Dick." He made me feel like he could see right through my clothes; so, I did my best to avoid him. The only time I got to see him face to face was on Friday when I had to sign their timecards. I hated and at the same time loved the way men always stared at my tits. So, on those days I usually wore something that gave them a little show: like today. I had on a tan sleeveless wool sweater. The sweater was so tight the outline of my push up bra showed easily; with tit flesh overflowing the cups. Couple that with my brown skirt that stopped just above the knee, four-inch heels and dark suntan stockings.
Thinking back, I may have dressed a little too sexy for a lumber yard that Friday.
Sub-consciously maybe I was asking for it. One thing for sure; I needed sex in the worst way; but I didn't expect to get it at work. Boy was I in for a surprise.
When Richard came up with his timecard, he was nicer than usual; although he never took his eyes off my tits and didn't hide the fact, he was staring right at them. He made me feel uncomfortable and turned on at the same time. We made small talk for a couple of minutes, then he held out his card just out of my reach; making me move my chair from under the desk. This caused my skirt to ride up. Exposing my legs up to my stocking tops, I blushed red when I realized how much nyloned leg I had exposed. "You've got some great legs, and I like that" he said. I mumbled something like "thanks, they get me around." He just grinned and leaned close to my face and told me to come down to his office after work for a drink with the guys. I said I doubted it. But he just smiled and said, " You'll be there," I shook my head no and then softly said "maybe": while hanging my head down, not looking at him in the eye. With that gesture Richard knew he had me. My divorce was final two years ago. now I was beginning to feel very frustrated, and unwanted.
Not having sex in three years, the last year of marriage was a nightmare. I just craved male attention even if it was the wrong kind; and I had a feeling this was really the wrong kind.
At forty years old, my body still looked good, I exercised daily, and my butt was firm and round, but the main attraction were my coconut sized boobs, thirty-two d's that were a tit man's delight. Couple that with blonde hair, usually up in a haphazard bun, and full cocksucking lips on an angelic face. I was flattered that a guy in his twenties would still want me.
The day went by slowly: I decided to take some papers down to shipping. It wasn't part of my job, I don't normally deliver things, but this gave me an excuse to be in that part of the building and I thought a drink would be fun. Finally four thirty came ;I cleaned up my desk and started out. I had never been down to the loading dock. It was much further than I thought and more over the place seemed deserted. I'm glad there was no one around, as the skirt I had worn that day, was made of tight stretch material, that with every step I took, it kept riding up; causing me to stop every couple of minutes and tug it back down into place. Finally, since no one was around I gave up; letting my skirt go where it wanted.
I was almost there when I had to climb up a short steep set of stairs. By the time I got to the top my skirt had ridden up to the point of exposing the two dark bands of my stocking tops. The four- inch heels weren't helping either. I had to take mincing little steps on the uneven floor which in turn got my boobs to bounce in my too tight top. I was afraid my girls were going to pop out of the lacy cups that barely contained them. I finally found the shipping department, there was a light on in the enclosed office and I could hear men's voices.
They stopped talking when they heard my heels clicking on the floor. I tentatively knocked on the door and at the same time opened it. There was Richard and two men I didn't know. I found out later that they worked in receiving. They were drinking whiskey and had been at it for a while. Judging by the look in their eyes; I could be the nights entertainment; I felt like a lamb being led to the slaughter.
I was surprised when they smiled and acted decent, even Richard got up and offered me his seat and a drink. Which I took and downed too quickly. I enjoyed talking with these guys, sure there was a couple suggestive remarks they made about my body, that I ignored, blaming the alcohol. But still the thought of being treated like a sex object turned me on. I now know I have a submissive side.
Before long I had finished a second whiskey and was starting on my third: when I looked down and noticed the bottom of my skirt had ridden up to the point where my stockings and garters were exposed. I quickly pulled my skirt down to my knees. But it was too late.
Richard was the first to comment. "I thought porn girls were the only ones to wear stockings."
"The only reason girls wear them, is to turn men on," Said Dave. I was feeling pretty drunk, but I knew one thing; I wasn't going to defend my choice of nylons to some twenty-year-old guys. Then Richard got up, nodded to the other two and locked the door, sticking the keys in his pocket.
"Hey what's going on?" I asked innocently, when I knew what they had in mind.
Richard turned and looked me in the eye, and with that evil grin. "You're going to put on a little show for us tonight, you see we have never seen a real live woman in stockings." "The other way for you to get out of here is to fish the keys out of my pocket," He smirked.
