High And Mighty

I had worked at Cornelius Medical for four years without ever laying eyes on Selene Toubia. I had heard of her, of course; she was an important person in the firm, with a substantial number of patents to her name from when she was in research. She had made the company a lot of money. Now she was an administrator, running the engineering department.

I was holed up in the other end of the building, the not-so-prestigious end, languishing in my cubicle and editing the company publications and submissions to trade journals. I had an assistant named Sylvia who was scheduled to interview Ms. Toubia for a special feature, but the day the interview was to be conducted, Sylvia called in sick. For want of any better substitute, I appointed myself to do the job.

The interview was scheduled for the late afternoon. I arrived at her rather impressive office a few minutes early, and her administrative assistant ushered me in. Ms. Toubia was gazing at two side-by-side computer monitors that were set up to the side of her mahogany desk when I came in. She turned and looked at me appraisingly.

"Hello! You don't look like someone named Sylvia," she said, smiling primly. She had longish dark hair, and was short in stature by my standards - I'm a tall person. Her face was carefully composed, but I thought I saw something in her gaze. I like women. I always find it stimulating to meet a new one.

I replied, "Sylvia seems to have come down with that bug that is going around, so I'm filling in. I'm Andre."

"All right, Andre. Shall we get started?"

I turned on the digital recorder and began to ask her about her days in research, working from Sylvia's notes. She was initially very businesslike, but as the time passed, she revealed that she had a lively sense of humor, telling me some hilarious anecdotes that weren't really suitable for publication. Then she looked at her fancy Piaget Polo watch.

"I forgot that I have to attend a reception. We aren't finished, are we?"

"I think I can get by with what we have so far," I said.

"No, let's do it right," she answered. "I'll tell you what. Why don't you come with me while I put in an appearance at this reception, and then I'll slip away early and we can finish the interview."

"Works for me," I said, turning off the recorder. We rose and left her office, wending our way through the big corporate beehive toward the company lounge. Selene (we were on a first name basis by this point) continued to regale me with stories about the old days at Cornelius, and we kept laughing.

She was dressed conservatively in a dark suit with a creme-colored blouse. She exuded authority. But I liked the way her hips moved as she walked, and I stole glances discreetly. I knew better than to try to romance her; interoffice flings were prohibited, plus she was more than a few rungs higher up the corporate ladder than I. But still, ideas were crossing my mind. It must have been pheromones or something.

I'm in my 50s. I'm guessing she was in her mid 40s, a woman's sexual prime. She was probably a workaholic, and married for a couple of decades, long enough for the sex to fizzle out. There was a good chance that she hadn't been properly fucked in years.

When we got to the reception, we ordered rum separators, and then she excused herself apologetically, moving off to work the room while I lurked in a corner. But in a surprisingly short time she reappeared with a fresh drink in her hand, saying, "There, I did my thing. Shall we finish the interview?"

"Sure," I said, "but I can't record here. Too much ambient noise."

"Right. Well... can you interview while we walk to the parking garage? I'm ready to head home for the day."

"Yes, that ought to work," I replied.

We headed out into the hall and then Selene realized that she was still carrying her drink. "Hold on," she said, and drained it to the dregs. She then returned her empty glass to the lounge. When she re-emerged, we resumed our trek to the parking structure.

Selene was more than a little tipsy, but she kept it together and finished the interview just as we arrived at the elevator, which was closed for maintenance. "Crap," said Selene, "it looks like I'm taking the stairs in these heels."

We started down, Selene's heels clicking on the stairs and echoing in the otherwise empty stairwell. We began on the second floor, and the parking level was one below the ground floor. We were on the final set of stairs when Selene tripped.

I caught her, preventing what could have been a nasty tumble. This put us in an awkward embrace, and I felt her body respond to that embrace. She passed quickly from hanging on for dear life, to pressing herself against me hungrily. She felt like a coiled spring.

She looked into my eyes at close range, her face expressionless, and said, "This is inappropriate." But she made no move to extricate herself, so I kissed her.

The kiss was red hot. She thrust her tongue into my mouth, her body writhing against mine. She was right, this was inappropriate, but I couldn't resist the impulse to push things a little further, so I pushed her skirt up her thighs to see whether she would let me put my hand between them. She did, and I was amazed to find her panties all sloppy and wet. I moaned as I felt the plumpness of her swollen cunt through the slippery fabric, then I broke off our kiss as I brought my hand up all covered in in her juices so that I might taste them. She gasped, and then stepped back from our embrace.

"This is insane," she said, her face flushed. She pushed her skirt back down into a semblance of propriety. "This never happened."

I looked into her eyes and made an instant assessment. This was a woman who could easily get me fired in one of those "me too" scenarios. Nonetheless, I felt instinctively that I was at an advantage. I smiled calmly at her and said, "Let me keep your panties."

She remained silent, but a kaleidoscope of expressions crossed her face: shock, disgust, anger, arousal, surrender. Then slowly she steadied herself against the railing, hiked up her skirt, wriggled out of her panties, and stepped out of them carefully, still wearing her heels. When she had completed this operation, she picked them up gingerly by the waistband and handed them to me. Then she said, "I'm going home now," and walked down the remaining stairs and into the parking garage.

I waited until she had disappeared through the door to bring her slimy, drenched panties to my face and eagerly suck her juices from the crotch.

I waited a few days, did my work as usual, and then I looked up Selene's personal email address in the company directory. Sending her an email would be a bit risky, but our mini-encounter had kept me in a state of excitement. I managed to hold back until I got home, then I sent an email that simply said, "Hello."

It only took a few minutes for her response to appear in my inbox. It read, "Hi. Good to hear from you - I think."

I decided that there was no point in being delicate. I wrote back, "Did you masturbate when you got home?"

About 90 seconds passed, then the answer arrived. "Yes. Actually, first in the parking garage, then again when I got home."

Things were going rather well. I wrote back, "Let's get together for coffee."

The wait was a little longer this time. Then the email arrived: "That's not going to happen, I'm sorry. I'm married with a family."

I decided not to respond.

The next day I waited until about 10:00 in the evening, and sent a new email to Selene: "I'm thinking about you."

The reply was almost instantaneous. "You are?"

"Yes, I am. And I have my hand wrapped around my fat hard cock."

This time there was a wait of a few minutes. Then, "Oh my."

It was my turn to make her wait, as I stroked myself and took a few photos. Then I replied, "Would you like to see?"

Her response was quick. "Yes, show me."

I sent her a photo that I had taken with the camera between my legs, a nice close up of my erect cock. A minute later came the response, "I like that."

I wrote back immediately, "Show me your cunt."

The reply came, "I can't, I'm not alone."

I answered, "Say you've got to go to the bathroom."

A few minutes passed as I stroked and teased my cock some more. Then her email appeared: "I'm in the bathroom. I have a question. When you think about me, what are you doing to me?"

I thought for a moment, and then wrote: "I have you lying on the floor, on your back, and I'm squatting above you, rubbing my cock and balls on your tits and on your face."

A few minutes went by, and then an image arrived. I loved it. It was a close-up of Selene's cunt. She had big pussy lips that extended out to the sides, and I immediately imagined myself sucking those lips. Her thighs were thick the way I like them, and there was a little patch of pubic hair above her clit. She looked wet and delicious, and I tried to imagine what she might smell like. I wrote back, "I love it. Are you touching it?"

She replied, "Yes."

"Can you cum for me?"

"Yes, twice."

"Good girl," I typed.

I was impressed. This was a hot woman. I wrote, "You've got me hot and bothered, and I'm going to cum for you, Where do you want it?"

A return email immediately appeared in my inbox. "In my mouth. I want to taste your cum and swallow all of it."

I wrote back, "If I shoot all my cum in your mouth, will you cum again for me?"

A few seconds elapsed, then, "Yes."

"Open your mouth wide, and rub your gorgeous cunt for me. I'm going to cum."

I stroked my cock vigorously until the cum erupted all over my chest and neck. Then I took a photo and sent it to her, and closed my laptop.

I was now optimistic about having my way with the mighty Ms. Toubia. I installed a program on my laptop called CallNote that can record video chats. Then I waited for her to make the next move, and I didn't have to wait long. The next evening, around the same time, I received an email from Selene:

"My husband is out of town and I'm home alone. I'm looking at the photo of your cock, and the cum on your chest."

I wrote in response: "Good. You must follow my instructions. Open a gmail account, and send me an email from your new account."

She replied: "?? OK."

Five minutes later I received an email from her new account. I responded, "What kind of device are you using? Laptop?"

"I'm using an iPad."

I sent her a link for Google Hangouts and told her to accept my chat invitation. In a minute or two the chat box opened up.

"Hello, Selene," I wrote.

"Hello."

"What are you wearing?"

"I'm wearing a bra and panties, and a robe."

"Take off the robe."

"OK."

"Describe the bra and panties."

"They are crimson and lacy."

That sounded pretty hot, not what I would expect from the Director of Engineering. "Take off the bra," I typed.

"It's off."

"Now pinch and twist your nipples for me."

"I'm doing that. It's making my pussy all hungry."

I decided that this would be a good time to send the videocam request. I pushed the invitation icon, and typed in the chat box, "Accept my request." Then I activated my recording software.

The video screen came up, and there was Selene, naked from the waist up, looking both aroused and embarrassed. I was fully clothed, and she must have felt a bit vulnerable. I spoke aloud:

"Can you hear me?"

"Yes I can."

"Don't stop playing with your nipples."

Her fingers moved restlessly on her nipples, and she bit her lower lip as she looked into the camera.

"Is that making your panties wet?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Show me."

She adjusted her iPad so that the camera was pointed at her crotch. It looked fabulous, the crimson lace with the delicious bulge of her pussy beneath it, and a spreading stain with a little pool of cunt juice forming on the satin surface. "Rub your crotch for me," I commanded.

She began to massage her cunt through her panties. It looked fantastic.

"Now take the panties off," I said.

She stripped off her panties and repositioned herself so that her cunt was right in front of the camera. It looked so hot that I wanted to tear off my pants and stroke, but I was determined to stick to my plan.

"Selene, I want you to slowly stuff your panties into your cunt."

She swallowed, and began to work the crimson fabric into her hole. After only a scrap of crimson was peeking out between her lips, I said, "Now make yourself cum."

She began to massage the area around her clit, occasionally zeroing in on it and rolling it between her fingers. My gaze alternated between her busy fingers and her face; I loved her facial expression, the intense concentration mixed with disorientation, and the way her eyes rolled up from time to time. She began to make a small rhythmic moaning sound that escalated into a wail, as she cried out, "I'm going to cum," as her face contorted and her body convulsed.

I watched this with intense interest, and then I gave her 15 seconds to recover before instructing her to pull the panties out of her cunt. She moaned again as she pulled and gradually extricated them. When she had finished, she held the sodden panties up for the camera and smiled.

I was impressed. "Good girl," I said. "Friday afternoon, you and I are going to meet."

Her face darkened. "I said no meetings," she objected. "I've got my family to think about, let alone my job."

I smiled warmly. Then I logged off.

I edited the video down to what I thought were the choicest moments: a few seconds of panty-stuffing, her spectacular orgasm, and then her holding the panties up for the camera. The resulting video was about 15 seconds long, good for my purposes. I uploaded it to my Google Drive.

I waited until Friday and then sent an email to her from my cubicle at work. It said simply, "Bring me your panties." She replied tersely, "Don't contact me at work." I then sent a second email, in which I shared with her the video. Her response came quickly:

"You motherfucking bastard! I didn't give you permission to record me!"

I replied, "It will be our little secret, so long as you are cooperative and respectful. For openers, I'd like you to call me 'Sir'."

Again, her reply was swift. "You've got to be joking."

I emailed back, "I'm not. You will address me as 'Sir'. You know I have access to the company email directory. I have an email ready to send to the board of directors, copied to your husband, sharing that video."

30 seconds went by, then I received a response.

"Please don't send it, sir. I'll bring you the panties."

Ten minutes later, Selene appeared at my cubicle carrying a file folder. She handed me the folder and said, "Here's that additional material for my interview."

I opened the folder. Inside was a pair of lavender panties. I took them out to examine them. They were completely soaked. "Meet me for coffee tomorrow morning. We'll discuss your interview. Nothing scandalous about that." I handed her a piece of paper with the name and address of a coffee shop, not too near to her home or the company. She looked at it, then walked out of my cubicle.

Selene was punctual. She arrived wearing a richly colored floral pattern dress; I'm no judge of such matters, but I think it must have been some designer label. Selene couldn't go casual even on a Saturday morning. Me, I was wearing jeans and a polo shirt.

We ordered espressos and made some small talk. The coffee shop was almost empty, which was what I had hoped for (I had been there before on a Saturday.) I pointed to the unisex bathroom in the back, and said, "Go in there and leave the door unlocked."

Selene said, "I told you I can't do that."

I replied, "You will address me as 'Sir'. And you can do it. The people at the front counter can't see who goes in there. We're having a business coffee. Quit being a nervous Nellie."

Her face was expressionless. But she got up and went to the bathroom.

I kept her waiting for about 5 minutes, then I entered the bathroom and locked the door behind me. The place was not tremendously tidy - there were some crumpled up paper towels on the floor, and it didn't exactly smell springtime fresh in there. I looked at Selene, and she looked back, nervously.

"Give me your panties," I said.

She mumbled, "Yes sir," and began to lift her dress.

"I couldn't hear you," I said.

"Yes sir," she replied, loudly and clearly this time. She wriggled out of her panties and handed them to me.

Lord have mercy, they were wet - so wet. I brought them to my mouth to suck the juice from them, and made a mental note of the way Selene winced. "Kneel on the floor," I said.

Selene eyed the floor with mild distaste, and then knelt. I dropped my jeans and let her see my cock. She said nothing, but her eyes were like saucers.

"Move your knees apart," I said. She did as I asked. "I want you to rub your cunt while I feed you my cock."

"Yes sir," she said, and she didn't sound all that reluctant. She opened her mouth as I stepped forward to give her my hard cock.

I loved the way she sucked me. There were no tentative licks - she swallowed me to the hilt and began to fuck me slowly and voluptuously with her mouth. I gasped with pleasure and made sure she heard it. This made her suck with even greater ardor.

She bobbed her head faster and faster as her fingers plunged into her sloppy pussy. Her little mewing sounds suggested that she was beginning to climax. "Cum for me," I demanded, and she did, her body trembling violently. I seized her hair and began to thrust hard into her throat. "I'm going to cum," I said, and she groaned with pleasure. Holding her head in my hands, I fucked her face wildly until I began to spurt copiously into her mouth.

Selene kept my cock in her mouth after I had finished cumming. She moaned gently and nuzzled my pubic hair. Then she got up, smoothed her dress, and left the bathroom, leaving me with another pair of her fragrant soaked panties. When I came out a minute later, she was gone.

The next day I received an email from Selene. It said, "We can't do that again. It's just too risky. I did as you asked, now please delete that video."

I replied, "I'm not an unreasonable person, but you know I'm not going to delete that video. I promise not to share it with anyone as long as you are cooperative. If you are uncooperative, all it takes is the touch of a button for me to express my displeasure."

It took her almost an hour to respond. "Yes, sir. What do I need to do to be cooperative?"

I replied: "Make a new video for me. It should be very, very dirty. If it is dirty enough, I shall be pleased. If not, you know what happens."

She responded, "Sir, I will need a little time to do that."

I sent back, "Fine. Don't keep me waiting too long, though."

Three days later I received a notification that she had shared a video with me.

I don't mind saying that I was excited. I drank a Wild Turkey with a beer chaser, took off my clothes, then sat back on my bed with my laptop. Finally I opened her video.

There was Selene, in uncharacteristically casual attire. She was wearing a bright blue T shirt, no bra, and her crimson panties. Her facial expression was grim, but also aroused, a very interesting combination. Music began, the Tito Puente version of "El Cayuco", and she began to dance, very proficiently. But the dance became progressively vulgar and lewd. She lifted her T shirt and played with her nipples, bending her head down to suck them. She straddled the back of an armchair and slowly rubbed her crotch on it in time with the music. She stripped off her panties and began to masturbate with a vibrator, right up close to the camera, while moving her hips provocatively to the beat. Finally she put the iPad flat on the floor and straddled it, fingering her cunt up close. I was stroking my cock fiercely and at that point I sprayed cum everywhere.