Keeping her Job - Part 2
***From previous part***
"Every day," I said, looking down at her. She bit her lip but nodded, inadvertently squeezing my hand harder onto her chest before letting go. Reliving that moment, I wished I had let my hand linger there a little longer, maybe run my thumb across where her nipple had been. Instead I just dropped my hand and nodded. I turned the door handle and let myself out rejoining the team in the open office space we shared. Samantha didn't follow behind me and I assumed she had gone to wash her face perhaps. My phone buzzed as I settled back into my desk.
"I promise I will do better"
Samantha texted, and attached was a picture of her at arm's length. Only Sam's small chin was visible in the shot, the hoodie was gone again, her shirt was held up with one heavily tattooed arm and the cups of her bra had been hastily pulled down. My breath caught and altogether stopped for a few fleeting seconds while I took in Sam's breasts for the first time. Not a trace of tan lines. Her breasts were large but had been larger before and they had a little sag as I suspected, they looked pillowy soft and incredibly inviting. They were not the perky, gravity-defying tits of a teenager and for that I was grateful. Her areolas were lightly colored, the tight skin of which betrayed her nervousness or her arousal, perhaps both. A faint shadow of a blue-green vein ran across her left areola. Her nipples were small and looked painfully tight. I was a bit surprised that they were not pierced. I could have looked at that picture for the rest of the day but at the moment Samantha walked back into the bullpen as it were. Her bulky university jacket well-zipped up as she made her way to her desk. She avoided my eyes as she made her way back to her desk.
.
.
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*** Part 2 ***
Understandably, I found it hard to concentrate for the rest of the day. I looked for any excuse to open my phone and look at my employee Samantha flashing me her soft fleshy tits. I was lost in the details, the soft pale skin of her breasts and the bumpy ridges of her nipples made my mouth water. The way her bra had been half-hazzardly pulled down and bit into the underside of her right breast was incredibly hot in its candidness and It was all I could do not to pull my cock out and jerk off right behind her. Indeed, being able to look at her naked breasts while she was sitting less than six feet in front of me, demurely typing away at her laptop, her wispy messy bun swaying drove me into constant distraction.
I had half expected Sam to keep the pictures coming after work but that had never been discussed. Just wishful thinking on my part, but the craving for more nagged at me fiercely. It was like knowing I had a key to a locked door to treasures inside and having to wait to try to use it. I was a kid with a new toy and I wanted to play. I wanted Sam's tits in my mouth! Thankfully though, I didn't give in to the temptation of texting her in the middle of the night and possibly cause trouble for her and I, but my mind whirled with imaginary conversations and scenarios. I replayed the conversation from earlier that day and I changed the responses in my head when she had gotten up to lock the door to the conference room the first time to offer me a blowjob to save her job. Most scenarios in my head ended with Samantha on her knees with my cock in her tiny little mouth or on her back on the conference table with her pants dangling from one of her frayed Converse.
I got very little rest that night, I scaled the range of emotions from excitement to anger at myself and was almost disgruntled again by the time I walked in the office the next morning. I thought back to the holiday team party the previous year when I first met Samantha. She had been a shy kid, still not old enough to drink back then, but apparently old enough to shack up with one of my technicians. She wore a fitted black dress that ended just above her knees with tall chunky black boots. She stuck out like a sore thumb along my colorful and tenured team but in a pleasant way. The team zeroed in on her like puppies to a new toy and completely ate her up. She had a cute laugh as my team chatted her up. She gave as much as she received, a tough kid playing dress-up to hang out with the "adults'' for the night. While my team laughed, ate and drank, glimpses of her pale, creamy thighs as we sat around the dark restaurant made the evening memorable for me and a worthwhile company expense.
Compared to the sexy, happy sprite of that evening, the schleppy mess that I had received instead when she started working for me very much felt like I had become a victim of bait and switch. I sighed, staring at her picture though. This new development had some serious promise. I looked at her creamy breasts for the umpteenth time that night and wondered how much I was going to regret letting my cock make the decisions that day.
Regardless, those tits were too good to ignore so as I laid in bed I reached in my pants and fished out my cock. I pictured her little pouty mouth pressing against the head of my cock, hesitant at first. Just a little kiss. Her little tongue giving me a tentative lick before opening her mouth wider to take me in. My fist squeezed my shaft as I imagined her little hands would do, surprised when I reached down to palm her swinging tit to take a pebbly nipple between my fingers. My mind swirled with thoughts of her whining with my cock in her mouth as I pinched on that nipple and tugged on it with proprietorship. I was still looking at her creamy tit on my phone when I felt my muscles stirring and my stomach tighten. I closed my eyes for a second to concentrate on the memory of her saying,
"Please! I'll give you a blowjob!"
And later,
"I'll still suck your... I'll do anything you ask. Please."
It was the memory of the tone of her voice as she begged that finally pushed me over the edge. I grunted to myself as ropes of thick, viscous cum landed on my stomach and all over my hand. I breathed out heavily, caught my breath, then begrudgingly got up to clean myself, got back in bed and pulled up the pictures again, watching her slowly strip for me.
I was still lost in these thoughts the next morning, not getting much work done when the front door opened and Betty walked in with a cheery hello. When I looked up from my laptop to acknowledge her I saw Sam's car enter the parking lot through the office windows. The time on the corner of my laptop read 9:05a. So much for her promising to come in early the day before.
Sam parked and shuffled in a minute later with a small, "Good morning" as she bee-lined it to her desk. I didn't look up from my desk. I usually made it a habit to be in the office by eight to beat the morning traffic. It allowed me time to get a jump on email and other odds and ends before the phones started ringing. Sam was usually the first one in sometime closer to nine with the rest of the team following soon after. On rare days, Sam and I might exchange a few non-work related words before the others arrived but she was a pretty shy person normally, not one to start up a conversation and I could be (I later learned) pretty intimidating so that didn't make for a good spontaneous conversation combination, regardless of how close we sat to each other. There was also the large age gap between us to add to the divide of what we could even talk about, so more often than not we would work in awkward silence after hellos for a few minutes until the others joined in. Not so that morning though and I wondered if she had made an effort to come in later than usual to avoid being alone with me.
The rest of the staff trailed in and soon the small office was abuzz with chatter. Complaints about traffic clashed against those about the weather and who had what for dinner the evening before. It was a loud cacophony that you either grew to love or stewed in silence through. I was undecided if I wanted to upgrade us to a larger space when our lease ran out or put up with the chaos. I've never had a need for more privacy, but recent events notwithstanding had me thinking that through all over again. After several minutes of perfunctory morning chatter, Betty got up and left to the office kitchen to make herself some coffee. My phone buzzed loudly on my desk as soon as Betty was out of sight. I noticed Sam flinched when it did.
"I took a couple of..." Sam murmured over her shoulder, the words running together to be almost an inaudible mumble. Her ears and the tops of her cheeks went red at the sound of her own voice, she turned back to her desk, scribbled something and turned back. She dropped a piece of paper on my desk with an indecisive wave of her hand, her handwriting was large, loopy and girly,
"I wasn't sure if you only wanted me to take them here or if these are okay."
I didn't respond right away. Instead I picked up my phone. There were two pictures waiting for me, both taken in her bathroom at home. The lighting was dim and in one of the pictures she'd managed to capture the three-light fixture above the mirror, one of which had a bulb burned out. She was standing in front of a slightly foggy mirror, she had a faded teal-colored towel around herself and another coiled on top of her head. Sam held the phone in front of her with both hands so that it covered most of her face in the reflection. Her lips, the only part of her face that was visible in the reflection, were slightly pursed, decisive. Dewy droplets of water on her naked shoulders and collarbone caught my attention. Tattoos started just below her shoulders and traveled down her arms. Her right arm was mostly covered down to her wrist with bold and colorful designs that I didn't spend any time trying to make out while her left arm was a series of smaller tattoos not yet connected. A wildly distracting work in progress. On her left forearm by itself, I noticed a stormtrooper helmet,
"Didn't take you for a star wars fan" I said automatically.
"What?" her voice came out a surprised squeak.
"The stormtrooper," I explained and she put her right hand over her covered forearm,
"Oh, yeah," she scoffed with an eye roll, "total hardcore fan."
I couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or just nervous. I went with the latter.
"Did you catch the alligator scene on the Mandalorian?" I baited. She bit,
"Oh my God! That was so --" Samantha spun around just as I was swiping my phone to the next picture. I very briefly saw that it looked like the towel was gone before a wide-eyed Sam reached over to cover the screen with her hand. She squeezed my fingers and the screen went blank. Sam yanked her hand away snapping her head forward but nobody had caught the exchange. Sam exhaled loudly and turned to mutter,
