I met Kimmy when I was doing a consulting job for a downtown charitable organization. She had been assigned to be my assistant and go-to girl in case I needed her, but to be honest I rarely did. She was a pretty girl, blonde hair and startling doe-eyes. She was also a big girl, not an ounce of fat on her, I doubt, but farm-girl stocky with a broad ass and big, full breasts. She wore tight jeans and low cut tops that showed off her generous cleavage. She was just about the same height as me and could be a bit intimidating, even more so as she had a tendency to stand very close to me to the point of discomfort.
As my contract progressed, I found that I was actually ahead of schedule and would therefore earn a modest incentive bonus. This put me in a fairly generous mood which is why I decide to take Kimmy out for dinner. I had to admit, I did not really see Kimmy as anything more than a nice woman from the office that had helped me occasionally. She insisted on picking the restaurant and we ended up in one of those roadhouse franchise places, named after either some godforsaken prairie state or some Irish drunkard.
Kimmy was very nice, but as our conversations proceeded I began to notice that she was a bit, well, damaged. Her favourite topics seemed to revolve around sex. She was not just mildly curious about sex, or had a healthy appetite for it, she was positively obsessed with it. And yet, from what I gathered, she was pretty inexperienced. She made mention of one fling with a boy from the office across the hall, but beyond that I could assume that her exposure to sex had been primarily through magazines and videos.
Kimmy asked me about my life and I told her that I had been born and raised right here in the city. I had moved away to go to university and lived in many places all across the country before finally settling back down here. We talked about a few things and then Kimmy began to ask some personal questions. At first they were very ordinary questions, was I married, and since I wasn't, did I date? What did I look for in a woman, and when was the last date I had been out on? But soon the questions began to get a bit more bizarre and very personal and I was becoming uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was going. She started to ask pointed questions about my intimate life, and then about my sex life. I stalled and stopped answering her questions directly, but she asked more and more brazen ones. Did I enjoy the missionary position? Could I perform more than once a night? Twice? Three times? Did I like licking a woman 'down there'? These went on in a rapid fire interrogation that left me blushing and ready to bolt for the door.
Finally, when I refused to answer any of these questions, she seemed to catch herself and backed off. We finished dinner in an infrequently punctuated silence. I paid for the bill and we got up to leave. She asked if I wanted to come back to her place for a drink and I politely deferred, saying I was quite tired and thanked her graciously. I walked her to her car and she turned to say goodbye. Suddenly she lunged at me and forced her mouth against mine, her thick tongue pressing against my teeth urgently. Her arms wrapped around me tightly and I was astonished at her strength. She tilted her head back and smiled what I could only imagine was supposed to be a wicked grin. It looked like a maniacal sneer to me. She asked me if I had changed my mind about coming home with her. I was at a complete loss. I only could apologize and shake my head as I extricated myself from her embrace and bolted back to my car.
The next day, I went in to the office, not quite sure of how to handle Kimmy. To my bewilderment, Kimmy acted completely natural as if nothing had happened. That is until we were alone in my office momentarily. She turned to me and with that same alarming grin and said that she had really enjoyed herself last night. I shook my head. I had quite crudely rejected her advancements, and I doubt I had left any room for misinterpretation. Still, I found myself saying that it had been quite an interesting evening all around. She walked out the door and then turned at the last moment before exiting, and licked her lips in a manner that I could only assume was supposed to be sexually alluring, but actually came across somewhat similar to how a dog appears after tucking into a hearty meal.
It was a Friday afternoon and just as I was finishing up some last minute work so that I could finally go home for the weekend, Kimmy came back into my office. She stood in front of me and asked me if I would like to go out with her again tonight. She said that this time she would make dinner at her place. She bounced her eyebrows up and down in a manner was reminiscent of Groucho Marx. I told her that I couldn't possibly; I had to work late as I was putting the finishing touches on my proposal in order to make the final presentation to the board on Monday.
It was then when Kimmy realized that I was leaving. She looked around the office and noticed that all the shelves were empty and my desk was cleared off. An anguished look came over her face and she was at a loss for words. She turned and fled from my office in the typical Hollywood dramatic style we've all come to expect from such situations.
I really thought no more about it and went back to my work. Just after six, as I had finally finished and began packing up my things I heard a noise outside my office. The place was deserted and had been silent except for my fingers on the computer keys and the soft hush of the ventilation system cycling on and off. But now I heard a distinct shuffling sound and felt my body tense up. Then I thought that there must be cleaners who come in every night and it was them that I was hearing.
Almost chuckling in relief, I stood up and went to the door. I clicked off my office light and just as the room was plunged into darkness I was tackled hard and thrown violently to the floor. The wind was knocked out of me and I was shocked into numbness for a second. I found myself being rolled over onto my front, my hands behind my back and before I could react, my wrists were cinched tightly in what felt like zip ties, and the assailant was sitting on my legs making it impossible to move. The whole thing had taken place in an instant. This wasn't the first time I had been mugged but that didn't make it any more palatable. Certainly I had never had anyone use zip ties before. I said the same lines that hadn't worked before: take my cash and my credit cards, but leave me my driver's license and I.D., they were a bitch to replace and no use to anyone else.
I was surprised at the response. It was a voice very close to my ear and it was even more frightening than if it were some punk on a spree. It was Kimmy.
She hissed in my ear that she was going to finally get what she wanted from me and that I was going to like it. Somehow I doubted that. People rarely enjoyed anything when trussed up against their wills with their cheeks being crushed into cheap Berber carpet. At least, the people that I socialized with anyway. She moved slightly and took the pressure off my legs then grabbed my shoulder and yanked me over onto my back. I was looking up at her, but because the room was dark and the open door was behind her, I couldn't make out her face. I could, however make out the item she held in her hand. It was a retractable knife, one of those bright pink ones that deranged secretaries order from office supply catalogues, but never use. Well, this deranged secretary had found a use for it which she emphasized by waggling it in an attempt to be menacing. Well, let's face it, given my predicament, it certainly was menacing, regardless of how competent she was at wielding it.
She reached down and unbuttoned the top of my pants and pulled my zipper down. My heart thudded alarmingly. The sudden juxtaposition of that knife and the area in which her other hand was working shoved a disturbing image into my panicky mind.
“Let’s just see what we have here, shall we?” she hissed. I was in full lathering panic at this point. When she yanked my pants and shorts down, I think she was a bit disappointed that I wasn’t hard. I don’t know what she expected, but she obviously thought that binding a man up and swinging a blade around would be undeniably arousing.
She began to ridicule me and insult my manliness. Under the circumstances, I felt it better to just nod and agree with her. She spun around and before I could react, she had zip tied my ankles together as well. I threw my head back in frustration, banging it quite sharply on the floor. She turned back around and looked down at me.
“You want to keep me happy, don’t you?” she asked. When I didn’t respond, she repeated the question only louder and with more menace. I nodded. “Good. I got a way you can keep Kimmy happy.”
It seems to me that when people begin to refer to themselves in third person, it is a clear indication of mental instability. Of course, it seems to me that when people tie unsuspecting consultants up, threaten them with sharp office supplies and pull their pants down, that is also a clear indication of mental instability.
It began to dawn on me what Kimmy wanted me to do to keep her happy. She hiked her skirt up over her thighs and then up to her waist. She was completely naked beneath her dress, her pubic hair was much darker than the hair on her head. She shuffled herself up until she was hovering over my head. Her pussy was just inches above my face. She reached down and slipped one hand beneath my head, it was the hand with the knife and I felt the plastic handle against my ear. The other hand tucked her skirt into it’s waistband and then reached down and pulled her pussy lips apart. She was very wet, her inner labia were shimmering with moisture.
“Now,” she said in a growling voice, “make Kimmy cum.” And with that she lowered herself onto my face. Obediently I let my tongue dart into her slit. I don’t know if it ever even entered my mind to resist or not comply. Suddenly I felt myself being swept up in the moment, and the actual circumstances became more blurred.
As my tongue touched her she let out a low long purr. She tasted tart, but pleasant, much to my relief. I continued to lave along her slick lips and then let my mouth nibble upwards. I found her clit, surprisingly large and hard, and I pursed my lips around it and sucked on it gently. I worried the pearl with my teeth and she gasped sharply. Her thighs widened and she pressed down onto me with more pressure. I backed off a bit to get a breath and then continued on her clit. She ground herself down on me as I flicked my tongue rapidly over the nub, then rasped over it with long strokes. Her gasps became rhythmic, then erratic and then she trembled, cried out and froze. A gush of hot liquid poured over my lips as she came on me. She moaned loud and low, growling and shaking through her climax.
Kimmy slid off me and kneeled by my side. She rested her one hand on my chest, and I felt the blade of the knife lying flat on my skin. She gazed down between my legs and ran her other hand down my stomach. By this time, I had become more aroused and I felt her hand wrap around my member.
“This is more like it,” she said softly, “I knew you’d have a big one.” I don’t know if mine is particularly big, but if this was her typical pick-up routine, I couldn’t imagine that she’d have had much experience.
