Morgan 5
I stayed in bed the next day, wondering if this was happening to me. I was letting older men I didn't know, not even their first names, abuse my body. And I couldn't get enough.
I slept naked most of the time, and as I got up, I caught my reflection in the mirror. My tan supple body was unblemished, except for the bruise marks from being manhandled--especially my full boobs. At thirty-four d, they filled out the cups with a little overflow. I should go for a larger cup size. But I liked lots of my tit flesh showing when I wore tight tops.
I knew Sam would call again, and I would give in. God help me; I needed him to use and control me.
Monday came too soon; as usual, I dressed a little too sexy for the office. I chose a dark blue Lycra mini-skirt, sheer blue stockings, blue lacey push-up bra, and bikini panties. The matching garter belt was my favorite, with adjustable straps so the silver clasps reached high on my legs, which was necessary with my skirt being so short.
I settled into my routine. Suddenly, we were swamped with orders, which was good. It kept my mind off of hard cocks dripping with cum. My skirt was well above my knees, and with the slightest movement when sitting, my stocking tops were on display. I made sure if any man came into my office, he was treated to a leg show.
Today a man from the accounting office made up some bullshit reason to see me. I was ready; I had been fantasizing about a gangbang at a senior citizen's home. I could see myself kneeling in a lace corset, stockings, and heels, surrounded by a gang of old men waiting to fill all my holes.
I was wet and clenching my thighs together to get some pleasure. I was close to touching myself when I heard a knock at my door. It was Ben, a lovely old guy of about seventy with white hair and a little paunch. If he said the right thing, I was ready to spread my legs on my desk and let him do what he wanted.
As he walked to my desk to show me his report, I hiked my skirt up, revealing my stocking tops and garter clasps. I pretended not to notice as I looked at the paper. But I could feel his eyes glued to my legs. I wanted to have some fun with the old guy.
"Why, Ben, I'm shocked. Are you looking at my legs? You're making me uncomfortable. Maybe I should call H.R.!"
That nice old man's look, which I loved, disappeared from his face.
If you do, we can show them some of the videos Sam lent me of you being the life of the party.
I was blushing, and at the same time, I wanted him to abuse me. I said in my best little girl voice.
"Please don't do that. I was drunk, and it would ruin me."
"I'm sure we can work something out. You know it's funny you don't want men to look at you, but then you dress like this."
He said, reaching down and pulling my skirt up to my waist, my throbbing pussy protected only by my thin nylon panties. His fingers traced my tender mound.
"Please stop it," I moaned softly. "Somebody might walk in."
"Who the fuck cares? Pull my cock out," He rasped.
I had a good view of the hallway. We had a couple of minutes. I deftly unzipped his pants and took his soft cock in my mouth, and started working on it with my hot tongue. This wasn't going to be easy.
He looked down at me.
"Play with yourself, Morgan, stick some fingers in your pussy."
I pulled my panties to one side and began fingering my dripping cunt. I rubbed my swollen clit while working on his hopeless cock. I was well on my way to enjoying an orgasm. But his dick wasn't cooperating. I felt sorry for the old guy. The chance of a lifetime, and he was going to blow it. [pun intended]
I started to moan and told him how big he was, but we had to stop before we got caught. He reluctantly pulled his flaccid dick out of my mouth, getting spit on my face.
He couldn't look me in the eye. I was embarrassed for him; he started for the door when he said.
"Maybe we could go out for dinner sometime?"
I smiled and said. "Sure, that sounds nice."
He smiled back and left. As I pulled my skirt back down, I laughed to myself. That's never going to happen. I like old guys, but their dicks have to be hard. What a waste of time this had been. I couldn't get off, and I didn't even get to taste his cum. I did get some satisfaction licking my pussy juice off of my fingers, but I still preferred salty old man's cum.
The week passed, and I had not heard a word from Sam. At first, it was nice not having his control over me; I felt free. But I couldn't get the thought out of my head he was planning something.
My mind started to wander. I found myself thinking about the two guys in the house next door. I hadn't seen them for a few days. My pussy needed a good workout, and I needed to be treated like a dirty whore.
I would never admit to Sam how much I craved to be gangbanged. But I was afraid of giving him too much power. Not that he didn't have too much already.
On Friday, both my problems were solved. Sam called; he was going to his son's graduation and would be gone for a week. He didn't want me to worry. I was shocked. Why couldn't he be like this all the time?
The second call was from my Aunt Pat; my uncle had died, and she wanted me to come down for the service. I barely knew him, but I liked her. She was nothing like my mother, who thankfully would not be there.
The service would be in two days. I booked a motel room not far from their house.
I checked in my room the evening before the day of the service. There was a diner next door to the motel. I didn't feel like changing my clothes. I wore a grey dress that was a little too tight and short. But whenever I have to drive long distances, I dress sexy.
I chose black sheer stockings and black heels. To pass the time driving, I played a little game. As I would pass trucks, I would slow down and make sure my stocking tops were exposed. And this dress had a vee neck, so some cleavage was also on display. If I thought he was enjoying the view, I'd put my hand on my crotch. It was silly, but it made the drive shorter.
I felt confident as I walked into the diner. It was almost empty except for two young guys sitting at the bar. I made sure to sit in a booth in their line of sight. It was probably the liquor, but there was no doubt they were looking at my exposed nylon-covered legs.
My dress was short when standing, but sitting, forget it. The hem was more than halfway up my thighs, exposing my stocking tops and garter clasps.
I ordered a glass of wine and a sandwich and relaxed, wondering how many beers those guys would have to drink before they got up enough nerve to make a move. If they were serious about wanting to fuck me, they should pay for my dinner. If not, they could jerk each other off.
I took my time eating while they just stared. They had no idea I would have taken them on, giving them the ride of their lives. And all they had to do was pay my bill and treat me like a slut.
The bartender brought my bill over. He was easily in his sixties with a bit of a pot belly. I was immediately interested. He smiled and said.
"My name is Jake. And your meal is on the house."
"Why, thank you, Jake. I'm Morgan."
"We don't get women as pretty as you in here, and it's a real treat."
He was easy to talk to and made it obvious he was interested. He definitely was dominant, taking control of the conversation, which I liked. Finally, he got up and excused himself, saying he had to return to the bar. I held up my hand,
"Before you go, I have to go to my aunt's house now, but give me your number, and if I don't get in too late, I'll call you. I would like to see you again."
"I work until ten. But I'll wait for your call for the rest of my life." He smiled.
I laughed; another plus, he had a sense of humor.
Driving to my aunt's house, I thought of ways I wanted Jake to humiliate and abuse me. But the secret is I must make him feel he's forcing me. Some guys stop if you protest too much. That's half the fun. I hope Jake is not a wimp when it comes to rape-playing.
The visit with my aunt was predictable. Of course, she was sad. I tried to sympathize. But I hardly knew him. I sat next to her, looking over the room for some prospects. I put on quite a leg show, and every time I leaned over to talk with my aunt, I made sure to inch my dress up, revealing my nylons. Three men conveniently stood across from me, practically drooling, looking at my legs. If Jake chickens out, these guys were a possibility.
It was close to ten when I said my goodbyes. Saying I would see them at the services tomorrow. I drove to my motel, waiting to see how I felt about letting a man I just met abuse me. I went into my room, and after thinking about it, I called Jake and told him I had a big day tomorrow and wanted to sleep. He was insistent. I kept saying no even though I wanted to get fucked, but I wanted him to beg for it. If he wanted something, he would have to work for it. Finally, I relented and told him to come up for a drink.
