Ingrid Willem and Jan Happy or Unhappy End
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Work Will Have To Wait free porn video
“Hey, Robert!” I yelled after my boss as I noticed him locking his office door early this Friday afternoon. “Robert, just so you don’t forget, our trial exhibits for Blackpool Mining have to be filed on Tuesday, okay?”
“Oh, yeah, yeah, sure, Eric. Well, get your ass in here on Saturday and finish that up then, will ya? Ask our sexy little receptionist, the lovely Miss Julie who’s sitting right fuckin’ here. Ask her very nicely to come in on overtime pay to help you out, and just get it the fuck done!” Robert trumpeted, annoyed at the mere hint of the idea that he might help me as well.
“And stop reminding me about these minor details, boy!” Robert chastised me again while doing his best and not-at-all flattering ‘Eric’ imitation, ‘Oh my! We’ve got a hearing tomorrow, Oh dear! We’ve got a trial next week!’ You don’t have to treat me like I’m five, damn-it!” Robert roared at me, completely ignoring Julie, who had not agreed to give up her Saturday nor had she been given any notice that she’d be asked to do so.
Robert became more agitated as he rummaged impatiently through Julie’s desk in the lobby where he stored his “for the drive home” candy bars. My middle aged boss was becoming more violently frustrated with each passing second, ending his search with a thunderous “Ah-ha!” as he pulled a package of two Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups from beneath a box of extra staples and began to dance around the lobby, waving the candy in the air.
Robert danced and sang joyously while holding his trophy above his head, singing: “Two for the price of one! I’m gonna have some fun! Two yummy candies in one poke! That ain’t no fuckin’ candy joke! Oh, I’m gonna have some fun! Woo-eeeee!” Julie buried her face in her hands as my boss, one of the most nationally famous, and well-respected attorneys in the U.S. and most senior lawyer in the building, danced joyously with his candy across the lobby and out the front door of our building.
“How can you work with that insane man?” Julie looked up at me, laughing and holding her hands in the air in abject frustration with Robert’s unimaginably silly antics. I stood smiling down from the landing above her. She looked so damn sexy still giggling and getting ready to set the phone messages for the evening. From time to time she glanced back up at me and smiled, clearly making note of the fact that I had no reason to be standing there any longer, other than just to gaze at her.
“He doesn’t often behave that way in court, well, unless there’s a jury present.” I smiled back at her, and yes, I was making a porn fantasy in my head about Julie. Straight perfectly groomed blonde hair, bright blue eyes, gorgeous smile, that low-cut-shirt, giving me just the tiniest peek at her black push-up bra (no, it wasn’t needed, but it looked damn good). She had amazing legs that I often snuck a peek at as she crossed them teasingly at me while I approached her daily with another critical project that needed to be done both “yesterday” and “perfectly.”
I confirmed Robert’s “agreement” with Julie that she was, in fact, available to come in on Saturday to help me finish organizing and labeling the exhibits for our upcoming trial. Yes, the usual crisis rate of time-and-a-half pay applied. “Uh, thanks, Julie. I’m sorry for the short warning, but your coming in Saturday is really saving my ass.” I lingered just a moment longer on the landing, taking her gorgeous body in as if mesmerized by an exquisite painting in an art gallery.
“You’re damn straight I’m saving your ass, Eric,” Julie stopped what she was doing and looked directly at me, certainly realizing the manner in which I had been observing every nuance of her hair, her clothing, the curves of her perfectly proportioned young body. “And you realize, you’ll owe me big-time for doing this for you, right, Eric?” she probed, cocking her head to one side and raising one eyebrow while provocatively and slowly licking her lips.
It worked—she had managed to rattle me, and I clumsily responded with, “Oh yea, I know, time-and-a-half pay all day long.”
“And lunch!” Julie interjected, smiling even more broadly up at me now with her freshly wet lips.
“Ahhhh,” I sighed, knowing she had me up against the ropes in our now yet sexier little game “And lunch,” I continued, but then regained control of the game. “And if you behave yourself—do as you’re told, maybe even dinner too. But you’d have to be a far more than average help to get that out of me.” I smiled, refusing to break my stare at the extraordinarily sexy young woman with whom I was playing this naughty little game.
“Ohhhh,” Julie leaned back in her chair slowly, crossed her legs to deliberately let me see that she was wearing thigh-high black stockings. “Now that’s beginning to sound like a challenge, Eric. I mean,” Julie paused, resting her chin on the backs of her hands, and continuing, “you know I can be a very good helper, but then again, I can also be a very bad girl sometimes.”
I turned on the landing and as I slowly climbed the few stairs to lock my office door for the night, responded through clenched teeth, “Careful now, Julie. Bad girls, especially very bad girls, sometimes need to be punished.” Then I too locked my door, thumped hurriedly down the winding staircase to the lobby, and shouted, “See ya tomorrow at nine, Hot Stuff!”
Julie, Robert, and I had a deal about sexual harassment since the time of her hiring. As Robert explained to Julie in her final interview after she had worked for us for two weeks during her trial period: “Federal law says we can sexually harass anyone, anytime, all we want, until the moment we hire our 15th employee. Since everyone here except for you, our hopefully soon-to-be receptionist, is an independent contractor, that means you have to be completely alright with us sexually harassing you all day long. But, of course, that would never happen in reality. You just cannot be some easily-upset delicate thing who wants to file a lawsuit every time Eric here rubs up against you, so do we have a deal young lady?”
“Actually,” Julie responded confidently, “I’ve sort of pictured Eric as the complete gentleman’s gentleman, and you, Robert, as well, uh... the letch,” Julie said quietly, almost under her breath, hoping she hadn’t ruined her interview. Robert began to scowl, but to her credit, Julie saved the interview by picking the ball up quickly. She continued, “But hey, I could be wrong, you could both like to bend me over your desk every evening, lift my skirt, pull my tiny little thong to the side, and just fuck the hell out of me to relieve the day’s tension, and I’d be fine with that. What do I know?”
Julie smiled her sexiest smile with one eyebrow raised, giggled, put her hands on her knees, and squeezed her gorgeous breasts together tightly with her upper arms so that one could not help but notice them appearing to strain at freeing themselves from her ever-present low-cut or “mostly unbuttoned” silky yet professional top.
“You’re hired,” Robert said flatly as he shoved a pre-printed employment contract across the table at Julie, then pulled it back toward himself, filled in the pay rate at eighteen dollars an hour, and passed it again over to Julie.
“Hmm, Mmmhmmm. Well, um, nope, this part is wrong.” Julie turned the page so that it was again upright for Robert, who was standing across the reception desk from her. “It says ‘eighteen dollars an hour,’ which I know was what the ad said, but now you’ve just added that bit about me needing to be alright with watching porn with you boys in your office on slow days or after hours without pay, you gentlemen getting to rub your cocks up against my tight ass as you walk behind me while I’m at the copy machine, all that stuff, so no, it’s twenty-three dollars an hour.”
I coughed uncontrollably at Julie’s demand, and was about to set her straight as to what exactly had been said, but Robert simply removed one of his Mont Blanc fountain pens from his shirt pocket, scratched out the “18” that he had written in the blank earlier, wrote in large numbers above the space “23,” scribbled his initials beside the amendment, flipped the form around so that it was upright for Julie, and proclaimed, “Done.” Robert smiled politely as he carefully capped and pocketed his posh fountain pen, then turned and walked back to his office, closing the door behind him.
“Uh, you’ll need to sign at the bottom, initial beside Robert’s initials on the pay-rate change, and date it before it’s official,” I said quietly, “but it looks like if you want the job, it’s yours,” I explained, still a little confused at what had just happened.
“Cool!” Julie replied cheerfully, smiling at me while she reached for the mug full of pens on the reception desk. She signed, initialed, and dated the employment contract, and that was that. We ended up having a lustfully luxurious time teasing each other back and forth each day in the office, while to both of our surprises, Robert barely cracked an off-color joke around Julie. It turned out he was the perfect gentleman, so much as was possible for Robert, and I was the young letch, who was also going through a seemingly endless divorce, and hadn’t been fucked in probably somewhere approaching a year.
Julie was worth every bit of the extra five dollars an hour she had negotiated with Robert, who had also been divorced twice by this point in his life and must have known how I’d be feeling until the moment the judge signed my final Decree of Dissolution of Marriage. Once again, Robert had proven to be a most thoughtful friend indeed.
As the next morning rolled around, I found myself oddly fidgeting over which T-shirt and jeans to wear to the office, which struck me as perplexing given the fact that I generally did not give as much consideration to which suit or tie I would wear to the office on any other day. As much as Julie and I had flirted, rubbed, and “accidentally” touched an unusual part of the other’s body in passing, we had never been completely alone together in the old house. As well today, there was no chance anyone could walk in on us since it was required that the alarm system was to be kept on over the weekend. Anyone arriving would set the alarm to whistling, giving him or her forty seconds to key in the code, and then requiring the person who had just entered the building to walk back and lock the deadbolt on the massive oaken lobby door. Plenty of warning.
But what was I thinking? Julie and I had a massive job to do, which had to be done perfectly, and this was not anything more than a working Saturday, right? I grabbed a T-shirt with my motorcycle club logo on it and with the sleeves torn off and headed out.
When I arrived at work, I unlocked the door and saw the alarm was set to “Away,” meaning no one else was in the building. I didn’t have to wait long in the lobby before the door opened and there stood Julie. ‘Oh my God!’ I thought to myself, ‘I am so fucking lucky this T-shirt is extra-long!’ as I felt the growing bulge in my jeans at the sight of Julie’s casual outfit.
“Hi!” she chirped as she slid past the heavy door and into the lobby. “Ready to get to work?” she asked with just a subtle hint of self-consciousness knowing full well her outfit was having its intended effect on me.
I had never before seen her gorgeous lightly tanned back and shoulders, which were completely uncovered by the bright yellow halter top that strained to contain her abundant breasts. It stopped well above her belly button, leaving again, a perfectly gently toasted strip of mouth-watering skin exposed above her low-rise jeans skirt. That sensual tan then continued from well above her knees to her bright yellow painted toe nails, her tiny feet adorned by a few strips of beaded leather that made up the tops of her flip-flop sandals.
I was absolutely astounded at the luscious sight before me, and stood like an imbecile, speechless. She noticed the silence and broke it. “Uh, it’s already hotter in here than I expected. You know our cheap-ass landlord has a lock on the thermostat so it gets up to over eighty degrees in here on the weekends, whether anyone’s here or not, so had to dress for the weather!” she explained as she stashed her tiny purse in her desk and locked the drawer. “Come on, Eric!” She motioned to the voiceless imbecile standing before her, “Let’s get upstairs and have at it!” Which maybe had been meant to be taken two ways and maybe not, but it did jar me back to reality as we both laughed at her command.
“Oh, yea, right, I haven’t even been upstairs yet, so my door’s still locked.” I motioned to Julie to go ahead of me, partly so that I could follow her up the stairs and watch her sexy tight round ass, but mostly because the keys to my office were in my right pocket. I had “dressed to the right” traditionally. I was desperate to find some way to retrieve my office keys from my pocket without showing off what had by now become a raging hard-on. I literally had some difficulty maneuvering my hand past my throbbing cock while trying to dig the keys from my pocket, which did not help matters with it jumping involuntarily, even at my accidental touch.
Halfway up the stairs, Julie realized I was not following very quickly behind her and stopped to turn and face me as we reached the landing halfway up the giant staircase. “Having any trouble getting those keys out, Eric? Or do you need help searching for them?” she now laughed openly at my obvious predicament as she made a lunge for my crotch just as I reached the landing. At just the last moment, my keys were extricated from the shrinking confines of my right jeans pocket. This was now going past our daily sexual teasing, and it was difficult to imagine that I would be able to keep my mind on getting our exhibits labeled for trial. I laughed quietly at Julie’s overt flirtations but said nothing.
Julie raced the rest of the way up the stairs ahead of me and waited for me to unlock the door. She stood leaning against the wall, facing me as I clumsily worked the old skeleton key that was original to the mansion. I could smell her thick, straight blonde hair as a few loose strands floated up and touched my face. I felt the heat of her body, her naked arms and supple shoulders radiating her soft glow against my bare and more coarsely “biker tanned” arms. Some might describe my sun-dried skin as “leather.” I wasn’t certain whether I felt relief or frustration as the ancient lock turned and the enormous old door swung open.
Julie kicked her sandals off and raced across the luxurious Oriental rug to the massive windows that looked out over the rose garden in the side yard of the house, opening each of the counterweighted windows easily and then walking back toward me, stopping to work her tiny toes into the thick silk carpet. “Ohhhh,” she let out a moan, “The feel of this thick silk rug, Eric, God.” Julie exhaled lazily, stretching her arms above her head and spreading her legs as she continued to work her sexy little toes deep into the hand-made rug. “Mmmm, I just love the feel of this silk against the skin of my feet. I feel like I could just lay here naked and take a nap.”
I had to get my head on straight. This trial would not wait, no matter how sexy Julie was, nor how horrifically horny I was. “Well, don’t go stripping down and napping on me at time-and-a-half, dear, we have got to get these exhibits spread out all over this rug you’ve fallen in lust with, and they’ve got to be labeled correctly. Last count, we had over 12,350 pages of documents that need to be paper-clipped sorted and number-stamped. Even if we work all day today, Monday, and half of Tuesday, it’ll be tight to get them filed before the clerk’s office closes at four thirty on Tuesday, so stop messing with me.” I then looked her directly in the eyes, “Hell yes, I know you’re messing with me!” I scowled faintly, yet unintentionally.
It was the first time I had ever been completely serious with Julie, and I could tell she was unsure of how to handle it. “Oh, Jeeez, Eric, I’m sorry, I… ” She actually had a slightly frightened look on her face that was turning that embarrassed hue of red with which we are all familiar, afraid she had pushed the sexual teasing just a little, or maybe a lot too far. “I mean, you’re right, I’m sorry,” she said quietly, leaving her tiny sandals off and walking toward the rows of file boxes containing the copies of documents that we were there to organize and label, but I was struck suddenly with the stabbing feeling of guilt for having been stern with her for something that was outside of her control—my stress over the impending trial, and the deadline for getting the exhibits filed. What the fuck had I just done?
She walked in front of me toward the conference table behind my huge mahogany desk where the boxes were sitting, and I reached out and grabbed her arm, not knowing what I would say to her once I had stopped her. “Julie,” my mind raced, scrambling for words as her surprised glance traveled from where I had gently grabbed her arm to meet my own eyes. “Hun, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.” I hesitated, then backed up toward my leather sofa that was a few feet directly behind me, while still holding Julie by the arm and pulling her, almost forcibly, to sit beside me.
“It’s okay, Eric, I shouldn’t have… ” she began to apologize for her gloriously sexy teasing that under any other circumstances, I would have found irresistible.
“No, I’m sorry,” I continued as she sat fully beside me on the couch. “I guess it’s just the normal pre-trial jitters. Did you know that Robert still goes into the courthouse bathroom and throws up as quietly as possible in one of the stalls before every trial?” Our eyes met and I could see the puzzled look on her face. “Yes, our Robert, the self-absorbed ass-hat who’s certain the world revolves around him, that Robert, throws up before every single trial, and sometimes during breaks, too.” I laughed and experienced a degree of relief as Julie also began to laugh at the mere thought of it and then put her hand on my leg and began to rub my thigh as we continued to talk.
“Wow, I don’t believe you, Eric,” she sat with her mouth open as she inhaled deeply in disbelief. “Well, how would you know that, anyway?”
“I’m damn sure of it! But only because I was in the stall next to him throwing up first, and we could hear each other puking and when we opened the stall doors, he pulled a bottle of mouth wash from his briefcase, patted me on the back on the way to the sinks, and said ‘Not to worry, lad. You’ll get used to throwing up before each trial pretty quickly. The trick is only in not appearing that you’ve just lost your steak and egg breakfast.’ And as much as a complete tool as Robert is, he’s really a decent guy,” I finished the story.
Our eyes met again and I finished my thought: “Julie, I want to be a decent guy, no matter how much of a shit-fuck-overbearing-ass I have to pretend to be, day in and day out in this job, alright, so don’t let me get away with being a shit to you, got it?”
Julie leaned forward and gave me a quick kiss on the lips. With all of the groping we’d done over the months, it startled me. It was hard to believe that had never happened before. “You are about the most decent guy I know, Eric,” she said softly, “and that’s why I’ll tell ya a little secret. See, I messed around in my closet for two hours last night and then still for however long this morning trying to pick out something to wear, painting my nails, and this is it. Dumb, huh?” she asked, standing up and giving me a twirl to show off not only her insidiously sexually tempting outfit, bright yellow finger and toe nails and all, and her soft, even, glowing tan.
I could only laugh to think of Julie spending all of that time to impress me with her most casual Saturday attire, and so I had to fess up: “Well, don’t feel so bad. I must have put on three pairs of jeans, four pairs of loafers, and I guess this must be the tenth T-shirt I tried so I wouldn’t look like I was trying to look good, but at the same time, so I’d still look good. Damn, I almost wish you would have stripped down and rolled around on my silk rug, Julie. I think we could have made up for a quick half-hour of lost time later, after dinner.”
“Oh, but you don’t know the whole story yet, Eric,” Julie whispered, batting her long eyelashes at me as she backed herself up against my huge mahogany desk and hoisted her tight little round ass up to a seated position on top of it. “This was my final decision when getting dressed!” Julie continued, stretching her arms out in a sign for me to step toward her. I walked very near to her as she sheepishly spread her perfectly tanned legs so that I could approach and stand between them. Both of us becoming unsteady in our breathing now.
I advanced further, cautiously, slowly, closing the distance between us until my rough hands were on her tantalizingly soft thighs. My gaze never left her eyes, and as we stood with our faces mere inches apart, I just had to ask: “What was your final decision, Julie?” I was feeling a bit foolish for being unable to guess what was apparently so completely obvious.
Julie, as softly, gently as a mother bunny might rearrange her nesting young, placed her hands on top of my right hand, which was still resting, perhaps trembling slightly, on the indulgently soft skin of her thigh. She slowly pulled my hand to caress the inside of her thigh, then slid it bit by bit, further up underneath her tiny skirt as at the same time, she spread her perfectly curvy legs ever so slightly further.
Her hand guided my clumsy calloused fingers first to glide over her soft fringe of pubic hair, and then downward to her hairless, dampening lips, and still further downward now, to the entrance of her spamming, almost weeping wet pussy. Cautiously, she whispered into my ear, “No panties.”
Within the space of one breath, we had each of us, one free arm wrapped around the neck of the other, locked in an impassioned, tongue-wrestling, animalistic, orgasm-inducing kiss, fueled to a white-hot rage by month upon month of sexual teasing, touching, daring, and occasional “accidental” fondling.
My hand now had a mind of its own. Dancing fingers finding hurriedly the places inside of her that required my touch, aching in fact for my touch--my thumb encircling her soaked and engorged clitoris. Julie had in an instant unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans, using her now pooling juices to lubricate my throbbing cock as her body began to tremble, shaking the mouse from its pad on my enormously weighty desk, climaxing simultaneously in a raging-hot rush of semen, gushing forth from the bulbous, swollen, head of my cock, rolling like lava over the down-like softness of her tender hands.
We screamed until hoarseness robbed us of the power of speech, my knees buckled under the weight of the unimaginably colossal orgasm, and Julie’s body and my own slid tenderly onto the glorious luxurious softness of that ancient silken Oriental rug that adorned my office floor.
Limbs that had twisted tightly together now relaxed and spread, yet remained entangled as those of dying soldiers upon the battlefield. We felt the quivering remnants of indescribable ecstasy leaving our bodies slowly--some waves coming softly, others more violently so. We were then spirited off on the summer breezes that swirled around us, having traveled upward through the open windows from the rose garden below. The fragrant smell of the garden comingling with the sensuous smell of copious amounts of sexual fluids expelled freely in a few short but stunningly powerful moments of raw, lust-fueled, white-hot and frustratingly pent-up passion.
Work, it was clear, would have to wait.
Latisha
- 21.07.2020
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- Category:
- Office Sex
