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Easing back into the cool leather of the chair at his desk made Ryan appreciate how hot her body was in comparison. He drank in the sight of her breasts bouncing rhythmically, not much more than a foot away, as evening sun cast fiery stripes through the slats of the blinds, streaking her bucking nakedness like a chiaroscuro flicker book. Their bodies made a crude X, her hands gripping the edge of the desk behind the glistening narrow chicane of her waist and taut belly, triceps flexing with each downward thrust into his lap. Shoulder-length chestnut hair matched the wooden surface, dusting it on the down stroke, her head angled back, moaning to the ceiling. Ryan groaned too.

Of all his recent conquests, she was going to be memorable for so many reasons. Such glorious tits, the firmness of youth very much on her side. More than a handful, capped with luscious cherry nipples, coloured from where he'd been biting them at her breathless insistence. The way the globes were synchronised up and down was mesmerising. Hypnotic. His old Physics teacher would have probably assigned it a scientific term like simple harmonic motion, which may have gone some way towards explaining why he'd chewed through three marriages.

Ryan had taken immense delight in shedding the girl's simple white blouse, bra and underwear piece by glorious piece, her initial nervous uncertainty at their liaison sweetening every button, clasp and bow. The only remnants of clothing were the short blueberry pleated skirt bunched at her waist and strappy gold heels encasing petite feet, tipped with aquamarine toenails.

Time and again, squishing noises interweaved with her panting as their pubic bones collided above the folded-back wings of his trousers, the buckle of the faux leather belt creating a jangling counterpoint rhythm as it swung below the seat. His gaze traced her curves dappled with perspiration, sunlight glinting from the beads like a thousand tiny disco glitter balls as she rode. So tight. So fucking wet. Utter perfection; at least from the neck down. Ryan was, however, glad he was out of her eye line so it didn't impair the vista. He certainly hadn't hired Sophie-Mae for her ravishing good looks. The under bite that revealed the gleaming silver tracks of her braces didn't do her any favours. Nor did the huge tortoiseshell glasses that magnified her walnut coloured eyes either side of a sharply tapered, heavily freckled nose. No, while she may one day transform into a beautiful swan, he'd primarily given her the job because he'd seen her potential at the interview. Not only to make his business grow, but his cock likewise.

He could remember the way all her signals were jumbled. The softly spoken nerdiness, Kingston-upon-Thames vowels and furtive, darting eyes at odds with the sandals and short floral summer dress, its wide U-shaped neckline hinting at the bountiful treasures he no longer needed to imagine. Fresh out of school, a whisker under eighteen and wanting a year's experience before deciding whether to use Daddy's money for university, Ryan detected a spark in her that swayed his decision away from the other candidates.

It came down to one simple differential: she was corruptible. And at the time he hadn't indulged in a good plaything for months. With the business flourishing, he wanted a personal project alongside it. A focus. A girl who would represent a challenge to bed. And yet he knew Sophie-Mae would make easy prey for his conventional methods of charming his way into her underwear. He could have used their six-year age gap to make her feel special. Could have flattered her, inflated her ego, given her extra attention under the pretence of helping her fit into his company, and she'd have surrendered her virginity to him within a week. But he hadn't taken that path.

The only thing he did out of the ordinary, despite it not being tax deductible, was to throw her a birthday party at which she became horribly drunk on moderately priced vodka. Up until the point she repeatedly threw up in his kitchen sink, he had ample opportunity to be first inside her buttery petals. When she draped her giggly self over his shoulder to thank him for the party, deeming he had more right to her alcohol-laden breath than she did, it would have been so easy to fireman carry her to the bedroom. Or when she danced with him, carefree and laughing to Katrina and the Waves, every muscle in his body craved to whisk her away and spoil her, demonstrating precisely how a girl could walk on sunshine.

But he chose not to take advantage of her inebriated state. No, he played a different game. He turned everything around so she had to work for his attention, dropping nothing but hints about his availability. It could be argued that was still a form of baiting her, but Ryan didn't dwell on the semantics. He decided his goal was not to pursue but to build up her courage to take the chance for herself. It had to be Sophie-Mae who made the first move, because he wanted to break her middle-class resolve, watching the remnants of her family's protective shell crumble away, transforming her into something far darker than she ever thought possible. Daddy's little jewel to Daddy's filthy slut.

The operation had been a roaring success and Ryan swelled with pride as the girl who never cussed begged him to "fuck my hot pussy." Only too keen to oblige, he pawed her magnificent, doughy breasts, slithered his hands just above the skirt to her whispery hips and held fast as he picked up the pace in her sensual, dripping tunnel, the snap of her folds around his girth tighter than a politician's smile.

He rose from the chair, lifting her easily, still bouncing in his arms. She wrapped herself around him, clinging tight, unable to get enough of his circumcised rod in her awakened slit. As he took a step towards the desk and sprawled her on it, she displaced the stationery. It crashed to the floor but neither of them cared, intent only on the pleasure of being joined, sweating despite the low drone of the air conditioning. He could hardly believe how far she'd fallen in such a short timeframe. It'd been, what, four weeks? Maybe five since she had given the interview answer that set her on the journey to their union.

It was a fairly innocuous question on the surface, but Ryan liked it because the answer revealed far more than its simplicity implied:

"The customer from hell calls. Has already changed both his mind and the spec more times than you care to count. It's Friday. The project deadline's Monday. What do you do?"

Liam, a very self-assured Irish lad the same age as Ryan, suit sharper than a paper cut, decided to: "Tell the client the price has to go up a little."

Game over for him, which was no great loss. He'd smelled faintly of weed anyway.

Elaine, a pale yet undeniably pretty twenty-something blonde with whom Ryan could have had some seriously wild fun, gave her answer some deliberation before settling upon: "Negotiate a deal to deliver a day or two late."

Shame. End of the line for her athletic curves.

Sophie-Mae, however, hardly thought about it. Maybe it was naivety, but she simply blinked twice and with a determined edge to her voice, said: "Whatever it takes."

Ding ding ding! A winner. That was all the excuse he needed to offer her the position the next day. Those three little words delivered a goldmine of information. She was customer focused, decisive under pressure, knew the value of keeping promises, and would run the extra mile to develop the business. The fact her clothes made her stand out compared with the conservative business attire of the other candidates also tipped the scales in her favour. Ryan insisted on smart-casual as often as possible, even when meeting clients.

On a personal level it explained her mixed social signals. She wanted the job, despite the interview being outside her comfort zone. She'd have been told: Plan for success, prepare for rejection. Knowing her nervousness would get the better of her, she chose the summer dress for two reasons. Firstly for a confidence boost, because it was familiar and gave something to ground her. And secondly as a diversionary tactic to draw attention from what she perceived as her character flaws, towards something physical; a pair of assets in particular to which she concluded her male interviewer would respond. Assets that Ryan could attest looked every bit as good out of the clothes as they did in them.

The desk drawers rattled as he thrust inside her, burrowing every inch of his seven into her sopping centre. He could feel his orgasm building, desperate to flood her with his boiling seed, but fought for control, the twin desires of prolonging the experience for both of them and the urge to taste her far greater. He began to pull out, the channel in which he was encased making exit difficult, despite her wetness. Like a finger trap, she selfishly grappled to retain him captive. When his flared head eventually escaped her quicksand she looked down sharply, only to tip her head back again when Ryan dropped to his knees and ran his tongue up her cleft, scooping tributaries of wetness that had escaped.

She was so worth the wait. Tender, floral and succulent with a top note reminiscent of honeysuckle, her clear nectar drizzling onto his outstretched tongue. Ryan drank, ecstatic over his achievement. Fifteen minutes prior she had been a virgin, now anything but. He had driven her past that milestone less than three weeks into her eighteenth year on the planet, and all the while she thought it had been her idea. The deception was almost poetic.

The end of her virginity, although the most significant event, wasn't the only change of state she had undergone in recent weeks. A day ago she had a full, dark bush of hair. Now her mons resembled two large, flat alabaster pebbles laid side by side, their inner edges glistening with her delicious secretions and his saliva. Her tender lips, nestled deeply in the groove and tinted red from the pounding so far, were only revealed after he stickily peeled her apart. She gasped and Ryan struggled to contain his composure at the sight of her puffy labia framing her mouthwatering oval entrance, hymen already ruptured, she had confessed, after a night alone with her hairbrush handle.

Though initially reticent at allowing him to go down on her, now that she was warmed up and almost frothing with excitement, her objections had vanished. The juicy centre before him was a true palette of textures and smells that allowed Ryan-the-artist to paint her naked, wet canvas with his tongue. He traced the outline of her exquisite folds, feeling their heat, tasting liquid honey that made his pulse quicken as he chased the path to their apex.

Her clitoris was a miniature, pink bullet and he wasted no time flicking his tongue up and around it, teasing her at first then circling more insistently, wrapping his lips around the tiny nub and listening to her cries building as she convulsed with each lap. The prospect of being the first person to taste her orgasm spurred him on, kissing, slathering and licking the teenager's hot slit as she lost the power of speech, resorting to guttural grunts, groans and sighs.

Dipping inside her hairless snatch, drawing out the wetness, Ryan paused to properly taste her juices. Such a sexy concoction. He closed his eyes for a moment and drank her bouquet directly from its source. Beneath the desk's veneer, blood surged into his dick, its veined surface pulsing, head flaring. Pulling his face back an inch, he blew gently across her shiny mound, watching goose bumps ripple the surface of her skin as she writhed for his touch. That was the signal: impatience. She was ready to be taken over the edge, but he cruelly paused a little longer to heighten the tension. To make her truly crave release.

He walked his fingers slowly up her thighs towards their perfect convergence. The, until recently, unspoiled landscape turned his breaths shallow. Nothing he'd ever touched came close to the delicacy of her nakedness. Her centrepiece was the stuff of dreams. A Google Images search for "tender hairless wet teen pussy" would return her. Spreading her slippery labia, he drove his face to her exotic pinkness, licked north and savoured her gasps at the flicks against her excited jewel. He snaked a finger between her lips to the second knuckle, pressing in and upwards, massaging the front wall just below the point at which his tongue was performing the acrobatics learned and honed from countless women just like her. Pussies large and small, hairy and smooth, new and used, he left each a dripping pleasure ground. And yet the more he took, the more he craved; couldn’t get enough of his sweet, wet drug. He wanted to be smothered in it. Crushed by drooling heat. To drown in it. To hear her fighting for control. And losing.

Slender fingers raked through his short brown hair as she clutched to draw him deeper, panting, elevated, seconds from climax. As barely legible contractions of the word 'fuck' escaped her larynx, Ryan imagined her head tossing from side to side on his desk. All he could see above her glorious naked pussy and bunched skirt was an arched belly, her gasps reaching his ears from random directions off the ceiling tiles as she let go of his head, gripped the desk edge, ground herself onto his face and came.

There was no mistaking her orgasm. The fluttering entrance, the trickle of opaque juice pooling in his upturned palm, the throaty cries that would have had his workmates investigating had the pair not been alone in the building. Her release excited him intensely, his erection straining, dying to slide back into her spasming channel. But he let her ride it out and calm a little. Allowed the winking lips to cease quivering and the gasps to reduce to gentle mews of pleasure while her hands returned to caress the nape of his neck as he lazily lapped the edges of her sumptuous core.

It made Ryan shudder to be the first where only her hand and hairbrush had been. Visions of what he had witnessed a few weeks before, during the informal 'How are you settling in with the team?' chat, came flooding back to him. The little twitches of excitement he had observed in the corners of her mouth as she sat at his laptop, trying to conceal her arousal by resting her chin in her hand like a student at a lecture.

From out of sight, Ryan wasn't fooled. He knew that the frequent glances she took towards the door were to detect any intrusion, giving her time to make herself presentable before discovery. And he hadn't needed x-ray vision to know the whereabouts of the fingers of her other hand below the desk. He was delighted she'd taken the bait:

"Sophie-Mae, come in. Listen, sorry, I just remembered I have to run a quick errand. Shouldn't be more than twenty minutes, maybe less. Would you mind waiting a little?"

She nodded, tucking her hair behind her elfin ears, her acceptance the embodiment of whatever it takes.

"Great. Make yourself comfortable and I'll be back as soon as I can."

He'd pointed at his chair – the same seat in which, a month later, she would lose her cherry – as he raced from the room clutching some mail, leaving her to discover what he had left 'accidentally' on-screen. Behind the project earnings spreadsheet, he'd positioned a browser tab peeking open to an erotic fiction site. The partially visible story was in the Office Sex category and detailed a tryst between a boss and female co-worker who seduced him. Sophie-Mae did a double take and tensed upon spotting the screen's content. Despite brimming with bourgeois values passed on from parents who could probably solve The Times crossword in twenty-five minutes, Ryan hoped her natural curiosity would be piqued enough that it sowed the seed of possibility in her mind.

From his corner vantage point outside the room, Ryan peered through a gap in the blinds, waiting to see what she did, willing her to act. She stole a glance around the room, contemplating the machine ahead of her. With one last look around, she gingerly reached for the laptop and tabbed the story to the front, eyes widening as she skimmed the prose.

It was a racy story, chosen because it wasted no time diving into the action, the employee bending over at first to fetch something from where the boss could ogle her body. As the story progressed, the amount of skin the woman flashed increased until she showed off her naked pussy, having finally dared to attend work without panties. A central arc of the storyline was when she found out the boss had a panty fetish and loved both the smell and taste of freshly worn underwear. This had given the character impetus to take off her knickers at work, sneak into her boss' office and leave them for him in a different location each day. Ryan had daydreamed of Sophie-Mae doing the same, unaware that the day on which it would first become reality was so close.

He had given his curious young employee quarter of an hour with the story, watching her becoming more confident, ultimately digging her right hand into her underwear. It was a sight to behold her eyes fluttering as she circled her clitoris, occasionally whimpering behind the fingers of her other hand. Ryan could only imagine what was going through her mind and impatient body as the digits excited her moistening sex. He desperately wanted to watch her bring herself to orgasm. Would have loved to be under the desk observing from closer, urging her to surrender her damp knickers to him, smelling her arousal while she fed her sticky fingers to him in the footwell.

Instead, he tore himself away from the spectacle for a minute and then made a commotion while breezing into the outer office to give her time to reset everything. Upon his return, she was swinging her legs demurely behind his desk and the spreadsheet was once again foremost. Her fingers were still wet.

"Hi, sorry about that. Post couldn't wait until the morning. Everything OK, Sophie-Mae?" She nodded. "You look a little flushed. Would you like the air conditioning up a bit?"

Shuffling uneasily, she just shook her head. "Fine, thank you."

"So how are you settling in?"

The conversation flowed from there.

Since that day, he'd noticed a subtle change in her behaviour. She started asking more questions and finding excuses to come to the office. One time she even made a ham-fisted attempt at finding out his relationship status by asking if she could stay back for half an hour, offering to lock up "if you need to get back to your girlfriend." Ryan said it was fine and he didn't have to be anywhere, because he didn't have anyone waiting for him, but it gave him an idea all the same.

The information regarding his availability must have flipped something inside her because the next evening had signalled the start of her debauchery, seemingly from nowhere, but something she had probably deliberated over for some time. Ryan remembered it so clearly, sitting at his desk as his team wound down for the day and drifted off home. Sophie-Mae was last to leave, dressed in a dark, pleated skirt a little shorter than usual. She took a step into his office. "Night, Ryan."

He looked up. "Goodnight."

She faltered a fraction, plainly nervous about something. "Uhhh, shall I prepare the quote for Hendersons tomorrow or can it wait a day or two?"

"You can make a start if you like. No pressure though, we have time yet."

"OK, thanks. Night."

Her mannerisms were skewed and Ryan's internal filter sounded the alarm just as she whirled theatrically, her handbag strap catching on the door handle such that when she tugged on it, the contents spilled to the floor. Ryan figured it was done on purpose, yet immediately stood and offered to help. She spun to face his desk and waved him off. "I'll get it."

Pleased to merely be an observer, he sat back down as she crouched and started scooping the pens and personal effects into the bag. The swell of her chest and inviting cleavage was obvious as her blouse gaped. Ryan tried to hide his involuntary intake of breath. Didn't want to be caught staring, but the sight was too delicious to pass up. Doubly so when she had to regain her balance before rising, parting her legs a split second. She did it without theatre, as if oblivious to the tease, but Ryan sensed it had been practiced at home, perhaps in front of a mirror.

Turning to leave, she paused after just half a step. "Oops, missed one." This time, instead of crouching again, she bent at the waist to retrieve the remaining item. The incredible view of her minuscule skirt riding tantalisingly up her legs captivated his attention. Everything went into slow motion upon revealing the tops of her slender thighs, a brief glimpse of stark white panties encasing the tiny peach of her backside.

If there was ever a time Ryan wished for a real life pause button, it was that moment. But all too soon the flash was over. She dropped the pen in her bag, called out "Night" again and scampered from the building, leaving Ryan with nothing but a rising erection just like the one he sported beneath the desk as he watched strings of grool drizzle from her impossibly trim vagina.

Primal need welled inside him. Drove him to stand, wanting to superimpose the recollection of her immaculate panty-clad tease with a clearer view. "Turn over."

Obediently, she slithered towards him off the desk, pushed herself to a seated position and hopped off so her shoes rested between his. At full stretch, her petite frame put her at eye level with his chin, despite the heels. The pair's closeness caused his firm cock to brush the skirt material, a string of pre-come snagging, catching the sunlight. With a languorous pirouette that left her legs crossed at the knee, she rested her palms on the desk surface and slowly slid forward, bending at the waist. For someone so inexperienced, she had remarkable sexual poise. Maybe she'd practiced that at home too, anticipating this moment. Dirty girl.

Though gravity had affected her skirt hem, Ryan made sure it didn't remain that way, sliding it back up over her bare cheeks. Sophie-Mae's naked derriere was as flawless as her pussy. Ryan's breath caught in his throat at the umbra cast into the tantalising cleft between the symmetry of her firm globes. The crease between each upper thigh and its corresponding buttock was emphasised by her natural curvature. Parabolic perfection. Round, full and jaw-droppingly smooth.

The girl continued to slide forward until her breasts crushed against the desk and Ryan wasted no time stepping to her and aiming the head of his swollen prick into the diamond-shaped thigh gap. She uncrossed her legs and exhaled as he once again sank inside her paradise.

The rhythm began slowly. Each time their hips met she sighed and he drew back almost to the exit before reintroducing his girth. Gradually the pace increased, his hands tracing the outline of her glorious rear then holding firm as she whimpered in pleasure with each thrust.

Faster he went, causing each whimper to merge with its predecessor into a series of low groans that fogged the surface of the desk by her face. He slid his hands up over the golden zebra-striped shadows the fingers of sun made on her back to rest above her prominent shoulder blades, then beyond, almost meeting her collarbones. He pressed her upper body into the wood, her own fingers seeking the far edge of the desk and gripping as Ryan took the pace up a further notch.

Shifting his hips a little, he drove down into her beautiful depths, once more stimulating the spongy front wall of her pussy, his aim to make her come again before he could no longer hold out. He knew he had it perfectly aligned when she tensed and the volume of her cries increased, so he maintained the angle and pounded against her.

"Oh God oh fuck yes," hissed the girl who would probably tomorrow once again proudly claim she never swore. "Fuck me, Ryan. Fuck me. Ohh fuck me."

Ryan obliged, pinning her to the desk. The harder he pressed, the more she moaned. He gritted his teeth. "Oh you like that, huh?"

"Yes. Love it… when you… hold me," she gasped between thrusts.

Keeping one hand on her shoulder, Ryan reached to his waist and unsnaked his belt from the loops. "Give me your hands."

"What?"

"Do you trust me?"

She exhaled as he rammed into her, eventually forcing out a breathy, "Yes."

"Then give me your hands."

She faltered, uncurled her fingers from the table edge and swept her arms in an arc, placing them alongside herself.

Ryan smiled at her obedience and draped the belt over her raised skirt. "Behind your back."

She obeyed and brought them the remainder of the way, to rest at the base of her spine. He released her other shoulder and looped the belt over her wrists, fastening the buckle into the last hole. Then he slid the whole assembly up her forearms, stopping just above her elbows. She turned her head to one side, resting her cheek on the desk again and gasped. "Oh, that's… naughty."

Picking up the pace inside her to their previous rhythm, Ryan gripped her buttocks and massaged them, slightly more roughly than necessary. Testing her. Hearing her respond favourably.

Game on.

"Now," he addressed, tracing the curve of her back to her shoulders. Leaning to the ear that was uppermost, he whispered, "I can treat you like a princess. Or I can treat you like the panty-teasing slut you've shown me the last few weeks. Your choice." He straightened and withdrew from her clenching channel, gliding the next stroke in slower, not through any wish to affect her decision but an effort to stem his impending release.

Her glasses, all wonky against the desk, made her look so suddenly vulnerable. Ownable. She chewed her lip and sighed. "I have been… bad."

Ryan drew back out and in again to the hilt, growling, "Very."

"Maybe I should be treated likewise?"

Ryan grinned. "And there was me thinking you were Daddy's angel."

He could almost see the cogs working in her head before she whispered, "Even angels can fall. But I'll take this over heaven any day."

Game fucking on.

Reaching for her hair, he scooped it into a ponytail, fed it into one hand and tugged. She yelped, her head and upper back curved while her arms remained straight and captive. With one hand stationed on her perfect rear globe, Ryan leaned over her body so he was once again driving down against the front wall of her pussy, then hammered into her over and over. He clenched his teeth. "Slut."

Sophie-Mae wailed. "Yesss."

"Tell me what you are."

"A slut."

"Not just any slut, right?"

"No… oh… God no. A panty-teasing slut." She exhaled noisily. "Your panty teasing slut."

Once again he yanked her hair and her body jerked. "You look so adorable trussed up. I love a good bad girl. Especially when you come. Come for me Sophie-Mae. Come all over my cock. Let go. I've wanted you since the day you walked in here. Every. Fucking. Day."

He slammed into her tight body, his own release hurtling towards fulfilment, the familiar tingling in his balls making itself known as they drew up and prepared to fire their super-charged content into her delightful, fresh pussy. As with her previous orgasm, she began to chant, "Fuck… fuc… fu… fu… fu…" each one a little higher in pitch until she let out a muted scream and went rigid as her body gave way to its own chemistry, gripping and releasing his cock with each sigh. The rippling sensation was too great to bear and Ryan followed seconds after, emptying into her pulsing channel with a gasp of his own, thrusting erratically and deeply throughout.

Looking down at her sprawled, bound across his desk, cheeks flushed, eyes closed, glasses askew, mouth open, he watched flashes of pure ecstasy crossing her flawed facial features as she sampled the delightful release of the natural high that engulfed her body. And at that moment he decided it was how he wanted to die. Fuck Alzheimer's. Fuck a heart attack. Fuck any kind of graceless exit. Fifty years from now he wanted to be shot in the back by the jealous boyfriend of some eighteen-year-old in which he was balls-deep. She'd need therapy afterwards, but Ryan wouldn't care: his last moment on Earth would be a happy one, having watched her face contorted in pleasure beneath his pulsing body.

The heavy scent of her arousal enveloped them and he went light-headed. It was the same smell that had been baked into her panties the first time he'd put them to his face, about a week or so after her impromptu flash at his office door. She'd spent the interim period fishing for information, with no further glimpses of underwear. Maybe it was her time of the month, or maybe she was being cautious, using their chats to ensure she wasn't going to make a fool of herself. Could equally have been lack of confidence, but he did what he could to bolster that within the confines of his self-imposed game rules.

While their conversations had been on the whole light and breezy, Ryan sensed there was an undercurrent of sexual tension, the subtext tugging an invisible bond tighter between them. No time moreso than after the short strategy meeting he'd held with his staff. As she packed up her things to return to her desk, she'd paused.

"Ryan?"

"Yes."

"How old were you when you started RNA?"

"Twenty-two."

"Straight after uni?"

"I didn't go."

She seemed surprised. Perhaps in Kingston-upon-Thames, everyone went on to higher education. "So… what did you do before then? After school, I mean."

"After school I played video games with my mates."

She smiled. "Silly. You know what I mean."

"I was a model."

"Really?"

"Really."

"How did you get into that?"

"I was strapped for cash. Parents wanted their own space and so did I. The bar job wasn't paying enough and I saw an ad. No experience required. Turn up, model some clothes, cash in hand. One day's work."

She cocked her head. "Now you mention it, I could actually see you modelling trouser suits."

He smiled. "It wasn’t suits."

"What then? Underpants?"

He said nothing.

"No! Seriously?" Her eyes, already magnified by the oversized glasses, widened further. Like every woman to whom he had ever mentioned his past employment, she swept her eyes the whole length of his body. He'd long ago concluded it was an automatic response, programmed into female DNA. "So… one day's work turned into a bit longer? "

"I pranced about in pants for the best part of three years."

She giggled. "And then turned to IT consultancy."

"A logical progression, no?"

"Oh absolutely." She paused to look at him again. Bottom to top this time. "Did you model alone?"

"Not always."

"So, with other girls too?"

"Sometimes."

"Didn't that make it… difficult? To be practically naked around women in their skimpies?"

Ryan smiled in recollection. "Sometimes."

"Did you enjoy it?"

"I got paid for doing very little and got to see hot women in beautiful lingerie, which I love. Some of the bolder ones in nothing at all while they changed. What's not to enjoy?"

"I couldn’t do that."

"Do what?"

"Model."

"Course you could. You just have to stand about and do what other people say."

"No, I mean… underwear."

"Why? What's wrong with your body?"

She looked away then dragged her eyes back to meet his. "You worked out?"

"Yes. Still do."

"See? I don't. I'm not toned."

"They don't want toned. They want quirky human clothes hangers. Believe me, you'd qualify."

"I'm quirky?"

"Isn't everyone?"

"I guess. But… underwear?"

"I'm sure your boyfriend thinks you look lovely in yours."

"Boyfriend? Right."

"Or girlfriend. Have to be inclusive."

"I'm not… I mean. I don't have either."

She coloured and Ryan approached, guiding her by the small of her back to the far end of the room. It was an effort resisting the urge to push her onto the conference table and fuck her. "What do you see?"

She stared out the window, quizzically. "Trees, car park, industrial estate…"

"In the reflection," he cut in.

She refocused. "Me. And you."

"Look beyond our appearance. What do you see?"

Sophie-Mae screwed her eyes up like she was trying to decode a random dot stereogram picture among the raindrops. "Your confidence."

He smiled. "Mere bravado. It's all in here," he tapped her temple, "and here," tapping her upper chest. "Just believe. If you want something, you can obtain it."

She looked pensive. "What if what I want isn't what I should want?"

"You've lost me."

Chewing her lip, she tried again. "I mean, Dad wants me to go to uni and I probably will. But I like working here. Love the freedom. Love the people." Her eyes flicked over his body briefly. "What if I do what I want to do and don't meet his expectations?" She stared out of the window. "Or anyone else's."

"Don't worry too much about how others perceive you. They'll accept you if you're strong. Do what you feel is right, and do it for yourself. You won't be remembered for the things you don't do."

She nodded slowly. "Sounds like that should be from a song."

"It is."

"Oh." She lapsed into silence and they watched a pair of blackbirds hopping on the strip of grass below, pecking methodically for worms after the downpour. "So you're saying I should please myself?"

"I'm saying that if you have a desire to do something, whatever it is, then you should go for it. I didn't get where I am today by waiting for the lights to go green. I took a half chance and made it work, because I wanted to."

"Weren't you scared it wouldn't work out?"

"Of course. Still am. But I don't regret any decisions so far. Even the modelling. Whatever it is that you want, Sophie-Mae, take it with both hands and don't let go." He had a brief flash fantasy of both her dainty hands wrapped around his throbbing manhood and lowering her lips to its bulbous head, but shook the thoughts away.

Listlessly, she stared out the window. And then he saw it. The change. The determination etching itself across her face, from forehead to jutting chin, the decision made, just as she'd done in those few impulsive seconds during the interview. Whatever it takes. His cock stirred. He had her. Target painted across her pussy. Time to take the shot. "While I remember, I have to jet early tonight. Would you mind locking up?"

She looked up at him, proud to have been asked after her previous offers being brushed off. "Of course. Isn't Owen staying back?"

"No. Sister's party. You'll be last here." From his pocket he produced his key bundle and unhooked one, handing it to her. "Thanks. Appreciate it."

"No problem."

And that was all it took. A pep talk and a brass key that unlocked her inhibitions. He found the result under his desk the morning after, when he'd finished hooking up his laptop to the dock.

Her knickers.

Black. Not on ceremony. No note. No finesse. Just scrunched up in the footwell. Once again, his dick started to surge and his heart hammered in his chest as he stooped to retrieve the scrap of material, hoping beyond hope they were worn.

They were. He turned them inside out, the dried stain of her arousal evident against the dark gusset.

He strode across the room, kicked his door shut and leaned back against it, bringing the material to his face and inhaling deeply. Heaven. His eyes rolled into his skull as he imagined what she'd done after hours. Had she sat in his chair, put her heels up on the desk, spread her legs and fingered herself inside the underwear, tipping her head back as she soaked the flimsy material? Or had she ridden the corner of his desk? Or stood in the window, hand jammed inside her panties as she came? And was she thinking of Ryan when her orgasm hit? Was the essence of the creamy deposit that was swirling through his senses a product of her desire for him? He presumed so, which made it all the hotter.

What was hotter still was when she came back for them, acting as if she'd left something ordinary like a bobble hat or umbrella. Just asked if he'd found anything of hers in his office. He reached into his drawer and held them out, their fingers brushing through the scant material, causing him to shiver.

She smiled. "Thank you. Very careless of me. I'll have to be more careful next time I'm in here."

"Not too careful, I hope."

"I'll do my best."

And then she was gone.

A few days later she was really careless. She breezed into his office clutching a quote, placed it on his desk and slid it towards him.

He blinked. "You printed it?"

"This needs special attention. File server won't do." She spun and he watched her butt in the leggings every step of the way to the door, which she closed. Mesmerising. Taut. Without a hint of VPL. He glanced at the report, a Post-it stuck to the front, adorned with her spidery scrawl: "I'll return in an hour for some feedback :-)" He snatched the bundle of paper up and his heart skipped a beat. Beneath were her panties. Truly careless.

With a fluttering belly, Ryan spread them on his desk. They were still warm. What he would term 'sensible'. Cotton. Ordinary. Pink with a strawberry motif. But the sticky gusset made them anything but ordinary. It made them exceptional. Made him hard, even before he picked them up and brought them to his face. Her delicate tang was everywhere, wrapped in the musk of her perspiration. He sniffed fully, over and over, fearing his cock would burst from his trousers as he imagined going down on her for real. The material snagged on his stubble as he breathed the latent imprint of her sex.

Stashing the garment in his top drawer, he tried to focus on work but couldn’t. Kept reaching in to bring them to his nose all through the hour until she returned.

"How was the report?" she asked nonchalantly.

"Excellent work. You managed to capture everything I love in one neat package."

She beamed. "So the quality was sufficient?"

"The quality was outstanding."

"Would you like me to produce more reports of this standard?"

"Yes please. Keep it up, you're an incredible asset."

"Kind of you to say so."

Ryan paused, searched her eyes. "Would you like the report back?"

She bent forward slightly, resting her knuckles on his desk, the valley of her cleavage absorbing his stare. "Not this time. But I will need assigning a new report so I can complete it in a similar manner."

For the second time in an hour she spun and left the room, leaving Ryan hot and hard. He returned her underwear to his drawer and went straight online to order her some more. Skimpier and more ornate, but with a decent size gusset to catch every molecule of her beautiful, pungent juices. She soaked them for him the day after they arrived, presenting them just before she left for the evening. "I expect you'll need to annotate this report before returning it to me tomorrow."

And annotate he did. After spending a good few hours at home diving in and out of her thick scent as he cooked and ate, he sat back on the sofa, undid his fly and freed his turgid dick. Pressing her panty material to his face, breathing deeply, he masturbated. Every stroke edged him closer, fuelled by thoughts of her driving fingers into her syrupy pussy then feeding the digits to him. And images of her sitting on his face afterwards, smearing her translucent come over his lips and tongue. He wasn't sure how long he could stick to the rules and keep his hands off her. He'd only fucked three other girls since Sophie-Mae had joined the company, which was a record low. True, they'd all been fucking good in their own way. Dirty, just how he liked them; especially Anna who played clarinet, and it showed. But the need to screw Sophie-Mae was maddening.

He pumped his fist over his shaft, pre-come slicking the head, inhaled her scent one final time then wrapped the panty material around his cock. The lace encased him, a physical connection to her hot body, and felt divine slithering over his manhood, which swelled in preparation. As climax neared, he pulled the panties away, laid them on the sofa, aimed his cock and erupted thick lines of come, slashing the cotton that had been pressed against her sweet cunt all day. Such a mess. He left them there to dry and took them to work next day. When Sophie-Mae came in to check, all heels, skirt and poise, he presented the report. Her eyes sparkled. She kicked the door shut with a well-placed heel, slid the panties she was wearing off, threw them at Ryan and pulled the soiled ones on. He caught a fleeting glimpse of her hairy bush as the material enclosed her pussy and she said, "Your annotations appear excellent. I'll take them into consideration today."

Ryan stood there open-mouthed as she strutted away. The warm pair in his hands were once again plain cotton. White with a thin waistband, the word 'Pink' inexplicably emblazoned all around the circumference. Sporting only faint traces of her arousal, since they'd only been on an hour or so, it was still enough that he was hard almost instantly. And remained in that state of arousal for much of the day, imagining her walking around the office in her dirty undies.

Her crowning achievement had been yesterday. Again, last to leave, she had rapped on the door and streamed into his office without waiting for acknowledgement. "I don't have a report today, sorry."

"Oh?"

"No. But I do have a spreadsheet to show you."

Ryan leaned back and watched her parade to his desk, pleats of the skirt into which she had changed swishing and barely covering her. Sophie-Mae leaned forward and dragged the spare chair slowly to the bookcase a few feet to Ryan's right. He tracked her movements and watched her step onto the chair, one heel at a time, skirt agonisingly keeping him from seeing beneath. Scanning the top shelf, she mused. "Hmm, it's here somewhere, I'm sure of it," and reached up on tiptoe.

Her skirt rode high enough he could see wisps of hair peeking below the hem. The saucy cow.

Continuing her monologue, she sighed. "No. Not there. Maybe it's the shelf below." With that, she bent at the waist and ran her finger along the spines. Took a quarter step apart as Ryan zeroed in on the delicious furry gap between her thighs, becoming rock hard in his trousers. "Can you see it from there?" she called out.

"I'm not sure."

"Maybe you'd best help me look."

He was alongside her in a shot, the aroma of her pussy seeping into his senses. Half a step further and he'd be level with her bush, droplets of moisture indicative of her arousal. Unbelievable. He fought every urge to grab and eat her right there as she held onto the shelves for support.

With a sigh, she stepped down and smoothed her skirt, brushing against him in the process, an air of innocence about her that sharply contrasted her actions. "Was my spreadsheet to your liking?"

"Absolutely."

"And the level of detail?"

"Exquisite."

Looking at the floor, she asked, "Was there perhaps a little too much detail? Maybe the figures need to be-" she swung her gaze up to his eyes, "-trimmed a little. Y'know, to make the bottom line more favourable?"

"I'm sure the stakeholders would appreciate the effort."

She looked down again, this time at his tented crotch. "Yes. Especially if they're going to be entering into a partnership."

"You think that might happen?"

"I think it would be in your best interests."

With that, she crossed the room and left Ryan glowing at the prospect of what the next day would bring.

He had been jittery all day, praying she'd go through with it. They exchanged loaded glances whenever their paths crossed, but it wasn't until after hours that their bodies did likewise. She was displaying a nervousness that hadn’t been present since she began teasing him, but Ryan expected it was a big step up from flashing panties and pussy to actually losing her virginity with someone she'd only known for just over a month.

To her credit she kept up the banter, the office double entendres always inventive. Each time Ryan thought she was going for it, she'd find some way to delay. She moved round the room as they sparred until she ended up standing at the corner of his desk alongside his chair. "So I was thinking…"

"Yes?"

She bit her lip and tucked her hair behind her ears, pushing her glasses up her nose too. Classic nerves. "How do you feel about… a merger?"

"In what way?"

Half a step closer, she perched against his desk, their thighs almost touching. "I feel… funny around you. Fluttery. It goes beyond the games we play. You're just so kind."

If only she knew.

She continued. "You're witty and fun. And… I feel comfortable with you. On a different level to the mouthy boys I knew at school who just counted conquests."

If only she knew.

Perhaps searching for the right words, she paused. "I want to feel… cherished for who I am, not for what I represent. I want-" she took a deep breath, "-you."

He let the word hang. "I'm flattered. Are you sure?" She just nodded fast, emotions no doubt in turmoil. Ryan continued, "You know what you're asking, right?"

She nodded again. "I know you like me too. And I'm ready. I want to feel more than…" she cut herself off.

"What?"

She shook her head. "It's embarrassing."

"More embarrassing than when I tripped over a lighting cable during a photo shoot in just my underwear? In front of a semi-naked brunette?"

Smiling briefly, she tried again, looking at her legs. "I want to feel more than just… my hairbrush." Meeting his gaze, she must have mistaken his wide-eyed expression of interest as something else. She hurriedly added, "There won't be any mess. That's taken care of."

Ryan pretended to contemplate her offer, sweeping his gaze up and down her immaculate body, feet to neck and back again, unable to get the image of her masturbating with her hairbrush out of his mind. He hoped his dilated pupils wouldn't give away his desire.

Looking her long in the eye, he decided to give her one last chance to back out. Which of course was reverse psychology to come across as caring and guarantee that she'd go for it. "Final answer? Are you absolutely sure, because you can't take this back?"

She breathed in deeply. "I'm sure. No more games. Be my first, Ryan. Here. Now."

He nodded far more sagely than he felt, stood, placed his hands on her waist and brought his lips to hers, ignoring the rails along her teeth. As the kiss deepened, he gently lifted his hands up the sides of her body, drawing her blouse with them, breaking the kiss to undo the three buttons and lift it free of her body. Her tits threatened to spill over her bra with each of her laboured breaths so Ryan simply reached around and removed it.

"Perfect."

She saw him ogling her chest and brought her hands to cover them self-consciously. Ryan shook his head. "Don't do that." He removed her hands and dove forward to kiss her breasts one at a time, listening to her gasps and feeling the nipples harden as his tongue swirled. He cupped her orbs, their weight perfectly balanced, and squeezed, lifting them to his eager mouth. Sucking. Nibbling. Listening. Growing harder as she panted and began asking him to use his teeth more. Biting her nipples turned her crazy. Horny. Demanding more that Ryan delivered, over and over until he began to smell her arousal drifting between their bodies.

He pulled her forward, hooked under her skirt into the waistband of her panties and tugged. Sank to his knees but barely had a glimpse of her freshly shaved pussy before she dragged him up into a kiss. Her dainty hands rubbed the front of his trousers, tracing the outline of his cock, fully erect and bursting to play. Breathlessly, she panted, "God I'm so ready."

Ryan sat and leaned back in his chair, slid his hips forward, undoing his belt and fly. His length sprang to the vertical, her eyes taking in every veined contour as he caught her by the hand. "Sophie-Mae, your merger."

Guiding her forward, she straddled his legs and shuffled towards him until he could feel the heat of her, hovering above his steel. It had seemed an eternity to reach this point, but now it had arrived he let her take her time. The head first pressed against her unused wet entrance and gradually sank inside, millimetre by millimetre, accompanied by her little moans of pleasure until she was fully impaled. Tight didn't do her justice. Every subsequent thrust and bounce and slap of their groins was exquisite. Even after bending her over the desk and finishing inside her bound frame, their slippery come mingling, she remained as tight as a Dave Grohl drum track.

Just like ingress, he felt every inch of exit until his softening cock plopped wetly from her sucking insides, a trail of juice drizzling from her deflowered tunnel and dripping to the floor, a lasting reminder of their act staining the cheap carpet tiles.

After freeing her arms, she wiggled them to aid circulation, brought them to the desk and pushed herself upright, spinning to face him and mouthing "Thank you" between soft kisses that tasted of rainfall.

At the conclusion he stroked her hair. "Was it how you expected?"

"Better."

He nodded, satisfied. Validated. He reached to tuck his member away but she stopped him. "I should thank you."

"You just did."

"No. Properly."

"You just did."

"You mean there's nothing I can do to sweeten the merger? Icing on the cake?"

"My icing is already in the cake."

"Yes, but could there be… more?"

Ryan contemplated his groin. "It'll take a while to whip up a new batch."

"Can I help with that?"

"Undoubtedly. Did you have something in mind?"

"Can I…" she wavered, "… kiss it like you did to me?"

"Absolutely."

She exhaled and sank to her knees, scooping his once-hard member, still slippery with her juices, and kissing the tip gingerly. "Mmmm, me."

Ryan swallowed and watched her move from the tip to the shaft alongside her fingers, and back to the head. Tiny little kisses, barely touching him, lips occasionally nibbling, her inexperience evident and being so much sexier for it. Each breath, each touch, each little sigh gave him butterflies. Where Anna had been a mosh pit of raw emotion, all about the suction, the spit strings, the gagging, and the streaming make-up as she tried to cram as much into her throat as would uncomfortably fit, Sophie-Mae was Swan Lake. Delicate. Tender. Innocent. Unencumbered by expectation.

Under her fluttering ministrations, he slowly began to rise and could feel her smiling as she kissed him to half-mast. She brought the first act to a close by drawing her pursed lips to the tip and leaning back on her heels, looking up at him. "Sit."

Ryan obeyed, sliding his hips to the front edge of the chair to aid what he assumed was her continued ballet. Instead she stood and went to his drawer, retrieving a pair of soiled knickers to add to the ones she'd picked up from alongside the casters. Moving into his space, she draped the fabric over his cock, tickling him and making him twitch, trailing them up his chest and over his face, resting at his nose before trailing back down again. Up and down, each stolen inhalation and flick of her wrist added a degree of elevation to his cock until it was once more standing proud.

Running a pair of panties to his hand, she said, "Arms on the armrest," after which she tied each wrist with a pair of her knickers. Then she circled him, spinning the chair to face the window and crouched between his knees.

"Look at this," she cooed, running her fingertips along the edges of his shaft. "So big. So manly. So good inside me." She kissed the tip and it bobbed, a wave of pleasure surging through him. "Did you like taking my virginity?" Ryan nodded. "Did you like how smooth I was?" He nodded once more. "It took me ages in the bath. Gliding the razor over my pussy, getting wetter with every stroke as my nakedness appeared. I was thinking of you. Thinking of us. What it would be like as you entered me. I fingered myself in the bath, water sloshing everywhere as I imagined you sliding into me. I shaved for you, Ryan. All for you."

Again she kissed his tip, nibbled the head, ran her nails over his shaft and watched his hips twitching. Cupping her hand in the base of his pubes, she eased his hardness to the vertical, tilted her head to one side and ran her parted lips the entire length, from base to tip and back again. Her tongue occasionally peeked from its confines, slithering between her slender lips up and down the underside of his erection over and over. Ryan groaned. It was so unlike any blowjob he'd ever experienced. She'd barely even taken him in her mouth; it was just kisses and licks, interspersed with the occasional wrapping of her dainty fingers around his circumference and jacking a couple of times before returning to her languorous, sexy mouthwork.

Ryan oozed pre-come and she ran her lips over it, using the essence to slicken his shaft further. Clicking sounds of wet on wet escaped into the office space as he gazed through the window slats at a world that had no idea of the pleasure he was receiving. Sophie-Mae used her tongue to swirl the head of his straining length, pressing her tongue against and all around the slit from which translucent moisture escaped. A single drop ran from the flared head, tumbling along the firm skin towards his body. She chased it with her tongue and scooped it up, slathering all the way back to its source and taking just a centimetre of his fullness inside her hot mouth. Ryan gasped. Wanted to grab her head and jam her onto his cock but his hands merely flapped against the mismatched restraints.

Torture. She nibbled the head of his cock, smiling at his need for more and denying it, just fleetingly before delivering heat to his loins as her fingers, tongue and impossibly wet lips took him far away.

His erection strained. She must have been able to feel it surging as she engulfed his manhood, maybe a third of it disappearing into her darkness. But that was all he received and he let out an exasperated moan as she retreated, swirled her tongue over the head again, ran to the underside and tilted her head, hair cascading over his tightening balls.

With three fingers supporting the top edge of his girth, her lips parted slightly and she began gliding up and down the underside, concentrating her slippery actions on a solitary inch of skin just below the pulsing head. No more. No less. Over and over the same, sensitive spot.

Her urgency showing, she sped up a fraction, tongue and lips grazing the tiny area repeatedly, wetly, his jumping hips depicting his need for release. She sensed the end approaching and moaned quietly against his raging pole, rubbing her mouth and darting tongue against the knot of skin below the mushroom head. It felt amazing and Ryan groaned one final time as pulses of come flowed from his one-eye and slithered over her fingers to pool in his pubes. She kept up the tiny side-to-side motions throughout, happy and smiling to have brought him pleasure.

Slowing her actions, she pulled away and sat back, head tilted off-axis like an art lover appreciating a canvas. Ryan exhaled. "Was that your first blow job?" She nodded. "Where the hell did you learn to be so inventive?"

Another smile crept across her face. "Rude stories on that website."

"Lush?"

She nodded again before standing and spinning his chair to face the desk, tucking him up against it. With deliberate strides, she circled the desk and stood before him, just three feet of wood and his tainted restraints keeping them apart. Ryan ogled the heaving of her breasts in the fading sun stripes, then found her eyes. "Are you going to untie me?"

"Maybe."

"When?"

"Ohh… not yet." She swayed her hips, placed her hands on the desk and climbed on, crawling forward, fully embracing her newfound power. "I think there's one last thing you can do for me."

"And what's that?"

"Playing with your… your cock has made me horny again." She brought her face so close to his that he could feel the breath tickling his skin. Placing a kiss on his lips, she whispered, "I want you to lick me again. Make me come."

Turning her body away from him, she spun on her knees to face the door, her exquisite bottom wiggling as she reversed until her faultless butt was where her face had been moments earlier. Dropping her chest to the desk she pushed back as Ryan leaned in, poked out his tongue and let her do most of the work, slathering up and down the tender puffy pink parentheses presented before him.

As the dirty soul he had teased from inside Sophie-Mae began to pant and beg for release, he zeroed in on her drizzling slit and revelled in the silky elixir he craved. Tasting it. Taking everything she could give. His reward for the culmination of a campaign stemming from three simple words: whatever it takes.

With her cries escalating and bouncing around the office once more, he had no idea where their tryst was heading, nor how long it would last, but one thing was certain: the remainder of her internship was going to be a fucking good ride.