Christmas Overtime
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Putting In The Overtime - Part One free porn video
People who work in offices often complain about the winter. Getting into work before dawn, leaving when it's already dark, their only sight of the sun glimpsed through thick windows. It's depressing. But at least it makes working late seem like less of a big deal.
It's just as dark when you leave at nine in the evening as it is when you leave at five, and the winter evenings aren't all that much fun anyway. At least, they're not much fun when you live alone and single in a moderately-habitable box of a flat above a biscuit wholesalers in Stepney.
They were big into overtime at the office where I worked. Unpaid, at that. Our manager told us it was character-building. Evidently he felt he already had a surplus of character himself, since he was out of the door by 5pm every day. Two or three of us would be selected to put in the extra hours whenever required, which was generally always.
In the winter, given my living arrangements, I didn't really mind working late. Sometimes I even volunteered. But now it was the blazing height of a glorious summer, and I was still putting in the overtime. I felt truly cheated out of the daylight now there was so much more of it.
And it was hot. Our poky little office had no air-con, and only one tiny window actually opened. Since it opened onto the side-alley we shared with the paint factory next door we tended to keep it closed whatever the weather.
My shirt stuck to me in damp patches all across my chest and back. I was trying very hard not to notice that Vanessa – my fellow inmate that night – was having the same problem. She had significantly more chest than I did.
My job title, stripped of its HR bullshit, was “anonymous desk-chimp”. I wrote wordy, meaningless reports which more senior chimps would wave around in meetings without ever actually reading. A small group of even more senior chimps would then nod wisely to one another and select the report being waved by the lesser chimp who had the most expensive-looking tie. This lucky chimp would be the envy of all the other chimps, and would probably celebrate his hard-won bonus by buying an even more expensive tie, before losing his powder-encrusted company credit card down a lap-dancer's g-string.
And so the wheels of the world of business turned. We ran to keep up or were crushed. It made no real difference.
Vanessa was microscopically more senior than I in the grand corporate pecking-order, but certainly no happier about still being in the office at 8pm.
We sat opposite one another in the centre of the main office, the square table between us strewn with paperwork and a couple of finger-smeared tablets. A pedestal fan whirred away in one corner, ineffectually stirring the thick air.
I was trying not to notice that Vanessa had unbuttoned her shirt down so far I could just see the bit of her bra where the cups met. Or at least, I would've seen that if I'd noticed. But I hadn't. Not even slightly. I certainly hadn't noticed that her bra was a sky-blue colour, edged with lace. Any rumours that I was wondering feverishly if she wore matching underwear are surely greatly exaggerated.
Vanessa sighed and pushed a strand of long brown hair away from her face. She leaned back in her chair and stretched her arms high above her head. The movement caused considerable strain on her shirt buttons.
The face, Alex, concentrate on her face...
Vanessa was beautiful. Her skin was slightly dusky, her features Mediterranean and her smile like a sensual massage. She spoke with a warm, polite home-counties accent that verged on upper-class, but when the mood took her she had a filthy sense of humour.
She dropped her arms and leaned heavily forward onto the desk, looking exhausted. The half-open shirt revealed her breasts pressing together like two planets trying to make a moon. The deep shadow between them had all the fatal attraction of a black hole.
I realised she was looking at me in the same moment I realised I was staring at her. I dropped my gaze quickly to my work and scribbled a few random words on a piece of paper.
“Alex?” said Vanessa softly.
“Mmm?” I replied, staring intently at the paper and feeling my face start to flush.
“Were you just looking at my tits?”
I looked up at her, some disingenuous protest already forming on my lips, but her wide eyes pinned me like something small and helpless. There was no lying to that face.
“Yes,” I said. “Yes I was. Sorry.”
She held my gaze a few moments more than was comfortable, her expression a mix of fascination and pity.
“Summer,” I blurted out, mouth oblivious to my brain's command that it remain firmly shut. “The heat and everything, you know... makes me a bit... um... frustrated.”
“Ah,” said Vanessa, nodding slowly. “Yes. That must be it.”
She shook her head and laughed quietly to herself, then returned to her work.
“Don't you find that makes it hard?” she asked, looking at me again.
“I'm sorry?”
“Hard,” she repeated, drawing the syllable out in her honey-like tones, making an already four-letter word seem more so. “To concentrate. You know, with the heat and everything. Is it hard?”
“Oh,” I said, swallowing. “Yes. Very hard.”
We both returned to our work, and I made a surreptitious crotch adjustment to even out the strain in my trousers. The strain eased a little as I managed to concentrate, and the stupefying pointlessness of the task in front of me resumed its work liquefying my higher brain functions.
“It was quite hot yesterday too, wasn't it?” said Vanessa after a while, eyes still on her work.
“Yeah,” I said vaguely, looking up. “I guess it was. Why?”
Her eyes flicked up to meet mine, and my heart skipped a beat.
“Because you seemed to be finding it... ah... hard to concentrate then as well.”
Recent memory rose eagerly to the forefront of my mind. The long meeting with Finance in the afternoon. Vanessa's indecently low white vest-top. The short skirt that rode practically up to her chin every time she sat down.
“Don't recall,” I said, face burning.
“That's a pity,” she said wistfully. “I must admit I was being quite deliberately exhibitionist. I was showing far more cleavage than is usually considered proper for the office.”
“Deliberately?” I asked, smiling.
“Oh, don't get excited, Alex,” she said, giving me a look. “It wasn't for your benefit.”
“No?”
“No. It was not. I was trying to give TB another heart-attack.”
We both burst out laughing.
TB was our manager, and to his face it meant The Boss. Behind his back he was never anything but That Bastard. It was a testament to the sheer contempt with which TB was viewed by the vast majority of his employees, clients, associates and at least a few family members that two otherwise decently-mannered people would laugh at a heart-attack joke about a middle-aged man, but before anyone gets too sanctimonious about taste let's remember he had the first one when his wife walked into the marital bedroom one night to find him blowing cocaine through a straw up her younger sister's arse.
“I should have flashed him my knickers instead,” said Vanessa, when she got her breath back. “That would've tipped him over. I was wearing my special red ones yesterday.”
I tried to pull back the quizzical expression before it had progressed very far across my face, but I wasn't quick enough.
“Oh yes, that's right,” she said, giving me a knowing look. “They were green, weren't they?”
I shrugged.
“Wouldn't know,” I lied.
“You're a pervert, Alex,” she said simply, but with a smile in her voice. “And not a very subtle one. You wouldn't catch me staring at someone's bum every time they bent over.”
It might have been my imagination, but I thought I heard a tiny, tiny emphasis on the word “catch”.
“Do you...” I began, but she interrupted.
“You know that printer in front of my desk in the other room?” she said. “On top of the drawers against the wall?”
“Oh yes,” I said bitterly, my train of thought easily derailed by mention of this persistent daily annoyance. “The bloody ethernet cable falls out nearly every day, and I have to lean right...”
“You have to lean right over to reach down the back and reconnect it, so you can print out the morning reports,” Vanessa finished for me, grinning. “Yes. I know.”
It took a few moments, but then realisation dawned.
“You mean... you've been... so that... you...” I ran out of words. It had been irritating me for months.
“I especially look forward to 'casual' Fridays,” she said, leaning forward across the table towards me and lowering her voice to a whisper. “You always wear those jeans.”
Those deep, smiling eyes held me spellbound once more, but at the bottom of my field of view I could see her breasts practically spilling out onto the desk.
“It is a bit hot in here, isn't it?” I said.
“Maybe you should open the window,” said Vanessa, flicking her gaze away towards it for a moment, breaking the spell.
“Good idea,” I said.
I made to stand, then suddenly had second thoughts and sat back down. I looked pleadingly at Vanessa, and tried to convey without the words I was a little too self-conscious to actually say that standing up at this point would tear a gaping hole in the front of my trousers.
“I'll do it,” she said, rolling her eyes. “If it's too hard for you.”
She stood up and walked the few paces to the window with, I thought, an exaggerated swing to her hips.
The window was high on the wall, behind a desk stacked with file boxes. As Vanessa leaned up over the desk to reach the catch her skirt rode up, sweeping up over her tanned thighs, stopping mere millimetres beneath the very obvious curve of her bottom.
Still she couldn't quite reach the catch. She swung one knee up onto the desk to get closer, and as her legs parted I felt the subtle creak in my trousers that said I was about to bust another zip.
Still not close enough. She swung her other knee up.
“Do you need a hand?” I asked, a little breathlessly.
“A hand?” she said. Finally her fingers found the catch and the window clicked open, letting in the welcome suggestion of a cool breeze.
Vanessa made no move to climb down, but stayed there on all fours with her pert backside pointed right at me. A bright triangle of sky-blue satin peeked out at me from between her thighs.
“No, I don't need a hand,” she said, looking back over her shoulder at me. “But I wouldn't mind having your tongue up my cunt.”
I stood up so quickly that my chair fell over, and with a loud ripping noise my trousers tore at the crotch. Dark blue cotton poked out from a ragged hole, pulled tight around something thick and hard.
Vanessa pulled her skirt up all the way as I approached, revealing smooth round cheeks with the string of a thong disappearing between them. I knelt down behind her, bringing my face level with her bum. She dropped her head towards the desk and arched her back, parting her legs in an unmistakable invitation.
I leaned forwards and tentatively kissed one soft cheek, then the other. The hot sheen of sweat on her skin melted onto my lips and tongue. With delicious abandon I sunk my face in between her buttocks, my nose pressing against her thong as my tongue sought out the musky wetness soaking through her knickers.
“Oh god yes!” she whispered, as I sucked and licked her.
She reached one hand behind her, and I drew back as she pulled the thong out of her ass crack and held it aside. Her tight pink asshole and glistening-wet vagina were revealed in all their intricate and intimate glory. I dove back in, aching for her taste.
My tongue sank easily into her, pussy-wetness spilling over my lips and face. Greedily I drank her in, swallowing the electrifying taste, wrapped in the music of her soft, whimpered moans.
“Oh yes... yes...” she whispered, pushing herself backwards onto my tongue, grinding her pussy against my face, body shuddering.
She pulled the thong out further, and it snapped. The gusset of her panties flapped down uselessly between her legs. I ran my tongue down after it, my smooth chin nuzzling into a tidy patch of curled hair, following the slick contours of her labia until I could close my lips around her clitoris. She gave a loud moan as I took her little nub gently into my mouth, and sucked.
“Oh god... oh god...” she panted. My tongue licked and lapped and stroked and circled. “I'm gonna cum... oh god oh god... I'm...”
Her pussy gushed with additional wetness as she came, her vagina seeming to kiss the tip of my nose as it pulsed. I carried on circling my clit until the last jerk of her body subsided. I drew back and sat on my heels, looking up at her, smiling, as she got her breath back.
“Ha!” she breathed. “I needed that.”
She slipped off her high-heels and let them clatter to the floor, then turned and sprang down off the desk as I stood up. She stared down at my boxer shorts bulging out of the hole in my trousers, desire in her eyes.
She knelt down in front of me, gripped my bum tightly with one hand and with the other tore open the fly of my underwear. Tiny buttons pinged off across the room, unheeded, and my cock leapt out gratefully into the musky air of the room.
“Bloody hell,” she said, after some moments. “Is that all yours, or do you time-share?”
I grinned.
On the scale of enormity my penis lies towards the smaller extent of the region labelled “porn star” - that is to say most appreciably longer and thicker than the average, but not frighteningly so.
I gasped as she took it eagerly into her mouth and moved wetly up and down. She reached a hand into my ruined underwear and gently squeezed my balls as she sucked me. I gave a long, wordless moan, and felt the first stirrings of an embarrassing early orgasm.
She fucked me slowly with her mouth, running long, teasing wet caresses up and down my dick. Taking me deep inside and sucking, and withdrawing until only the very tip was held between her tightly-pursed lips.
When I was only seconds from filling her mouth with spunk she stopped and drew back.
“Let's fuck on TB's desk,” she suggested, with a breathless grin.
I nodded, mute. Anything at all would have been perfectly fine by me right then.
TB was the only person who had his own office, unless you included his PA Hailey, who occupied the soulless “Waiting Room” in between his office and the rest of us. She was the gatekeeper to TB's ivory tower, and was also his niece.
I followed Vanessa into the Waiting Room, and she switched on the light. Her skirt was still ridden up to her waist, and I was hypnotised by the broken thong swinging like a pendulum below her beautiful naked arse.
“Locked!” she said, as she rattled the handle of TB's office door. “Damn.”
I looked around. The Waiting Room wasn't large, and there wasn't much in it besides a couple of armless chairs, a wilted plastic fern and an absurdly over-sized desk. The gleaming mahogany expanse held only a couple of fashion magazines, a pink laptop and a smartphone.
Suddenly Vanessa's arms were around me, her lips pressing against mine. Our tongues touched and our mouths mingled the flavours of cunt and cock. We grabbed madly at one another's clothes, buttons popping and seams tearing as with a wild hunger we each sought out the other's naked flesh.
The next few moments are something of a blur. I remember my fingers and lips sliding over sweat-slick curves. I remember a nipple hardening in my mouth. I remember her sitting naked on the edge of the stupidly big desk. Legs spreading. Dark curls and inviting pink lips. Fingernails scratching down my taut chest and abdomen. A finger teasing the tip of my cock. I remember my body pressing down on hers as she lay back on the desk, and I remember the tight, warm, velvet sensation as I slid myself into her.
I pushed myself up with my arms to get a deeper angle. Her huge breasts rippled beneath me as I relentlessly slammed my cock into her.
“Fuck me... Alex...” she moaned. “I love... your dick...”
“Your... pussy feels... amazing...”
Words became incoherent mumbles. Her body tightened and squeezed around me. I felt a tingle in my balls and an electric sensation jolted along my penis, growing hotter with each thrust.
“Ahh... I'm going... to...” I whispered.
The front door of the building slammed shut. We stopped dead.
Footsteps started to climb the stairs.
“That Bastard!” we said together.
I withdrew so quickly there was an audible “pop” when I slipped out of her. I scrambled around the room, gathering the clothes we had so carelessly discarded, and heard the familiar click-click-click of someone typing in the security code to the door of our office suite. Vanessa switched off the room's light and closed the door quietly. We both clambered under the huge desk, pulled the chair in after us, and waited in the darkness clutching our clothes, hearts pounding.
The unhurried clip-clip of footsteps crossed the stained-wood floor of the main office and paused, I guessed, roughly where we had been working. There was a sound which might have been a chair being righted.
The footsteps continued. They were, I realised with a sinking feeling, headed for the door of the Waiting Room. With luck he'd head straight into his office and not even switch on the light out here. With luck I hadn't overlooked any items of clothing.
The Waiting Room door opened, and the lights came on.
In the gloom beneath the desk Vanessa grabbed my hand. Her eyes were closed.
Clip, clip... the footsteps crossed the floor, muffled now by thin carpet.
They paused. Possibly, or possibly not, someone bent down to pick something up.
Clip, clip... the footsteps came nearer, very obviously headed for the desk and not the door to the inner office.
I closed my eyes. We were fucked.
Clip, clip... round the desk. The squeak of wheels as the chair was pulled out.
I waited for the nasal bellow which TB called his “discipline voice”.
There was another squeak of wheels, more laden-sounding, as the chair slid back under the desk with someone sitting in it.
I opened my eyes.
A pair of red stiletto heels were resting on the floor a few centimetres short of touching me. In them were some feet, which were attached to long, bare legs which rose to a pair of knees and then proceeded horizontally to disappear under a very short black skirt.
It was Hailey.
Vanessa still had her eyes closed. I squeezed her hand and she opened them. I recognised the shock in her face as my own. In a thousand years I would not have predicted this happening.
Hailey was in the office after five.
Sounds came down through the wooden desktop. A laptop being opened and booted up. The clumsy clunk of a password being entered. The soft thud of a track-pad being swiped and tapped.
Hailey typed and tapped away for a few minutes, while Vanessa and I tried to come up with an escape plan using only our eyebrows for communication. I hardly dared breathe for fear of Hailey looking under the desk and finding us.
New sounds drifted down. Tinny voices came from the laptop. She was listening to a podcast, or watching a video, or something. I couldn't make out the words. Sounds I could not immediately identify followed.
I realised what I was hearing just as Vanessa mouthed the word at me. Porn.
There was no mistaking the shrill, fake moans and the needlessly graphic slurping noises. Any lingering doubts were shattered when Hailey opened her legs wide under the desk – missing touching both of us by millimetres – and her right hand came down into view.
Beneath the skirt she wore a pair of skimpy red knickers, the gusset already split by a dark, wet line. She traced one finger up and down very slowly, and made a low, lascivious “mmmm...” sound.
I looked at Vanessa, but she was staring intently into Hailey's moistening crotch with her mouth slightly open. One hand drifted as though unconsciously down between her own thighs.
My cock began to stir. I reached down and took it in my hand, feeling it swell and stiffen almost immediately.
The front door of the building slammed again. Footsteps climbed the stairs.
“Shit!” said Hailey, pulling her hand away quickly and snapping her legs closed. Frantic typing and tapping suggested she was closing down the porn and opening something that might look like work.
The drama of the footsteps unfolded once again, only this time there was nothing we could do about it. By the time the Waiting Room door opened Hailey – or at least, as much of her as we could see – was sitting calmly upright and perfectly composed.
“Oh, hello uncle,” she said pleasantly.
“Hailey?” said a voice. It was TB. “What are you doing here so late?”
“Just finishing up a few things, you know,” said Hailey. “Always work to be done.”
“Well, yes, indeed,” said TB, sounding confused. “Er, great. But where's Vanessa? Where's Alex? They were supposed to be getting the report ready for the presentation tomorrow. Don't tell me they've gone home already?”
I closed my eyes. We were fucked.
“Oh no, they just popped out to get a bite to eat,” said Hailey. “You only just missed them. They'll be back. They've decided to pull an all-nighter to get it done. I said I'd help.”
Vanessa and I shared a wide-eyed look underneath the desk.
“Oh,” said TB, sounding almost disappointed. “That's all right then, I suppose. You look nice, by the way. You look, er, yes. Very nice.”
“So what are you doing here?” asked Hailey, a slight frosty edge to her voice.
“Oh, I left the bloody theatre tickets on my desk,” said TB grumpily. “Your aunt's in the car screaming about how we're going to miss the free champagne.”
“Oh but that's awful!” said Hailey with deviously disguised sarcasm.
“Yes, well,” muttered TB, “Trials of life and all that. Better late than never. Mustn't grumble too much, I suppose, though try telling her that.”
We heard him unlock his office door and go inside. A clattering and a series of muttered curses suggested the theatre tickets were not so conveniently placed as he had thought.
Hailey leaned back slightly in her chair, lifted her feet out of her shoes and stretched her legs out under the desk. Vanessa and I ducked as much as we could, and I just managed to miss getting a big toe in my eye. Hailey's bare feet hung in the air above us for a moment, then slowly dropped toward our heads.
“Found them!”
I heard TB come out of his office sounding triumphant, as Hailey pushed my head gently but firmly against the side of the desk with the sole of one sweaty foot.
“They were in the drawer!” said TB. “Of course. Right, must dash. All the best to your mother.”
He walked off, but paused at the door out into the main office.
“You know, Hailey,” he said. “I really am impressed. At your dedication, I mean. Well done.”
“Thank you, uncle,” said Hailey sweetly, pressing her foot harder against my face and curling her toes into my forehead. Squinting out of the corner of my eye I could see Vanessa being held in a similar grip.
“And tell Vanessa and Alex the same, for that matter,” TB went on. “An all-nighter, eh? Sets a great example. So long as they're in on time in the morning, of course. I hope the three of you have a very productive time this evening.”
“Oh I'm sure we will,” said Hailey, cackling under her breath as TB left the office. The front door slammed shut moments later. Hailey took her feet away and carefully slipped them back into her shoes.
Vanessa and I looked at one another, cowering naked in the shadows beneath the desk, and she mouthed the very words I was thinking.
What. The. Fuck?
To Be Continued...
It's just as dark when you leave at nine in the evening as it is when you leave at five, and the winter evenings aren't all that much fun anyway. At least, they're not much fun when you live alone and single in a moderately-habitable box of a flat above a biscuit wholesalers in Stepney.
They were big into overtime at the office where I worked. Unpaid, at that. Our manager told us it was character-building. Evidently he felt he already had a surplus of character himself, since he was out of the door by 5pm every day. Two or three of us would be selected to put in the extra hours whenever required, which was generally always.
In the winter, given my living arrangements, I didn't really mind working late. Sometimes I even volunteered. But now it was the blazing height of a glorious summer, and I was still putting in the overtime. I felt truly cheated out of the daylight now there was so much more of it.
And it was hot. Our poky little office had no air-con, and only one tiny window actually opened. Since it opened onto the side-alley we shared with the paint factory next door we tended to keep it closed whatever the weather.
My shirt stuck to me in damp patches all across my chest and back. I was trying very hard not to notice that Vanessa – my fellow inmate that night – was having the same problem. She had significantly more chest than I did.
My job title, stripped of its HR bullshit, was “anonymous desk-chimp”. I wrote wordy, meaningless reports which more senior chimps would wave around in meetings without ever actually reading. A small group of even more senior chimps would then nod wisely to one another and select the report being waved by the lesser chimp who had the most expensive-looking tie. This lucky chimp would be the envy of all the other chimps, and would probably celebrate his hard-won bonus by buying an even more expensive tie, before losing his powder-encrusted company credit card down a lap-dancer's g-string.
And so the wheels of the world of business turned. We ran to keep up or were crushed. It made no real difference.
Vanessa was microscopically more senior than I in the grand corporate pecking-order, but certainly no happier about still being in the office at 8pm.
We sat opposite one another in the centre of the main office, the square table between us strewn with paperwork and a couple of finger-smeared tablets. A pedestal fan whirred away in one corner, ineffectually stirring the thick air.
I was trying not to notice that Vanessa had unbuttoned her shirt down so far I could just see the bit of her bra where the cups met. Or at least, I would've seen that if I'd noticed. But I hadn't. Not even slightly. I certainly hadn't noticed that her bra was a sky-blue colour, edged with lace. Any rumours that I was wondering feverishly if she wore matching underwear are surely greatly exaggerated.
Vanessa sighed and pushed a strand of long brown hair away from her face. She leaned back in her chair and stretched her arms high above her head. The movement caused considerable strain on her shirt buttons.
The face, Alex, concentrate on her face...
Vanessa was beautiful. Her skin was slightly dusky, her features Mediterranean and her smile like a sensual massage. She spoke with a warm, polite home-counties accent that verged on upper-class, but when the mood took her she had a filthy sense of humour.
She dropped her arms and leaned heavily forward onto the desk, looking exhausted. The half-open shirt revealed her breasts pressing together like two planets trying to make a moon. The deep shadow between them had all the fatal attraction of a black hole.
I realised she was looking at me in the same moment I realised I was staring at her. I dropped my gaze quickly to my work and scribbled a few random words on a piece of paper.
“Alex?” said Vanessa softly.
“Mmm?” I replied, staring intently at the paper and feeling my face start to flush.
“Were you just looking at my tits?”
I looked up at her, some disingenuous protest already forming on my lips, but her wide eyes pinned me like something small and helpless. There was no lying to that face.
“Yes,” I said. “Yes I was. Sorry.”
She held my gaze a few moments more than was comfortable, her expression a mix of fascination and pity.
“Summer,” I blurted out, mouth oblivious to my brain's command that it remain firmly shut. “The heat and everything, you know... makes me a bit... um... frustrated.”
“Ah,” said Vanessa, nodding slowly. “Yes. That must be it.”
She shook her head and laughed quietly to herself, then returned to her work.
“Don't you find that makes it hard?” she asked, looking at me again.
“I'm sorry?”
“Hard,” she repeated, drawing the syllable out in her honey-like tones, making an already four-letter word seem more so. “To concentrate. You know, with the heat and everything. Is it hard?”
“Oh,” I said, swallowing. “Yes. Very hard.”
We both returned to our work, and I made a surreptitious crotch adjustment to even out the strain in my trousers. The strain eased a little as I managed to concentrate, and the stupefying pointlessness of the task in front of me resumed its work liquefying my higher brain functions.
“It was quite hot yesterday too, wasn't it?” said Vanessa after a while, eyes still on her work.
“Yeah,” I said vaguely, looking up. “I guess it was. Why?”
Her eyes flicked up to meet mine, and my heart skipped a beat.
“Because you seemed to be finding it... ah... hard to concentrate then as well.”
Recent memory rose eagerly to the forefront of my mind. The long meeting with Finance in the afternoon. Vanessa's indecently low white vest-top. The short skirt that rode practically up to her chin every time she sat down.
“Don't recall,” I said, face burning.
“That's a pity,” she said wistfully. “I must admit I was being quite deliberately exhibitionist. I was showing far more cleavage than is usually considered proper for the office.”
“Deliberately?” I asked, smiling.
“Oh, don't get excited, Alex,” she said, giving me a look. “It wasn't for your benefit.”
“No?”
“No. It was not. I was trying to give TB another heart-attack.”
We both burst out laughing.
TB was our manager, and to his face it meant The Boss. Behind his back he was never anything but That Bastard. It was a testament to the sheer contempt with which TB was viewed by the vast majority of his employees, clients, associates and at least a few family members that two otherwise decently-mannered people would laugh at a heart-attack joke about a middle-aged man, but before anyone gets too sanctimonious about taste let's remember he had the first one when his wife walked into the marital bedroom one night to find him blowing cocaine through a straw up her younger sister's arse.
“I should have flashed him my knickers instead,” said Vanessa, when she got her breath back. “That would've tipped him over. I was wearing my special red ones yesterday.”
I tried to pull back the quizzical expression before it had progressed very far across my face, but I wasn't quick enough.
“Oh yes, that's right,” she said, giving me a knowing look. “They were green, weren't they?”
I shrugged.
“Wouldn't know,” I lied.
“You're a pervert, Alex,” she said simply, but with a smile in her voice. “And not a very subtle one. You wouldn't catch me staring at someone's bum every time they bent over.”
It might have been my imagination, but I thought I heard a tiny, tiny emphasis on the word “catch”.
“Do you...” I began, but she interrupted.
“You know that printer in front of my desk in the other room?” she said. “On top of the drawers against the wall?”
“Oh yes,” I said bitterly, my train of thought easily derailed by mention of this persistent daily annoyance. “The bloody ethernet cable falls out nearly every day, and I have to lean right...”
“You have to lean right over to reach down the back and reconnect it, so you can print out the morning reports,” Vanessa finished for me, grinning. “Yes. I know.”
It took a few moments, but then realisation dawned.
“You mean... you've been... so that... you...” I ran out of words. It had been irritating me for months.
“I especially look forward to 'casual' Fridays,” she said, leaning forward across the table towards me and lowering her voice to a whisper. “You always wear those jeans.”
Those deep, smiling eyes held me spellbound once more, but at the bottom of my field of view I could see her breasts practically spilling out onto the desk.
“It is a bit hot in here, isn't it?” I said.
“Maybe you should open the window,” said Vanessa, flicking her gaze away towards it for a moment, breaking the spell.
“Good idea,” I said.
I made to stand, then suddenly had second thoughts and sat back down. I looked pleadingly at Vanessa, and tried to convey without the words I was a little too self-conscious to actually say that standing up at this point would tear a gaping hole in the front of my trousers.
“I'll do it,” she said, rolling her eyes. “If it's too hard for you.”
She stood up and walked the few paces to the window with, I thought, an exaggerated swing to her hips.
The window was high on the wall, behind a desk stacked with file boxes. As Vanessa leaned up over the desk to reach the catch her skirt rode up, sweeping up over her tanned thighs, stopping mere millimetres beneath the very obvious curve of her bottom.
Still she couldn't quite reach the catch. She swung one knee up onto the desk to get closer, and as her legs parted I felt the subtle creak in my trousers that said I was about to bust another zip.
Still not close enough. She swung her other knee up.
“Do you need a hand?” I asked, a little breathlessly.
“A hand?” she said. Finally her fingers found the catch and the window clicked open, letting in the welcome suggestion of a cool breeze.
Vanessa made no move to climb down, but stayed there on all fours with her pert backside pointed right at me. A bright triangle of sky-blue satin peeked out at me from between her thighs.
“No, I don't need a hand,” she said, looking back over her shoulder at me. “But I wouldn't mind having your tongue up my cunt.”
I stood up so quickly that my chair fell over, and with a loud ripping noise my trousers tore at the crotch. Dark blue cotton poked out from a ragged hole, pulled tight around something thick and hard.
Vanessa pulled her skirt up all the way as I approached, revealing smooth round cheeks with the string of a thong disappearing between them. I knelt down behind her, bringing my face level with her bum. She dropped her head towards the desk and arched her back, parting her legs in an unmistakable invitation.
I leaned forwards and tentatively kissed one soft cheek, then the other. The hot sheen of sweat on her skin melted onto my lips and tongue. With delicious abandon I sunk my face in between her buttocks, my nose pressing against her thong as my tongue sought out the musky wetness soaking through her knickers.
“Oh god yes!” she whispered, as I sucked and licked her.
She reached one hand behind her, and I drew back as she pulled the thong out of her ass crack and held it aside. Her tight pink asshole and glistening-wet vagina were revealed in all their intricate and intimate glory. I dove back in, aching for her taste.
My tongue sank easily into her, pussy-wetness spilling over my lips and face. Greedily I drank her in, swallowing the electrifying taste, wrapped in the music of her soft, whimpered moans.
“Oh yes... yes...” she whispered, pushing herself backwards onto my tongue, grinding her pussy against my face, body shuddering.
She pulled the thong out further, and it snapped. The gusset of her panties flapped down uselessly between her legs. I ran my tongue down after it, my smooth chin nuzzling into a tidy patch of curled hair, following the slick contours of her labia until I could close my lips around her clitoris. She gave a loud moan as I took her little nub gently into my mouth, and sucked.
“Oh god... oh god...” she panted. My tongue licked and lapped and stroked and circled. “I'm gonna cum... oh god oh god... I'm...”
Her pussy gushed with additional wetness as she came, her vagina seeming to kiss the tip of my nose as it pulsed. I carried on circling my clit until the last jerk of her body subsided. I drew back and sat on my heels, looking up at her, smiling, as she got her breath back.
“Ha!” she breathed. “I needed that.”
She slipped off her high-heels and let them clatter to the floor, then turned and sprang down off the desk as I stood up. She stared down at my boxer shorts bulging out of the hole in my trousers, desire in her eyes.
She knelt down in front of me, gripped my bum tightly with one hand and with the other tore open the fly of my underwear. Tiny buttons pinged off across the room, unheeded, and my cock leapt out gratefully into the musky air of the room.
“Bloody hell,” she said, after some moments. “Is that all yours, or do you time-share?”
I grinned.
On the scale of enormity my penis lies towards the smaller extent of the region labelled “porn star” - that is to say most appreciably longer and thicker than the average, but not frighteningly so.
I gasped as she took it eagerly into her mouth and moved wetly up and down. She reached a hand into my ruined underwear and gently squeezed my balls as she sucked me. I gave a long, wordless moan, and felt the first stirrings of an embarrassing early orgasm.
She fucked me slowly with her mouth, running long, teasing wet caresses up and down my dick. Taking me deep inside and sucking, and withdrawing until only the very tip was held between her tightly-pursed lips.
When I was only seconds from filling her mouth with spunk she stopped and drew back.
“Let's fuck on TB's desk,” she suggested, with a breathless grin.
I nodded, mute. Anything at all would have been perfectly fine by me right then.
TB was the only person who had his own office, unless you included his PA Hailey, who occupied the soulless “Waiting Room” in between his office and the rest of us. She was the gatekeeper to TB's ivory tower, and was also his niece.
I followed Vanessa into the Waiting Room, and she switched on the light. Her skirt was still ridden up to her waist, and I was hypnotised by the broken thong swinging like a pendulum below her beautiful naked arse.
“Locked!” she said, as she rattled the handle of TB's office door. “Damn.”
I looked around. The Waiting Room wasn't large, and there wasn't much in it besides a couple of armless chairs, a wilted plastic fern and an absurdly over-sized desk. The gleaming mahogany expanse held only a couple of fashion magazines, a pink laptop and a smartphone.
Suddenly Vanessa's arms were around me, her lips pressing against mine. Our tongues touched and our mouths mingled the flavours of cunt and cock. We grabbed madly at one another's clothes, buttons popping and seams tearing as with a wild hunger we each sought out the other's naked flesh.
The next few moments are something of a blur. I remember my fingers and lips sliding over sweat-slick curves. I remember a nipple hardening in my mouth. I remember her sitting naked on the edge of the stupidly big desk. Legs spreading. Dark curls and inviting pink lips. Fingernails scratching down my taut chest and abdomen. A finger teasing the tip of my cock. I remember my body pressing down on hers as she lay back on the desk, and I remember the tight, warm, velvet sensation as I slid myself into her.
I pushed myself up with my arms to get a deeper angle. Her huge breasts rippled beneath me as I relentlessly slammed my cock into her.
“Fuck me... Alex...” she moaned. “I love... your dick...”
“Your... pussy feels... amazing...”
Words became incoherent mumbles. Her body tightened and squeezed around me. I felt a tingle in my balls and an electric sensation jolted along my penis, growing hotter with each thrust.
“Ahh... I'm going... to...” I whispered.
The front door of the building slammed shut. We stopped dead.
Footsteps started to climb the stairs.
“That Bastard!” we said together.
I withdrew so quickly there was an audible “pop” when I slipped out of her. I scrambled around the room, gathering the clothes we had so carelessly discarded, and heard the familiar click-click-click of someone typing in the security code to the door of our office suite. Vanessa switched off the room's light and closed the door quietly. We both clambered under the huge desk, pulled the chair in after us, and waited in the darkness clutching our clothes, hearts pounding.
The unhurried clip-clip of footsteps crossed the stained-wood floor of the main office and paused, I guessed, roughly where we had been working. There was a sound which might have been a chair being righted.
The footsteps continued. They were, I realised with a sinking feeling, headed for the door of the Waiting Room. With luck he'd head straight into his office and not even switch on the light out here. With luck I hadn't overlooked any items of clothing.
The Waiting Room door opened, and the lights came on.
In the gloom beneath the desk Vanessa grabbed my hand. Her eyes were closed.
Clip, clip... the footsteps crossed the floor, muffled now by thin carpet.
They paused. Possibly, or possibly not, someone bent down to pick something up.
Clip, clip... the footsteps came nearer, very obviously headed for the desk and not the door to the inner office.
I closed my eyes. We were fucked.
Clip, clip... round the desk. The squeak of wheels as the chair was pulled out.
I waited for the nasal bellow which TB called his “discipline voice”.
There was another squeak of wheels, more laden-sounding, as the chair slid back under the desk with someone sitting in it.
I opened my eyes.
A pair of red stiletto heels were resting on the floor a few centimetres short of touching me. In them were some feet, which were attached to long, bare legs which rose to a pair of knees and then proceeded horizontally to disappear under a very short black skirt.
It was Hailey.
Vanessa still had her eyes closed. I squeezed her hand and she opened them. I recognised the shock in her face as my own. In a thousand years I would not have predicted this happening.
Hailey was in the office after five.
Sounds came down through the wooden desktop. A laptop being opened and booted up. The clumsy clunk of a password being entered. The soft thud of a track-pad being swiped and tapped.
Hailey typed and tapped away for a few minutes, while Vanessa and I tried to come up with an escape plan using only our eyebrows for communication. I hardly dared breathe for fear of Hailey looking under the desk and finding us.
New sounds drifted down. Tinny voices came from the laptop. She was listening to a podcast, or watching a video, or something. I couldn't make out the words. Sounds I could not immediately identify followed.
I realised what I was hearing just as Vanessa mouthed the word at me. Porn.
There was no mistaking the shrill, fake moans and the needlessly graphic slurping noises. Any lingering doubts were shattered when Hailey opened her legs wide under the desk – missing touching both of us by millimetres – and her right hand came down into view.
Beneath the skirt she wore a pair of skimpy red knickers, the gusset already split by a dark, wet line. She traced one finger up and down very slowly, and made a low, lascivious “mmmm...” sound.
I looked at Vanessa, but she was staring intently into Hailey's moistening crotch with her mouth slightly open. One hand drifted as though unconsciously down between her own thighs.
My cock began to stir. I reached down and took it in my hand, feeling it swell and stiffen almost immediately.
The front door of the building slammed again. Footsteps climbed the stairs.
“Shit!” said Hailey, pulling her hand away quickly and snapping her legs closed. Frantic typing and tapping suggested she was closing down the porn and opening something that might look like work.
The drama of the footsteps unfolded once again, only this time there was nothing we could do about it. By the time the Waiting Room door opened Hailey – or at least, as much of her as we could see – was sitting calmly upright and perfectly composed.
“Oh, hello uncle,” she said pleasantly.
“Hailey?” said a voice. It was TB. “What are you doing here so late?”
“Just finishing up a few things, you know,” said Hailey. “Always work to be done.”
“Well, yes, indeed,” said TB, sounding confused. “Er, great. But where's Vanessa? Where's Alex? They were supposed to be getting the report ready for the presentation tomorrow. Don't tell me they've gone home already?”
I closed my eyes. We were fucked.
“Oh no, they just popped out to get a bite to eat,” said Hailey. “You only just missed them. They'll be back. They've decided to pull an all-nighter to get it done. I said I'd help.”
Vanessa and I shared a wide-eyed look underneath the desk.
“Oh,” said TB, sounding almost disappointed. “That's all right then, I suppose. You look nice, by the way. You look, er, yes. Very nice.”
“So what are you doing here?” asked Hailey, a slight frosty edge to her voice.
“Oh, I left the bloody theatre tickets on my desk,” said TB grumpily. “Your aunt's in the car screaming about how we're going to miss the free champagne.”
“Oh but that's awful!” said Hailey with deviously disguised sarcasm.
“Yes, well,” muttered TB, “Trials of life and all that. Better late than never. Mustn't grumble too much, I suppose, though try telling her that.”
We heard him unlock his office door and go inside. A clattering and a series of muttered curses suggested the theatre tickets were not so conveniently placed as he had thought.
Hailey leaned back slightly in her chair, lifted her feet out of her shoes and stretched her legs out under the desk. Vanessa and I ducked as much as we could, and I just managed to miss getting a big toe in my eye. Hailey's bare feet hung in the air above us for a moment, then slowly dropped toward our heads.
“Found them!”
I heard TB come out of his office sounding triumphant, as Hailey pushed my head gently but firmly against the side of the desk with the sole of one sweaty foot.
“They were in the drawer!” said TB. “Of course. Right, must dash. All the best to your mother.”
He walked off, but paused at the door out into the main office.
“You know, Hailey,” he said. “I really am impressed. At your dedication, I mean. Well done.”
“Thank you, uncle,” said Hailey sweetly, pressing her foot harder against my face and curling her toes into my forehead. Squinting out of the corner of my eye I could see Vanessa being held in a similar grip.
“And tell Vanessa and Alex the same, for that matter,” TB went on. “An all-nighter, eh? Sets a great example. So long as they're in on time in the morning, of course. I hope the three of you have a very productive time this evening.”
“Oh I'm sure we will,” said Hailey, cackling under her breath as TB left the office. The front door slammed shut moments later. Hailey took her feet away and carefully slipped them back into her shoes.
Vanessa and I looked at one another, cowering naked in the shadows beneath the desk, and she mouthed the very words I was thinking.
What. The. Fuck?
To Be Continued...
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