Malan Mothers on RehomeChapter 2
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Work Home Balance free porn video
Work/Home Life Balance by RedHead
I closed the front door quietly, careful not to wake my husband. It was stilla little dark and damp, normal for this early in the morning. Quickly I mademy way past the street lamps, knowing that if I missed this bus I would havea fifteen minute wait, and late arrival at work was always an uncomfortableexperience. My husband worked only a block away from me in the city but ashe didn't start till quite a bit later it was not practical for him to giveme a lift to work. Besides, these days it is not exactly PC to be seen droppingyour wife off at work. People would think it very odd for a man to indulgehis wife like that. As I walked my aching thighs and calves reminded me ofthe previous evening. It had been one of our rare evenings of quality timetogether. Normally my husband worked late or went out with his friends to aclub, but last night had been the big match and he had promised me he wouldstay home to watch it. I had made the evening special for him, running hima hot relaxing bath while I arranged the lounge settee for the best view, plumpedup cushions, put beers and nibbles within easy reach, then dressed for him – justseamed hold-up stockings, black heels, baby-doll pink lipstick on my lips,nipples and pussy lips, and my hair in two pony tails either side of the head.(My husband usually likes my auburn hair teased up and frothy but I learntearly on in marriage that anything that blocked his view of the TV was a seriousno-no. Anyway pony tails were more practical for control reasons too).
When he had come downstairs in his dressing gown, he had been greeted bydimmed lights, a cold lager and a pampering wife. I made sure that he was comfortablyslouched on the settee before squatting down onto my haunches, my knees wideapart and my fingers opening his gown. As he watched the match I spent my timegently licking, sucking and fondling his rather magnificent manhood, carefulto make sure he came nowhere close to the edge. It did not take long for mythighs to get very sore, squatting on my heels in such a position but practicehas helped make it bearable. I got a break after 45 minutes when half-timearrived and I organised him a quick meal. The second half, and I carried onas before. It was not often we got to spend time together and I was lookingforward to the end of the match and a really good screwing despite my steadilyaching back, thighs and calves. Unfortunately his team tied so it went intoextra time which was more exciting for him but served to extend the time Ispent painfully posed. Even my tongue and lips were starting to ache. The finalresult with his team losing 4 – 2 meant my dreamed for love-making consistedof a quick, angry, uncomfortable grudge fuck up my bottom as I lay over thesettee arm. He was so upset he didn't even wait for me to lick him clean afterwards.Just a grunted 'goodnight' and off he went.
Hearing the bus engine brought my mind back to reality and I almost joggedto the stop, my heels slipping on the wet pavement. Made it with moments tospare. Living so far out in suburbia means I always get a seat.. The drivetakes almost an hour and the passengers are all women like me, travelling intotheir jobs as secretaries, clerks, cleaners, and tellers. Everyone is wellmade up and while some of the clothes are cheaper than others they are alldesigned to make the wearer look more attractive. While cold it is not rainingso as is the norm coats are not worn. The bus turns into Burgundy Road andwe start picking up the young lads that go to Alton Grammar. AutomaticallyI stand to give a fourteen year old lad a seat, smiling at him hoping to gaina brief moment of camaraderie as fellow travelling commuters but he is toobusy talking to his mate. The assumption he would get a seat is automatic andcertainly by the time we get to the School nearly all the seats are taken bythe boys in their uniforms, surrounded by standing women, all swaying to thebuses movement. Plenty of opportunity for 'accidental' gropes and touches ofbuttocks and breasts as the lads stand to exit. It's the norm these days.
I sit again but it is hardly worth it as two stops later I get out and walkacross the plaza to our office building. 7.45 am. On time. Quickly into thesmall pastry shop, pick up some croissants, then on to work. Past the ladyjanitors laying out some thin exercise mats in the foyer then straight up tomy bosses office. He won't be in for at least another ninety minutes but thereis a lot to do; checking the diary, getting out the files he will need forthe day, accepting the early mail from the postgirl. As time gets closer Iput on the coffee maker. As it goes to work bubbling away I quickly pop intothe ladies to touch up my make-up and check my appearance. I know that themain reason I got promoted to PA was the fact that I am a natural redhead andmore importantly the self-evident fact that not only are my breasts large andvery firm, they are also all natural. A rarity in this day and age where breastenhancements are almost mandatory for the up and coming office worker. Straightenthe stockings and the blouse. No need to check my thong. I'm not wearing underwear.It's Wednesday – Communications Day – a new innovation designedto bring the managers out of their offices and actually meet face to face ratherthan by e-mail.
I get back to my desk and quickly make up a small breakfast tray of croissants,butter and just wait to pour the coffee. Twelve minutes later the front hallreceptionist rings me.
"He is just coming across the Plaza now", she warns. Quickly I pour the coffeeinto a pot and carefully carrying the tray I head for the stairs. Lifts arefor the Execs of course. The stairs are healthier and keep us toned – mindyou for the PA's who work for the CEO it must be hard. Top floor of a 24 floorblock – how toned must they be?
I arrived at the bottom of the stairs just in time to see my boss seatinghimself in an easy chair, joining some colleagues around a coffee table. Energeticmusic and rhythmic thumping is evident as a cohort of about twenty women fromthe secretarial pool are put through a heavy aerobics session. They would havestarted about 30 minutes before the first man arrived so about now they areall very hot, sweating and going for the burn. Their sweat-soaked leotardshave ridden up into places that must be quite uncomfortable and the crop topsare providing no support whatsoever for the breasts flying about under them.I head for the coffee table and my boss. As I bend to place the breakfast trayon the table he runs his hand up my thigh then pats my bottom. I give a smileand step back, but as he doesn't ask for anything more I head back for thestairs, past the tired but still active women. A brainwave from the HR department,a way to get the secretarial pool on show and hopefully provided opportunitiesfor promotion if a particularly talented secretary is noticed by a boss. Alsoan opportunity for the managers to meet and discus business in an informal,relaxing and entertaining setting. I arrive back up at the office, gratefulthat my boss is only mid-level management and thus is only on the 8 th floor.I walk past my desk to his office and slide the door notice to 'Engaged'. Ienter his office but leave the door open – it is for him to close whenhe comes up. I undo my blouse and unclip my front fastening bra, then bendover his meeting table, flipping up my skirt up to expose my rear. Wednesday,no knickers day, for me at least. The day when he is usually very rampant fromthe display downstairs. A morning BJ is not sufficient. I wait about twentyminutes then I hear him entering the outer office. Moments later his officedoor closes, he stands behind me and without finesse rams a bonehard erectionstraight into me. I get the fucking I wanted last night and I use my internalmuscles to make sure he gets a good ride. I force myself up slightly off thedesk to allow him access to my nipples and heavy breasts – it's the reasonhe chose me from amongst the whole of the secretarial pool and I have no wishto return, so I make sure he gets every opportunity to enjoy them, howeverrough and painful his mauling is.
A grunt, a heavy spurt, then I am turned, cleaning, licking and putting himaway. He nods his head.
"I left my briefcase downstairs, can you pick it up when you get the tray".I smile and nod. Another long trek down and up but a least it gives me a chanceto pop into the ladies on the way and clean up. I walk in to squeals and acresof female flesh. The aerobic girls showering after their exertions. The openplan showers made it a very communal experience and the cold-water-only plumbingat least prevented the place steaming up, which was presumably the reason forit in the first place.
Another long slog down, and back again loaded with tray and heavy bag leavesme almost as sweaty as the aerobic girls. Sitting at my desk I tackle the moundof paperwork, condensing weighty documents into brief summaries for my boss.He has enough to do without reading through a lot of drivel. Through the partlyopened door I can see him practicing his putting before a yell gets me scurryingthrough to his office pencil and notebook in hand
"Just had a thought. Can you pop down to Daniels office and invite him tothe Company ProAm golf match this week-end. I knows it is not in his normalwork training hours but the company sponsors him and it would be good experience.Tell him not to worry about clubs or caddies, I will arrange that"
I nodded, busy scribbling, then rush back to turn my notes into a memo detailingtime, place, location etc. I grab it of the printer and trotted down two floorsto Daniel, Sorry ! Mr Daniels office.
Daniel is a 16 year old School pupil on work placement with us for a month.My boss has been allocated as his mentor and takes his role seriously. Duringthe first day he took Daniel personally to the secretarial pool to select aPersonal Assistant for his period with us. Not surprisingly the choice wasthe Corina a long legged, big titted Nordic blonde who despite her obviousattractions remains a secretary because of her pretty abysmal admin skills.Her pleasure at being chosen for a PA role was pretty short-lived when sherealised that it would only last for a month and that she would be helpingto train a young schoolboy. We all knew how a young man reacted to the firstreal opportunity to manage a member of staff. Add to that the fact that theirwork load was extremely low and they had a lot of spare time in which to experimentwith their man-management skills, in the privacy of an office. One exampleis the fact that Daniel was clearly briefed that he could not exceed 6 strokesof a cane in any 24 hour period. Caning is actually a very rare form of punishmentthese days where staff strive hard to excel. Daniel however took the rulingto mean he should cane each day, so Corina bends to grab her ankles every morningto get three wristy cuts, knowing that at the end of the day her 'Goodnight'would consist of the matching three strokes just before she left. Obviouslymanagement knew how work release student were apt to act and had allocateda very lightweight rod but as I knew from experience, even though the markswould fade after an hour or so it still stung like a hive of wasps.
I entered his ante-office, not surprised to see it empty. I moved forwardand knocked on Daniels office door and waited.
"Enter".
Yep! There she was. Bent over, hands grabbing ankles, skirt flipped backand the spread apart legs stretching a thin band of material around her knees,presumably an ultra-mini thong. Daniel had obviously be doing a bra inspectionbeforehand as one lay on his desk and Corina's open blouse was allowing heroverly large chest to hang clear. She stayed in position.
"What you want!"
I smiled. Respect at all times. I handed over the memo.
"An invitation to golf, Sir" I said cheerily. He took the note, scanned itand smiled.
"Yeah, great". He looked at me. "Panty Inspection"
"Normally that is something a PA provides for her own boss, Sir," I replied,somewhat stiffly.
"Questioning me. Shall I call him?"
"No Sir, I'm happy to display, I was just pointing out the business etiquette",I replied swiftly. I didn't want him disturbing my boss over something so trivial.
Quickly I lifted my skirt displaying a smooth hairless slit.
"No knickers. Lost them or what. How often do you shave?"
I remained displaying. Wednesdays is a no-knicker day for me Sir", I replied.You would have thought that with my experience I would not be upset by thisbut standing in front of such a young man somehow seemed particularly shaming. "Myboss and husband like me to be smooth. I go for a Brazilian Wax every 6 weeks.There is a parlour nearby that the company uses and we have an account thereas a number of staff go for depilations, piercings and even tattoos"
He smirked. "Pity I can't get to see it".
I continued standing there, skirt held high. "You can Sir, There is a viewingarea. A lot of men in the area take their lunch breaks down there on occasion".I knew from experience. Legs held wide open for a waxing with a dozen or morefaces staring at everything I had to offer
"OK, drop your skirt." I did so feeling relieved but then was hit with,
"Come back this evening.. I want you and bum-cheeks here to put on a HeaterSession for me".
I said quite firmly, "That Sir is certainly something that I am not allowedto do without direct orders from my Boss, and I think you will find he willnot agree to that. He can be quite possessive of his staff".
I nodded, noticing the malicious glint in his eye, but he is young and willhave to get used to disappointment – well being a man perhaps not actually,but certainly to not always winning. I know for a fact that my boss has turneddown at least one request for my services from an other same level exec, thoughwhat he might do if a senior exec. asked would be in no doubt.
I walked back to my office and continued to plough through the turgid paperstrying to make sense of them. About 45 minute later a Postgirl delivered aninternal memo. I recognised her. She was about 50 years old and rumour hadit that many years ago before the New Order, she had been a Senior Exec inthe company. Over the years she had worked her way down the business ladder,acting as PA, then receptionist, then secretary. Now she delivered post ina bright red Micra skirt, which displayed her still well toned legs (well thinkof all the stairs!) and a matching halter neck top. As she placed the envelopedown she stepped back, and as required curtsied, affording me a glimpse ofher completely bare crotch and a recent tattoo over her mons that said "PostMale Here"
I smirked. Someone had a good sense of humour. My own good humour only lasteda few seconds as I read what was in fact two memos, both from Daniel. The firstasked permission to have Corina pierced at the local Parlour. Specificallyhe was looking for nipple rings. The second asked for me formally in orderto do a Heater session.
Extremely annoyed I nonetheless acted professionally and did my job, typingtwo reply memos for each request. One agreeing and one declining. Then takingall the paper work through to my boss I left them with him. He could make adecision and sign the appropriate reply.
Five minutes later he called me back to pick them up.
"Retype", he grunted. At my desk I looked. He had agreed to me doing a heatersession but had changed it from today as requested to tomorow. I sat shocked,but then retyped the memo for his signature. The second response had been evenmore altered. He agreed to the ringing but had stated that it could not bea small silver ring through each nipple as they would look out of place onsuch an expansive chest. Instead he had specified larger heavyweight brassrings should be placed through the rear of the Aureole. His written commentwas that this would provide greater flexibility of use. I looked like on ThursdayI was going to be one of the first to see her with them !
Memos signed, Postgirl called and my Thursday evening allocated I went tomake some fresh coffee. Taking it through my boss looked up at me.
"Pop down to the secretarial Pool and pick up their "Welfare Policies" handbook."
I looked, knowing what this boded but quickly obeyed. More stairs and theninto a large open plan office where about 40 women stiffly sat busily transcribingnotes . As was the norm only tapping could be heard , it wasn't yet break andchat time for them. I walked over to Mrs Jameson, a severe looking lady seatedat a desk, overseeing the work. Overseeing her was a CCTV camera, so she ensuredher back too was straight and her chest well out.
"Morning, may I have the Welfare Polices book please" I asked in a brittlevoice. She new immediately what this meant for me and gave a grin. "Heavy overtimethis week-end then" she smirked, handing me the heavy folder. Though more seniorthan PA's she was always jealous of our perceived freedom in comparison toher strictly tethered existence, so the thought that I would be doing morethan just giving up a week-end gave her a spiteful thrill.
"I've yet to be briefed," I replied coldly, before turning to climb backto my office,.
Welfare Polices. The Company had the best interests of not only its staff,but it's staffs family members at heart. This folder contained photos and apotted history of all the girls in the Secretarial Pool. When a married PAwas asked to travel away on business it was policy to ensure that her husband'swelfare was taken care off. A member of the pool would be allocated to replacethe wife for the duration of her absence.
My job with the book was to look through it, mark up about four or five womenwho I thought might appeal to him or would in some way compensate for my absence.I would then take the book home and he would choose one, or perhaps someoneelse from the file. I was just trying to take some of the load off his shoulders,as a good wife should. A couple of very young looking teenagers were easilymarked up, their tight healthy bodies would compliment their inexperience andgive him an enjoyable time if he was in the mood to spend a bit of time training.Liora, a well bodied Hispanic divorcee who I knew screwed like a rattle-snakeand could be counted on to provide full satisfaction, whatever the request.I also noticed an 'exotic' - a mother daughter combination. The daughter wasin the pool but a note on the file pointed towards an attachment that includeddetails of her mother, a night office cleaner. Both looked very presentableand might amuse my husband.
It was only as I put the book in my bag that it suddenly hit me. Yes I hadgone on business trips with my boss before. Cramped up in coach class withother female travellers, carrying the suitcases and dealing with all the arrangements.The working on business deals, and often providing a little relaxation to theclients to help smooth the path. Plus of course ensuring my boss was sufficientlywell looked after to do his job effectively. But that wouldn't be happeningthis week-end. It was the golf. What did he need me for ! He had his regulargolf bag carrier – somewhere to put his wood, as he termed. My hole-in-onewas his joke. So why? It struck me. Daniel! He would need a caddy ! I almostburst into tears before pulling myself together. I had to try and be positive.I would have no option if I wanted to keep my job. I would just have to ensurethat my Heater session on Thursday was one that put me in a good light. I startedplanning in my mind how to manage the session - and Corina. And those heavynipple rings were going to be playing a major part.
**********
By half-four my boss had almost completed his days work and was arrangingwith some work colleagues to do a little investigating of a new pole dancingclub nearby. It's gimmick was that they had a sponsorship deal with the CityPolice Department. Off-duty police women were allocated sessions there on arota basis and got to wear very abbreviated uniforms. On the other hand I,like all the other female staff needed to work until at least 6pm and I spentthe time ploughing through the heavy work-load. My husband had instructed meto get home promptly tonight as he was having an evening in with some matesplaying poker. He would have left for home ages ago and public transport woulddelay my return. He had kindly arranged a taxi for me and I got a call fromreception to say it had arrived.
Closing down the office I grabbed my bag and ran for the stairs, leapinginto the cab. The driver, a swarthy, middle-aged man of Mediterranean appearance,looked at the small TV screen on his dashboard. For security all cabs had asmall camera in the back and at a push of a button the goings-on could be recorded.Many a cabbie had received a good tip in exchange for a tape of some energeticcoupling or blow job that had taken place during the ride – somethingthat a man could take home and enjoy watching. My husband had a small collectionhimself, though I only figured in one of them.
In his screen I knew he would be seeing a very attractive woman, but I alsoknew that in a while he would be seeing much more of me. In my bag I had theclothes I was to wear for the evening and in order to save time I would bechanging in the cab. As we drove through town I was also aware of people lookingthrough the windows as I removed my clothes, folded them and packed them carefullyin my bag. I could hear the whirr of the video recorder and guessed I wouldbe a re-run later this evening. Out of my bag I pulled a white lace cincher – frontfastening. This shrunk my waist by at least two inches and was a pig to puton. I must have contorted myself into some pretty revealing positions as Istruggled to tighten the hooks. Matching white net stockings, held up by thinribbons and clips. On my head went a lacy maids cap and on my wrists matchingwhite and black lace wristlets. White heels and that was it. I spent a longtime ensuring my make up and hair was immaculate, and highlighted my nipplesand pussy with a smear of glittery Vaseline. A burst of perfume and I was ready.I sat back for the last few minutes of the drive catching glimpses of the driversleering face in his rear view mirror.
We arrived, and I got out but before I could rush to the door the driverin insisted I sign a travel docket for billing my husband later. Standing onthe street almost naked was not something new to me but I never failed to feeluncomfortable. I thanked the driver and rushed up the drive. Quietly I enteredthe house I droped my bag by the door then with my breast, pussy and best smileon display I entered the lounge. The four men were all sitting in easy chairsin a loose square playing cards. I was not surprised to see a woman kneelingon all fours, her back acting as the card table. All I could see was her quitelarge, very firm rear but I would recognise those pouty nether lips and thatwinking bottom hole anywhere. It was Hilary, the ex-wife of my husbands bestfriend. Like all divorcees these days she had got custody of the kids and avery small alimony payment that allowed her to bring them up. In exchange shehad had to sign a contract agreeing to get a job to top up the alimony payments,to abstain from re-marrying until the children were either 21 or had left homeand to undertake 24 hours a week unpaid domestic service for her ex-husband,the work and times to be decided by him. This clearly was part of this weekswork commitment. I knew that she had had a hard time getting back into thelabour market. Times were tough out there and the competition fierce. She hadmanaged to pick up a job with the sanitation department of the Council whichmeant that her job was a varied one of park cleaning, refuse collection, streetcleaning and public convenience attendant. Pay was not particularly good butthe job was steady.
I smiled at the men, gave a little bob curtsy and at the nod of my husbandshead I went to the kitchen to get more beers and start heating the nibbles.
The evening was an enjoyable one, for the men. Hilary's back must have beenaching and my inner thighs and bum cheeks received a lot of painful rough attentionbut by the end of the evening my husband was ahead by 12 Euros. I smiled proudlyand got ready for the evening finale. The lads expected a good screwing butbeforehand they wanted some entertaining. Usually if I was alone this wouldconsist of either an erotic dance with a lot of self-fingering or laying overtheir laps for a hand spanking. Tonight, with Hilary here we put on a fairlyenthusiastic Heater session. We had done it before for our husbands and I quiteenjoyed the opportunity to re-acquaint myself with her hard body. Before weachieved any pleasure for ourselves however we were posed. Hilary lay backon a coffee table her head hanging backwards over the edge. My husband slidin. His favourite is to feel a spasming through on his cock-head. He grabbedher ankles and pulling them up under his armpits he provided a clear accessfor his mate to enjoy either of the presented two holes. Trevor took full advantage – threestokes in one, then out and three stokes in the other. Repeat.
I was asked to sit on Jacks willie facing away from him. Although he is prettylarge and fat his cock is the opposite and it is quite hard to get a good grip.He told me not to move an to use my cunt muscles to make him come. Not easyon such a small wiener but I did my best. I was also told to lean forward andwank off James between my tits. Trying to keep my bottom half still, concentratingon squeezing my internal muscles while moving my upper half and concentratingon squeezing my breast flesh around a hard penis was not easy, but Jack founda way to help me concentrate. He reached over to the tray of nibbles and pickingup a pickled chilli pepper he slid it up my anus. I had no trouble relaxingand squeezing after that.
*********
At the end of the long evening, after prolonged goodbyes and plenty of slapson the buttocks the men left, Hilary left with her ex, not looking totallyhappy about it.
My husband went upstairs to bed and I spent the next hour clearing up beforeslipping into bed beside him. I noted that had taken the Welfare Policies bookI had left on his Pillow. Not surprisingly the Mother/Daughter pairing hadbeen marked. I'd arrange tomorrow
I slid next to him wearing an almost non-existent chemise. It is rare thatmy husband wakes up before me but when he does he likes his early morning gobblenicely packaged. I lay back, thinking about the day, concerned about the weekendbut happy to be home, with my man.
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Angelica
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