Slut Born To Tease Reworked
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Slut Going To Holiday Work free porn video
High school was over and college was two months down
the road. I needed a job. What I really needed was
money. Anyhow, I took the first clerical job that came
along, a menial, $250 a week, minimum wage job at a big
brokerage house in the city. I rode the subway to work
and did what I was asked almost without thought, until
one day a couple of guys from accounting asked me out
to lunch.
I was reasonably well dressed for a change, new blouse
and a tight skirt, and they were pretty cute so I went,
and we chatted and flirted and ate small steaks and
drank red wine and took an hour. They told some dirty
jokes and did some thigh patting, but nothing serious.
And they paid for my lunch.
So the next Friday, I wore my new summer dress, the one
with no back that bares my boobs if I don’t stand up
straight, and they asked me out again. I guess I ought
to say something about my boobs because they are
reasonably spectacular if you are interested in that
sort of thing.
I mean some girls get augmentation, but I considered
breast reduction when I was in 9th grade. I grew into
them, I guess, and now they are just fine, jutting,
firm, upturned 36C’s that feel good and look better.
They are about the size and shape of regulation
softballs, a real handful, and my nipples are big and
bulgy, super sensitive, like the size of the ends of my
thumbs. All the kidding is past; now I get admiration
and jealousy, a great rack as they say. It’s a shame to
stick them in a bra but I usually do, but not this day
and not in this dress.
Anyhow, instead of going to the steak house, we went to
a nearby hotel dining room and had crab imperial and
then went up to a room I assumed they had rented and
spent the next hour of so getting to know each other a
lot better in a number of exciting ways, all three of
us naked and smoking good weed between couplings. They
were both randy young men with reasonable and durable
endowments who fucked much too fast but really enjoyed
getting their limp cocks sucked.
I faked a couple of orgasms for them and after I got
them both hard again, they double-teamed me in two or
three different positions on the big, double bed, a
first for me, ass and cunt at the same time; I had done
pussy and mouth a time or two in high school. Then we
took a quick shower together and went back to work – a
two-hour lunch this time. I was glad I had kept my hair
cut short.
An hour or so later I was sitting in my little cubicle
doing some tedious data entry, my wonderfully abused
pussy still pulsing, when my supervisor came in and
said the boss wanted to see me. I had never met him and
I was scared for some reason, mostly the two-hour lunch
and coming back to work looking, I was sure, freshly
fucked with bite marks here and there. As I said, I
really needed the money for textbooks and stuff. I had
a state scholarship that guaranteed four years tuition.
So I went down this long corridor, feeling like I had
been summoned to the principal’s office, crossed this
thick carpet and told his pretty blonde secretary who I
was and she announced me and nodded toward a door. The
boss was on the phone and waved me to a chair. His
carpet was even deeper. I sat and waited, knees
together, back straight, thinking about what we had
done at lunchtime until my pudenda squirmed and my clit
trembled. For some reason I thought of my first time
down at the beach with cousin Bill when I was thirteen.
I could still see his still little prick. It made my
mouth water.
I had been reasonably sexually active for the last
couple of years, mainly what are called hook-ups, just
one-night-stands or one-day-gropings, nothing serious
or even semi-permanent; just fuck ’em and forget ’em.
I’d started sucking cocks when I was twelve and let two
boys fuck me at a private swimming pool when I was
fourteen, an event that became well known quickly and
changed my reputation greatly, went on the pill at
fifteen and was not seeing anyone regularly that
summer. In fact, until that day, I had not enjoyed sex
with a man for more than a month, and when I thought
about it, I was pretty sore in both holes. But, I had
to admit, ready for more.
The boss put down his phone and smiled at me. “I need a
P.A., a new personal assistant,” he said, “and I’ve
been told you can do the job, at least some of it.”
He’s a middle-aged man with slicked back hair and a
good-sized paunch.
I blinked at him.
“My girl is leaving to get married, finishes up today,
and I know you are here for just the summer, but, well,
you are a nice looking young woman, you dress well and
you could fill in until we find a full-time employee.”
He smiled, a pleasant smile, not at all wolfish.
I nodded and wondered how he knew what I could do.
“It pays twice what you are making, perhaps a bit more,
and there is a nice clothing allowance, five hundred a
month, but you will have to do some overtime, working
in the evenings and weekends, going on business trips;
that sort of thing.”
“Six hundred a week?” I said, my voice breaking.
“Seven-fifty actually, and if you do well, I’ll promise
you a bonus at the end of August, say an extra
thousand.” He licked his lips and said, “Stand up,
please.”
I stood and took a deep breath, tossing back my hair
and doing some calculating. The dress I was wearing was
new, short and bare backed, and it showed a lot of deep
cleavage.
He smiled and said, “Disrobe.”
I blinked at him.
“Take off your clothes, honey. You may put them on the
chair.”
“You want me to?” I began.
“Yes. Let’s not dawdle. Time really is money you know.
You did well on the first part of the job interview
when you went to lunch with those two studs from
accounting. Their reports were very positive. Very.” He
smiled and licked his lips. “Now undress and let me see
you. How old are you, eighteen?”
“Seventeen,” I said as I undid my belt, opened my
short, silky dress and tossed it on the chair, wiggled
my half slip and tiny panties down, stepped free and
placed them on top of my dress and stood there in front
of the man wearing just my dark, thigh-high stockings
and my white heels, my big nipples fully erect, jutting
out like crazy, all excited about something. I could
feel my inner lips quivering.
“Turn around,” he said.
I did slowly, one foot in front of the other, my pussy
trembling, wet and warm, my jugs jiggling nicely. I’m
sure I was blushing and felt the hair on my arms
rising. It is not fun to be on display.
“Very nice,” he said. “You have wonderful legs.”
I am almost six feet tall and have a 39-inch inseam. I
measure 37 at the hips, 25 at the waist and 39 across
my tits when I take a deep breath. I weigh about 130
most days and usually say 125 if anybody asks. My pubic
thatch is shaved down to a very small tuft, and my
naturally curly hair is auburn and quite long right
now, untamed and unruly, a mop of wild curls. Compared
to me, Bernadette Peter’s hair is tame.
“Thank you,” I said, tensing a thigh muscle and hoping
my pussy would not weep. It was still puffy from the
lunchtime romp and I knew he could see the hickies on
my boobs.
“The boys told me about your performance, your skills,
over at the hotel, but I would like a small sample, and
then I want you to go buy some clothes; there is a
reception tonight for some important clients.”
I blinked at him as he swiveled his chair, pulled down
his zipper and flopped out his enormous penis. It
looked like a slab of veal, a couple of pounds maybe,
like a rack of ribs. He smiled at me and licked his
lips, and I was down on my knees with his fat glans in
my mouth faster than I can type this.
I held his dangling balls in one hand and his wide
shaft with the other and gave him a first-class sample
of my cocksucking abilities, honed over four years on
adolescent males’ puny members, all done for free when
this one meant money, serious money.
His, like the two I did at lunch, was man-sized meat,
and I treated it with the respect it deserved even if I
almost choked on it a couple of times. After I had
swallowed his salty cum, a single but generous spurt,
and licked him clean, I got to my feet, and he petted
my ass and then leaned forward to kiss my bulging
pussy, his fingers exploring my anus while I tried not
to wiggle.
“Get dressed,” he said, pushing a white envelope across
the table, “and go buy yourself a little black dress
and some sexy underclothes, black I think; yes, black.
Get a belt so you will not have to wear panty hose.
Please do not ever wear panty hose when you work for
me.” He smiled and licked his lips. “Yes, your legs are
terrific, really great.”
By then I was dressed, tied my belt, made sure my boobs
were tucked away and smiled back at him. “Shall I show
you my purchases?”
“Yes, of course. Let’s say five, and we will go to
dinner and meet these men from Japan, three of them.
I’m sure you can handle three Japs, right?”
“No sweat,” I said with a grin, feeling very confident,
my groin in turmoil and the taste of his spew in my
mouth.
The envelope held ten fifties, and I went out and spent
half of it on a short, silky Donna Karen that could be
worn strapless or with spaghetti straps, it hit about
mid-thigh and clung when I moved. Then I went to
Vickie’s and got some high-cut black panties and a
black, lacy, panty-garter belt, a thing I’d never
owned, two black push-up bras to match, a really sexy
underwired half bra and a dozen pairs of long, sheer
stockings.
With what I had left I bought an eyelet mini-dress, a
backless sweater dress and a red, polka-dot corset
dress, a real show-stopper that it would take nerve to
wear with my body, the top barely covered my areoles
and pushed them out like a pair of melons. All three
dresses cost less than a hundred and fifty bucks
altogether since they were having a sale.
I got back to work with my purchases, put on my new
underclothes and stockings and found I had forgotten to
get some heels to match. It was still only four o’clock
so I hurried out and bought some four-inch black,
ankle-strap, fuck-me shoes. I tried on some five-inch
heels, but they were too extreme for me. By five on the
dot, I was in his office, teetering on my new stilettos
and well aware that my strapless dress bared a lot of
chest. I had been tempted to get one with a zipper in
the front.
“Lift your skirt,” he said and then smiled. “Yes, very
nice indeed. I’m looking forward to your internship,
and if you do well, I can promise the same kind of deal
every summer when my new P.A. goes on vacation, whoever
she may be.”
We took the elevator down with his big hand on my
bottom, walked to the hotel bumping shoulders, rubbing
arm on boob and found the three Japanese businessmen
already at their table and, from the look of them,
already drunk. We sat and I was introduced. The oldest
of the three staggered to his feet, pulled back my
chair, took my elbow and we headed for the glass
elevator and went up to the top floor and a big suite
where he seemed to quickly sober up and proceeded to
rip my new dress right off my body and the tear off my
underclothes and toss them aside before jumping on me
and trying to get his puny cock into my tight slit. I
calmed him down and helped him, and he satisfied
himself quickly, rolled over and started snoring after
spurting on my belly.
My panty-garter belt was ruined so I found some band
aids in the bathroom and glued my stockings to my
thighs, folded my new strapless bra into my handbag
since two of the snaps were gone, got back into my
ripped dress, deployed the skinny straps and went back
down to the table where I ate some lobster and then
escorted another smiling salaryman, who reeked of
scotch, up to the suite and into another bedroom.
We could hear the first man snoring as we helped each
other disrobe and then the pot-bellied man sat on the
side of the bed, dug his hands into my hair and
demanded a blowjob which I delivered at once, with both
hands in the small of my back, just as he directed, my
bare boobs on his hairy thighs, his partner’s sperm now
oozing out of me.
When he came, he flopped back on the bed. For a minute
I thought he was dead, but then he started snoring, his
limp cock now leaking on the carpet. I dressed quickly,
checked my taped garters and went back to the dining
room where the third man was now so drunk he could not
stand. The boss and I helped him up to his room and put
him to bed. Then we went down to the room the guys from
accounting had used.
The boss helped me out of my ruined new dress and
sucked first one tit and then the other until both were
hard and distended. I helped him out of his clothes and
into bed, peeled off my stockings and joined him. “You
like being on top?” he asked as he patted my butt and I
licked his curved prong.
“You’re the boss,” I said with a laugh.
He lay back and held up his fat prick, and I mounted
him and rogered him long and hard, both of us moaning
and grunting and enjoying ourselves while he tried to
unscrew my jutting nipples. At one point I was riding
cowgirl and whipping as his thighs with my stockings.
He loved that. By the time he came, I was dripping
sweat down on him. He didn’t bring me off, few men do,
but he came twice in me, and I purred with contentment
at his side until he said he had to get home.
He said I could stay there if I wanted, kissed my
belly, gave me a couple of hundred for another dress
since a seam had pulled and the zipper broken on my new
black gown. I accepted the room card, saw him to the
door and kissed his cheek. He patted my bare bottom and
said I had done a good job. He just loved handling my
ass for some reason. I have to admit it is firm and
round.
The next morning wearing my new shoes and my ruined
dress, I went back to work, got the security guy to let
me in, changed to my Friday work clothes and then
headed for the Donna Karen boutique where I showed them
the damage, said I had worn the dress once and asked
for a replacement or repairs. Repairs were promised and
I headed back to Victoria’s Secret and found another
little black dress for a lot less and bought two new,
strapless push-up bras that produced some serious
cleavage plus another black garter belt-panty.
When I got home, there was a message from one of the
accountants asking if I wanted to go to the beach with
him. I hit his number and he answered right away, said
he was halfway out the door and would pick me up in ten
minutes after I told him where I lived.
I quickly packed a soft bag, stuffed in two bikinis and
my high-cut one-piece, red of course, plus one of the
sexy dresses from Vickie’s, the eyelet one that barely
covered my ass, pulled on some new panties, white
shorts and a peasant blouse that barely clung at my
shoulders, and went down to wait, jugs jiggling. He was
driving a Pontiac roadster with the top back and after
I belted myself in, he leaned over and kissed my mouth,
stroked my breast and asked, “How did it go last
night?”
“They drank themselves silly, the jerks,” I said.
“Piece of cake.”
It was hard to talk in the open car, but the traffic
was light, the cops were not about and we got to the
beach it a little over two hours, with that little
Solstice cruising at 80 most of the way. We hurried up
to the rented condo and found the other accountant very
busy on one of the big beds with a young blonde. She
was riding him, her golden ponytail bouncing up and
down, and he was mauling her little tits while she
bounced on his belly. He waved to us, and we changed
our clothes and hurried out to the beach, got a big
umbrella, spread a couple of towels and sat and looked
at the crashing waves.
“Can you swim in that thing?” he asked, pulling out the
back of my tiny top which stretched it hard across my
tits. It was the white one with yellow polka dots.
“Sure,” I said, “it usually stays on.”
“You know the boss really likes you.?”
“He’s a nice guy,” I said as he stroked my thigh, all
the way up my thigh. “Let’s go get wet.” I already was.
“Wonder where Rob found the blonde,” he said as we went
into the water, hand in hand, and pretty soon were
diving into waves and having a good time. I checked
regularly to make sure my top stayed in place. After a
while we trotted back to the umbrella, and I worked on
drying my hair while he lay on his stomach, watching
young girls passing by. He had fun putting on some more
sunblock, making sure my boobs got plenty. Since I’m a
natural redhead, I have to be extra careful. Then he
went back to girl watching.
“Sorry you brought me?” I asked after he whistled at a
couple of youngsters, guaranteed jailbait, in bathing
suits smaller than anything I would wear.
“Not a bit. The woman you’re replacing was a hophead
slut, and he was going to fire her soon if she didn’t
quit. She fucked all the clients for him, but she was
used and abused. You’re a first class lay, honey, a
keeper.”
I knew my mop of red hair looked awful, just thick
strings when it was wet, so I moved into the sun, got
Jerry to slather some more stuff on my back, and my
hair dried with a lot of finger raking. By the time it
did, the other accountant, Rob, had joined us and we
ragged him about the little girl we had found him with.
“Local talent,” he said. “Will do absolutely anything
for twenty bucks. Wish I had a dog.”
“Hope you used a condom,” I said.
He looked around, slipped his hand down inside my
bikini bottom and tickled my slit. My eager lips parted
and his middle finger hooked up inside me. I pulled a
towel over my lap and leaned back against him. “You’re
close,” I said, “just a little higher.”
“I’m almost ready for lunch,” I said as the probing
finger was almost there.
After two days on the shore and I-don’t-know how many
double teams and single couplings, many of them pretty
frantic, I got to work on Monday with some sunburn and
a sore pussy. There was a note on my computer, and I
went to see the boss.
“Um,” he said, “you sure look good.” I was wearing my
backless dress from Vickie’s, the silky one with the
built-in bra, sandals and not much else.
I smiled and sat.
“The girl I was going to hire took another job, better
pay I suppose. I have to admit she was a pro, only
twenty-nine but with ten years on her back.” He grinned
at me. “Anyhow, I’d like you to be my PA, full time.
You could do this for a couple of years and make enough
to take care of college and graduate school.”
“I’ve got a scholarship,’ I said, blinking at him.
“Hm,” he said, “well, I’ll pay you ten a month plus the
five hundred for clothes and promise you a good bonus
if the company does OK, meets its projections.”
“Ten thousand a month?” I asked, blinking at him.
He nodded and smiled. “Of course, you’ll have to put up
with me, travel with me, that sort of thing, bounce on
a lot of pricks.”
I stood; crossed to him, plopped myself down on his
lap, kissed him open mouthed, and said, “When do I
start?”
His hand slid up my leg. “Right now,” he said. “Right
now.”
Kaylin
- 31.05.2021
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