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The Secretary
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The Secretary In my 20s, I was a secretary in a large office. My boss was a devastatingly handsome man in his 50s. His dark hair was streaked with silver and he spoke in a way that commanded attention. I could tell from my first day on the job that he was a man used getting what he wanted. I liked that. He was a demanding boss. There were no lulls in the day; I was constantly busy answering the phone, sorting , writing memos and letters, and ordering lunches and setting dinners. I was by no means the top of the secretarial staff. I kept my head down and did my job. Even though it was busy and there were frequently long days, I enjoyed my job. The wasn't great, but I had hopes I could move in rank one day. I tried dress for excellence, taking cues from "Mad Men" character Joan Holloway. I had a lot of pencil skirts, button- blouses, and heels in my wardrobe. There was a period of time when the office was busy working a very important contract. Long days, tense moments, and my boss was even more demanding and surly than usual. It happened be during the hottest time of that year. The office staff were short with one another as the temperature in the office was bordering on too warm. During that period, I wore thin clothes and went without undergarments. It was simply too hard to work when I was sweating. One day, my boss appeared at his doorway and demanded a pitcher of water. I retrieved a pitcher, filled it, and took a few glasses. As I poured him a glass of water, I fumbled, sending the water down my thin, white blouse. My boss, formerly sniping and complaining, went silent, staring at me...or rather, my chest. I turned to look in his mirror and gasped. The water had made my blouse see-through and my right breast was exposed. My large, thick rosy nipple could be plainly seen through my shirt. He made no secret of his interest. He licked his bottom lip, a pearl of sweat sliding down the side of his face. "Take it off," he demanded quietly. "Sir?" "Take off your shirt." I blushed, feeling my cheeks burn with hotness. It was wildly inappropriate. My boss was twice my age. I was a demure, prude of a young lady. I had never been ordered to do such a thing. But I found myself going against everything I believed and began unbuttoning my shirt, starting from the top. Once the buttons her undone, I hesitated. "I said off," came the firm voice. After some more hesitation, I removed the blouse, standing in front of him with my nipples hard and aching. I trembled slightly. "Sit on my lap." I nodded and sat. Without warning,, he leaned in and placed a warm, wet open-mouth kiss to my nipple. I suppressed a moan, as I didn't want to appear wanton. I felt a hard bulge beneath my bottom. His tongue licked over my thick nipple then I felt him begin sucking it. His hand went my other breast, squeezing. I whimpered. It was painful, but deliciously so. I felt warmth in the pit of my stomach and I felt wetness flood between my legs. I wanted to control myself; I didn't want to seem like those brazen women with a new man each week. I was saving myself for marriage. But my boss was making me feel such wonderful things, wonderfully addicting things. I began panting slightly. My painted pink lips were swollen with arousal. My pupils were dilated with the lust he was building in me. I began sweating as the warmth that started in my stomach had now spread to the rest of my body. His mouth moved from one breast to another, my tortured nipple had turned from a rosy colour to an angry red. I suddenly wanted him to reach between my legs and do things. My brain was foggy and fuzzy at that point; I didn't know what I wanted him to do, just that I wanted to see his hand disappear beneath my skirt. I wanted to feel him touch me. I wanted to be one of those women who asked for more without shame. I held back, however. As suddenly as it had started, it stopped. He pushed off the chair and told put my shirt back . I blushed again, or perhaps it was the warmth that had spread through my body. Perhaps I had displeased him. He was unreadable. As long as I had been his secretary, I could never read him. Now was no different. "Put your shirt back on and get out," he said gruffly. I didn't know how respond. I quickly dressed and smoothed my clothes and left his office. Sitting at my desk, the aching arousal between my legs was still making itself known, begging for release. For the rest of the day, I buried myself in my work, trying ignore my tender breasts and over-stimulated nipples. I tried not think about the hardness I felt beneath my bottom. Whatever curiosity I had, I attempted to quell with my work, of which there was no shortage. As I commuted home that night, I wondered if there would be a next time. I dared to hope there would be a next time. |
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Was there a next time????
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Great story. Thanks for sharing you managed to create some hardness here as well. There you go That's all and none of it tragic.
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Got me hard!
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