Kevin's Sordid Surprise

I really love the secretary look, and so do loads of my clients. That's why I'm usually pleased as punch when I get asked to turn up dressed for taking dic(k)tation - I've done it on countless occasions, and find it great fun! So much so that, most days, I'd call it money for old rope.

But there's always that one time when nothing goes according to plan...

Mine was a stag party warm-up, booked through an agency I was desperate to impress. The money was excellent, but due to factors outside my control, I'd already used up eight of my nine lives with those dudes.

I knew if anything went wrong this time, I'd be getting my marching orders – so I paid extremely careful attention to my instructions...

I wore cream, frilly panties and a matching bra, along with a white PVC corset that unzips down the front. And though I chose seamed, tan tights rather than stockings, this was simply because I'd been assured I only had to blow the one guy – and they were crotchless, just in case anyone changed his mind!

My beige suit that day was a real gem; it had a tight, pencil skirt with a brocade that offset the copper buttons on the jacket divinely. Matched with a crème blouse and my favourite ivory necklace, I looked seductive yet serious.

Days earlier, I'd had my hair braided with golden brown weaves which, tied back in a bun, always lend me a stern, business-like visage. That just left me to tone down my usual make-up; going easy on the eye shadow and mascara, while using a lighter, more natural shade of lipstick.

When I strolled out of my apartment in my favourite black court stilettos with a matching handbag slung over my shoulder, I could have been just about any city girl hurrying back to the office after a late lunch break.

Except of course, I was packing something extra in my panties!

Like I've already said, I was hired to warm up the groom for his stag party. The plan was, his friends would sneak me into his office down town, where they'd hide me under his desk so I could give him a surprise blowjob. Sounds unwise, huh? Well, I'd done it before and I'll no doubt do it again. I guess in these situations, it all comes down to who you're dealing with?

On this occasion, the best man was a toff called Greg, who met me right where we'd agreed and spot on time. But he still made a bad impression, simply by managing to make his pricey suit appear cheap and tawdry.

Mind you, I reckon the crown jewels would look fake on Greg - he's just that kind of guy! It was midway through the afternoon, yet he already reeked of booze, and that made me tense and anxious, even before I followed him into the headquarters of a large, prestigious company I'm not going to name - just in case they don't appreciate the publicity...

First in the elevator, then walking up and down those lengthy corridors, my nerves really started to jangle. See, in three-inch heels, I tower above most real girls, and so the more we strolled around the building, the more unwanted glances I was collecting.

So as you can imagine, I was mightily relieved when we sidled into an empty office, up on one of the highest floors. Inside were two desks, one clearly belonging to an executive, the other most likely for his PA. Pointing below the executive's desk, Greg told me to crawl on down below. "And be quick about it," he yelled while scarpering, "cos Kevin will be back any second now!"

It was a bit daunting, especially since I can get awfully claustrophobic, but I got down on my hands and knees and scrambled underneath that desk. And I was squatting there just a few seconds later, looking up at an empty chair while wondering how wise this all was, when I heard the door swing open...

Along with the pungent smell of nicotine, some pretty sharp coughing told me Kevin was returning from a smoke break. Of course, I could only see him from the waist down, but his shoes, socks and trousers all looked reassuringly expensive.

Not wanting to be trapped under his desk a moment longer than was strictly necessary, I decided to get straight down to business the instant he sat down...

Creeping up close to his crotch, I placed a carefully manicured finger onto Kevin's fly, and began tugging at the zip. And naturally, I felt him stiffen then freeze, as though his first instinct was to resist my charms. But next? Why, nothing! And as I gently teased his cock out from behind his boxers, I felt his thighs melting under my touch, till the only stiff part of him was the bit that matters...

And boy, was it stiff – as well as hard, thick and deliciously long! I soon felt confident I was handling a real man, even though I had absolutely no idea what Kevin looked like.

I'd have loved to have started off by licking his balls, but due to the restricting confines of the space available, that simply wasn't possible. Unfortunately, there was no choice other than to pop his cherry straight into my mouth, instead...

Still, I breathed on it for a long while first, treating him to a warm stream of moist air before tenderly wrapping my tongue around his bulging tip...

"Oh Sara!" he groaned lustfully. "Oh Christ, Sara!"

Now, whereas I'm Carrie with my usual agent, I can also be Jane, Cynthia or Debbie - it just depends how you go about hiring me! But Sara? I've never used that particular handle - and more to the point, Kevin didn't sound much like he was heaping praise on the hooker under his desk!

But still, I carried on working, like the dedicated professional I am. I sucked and blew, gently teasing his ramrod stiff cock. And believe me, I teased that cherry, blowing soft then swallowing a little more until, bit by bit, I was getting every last inch of his swelling meat-rod nice and warm and wet...

"Oh Jesus, Sara!" He was soon having spasms; flexing both legs while bolting back in his chair like he was trying to re-experience that first, elusive orgasm. And meanwhile, my throat was beginning to get a taste of some delicious, salty pre-cum...

"Sara – oh, my darling!" By now, I had his full length inside my mouth, and was blowing hot air right down onto the top of his ball sac. I've got to confess that Kevin was a very solid guy, with nothing to be ashamed about. No, he was truly blessed with everything a real man needs – including staying power!

"Fucking hell, Sara!" At last, he exploded into me! Not a moment too soon, I felt a warm spurt of delicious cream squirting down my throat, as Kevin's burgeoning cock thrust manfully past my sluttish tongue, injecting me with his sticky seed in a series of rapid, furious cascades.

For one brief, halcyon moment, as his juices swamped my teeth, I felt proud to be receiving them. And even though I was yet to see Kevin's face, I was so proud to be sucking his cock, that if you'd asked me my name just then, I'd have happily called myself Sara!

But not for long! I was so lost in my work, greedily sucking the last few drops of nectar from his slowly receding pork sword, that I hardly noticed as the office door swung open, wafting an unfamiliar perfume into the room. "What the hell's going on here?" a woman screamed, sounding insanely angry.

"Sara?" Kevin replied shakily. "I, I... thought you were... down here!"

Abruptly, my mouth emptied as Kevin hastily stood up. And before I had time to wipe his cum off my lips, I found myself being ogled by a baffled young business executive, alongside his infuriated fiancée.

And to my abject horror, the very first thing I noticed about Sara was that she had exactly the same colour hair extensions as me – tied back in a bun. So Kevin must have looked down when I started blowing him, seen nothing but my hair, and figured I was Sara!

To make things even worse, I recognized her – and she me! We'd grown up on the same rough housing estate, where her sister had been a good friend of mine – till she betrayed me to a vicious gang, who beat me severely for crossdressing.

Once that flicker of recognition crossed her eyes, I could see she was going to be sick; some women are just like that – they can't stand the idea of their man going with a tranny. And don't forget that while she was staring at me, getting misty-eyed in the wrong kind of way, I was still down on my knees under Kevin's desk, with his cum dripping from my lips!

"I hate you!" Sara exclaimed, and I've never been sure exactly who she was talking to, cos while she was staring straight into my face, she took a swinging kick at Kevin, catching him perfectly between the legs.

I guess he was winded and struggling for breath when she took off her engagement ring and threw it at him. Then she stomped off, saying she'd no sooner marry him than jump in a barrel of boiling acid.

Recovering his senses, Kevin gave me a stern and serious look, told me not to go anywhere, and ran hurriedly after his furious fiancée That's when, wiping my mouth at last, I saw that beautiful ring glittering on the carpet, and decided it was time for me to contemplate making my way home.

Now I've already passed comment on how Kevin smelt of money, so I was pleased but not surprised when a pawnbroker let me have £500 against Sara's ring the following day! Of course, to fetch that much cash in my neighbourhood, the thing must have been worth an absolute fortune!

Still, to tell the truth, I felt no more than adequately compensated. I mean let's not forget, I lost my job with a lucrative agency thanks to all those shenanigans, which were definitely not my fault.

That mischievous punk Greg must have searched through the agency's pictures, looking for an escort with hair so like Sara's that Kevin would be fooled – and I just happened to fit the bill. So if anyone deserved to be punished, it ought to have been him!

But when the shit hit the fan, the agency gave Greg a full refund, while I got the sack. But what had I done wrong, exactly? I was hired to give Kevin a surprise blowjob – and I did!

Anyhow, gutted though I was to be so badly maltreated, it was soon all water under the bridge...

Back in those days, I lived in a second-floor apartment just outside of town. It was a cosy pad in a surprisingly quiet area, considering traffic was always buzzing by and most weeks someone was murdered within a stone's throw of my balcony.

I really loved that balcony! It was an extension out from the kitchen and though tiny, it was sheltered and private, and caught the best of the afternoon sun. There was just room to stretch out on a lounger, so on nice days you'd find me there, wearing nothing but sunglasses and a bikini.

And there I was, maybe three weeks after I'd pawned Sara's ring, catching some sun while sipping a cocktail and trimming my bikini line when the doorbell rang. And you can't imagine how surprised I was to look through the spyhole and see Greg!

After something of a stand-off, I finally agreed to let him in. It turned out Greg had been searching high and low for Sara's ring, and had eventually traced it through the town centre branch of a jewellery shop connected with the pawnbrokers I'd dealt with.

They were selling it for over three grand, so he'd decided to track me down and get my ticket - redeeming my pledge was going to save him a fortune!

Now you'd think he'd be real grateful, right? Cos instead of having to buy the ring back at it's true value, all he had to repay was my loan - along with a tiny bit of interest and some charges!

So I was shocked to my skin when, upon handing him the ticket, Greg called me a dirty thief!

"Now just you hang on a minute!" I exclaimed, reddening everywhere my bikini wasn't covering. "Thanks to you I never got paid – In fact, I lost my job!"

But Greg was unimpressed. "Diddums!" he said, mocking me coldly. "You've been naughty and I want compensating – unless you prefer we sort this out down at the cop shop?"

Now I've always had a strong preference for sorting out disputes in a friendly way, and trying never to get the police involved. And when I said so, Greg suggested I take off my bikini bottoms and go and fetch the thigh-length black, leather boots he'd seen me wearing on the internet. And though I wasn't happy with his proposal, I figured it was a much better offer than the alternative!

Following me brazenly into my bedroom like he co-owned the joint, Greg demanded to see my S & M accessories. As I squeezed into my boots, he rummaged through a box of bits I've collected over the years, selecting a ball-gag, some rope, handcuffs and a riding crop.

After insisting I lay face down on my bed, he bound and gagged me, with my hands behind my back and my legs stretched far apart and strapped to the bed posts.

"You shouldn't steal from your betters, you dirty slag!" he exclaimed, a horrible glint clouding his eye before he started whipping my buttocks mercilessly with the riding crop. I tried to scream, but all I could do was bite futilely on the plastic ball filling my mouth, as the sting of a thousand angry wasps ravaged every last inch of my poor, tender butt cheeks!

And still Greg wasn't finished! As tears trickled hurriedly down my face, he waved his bulging cock before my eyes. He was a well-built, masculine guy; over-endowed with a thick, meaty tool that he clearly took pride in knowing how to use.

"That's it, you thieving whore – weep!" he told me, teasingly dabbing just the tiniest drop of lube onto the nib of his cherry. "Now I'm really going to show you why crime doesn't pay!"

He climbed right on top of me, squashing my hands painfully into the small of my back, whilst tightening my legs, which were already bound far apart to the bed posts. It left me with no means of manoeuvre, so when he entered me and began pounding away mercilessly, there was no chance I could ease my pain by going with the flow...

I just had to lie there and take it – every awful, thrusting, throbbing second of it.

And truly, it was sheer agony – as though he were trying to set me on fire! The pain from the whipping he'd already inflicted on my butt cheeks simply melted into insignificance, as the terrible throb from my bum caused me to cry so badly I turned all my make-up into a puddle of goo, that soaked and ruined my bed sheets.

I'm not sure quite how long this torture went on for – I suspect I might have passed out! But when relief finally came, it was in the form of feeling Greg's vibrant, meaty torture tool shooting off and filling my insides with sloshing great spurts from his huge reservoir of love juices.

After tidying himself up, Greg told me he'd come back any time he felt like it and I'd give him more of the same – or else! He forced me to nod my understanding, which I did through a blanket of tears.

Then he left me just where he'd put me - tied up on the bed, gagged and unable to cry out, with his cum belching steadily out of my bruised and battered anus.

To say the least, it was a bit inconvenient. You see, I'm no Debbie McGee, and I was stuck there till well past six, when my friend came calling.

As he walked out of my bedroom leaving me in that awful predicament, Greg's last words to me were: "I hope you've learnt your lesson, you thieving tranny whore?!"

And here's my answer Greg (if you ever happen to read this): No I damn well haven't – and I hope you drop dead soon!