One Day at the Office Pt. 01

One Day At The Office

By Sally Slut (ok, I have borrowed a bit here and there...)

Sitting at my desk at the office, trying to focus on anything remotely job-related. Yeah, right, like that's going to happen.

It's all but impossible, my thoughts are all about you, about last night, oh my god, I had no idea, never before. It was so intense, so passionate, I am a different girl now, you have changed me, in a single night.

I can't even sit still for God's sake, I get up and check myself in the bathroom mirror time and again, perfecting my makeup, making sure every curl is in the right position. I want to look perfect, I want to look the way I feel, beautiful, sexual, alive.

For you.

Not that you will come and see me at the office, you do not even know where I work, but what if you came through that door right now? Just the thought of it makes me all warm.

Does it show? Can people tell I was fucked breathless last night? It has to show, it has to be obvious to anyone that anyone with eyes. And I have received a couple of curious glances. That guy in the elevator that almost seems to be waiting for me there, he is always checking me out and doing a lousy job of trying to make it look like he is not, and me trying not to notice, didn't he look at me in a special way this morning? And the other girls here, surely they can tell.

Sounds I have never heard before, like the sexy rustling of my stay-ups every time I change position. You told me stockings and high heels are a must for a woman, a sexy woman. I totally understand what you mean, I can see it through your eyes. No more pantyhose, no more baggy pants for this girl.

Sitting with my legs crossed, the shoe dangling off my foot, removing and entering my foot into it, having seen it in movies, not until now realizing that men find it sexy. When we sit our legs are quite useless, except for showing off. I am showing off now, wanting every man to look at me, desire me, thinking about having passionate sex with me.

Suddenly the phone rings and I am forced to wake up from my wet day dream, is it you? Just one word and I promise I would leave everything right away and run to you. To your strong arms. To your overpowering eyes.

But no. It is my boss, wanting to discuss something I have been working on, something that should be ready soon, omg, was it today?

I scurry to his room, clip-clopping on the hard floor, quickly but gracefully, stopping in front of him at his desk. He is looking busy, powerful, sexy. Sexy? Oh no, where did that come from? What is happening to me? He is my boss, much older than me, like my father I guess, 40, 50 something, slightly over-weight. Sexy? Attractive? Not yesterday and not any other day before that. But today, yes.

He takes a long look at me. Surely he can see it. He is experienced, he knows what effect he has on women, used to get what he wants. He can see right through me. Why has he never made a move on me? I have never looked at him this way before, I wonder if his cock is as long and thick as yours. Standing straight and proud, hard like rock, exuding power. What if he asked me right now to go down on my knees and blow him...

Oh god, what am I thinking? That is totally inappropriate, in every way. Focus Sally, focus! I am not that kind of girl.

"Presentation", "PowerPoint", "important customer", "tomorrow". I believe I get it. He gets silent and I try with a "Yes Sir". He is a "Sir". My boss, my superior. Definitely a Sir.

"Are you quite alright there, Sally? You seem distracted."

"Yes, Sir, I am fine thank you."

He returns to his computer screen. I prepare to leave.

"One more thing, Sally."

"Yes, Sir?"

There it is again. I just can't get enough of that word. How can a word be sexy?

"You look different today, dear. Very...professional. You set a good example for the other assistants."

--

It starts immediately as soon as I sit down again, a warm, tingling pulsation of my clit, slowly building, to the point of frustration, to the point where I have trouble thinking about anything other than my desire to be filled.

I slip a finger downstairs, I have to find out, yes, it is true, there is dampness, I did not just imagine it, my juices are flowing, oh god, what is wrong with me? I am not like that, I am a good girl, at least I was before last night, I am not so sure anymore. Maybe I am just a slut after all.

After a while I can't think about anything but sex. Every word, every phrase sets my imagination going. The constant pulsing becomes stronger, impossible to ignore. The itch has become an ache. There is no relief. What have you done to me?

My breasts seem to want to burst out through my clothes. It is ridiculous. I need to get out of this stupid blouse and bra. I need someone to fondle my babies right now. My big, perfectly round boobs, the center of the world for most boys in high school. Now I desperately need someone to knead them, mold them, squeeze them real hard with strong but gentle hands. Someone like you.

Suddenly I remember seeing a stupid porn movie. The poor girl's nipples were pinched real hard, held tight between the evil man's fingers. Then pulled at, incredibly vulgar, stretching the breasts out, even jiggling them slowly up and down, as if they were nothing but a plaything. If you were here I would beg you to do that to me. I want to be your plaything, your sex toy...

"Sally, please join me in the conference room."

--- END of part 1 --

Please, please, please let me know what you think! Is there hope for me or is it total crap? Would you like to read more?