Peronal Assistance

Surprisingly, I slept like a baby, only waking as Garry was tying his tie. "That was a long shift yesterday," he observed. "Everything okay?" I listened closely but detected no suspicion or rancor in his voice.

My tummy was a-flutter, my mind a miasma! I really had no idea how to proceed. "Yeah," I yawned, "it was a real marathon – but we got it straightened out."

"I hope you won't have too many of those."

"Me, too," I chirped through another yawn, before adding, "I got today off – with pay, though!"

"That's great, honey." Leaning over to kiss me good-bye, he grabbed a quick tit-grope. "take it easy then. See you tonight" At the sound of the car starting and driving off, I heaved a huge sigh of relief. I felt like I had been holding my breath. "Well, for the moment, I don't have to do anything at all," I breathed, adding out loud, "so there!"

After breakfast, I went to the driving range. Nothing like whacking golf balls to ease the agro. I argued the case with myself, through a large bucket of balls. "It was tantamount to rape." Whack! "No, I initially joined voluntarily." Whack! "Initially, nothing – I was complicit!" Whack! "It was abuse of power." Whack! "I never protested." Whack! "I didn't even complain." Whack! "In some ways it was kinda nice." Whack! "It was wonderful!" Whack! "Victim or accessory?" Whack! "No, he still took unseemly advantage of me and my position!" Whack!

Finishing up my bucket I decided to have it out with Ryerson, while I was still mad – or puzzled – or something. "I'll make my complaint right now. Better late than never, anyway," I thought, as I tossed my gear into the car. "I mean," I sputtered, as I slammed the door and headed, seething and confused back to the office, "the arrogant presumptiveness of it all!"

I seemed to get angrier the closer I got to work. But I don't really know if I was angry about the situation, about what happened, or about the confusion and emotional turmoil it had caused. Roaring into the parking lot, I slammed the door and stormed into Ryerson's office, blowing open the door without even knocking. As I was about to launch into him with my half-prepared tirade, I realized he was on the phone. Looking up, his smile was completely disarming. Raising a finger to signal wait a mo', he said into the phone, "Look Pete, I gotta go. I'll get back to you in a bit. Ya, okay then."

"Well, what a pleasant surprise. What's on your mind?"

'Well, I, uh, I just wanted to..." For some reason, standing there looking into his glittery eyes, my mouth went dry, my tongue, paralyzed.

"By the way, we did great work last night! Everything worked out splendidly! Couldn't have been better." He paused, before adding, in a voice that was somehow more silky than smooth, "Your Executive Support," you could hear the capitals as he emphasized each syllable, "was stupendous."

Heaving a deep breath, I sputtered, "That's what I want to talk about." His outrageously warm smile rekindled my anger – and confusion. "You took advantage of me! That was not consensual!" A sad look partially obscured his smile, and he shook his head gravely. "You took me without my consent!" I reiterated, although even to me it was beginning to sound a bit lame.

"You asked what you could do, and I told you just what sort of Executive Support I needed." He shrugged, puzzled. "You gave it voluntarily. Willingly – eagerly, even." Looking up directly into my face, he raised an eyebrow. "You certainly seemed to enjoy it!" Shaking his head again, he muttered, "And I thought we worked so well together.

I stood there fuming – in my little golf skirt and top – hands on my hips, mouth flapping, no words coming out.

Speechless and frustrated, I shuffled about, trying to order my thoughts – hell, trying to form some sort of coherent thought – anything.

Finally, he broke the restless silence. "Look at you. Your nipples are probably rock hard."

My hands flew to my breasts, trying to cover, however futilely, my high-beams. My nipples were rock hard – rock hard and tingling.

"I'd be willing to bet that your cunt," I know I flinched at the use of the c-word, furthermore he was watching for my reaction. A brief smugness passed across his face, "is drooling right now."

My right hand dropped off my breast, heading, by its own volition for my crotch, to check on his assertion. I caught myself just in time. Ryerson nodded, knowingly.

"Okay," he said, sounding, once again, very businesslike, "I'm paying you for today, anyway. So let's say this: you allow me to verify the extent of your arousal, whether I'm right in thinking you're turned on or not, and I'll give you a double-time bonus." He paused to let it sink in. "Okay?" I was dumbfounded. He reached gently for my hand and drew me closer. "C'mere." And, as much as I tried to ignore it, a warm wave of anticipation swept through me.

My eyes were locked in his gaze. Predator / prey! Slowly his hand reached under my skirt and stroked the gusset of my panties. They weren't really panties, more utilitarian big whities – a kind of a jockey shorts cover-up under my short, little golf skirt. A random thought flitted resignedly, unbidden, across my mind. "They're hardly sexy." Suddenly I was aware of the breeze cooling my inflamed pussy, wafting through my dampened bush. I could feel my swollen labia, pressed against the soaked material of my underwear, then the insistent fingers, pulling and prodding, pushing the gusset aside to separate my lips. Shivers ran through me, head to toe. I thrilled to the slow touch as his fingers plowed my slick furrow, gathering my most intimate feminine dew, as they sought out my clitoris. A tingling, sparkling intensity fired up from my pussy to pulse and throb deep in my belly.

"Your nipples appear to be rock hard, although I think I'd need to feel them to be sure." Holding one hand still between my legs, he inserted his other hand beneath mine, cupping my clothed breast. Removing his hand from within my wet underwear, he said, matter-of-factly, "Take off your ginch, my dear, and have a seat," indicating his lap. As he momentarily withdrew his other hand I felt and strange emptiness, as if the fire glowing inside me was running low on fuel. Like an automaton, balancing myself with one hand on his shoulder, I reached down to pull my jockeys down, lifting my feet to yank them over my shoes and step out of them.

While I did that, the boss fumbled with his pants and released his impressive erection. No words were spoken as he gestured for me to straddle his knees and sit on his lap. I watched, objectively, as the surreal events unfolded. Oddly objective for an instant, I felt pleased that my little patch of bush – arrowing down at my slit – was neatly trimmed. One hand still on his shoulder, I reached for his cock, and held it as I lowered myself onto it. Smooth as silk, it slid in, deeper and deeper, its girth filling my channel. The sparkling glow of carnal excitement increased with my descent, as if it were connected to a rheostat. I felt like I was about to explode as his hardness filled me, and as it bumped the end of my vaginal passage, tapping against my cervix, fully engulfed, my puffy labia and engorged clitoris pushed through his pubic hair to smunch against his pubis. We became perfectly still.

It was a silent climax. I'm not sure he even knew. Unbelievable, fantastic sensations raced up and down my spine, clattering and clashing in my fundament, exploding in my head in waves of colour and light. My eyes, still fixed in his gaze, glazed. My mouth hung open. I could feel myself – my pussy – drooling. My cunt, as he called it, seemed to pulse and spasm – almost squirting, soaking his pubic beard with my juices. I didn't shake or shudder, or move at all, but inside I was experiencing the strangest, most wonderful orgasm ever!

As my eyes came back into focus, I think I smiled. Ryerson smiled back and started to lift my golf shirt. "Now let's see if those nipples are as hard as I think they are." Once my shirt was raised up under my chin, he deftly flipped my bra cups down exposing my, now swollen, heaving breasts. Immediately his fingers went to my nipples, verifying their arousal and hardness. "Ah," he sighed. "Just as I suspected!" He pinched them and rolled them between his thumbs and forefingers. Shockwaves coursed through my libido. "Well, they're certainly hard – I'd say pretty much fully aroused. Wouldn't you agree?" His eyes pierced my mind.

I nodded mutely, biting my lower lip to keep from moaning. "Yep," he continued, "Pretty damned turned on!" Giving my nipples a pull and a twist, that elicited a tiny gasp, he observed, "You're quite the little minx. Who would have thunk?"

As much as I tried to resist, his continued manipulation of my breasts, my tits, caused me to squirm – just a little – a slight waver of my torso, a tiny shudder of my hips. I was waiting for him to commence thrusting; but he didn't.

Virtually motionless, I sat up straight, impaled on his rampant erection, hands on his shoulders for balance. He, still, except for his hands at my breasts, flicking and twiddling my nipples. "Very perky," he whispered, so as not to upset the stillness. "They hardly need support. You could go braless no sweat. You should consider that." With that he grabbed my rolled shirt and began lifting. I lifted my arms automatically as he pulled it over my head and tossed it onto his desk.

All this time, his hair subtly brushing my lips and clit, the end of his penis rubbing and pushing at the end of my womb, felt like gamma-rays arcing and flashing from another dimension, building in intensity, trying to ignite some sort of nuclear device deep within me. I still waited.

"Oh," he squealed, like a little boy opening a gift, "I just love these front clasp bras!" He unsnapped the clip and began peeling the lingerie aside, fully exposing my boobs. "Ooooweeee!" He sounded seriously gleeful. Pulling the straps free of my arms, he dropped the bra then cupped and lifted each breast. "Perfect! They're perfect!" Curiously his assessment of my tits served only to heighten my agitation. I could feel the end of his cock searing my depths – increasingly.

Ryerson held still a moment, his eyes had let go their grip on mine, and were staring almost hungrily at my tits. Smoothly he leaned forward and caught a nipple with his tongue, sucking it fully into his mouth, swirling his tongue around my areola before letting go to change sides. His back and forth ministrations initiated an ignition sequence. Electrical pulses glittered back from my breasts to twist around my spine then bounce up and down, flashing colour and shape behind my eyes, while twinkling shimmers and sparks in my abdomen. I could stay still no longer.

I subtly unweighted my hips for a moment, then dropped, unweighted then dropped, rising no more than an inch, I was almost not fucking myself on his strong, proud prick. And each time I dropped, there were small detonations – one at the end of Ryerson's cock, where it touched the far wall of my twat, and one at the base of his cock, where it brushed my clitoris. On and on. Tiny, regular, repeated climaxes, which rolled together into a series of quiet crises. Stifling my cries, I squealed and whimpered into his hair, moving my hands from his shoulders to firmly hold his head about his ears, guiding his lips between my nipples.

He continued sucking and tweaking my nipples, left then right, back and forth – nipping my engorged buds with his teeth, flicking with his tongue – his fingers twiddling and pinching on one side as he sucked the entire areola of the other breast into his mouth, drawing tightening circles around the nub before pulling and stretching with his lips.

The subtle humping of my hips continued, as I fought to stay in control. I could feel my grip slipping, though. My arousal soared. My psyche pleaded for release – colours and sparks, glistening waves of electricity raced up and down my spine, hissing and snapping behind my eyes. No longer able to control the amplitude of my hips, my humping suddenly exploded in frenetic bouncing. My squeaks and squeals crescendoed into a keening yowl. The mini-orgasms gathered, like a train crash in slow motion – one car plowing into the next, the glorious sensations piling one upon the next, until a mind-blowing climax ripped through me. A tornado of energy, leaving no corner of my being untouched. Ecstasy upon ecstasy!

"Unh, unh, unh!" The heat in my pussy was almost unbearable, as flames licked the far reaches of my inner core. Pulling his head tight into my chest, I pounded myself against him, repeatedly, frantically. My vaginal muscles gripped him tight, as if hanging on for dear life. Pulling against his iron rod, refusing to let go, I could feel his weight pulling down on my pussy's walls as I tried to lift off him. Struggling to rise, I had to force myself deliberately to relax my grip, just for an instant, while I lifted slightly, drawing up until just his knob remained within. Then I plunged myself down, fully engulfing him – mashing my genitals against his pubis.

Impossibly, my climax continued to grow. The apex of the orgasm seemed to rise further and further. Bouncing brutally on his woodie, I began to shriek, "Omigod! Omigod! Omigod!" until it disarticulated into a guttural wail. And it kept going and going; and I kept on coming and coming – like the Everyready Bunny with his batteries in backwards! Exhilaration! The strongest orgasm ever – by orders of ten!

As I finally peaked, I became aware of my bosses member as it stiffened to an incredible rigidity, twitching and jerking. However improbably, I could feel his ejaculation! I could feel volley after volley of his cum splashing my cervix and sloshing within my pussy, before being squeezed out, with each successive thrust.

Then the plug was pulled, after a couple more half-hearted bounces, Ryerson's hips still rising to meet my pushes, my body coasted to a stop. Chests heaving, breath ragged, we were, otherwise, still – except for his lips, still sucking gently on my nipple. And I floated away in a kind of post-orgasmic euphoria.

Was it really ages that we sat there – me straddling his knees, my back to his work station – before he began to lift me off, and extricate himself from beneath. My awareness returned slowly, and I found myself leaning back against the edge of his desk as he eased himself out of my reach. I felt I was surfacing from a dream – and, suddenly, I felt not just a little silly, standing there naked but for my shoes and socks. Somewhere along the way I had shed my skirt as well.

I could feel my boss watching me, so I turned to watch him as he smiled at me, using a tissue to wipe ineffectively the front of his pants. When he saw me looking, his smile grew. "Now that was what I call 'Executive Support!' Wow! I'd say you've taken to this like a duck to water!" I nodded, not sure if I was agreeing or just acknowledging his rather back-handed compliment. I gathered skirt, top, and underwear without taking my eyes off my boss. His Cheshire Cat grin was beguiling. Silently, I donned my clothes, and straightened myself to leave – dazed but eminently satisfied. As I reached the door of his office he casually remarked, "Maybe next time you'll let me tap your ass." I froze, and turned to stare at him for a long moment, mute. I didn't think anything would surprise me after all that had just happened, but, for some reason, that caught me off guard. He cocked his head and gave me a mischievous grin while rearranging his pants and pulling up his fly, then he turned back to his desk.

And here I am, in the car, almost home, asking myself, again, "So, Genelise Petra Lavalle; now what?" Surprisingly, shockingly, the answer comes quickly, and, really, without histrionics; if I'm going to be a good – no, make that a great Personal Assistant, I'll need to provide peerless personal assistance and superior executive support. An almost inappropriate calmness envelops me, soothing the turmoil in my mind. "My ass...," I muse, objectively. "He wants to, uh, sample my ass." Somehow, I am already pulling into the driveway at home, having arrived unscathed. "I'll have to try my vibrator up the poop-chute – just to get it used to it." Gathering my golf clubs, my thoughts oddly seem to be the most normal thing in the world. "I'll need to get a bigger dildo, to really make myself ready." Unlocking the back door, I hear myself saying aloud, "This is so exciting!" and suddenly I can't stop grinning.