Hard Night At Work

Asian

It was just annoying, Roger fumed at his desk; his date last night had not gone well, a perfectly attractive young lady, but very little between the ears, and far more interested in the contents of his wallet than of his pants. His eyes roamed irritably about, looking through the glass walls of his office at the more or less vacant call centre floor. Almost everyone had gone home already.Penelope was still sat at her desk, stunning as ever if in a buttoned-down, slightly prim way. Her effortless grace in heels and her shapely behind would be distracting, if she actually let herself relax out of work mode once in a while. Still, she was a good PA, and that was worth her stuffiness.The new cleaner was the only other person still in work at PM on a rainy Tuesday, Melanie something or other. She was bustling around doing her thing, lovely lass, common and loud, but harmless enough, so he usually gave her little notice.Maybe it was the frustration of last night, maybe it was seeing the tantalizing imprint of what looked like stockings pressing through the tight skirt Penelope was wearing. Maybe it was her complete disinterest in any approaches.Whatever the cause, he found himself watching Melanie instead of lusting after Penelope. She was wearing low heels and a simple black skirt, with a white blouse, nothing tight or revealing. But he couldn’t help noticing as she bent to lift a waste basket, that she too had quite a shapely behind. He caught himself in a fantasy of that behind, skirt drawn up, exposed as she leant on his desk.Feeling his eyes, Melanie looked over and gave him an impish smile through the glass wall that separated his office from the main floor.She had seen him looking, and enjoyed it.His eye was drawn by Penelope rising like a graceful swan and strutting off the main floor; she would be going to the post room to flirt with that muscle-bound ham head again… usually, she’d be gone a good hour. His reverie was broken by Melanie entering his room. “Maid service,” she announced, with a flirty curtsey and a broad grin. His mind instantly replaced the cleaner’s attire with an infinitely less sensible French maid’s outfit, and he found he liked the image.He kaçak iddaa felt blood rush to his too long neglected groin, caught off guard by his own daydreams, and he frantically fought for control before his tight trousers betrayed him. But Melanie was already at his desk, looking down at the waste bin by his feet, he saw her eyebrows raise in surprise at the swelling building in his pants and her eyes slide back to meet his gazeShe held his eyes for a long moment, and he found himself frozen in that gaze. Slowly, a wicked smile spread across her lips; without breaking eye contact, her hands slid up and smoothly undid the buttons of her blouse to let it fall open. He was surprised to see that beneath it she wore a sheer black bra, transparent in all the right places to leave nothing to the imagination.She was offering him a very clear invitation, yet she made no move towards him. She stood waiting patiently, as if she was in a queue at a supermarket and not exposed in her horny boss’s office. It slowly dawned on him that she wanted to be told what he wanted her to do… oh, she was willing… more than willing, but she wanted him to say the words, him to be the one that took it forward.Well, if she was going to wait for him to start things off, he would make sure she had no doubts and gave him what he really wanted. He pulled a stern expression and saw her smile falter a little in response. “Why are you standing there with your shirt open?” he demanded, his voice harsh. Her fingers sprang to the buttons, noticeably trembling in an ineffectual fumble to button it back up. “Take the damn thing off and get on your knees, here,” he ordered, pointing between his knees.Her mouth widened in shock, stunned that he would speak that way, that he expected her to comply. He noted with satisfaction that her blouse was already sliding off her shoulders before she had even composed her expression. As it fell to the floor, she sashayed forwards, wiggling deliberately to show off her hips. She rested her hands on his knees, and almost demurely sank to kneel between his thighs. He saw her take a steadying breath before her eyes rose to meet his again, an unspoken question hanging in kaçak bahis them.When she spoke her voice was soft, absent the usual arrogant cheek, respectful. “Tell me what you need from me, Sir”She enunciated that capital S, making clear it was not intended as an honorific for his corporate position; it was a declaration, that she was his to use.He felt a hot flush of excitement course through him, and felt his constrained manhood swell painfully against his tight trousers, Christ, and she hadn’t even touched him yet, he thought. She was waiting patiently, her face a pleasant friendly smile, but the sparkle in her eyes betrayed that her normal cheekiness was still very much present, but contained now, and somehow lent a counterpoint to her submission. It showed she was not cowed in the slightest, she was choosing to follow his commands. It was hot as fuck.”Are you wearing matching underwear?” he demanded, the sudden impulsive thought being given voice before he had considered it properly.She nodded, “Yes, Sir, I am.””Show me.” It wasn’t a request anymore. His voice was gravelly as he fought for control of his lust, and lost. It was a command. “Show me.”She slid back to her feet, and without any hesitation drew her black skirt up her thighs until it was bunched at her waist. His eyes trailed up her long bare legs. She was indeed wearing matching underwear, the sheer material fitted tightly against her skin and showed she was freshly shaven. Her smooth skin shimmered behind the gauzy, stocking-like cloth, not at all covered, but somehow more enticing than were she to be fully exposed. His eyes lingered on a small tattoo of a rose on her hip, barely peeking out under the waistband.His eyes met hers again and he told her to turn around. She did so immediately, slipping her hands to the back of her skirt to hold it up and ensure it did not obscure his view. She bent slightly, arching her back and thrusting her buttocks towards him. He hadn’t asked for that, but he appreciated the display, and her willingness all the more. Damn, but she had a nice ass; the sheer material clung to her pert cheeks like a second skin, accentuating her shape, but concealing nothing.He was torn illegal bahis with a mad temptation to slap his hand across her cheeks, to see if she would squeak in protest, or moan in pleasure at his rough touch. As he lifted his hand to spank her, he noted a telltale dark spot where the material passed between her shapely thighs, a damp patch, right where the folds of her sex would be pressed against the black fabric. He watched mesmerized for a few long moments as it spread, the sheer material becoming almost transparent with her rising arousal.  She didn’t move at all, frozen in place with her ass inches from his chest, awaiting his instruction. The power he felt was intoxicating. Seeing the visceral evidence of her getting wet without being touched was better than anything he had experienced before. He found himself wondering where the line was, how far would she allow him to take this. He decided he needed to push her, exert his power and see whether she would shy away, or beg for more.He trailed his fingers up the back of her thigh, felt her shiver at his caress, goose skin pricked her flesh at his touch and she let out a very soft mmm of pleasure. He traced his fingertip along the line between her underwear and her bare skin, working from her ass, around her thigh; gently, slowly, kindly, he worked his hand to the front of her leg, and traced the edge of her knickers down towards her sodden sex. Still she didn’t move. He slipped his fingertips further tuntil they brushed lightly against her labia, through the damp fabric.She let out a barely audible moan, but remained stock still, hands still grasping her crumpled skirt, buttocks still presented towards him. He pressed more firmly, stroking her through the material, and this time her moan was louder, but still soft and breathy. She shifted her weight, parting her legs slightly more to allow his roaming hand greater access to her.He curled his hand, letting his middle finger press firmly against her opening, whilst his thumb rubbed her clit. He was deliberately rough, and it had the desired effect; she twitched visibly, and this time her moan was a far more satisfying volume. He felt her warmth swell and a fresh flood of hot dampness spread through her knickers. He abandoned any pretense of gentleness, groping her with his strong hand, pushing the tip of his finger through the material to just barely penetrate her.

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