XX Office Orifice

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By Lauren McAllister

As I sat in the reception area, I could feel my anxiety level like the Yangtze River in the rainy season. By the time the girl ahead of me exited the main office, it was drowning villagers and carrying off the livestock. I’d been murderously unemployed for months and I was facing a three mile walk because I couldn’t even afford the fucking bus fare home. Things were dire. If I didn’t get this job, I was well on my way to being forced to move home with my mother. Mom’s a nice enough woman, I suppose, but would have rather taken a job removing asbestos from fish trawlers with my teeth than have to stare across at her disapproving face over breakfast again.

When my name was called, I promised myself I was going to do whatever it took to get this job and then I marched in a resolve that would have made anyone but my mother proud of me. Six or seven resolved strides later, I found myself standing in front of an elderly guy in a wrinkled suit. I viewed him as elderly but I’m 23, so he was probably around 50 or so… or less. For a moment or two nothing happened. He just stared down at some papers in front of him while I fidgeted in my itchy skirt. At some point I lightly cleared my throat, hoping that would nudge this inconsiderate jerk to invite me to sit down.

He raised his head and looked at me app

raisingly and very casually instructed me to take off all my clothes. I didn’t do or say anything for a second or two. I was trying to figure out whether he was serious. Perhaps this was part of his bizarre, old-world sense of humor that got a big laugh back in the 90s before women were considered human beings. There was nothing on his face that indicated that this was all part of some highly dubious joke.

“The last three women were all fine with it, do you have a problem?”

“This is for a secretarial job, is it not?”

“I assume you can type.”

“I’m also capable of taking off my clothes but I usually only do one of them in public.”

“I’ll be honest with you, Miss… ?”

“Carissa. Carissa Wilson.”

“The job market at the moment is exceedingly tight. Secretaries, even good ones, excellent ones even, are a dime a dozen. Now, beautiful women who are willing to take off all their clothes for me and spread their legs are far rarer.”

Oh my God! And I thought the situation couldn’t get any worse. But what to do? I could scream but that wouldn’t get me the job. I could simply refuse and march out with my pride intact but that seemed like even less fun than screaming. I looked at his face and then I imagined my mother’s face. Before I knew it I had undone three buttons on my blouse.

He didn’t say anything, he just ogled at me in depraved silence as I placed my top neatly on his desk and thought what to do next. It was pointless, really. Everything was coming off, so there really is no order of removal that is the least painful. You’re just putting off the inevitable. When you’re stripping off for a lover, you’re saving the best ‘til last. When you’re doing it for some creepy perv you just met three minutes ago, you’re just basically trying not to throw up. Now the bra was gone. I was horror struck when the cool office air made my nipples boing to attention. Luckily, I was blushing so much, it was hard to make them out.

His hand slowly dropped to his crotch and he rubbed it slowly as my skirt dropped to the floor. Did I really want to finish the ghoulish ceremony? “Fuck it,” I thought. “If I turn back now, I’ll have suffered all this humiliation for nothing.” Not that it was easy.  I was anticipating the feel of his grey, semi-hard cock being placed on top of my tongue, his worm-like foreskin touching the roof of my mouth as I slid my panties to the floor.

He unzipped his pants.

“Oh shit. Here it comes.” I considered stabbing him in the neck with his Mont Blanc as he approached me but he sat down instead.

Huh?

“I want you to sit in that chair and masturbate,” he said a little shakily. Mr. Bossman was practically vibrating with sexual anticipation.

Wow! He wasn’t going to fuck me. I wasn’t going to have to swallow his withered cum. My entire attitude changed as I dropped into the hard leather chair and spread my legs. I hadn’t had a good wank in 4 or 5 days. Why not have one now? Shit, I occasionally rubbed on out at my old job, but that was in the ladies room or at lunchtime in my cubicle. This was far more comfortable.

I slowly opened my legs as wide as I could, fully exposing the very heart of my sex to his hungry eyes. My two index fingers slid down the outside of my quickly moistening labia. The first lightning bolts of pleasure streaked up my abdomen. Yum. I couldn’t see Bossman’s penis but you didn’t need to be The Amazing Kreskin to figure out what he was doing on the other side of that desk.

It was actually kind of a turn on, his gaze burning right through me as I lifted my left leg and slid my ring finger into the bottom of my vaginal aperture. I love that little downwards tug as my clitoris is getting its face washed. Meanwhile, Bossman was stroking the pine to beat the band. My pelvis began to rock back and forth. Sweet streams of carnal candy were flowing up through my uterus and pooling in my swollen breasts.

He was watching me and now I was watching him, imagining him banging away on that old grey cock as I climbed closer and closer to the ear-splitting orgasm. I had two fingers within my womanly folds, grinding away mercilessly with the heal of my palm pressing down on my pelvic bone. My other hand was reaching inside of me, pumping away like four little cocks working in unison. Things got a little out of focus at this point as all the blood drained out of my skull and headed southwards. I remember my vaginal canal start to tighten and tighten ‘til I thought I was going to tear something and then BANG!!! Holy fucking shit. It felt like someone had just a four-by-four into my pussy. Pulsating rivulets of girly cum squirted across the room and splashed against Bossman’s desk. I was bent completely in two with my tits rubbing against my thighs. I wasn’t breathing, I wasn’t making a sound, I was just riding the massive, body-rocking waves of ecstasy that were pounding my cunt into pudding.

When the tectonic convulsions my legs between my legs finally slowed and the room came back into focus, I heard Bossman say, “Could you please pass me a Kleenex?”

I was a little wobbly, but I manage to stand and go over to his desk. I could see his dick passed out in his lap. The was a small pool of jism staining his expensive pinstripe suit which he quickly dabbed up and then rezipped his pants.

And with that, I got the job.

Overall, it’s worked out pretty nicely. I rarely show up on time and I get a raise every couple of months. There’s even talk of a company car. And to top it off, I’ve had some of the very best wanks of my life. Occasionally, if he’s been really nice to me, I’ll pick his up flaccid Johnson and clean it off for him.

And best of all? I haven’t seen my mother in over three months!!

Copyright 2022 Lauren McAllister

book number one

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