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By Lauren McAllister

I don’t really know how I got into the habit.  Well, yes I do.  One typically tedious day at the office, I was looking up something interesting on the computer so I didn’t shoot myself out of boredom.  I don’t remember what it was now but one of the Google items listed on the first page was a story about a woman who had sex with her son.  What made me read it, I couldn’t tell you… but I did.  The more I read, the hotter I got.  I mean this story was seriously smokin’. It was lunchtime and my boss was out, so eventually I just lifted my skirt and had a damn fine wank.  Right there in my drab, de-humanizing cubicle.  It was certainly a hell of a lot more enjoyable than the sandwich I’d just eaten, I can tell you.

The next day, I found another naughty little tale online and had two damn fine wanks.  Soon, this sordid but oh-so-scrummy behavior became just another part of my work routine.  Those delicious moments of self-plundering gave me something to look forward to during the long mornings of pointless typing and other bullshit duties.  I would peer up at that clock and ready my fingers for 12:30 when Mr. Mudrick left for his quick bite at the club.

This racy ritual went on gloriously unabated until…

It was a Tuesday and my lunchtime reading was a sizzling little saga concerning a housewife who goes to the grocery store and gets doggy-styled in the parking lot by a dusky stranger.  He had just pressed her up against the cold hard steel of an SUV and her rock hard nipples were squashed flat against the tinted glass.  Oooh, yum.  By this point in the titillating tale, I had my skirt up around my stomach and my underwear keeping my knees company.  It’s imperative that you time these things just right.  The trick is to increase the intensity and speed of your nether regional activities in sync with what’s going on in the narrative.  By the time you get into the heart of the big sex scene, you need to be whapping your woman wart like there’s no tomorrow.  I was giving my vulva and clitoris a major ass kicking as I speedily approached the penultimate paragraph.  My breathing was rushed, my face was redder than a Prince Edward Island potato and my sopping snatch had swollen up to the size of a Bundt cake.

And that’s when my boss popped his head around my cubical opening (No, that is not a naughty euphemism.).  I screamed and practically projectile plotzed from shock. 

When he realized what was taking up so much of my concentration, his face went arctic-bunny white.  I yanked down my skirt but there was no pulling up my panties without even more embarrassment so I just let them slide down to my ankles, out of site. 

“Ms. Taylor,” he finally blurted out, “I’d like to see you in my office, when it’s…ah…convenient.”  And he rushed off. 

I was paralyzed with mortification.  What had I done?  What was I thinking?  I needed this job.  What was I going to tell my husband?  “Sorry dear, I got fired because I was too in love with my own cunt to leave in alone during working hours.”

I took a few moments to compose myself (and pull up my underwear) but finally, I managed to rise to my feet and bravely head off to face my sure economic doom.  He could have my job but dammit, he couldn’t have my dignity. When I got to his office, I immediately burst into tears.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Mudrick.  I’ve only ever done that unspeakable act the once and I realize now that it was completely inexcusable and if you don’t fire me, I will work every weekend for free until I die.”

Mudrick put up his hand to halt my disgraceful and dishonest performance.  “Please Joan; I’m not going to fire you.”

Now, I was totally disoriented. 

“I fully realize that your lunch period is your own and you should be able to do as you wish, but this is an office.”

“Yes, I know that sir, Mr. Mudrick sir, and I am so, so…’

Again, my boss put up his hand to stop my whiny blathering.  “All I wanted to say was, we have clients that could walk in on you as I did and…”

“I know that sir.  And believe me; I will gladly cut off both these hands before I ever use them to…”

Again he stopped me in my apologetical tracks.

“So, if you feel like… spending some quality time with yourself, please come into my office and do it here.  You can close the door and have all the privacy you require.”

I must have looked a little taken aback.

“Masturbation is nothing to be embarrassed about, Joan.  We all do it.  Hey, if I had a nickel for every time I’ve squeezed one out during high scholl, I’d be retired on a beach in the Riviera by now.”

I was a little shocked at his “frank” talk, but I was really touched by his kind and gentle manner.  “Thank you sir.”  I actually curtseyed like some dim-witted maid.  This was really turning out to be a memorable day for yours truly. 

I spent the rest of the afternoon trying to wipe the blush off my face.  When I got home that night, I told hubby that I really didn’t feel like it.  I gave him a little handjob as a consolation prize and he was more than understanding.  Funny thing though, while I was stroking his penis up and down, all I could think about was Mr. Mudrick doing the very same thing to his own man handle.  That’s when I changed my mind and let Johnny fuck me.

The next day, I had absolutely no intention of taking my boss up on his amazingly understanding and generous offer, though I did feel a little plaintive tingle between my legs as lunchtime reared its naughty head.  At 12:25 Muddy popped his head into my cubicle. “I meant what I said.  I’ll be gone for at least an hour, if you feel the need.”

Nothing could have dragged me into that room at that moment.  I managed to stay un-self-sullied for an entire week.  But alas, I started reading this story on the computer about a guy watching a couple making love and removing the cock from his trousers and… well you know the rest.  By the time he’d cum into a nearby plant pot, I was hotter than The Human Torch in a sauna.  I tried to resist.  I really did.  The next thing I knew I was in Muddy’s office with my skirt up, my tits out and fingering myself senseless.  With an oak door between me and the rest of the staff, I could moan and sigh at will. Plus, lying on his couch was way more conducive to a good wank than sitting on an Ikea swivel chair. Not that I have anything against Ikea. Their meatballs are practically food.

 I flailed away on my nethers and tortured my nips for a good 45 minutes.  Orgasm followed orgasm as I unmercifully whacked the crack.  It was only after I started to get cramps in my wrist that I noticed what the time was.  Shit!  I jumped up like his couch had Ebola and pulled up my unmentionables.  Mr. Mudrick’s door handle began to turn and I practically shat an ice cream truck when he walked into the room. 

“Uh, hi,” I inarticulately stammered.  “I just came in to see if your… and it was… so.”

He smiled warmly at me and pointed to my chest.  I still had a tit hanging out!  Oh inconsolable shame!  I withered out of his office and went back to my impersonal jail cell.  Great!  So now my boss believed (and quite rightly so) that I was incorrigible wank-addict.

That night I had sex with Johnny, imagining Mudrick masturbating while he watched us going at it.  Hubby must have thought he was giving me the hump of a lifetime the way I climaxed.  His ears are probably still ringing.

From then on, it was a downward pearl-polishing spiral.  Now, I longed to get caught by Muddy.  I began to take off all my clothes as I entered his office.  I waited longer and longer before starting. Many times, I was still on the couch with my fingers buried deep inside my puddle when he walked into the room.  Instead of jumping up and apologizing, I just kept going like some demented masturbating whore.  He would invariably walk over to his desk and tidy up some papers as I came like a demon from hell.  After I’d finished my ludicrous display of self-induced debauchery, I’d slowly get dressed in front of him, hiding nothing from his occasional gaze. 

This went on for weeks and weeks and Muddy was an absolute gentleman… damn him!  This “please come hither – no I won’t” stalemate lasted right up until the office Christmas party.  Usually, these things were about as much fun as having a pap smear at a funeral but this year I spent a month’s pay on my dress and hairdo.  I don’t know what I thought was going to happen but with enough alcohol in me, anything was possible.

Johnny and I arrived early and we immediately hit the bar.  By the time my boss glided into the room, my head was having a pleasant swim around Lake Bacardi.  Muddy was very gracious, of course.  He came straight over and introduced himself to my husband and told me how nice I looked.  I already wanted to wrap my twat around his head and face-fuck his nose but I kept my cool.  Sort of.  I’m sure I was smiling at him like a love-stuck gibbon, but I lied to myself that I was being the height of social-gathering sophistication.  

At some juncture during the evening, Johnny was off chatting some babe up over a rather rancid merlot and I was on the hunt for more masculine prey.  Muddy was over at the hors d’oeuvres, trying to find something that didn’t look like vomit on a cracker.  I downed the last of my courage and traipsed over for a refill.

“Hello there, sir,” I smiled. 

“Enjoying the party, Joan?” he replied, rejecting something that had suspect bits of olive in it. 

“To tell you the truth, I’d rather be having a good wank in your office.”  My, oh my!  Wasn’t I the little inebriated libertine?  Luckily, he continued to smile.

“Well, I’m glad that our arrangement has worked out for you.  We like to keep our workforce happy.”

“I was happy three times yesterday,” I replied oh-so-brazenly.  “I hope I don’t, you know, embarrass you when I stay and ‘finish up’ after you get back from your lunch.”

“Oh no.  In fact I quite look forward to it.  Not that I, in any way, mean anything lurid by that.”

“You’re the least lurid man I know, sir.  Too un-lurid sometimes.”

He paused for a moment.  Surely even Mudrick could take a hint that big.  I continued to barrel on like a drunken tart.  “Actually, I’ve been thinking about you touching yourself, like you told me you did all those times in high school.”


Was that interest, I detected? 

“You know what I’d really like for Christmas?”

I think Muddy sensed that something untoward was about to be proposed.  He performed a quick scan around the room for significant others.   

“I’d like you to follow me into one of these offices, take that big cock out of your pants and whack on it ‘til you cum all over me.”

Mr. Mudrick swallowed hard (Just like I wanted to do later!) then shook his head doubtfully.  “I couldn’t. Not with your husband so close by.”

Three minutes later we were in a broom closet.  I was on my knees with my top off and staring at his crotch.  Slowly, he unzipped his pants. His sense of sexual drama was breathtaking.  I think I actually licked my lips (For shame foul woman of intemperate appetites!).  Muddy reached into his underwear and, almost shyly, pulled out his penis.  I was very happy to see that it was still somewhat flaccid.  The thought of it growing in his hand as he stroked it was turning my vagina into an upside down pond.

He ogled my rosy tits as he began to massage the head of his member.  Bit by bit the shaft swelled and filled up his fist.  I soooo wanted to suck on it but held back.  The visual was paramount.  Finally, he became fully erect with the bulbous end aimed directly at me. 

“It’s beautiful,” I whispered.  “Tomorrow, I want you to fuck me with it in your office.”

His eyes closed as a ripple of pleasure shot up his man stem.  I was in absolute heaven as the rhythms of sex started to bewitch him; reducing him from human being to a bestial force bent on blind satiation.  I poured it on.

“All I can think about is you stuffing your big boss cock into my simmering wet pussy.  Filling me up with your hot, steamy jizz.”

Muddy’s pace quicken and his head titled back.

“Play with your balls, baby.  Just like I’m going to do tomorrow.”

He did!  Mr. Mudrick started to tickle his nutsack with his left hand while he continued to rev up his schlong with the right.  His knees bent a little and his hips were pushed way forward.  A few little moans escaped him.  I knew he was about to blow.  My cunt was practically dripping.  I craved to whap my dewy mound into chowder but I knew if I made myself cum at that moment, I’d scream the building down, so I refrained.

Muddy’s right hand was now a blur as he pistoned away.  He was so close.  I opened my mouth. 

“I want you to cum on my tongue.  Can you do that for me baby?”

I thought I saw him nod his head slightly but that might have been caused by his violent penis-pounding.  Suddenly, he let out an “Ooof” and spurts of his creamy goo began to shoot out of him, into my gaping mouth… and onto my cheeks and eyebrows and hair and chin.  His spew was everywhere.  What an orgasm!

Now that the semen show was over, I gobbled it up and sucked him clean.  It was the least I could do.  After about five minutes of serious licking and oral love, I pulled his underwear and slacks back up and made him presentable again.  I didn’t ask him to kiss me (I know guys are real funny about that, once you’ve swallowed their load) but did give him a Kleenex and requested he help remove his spunk from my hairdo. 

For a super boss, he really took orders well!

Now, Muddy only leaves the office once or twice a month during the lunch hour.  About half the time we fuck up a storm and the other half we just watch each other masturbate. 

Sigh.  I just love my job.

The End

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Copyright Lauren McAllister 2022

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