This story was requested by a heterosexual man who had recurring fantasies of being alone with one of his female co-workers. He kept imagining situations where he would have to work with her over the weekend, preferably at her house. He wanted sex but he wanted to be mercilessly teased before that happened. So, here's George, torn between preserving a professional relationship with Eve and desperately wanting to indulge every luscious fantasy he's ever entertained about her. Oh, did we mention that Eve is a mistress of mixed messages?
George pressed the doorbell and a child screamed. He stared at the painted pine door as if it might explain such a causal relationship. Did Eve have children? She'd never mentioned them, but then, he suspected there was much she did not divulge.
Unintelligible, youthful sounds approached from behind the door and George stiffened in anticipation. The heavy door swung open and there stood Eve, clad in a black velour wrap robe, balancing a very small child on her hip. The flush in her cheeks was surely inspired by chasing the little urchin about, but it became her more than the sultry, sophisticated look she wore to the office.
"Hi, George. Is it already 10:00?" The child pawed at Eve's face with damp fingers.
"Hi, Eve. I could come back later if this is a bad time."
"No, no! Please come in," she said, stepping aside to let him pass through the threshold. "My daughter should have been here by now to pick up this little ragamuffin, so I just assumed it was earlier than it is." She turned to the child and her face softened further. "Shyla, this is George. He's a friend of Grammy's. Say hello, baby!" She nuzzled the child, who glanced at George warily.
George peered at the baby with exaggerated interest. "Hi, there, Shyla. You're quite the little handful, aren't you?"
The child kicked the air and yanked the collar of Eve's bathrobe, exposing a large, fleshy breast nearly to the nipple. Eve grabbed the collar instinctively and covered herself quickly, laughing nervously, not quite meeting George's gaze. George had seen enough to remind him that working so close with Eve today was going to be an exercise in self-control. Her breasts had long been the subject of some of his best idle fantasies.
"Let me put Shyla in her playpen so that we can get to that paperwork," Eve said as she walked toward the toy-strewn living room. Placing the baby in the topless cage, she bent forward, offering George the graceful outline of her big, round ass draped in black velour. He could feel his dick move and looked away, determined to read the book titles on the shelves against the wall.
"I'm going to put some clothes on," she said shyly. "I'll be back, but why don't you help yourself to some coffee in the kitchen?" George watched her walk down the hall, that lovely behind swaying in a languid rhythm under the robe. She turned and pointed to the kitchen, which was just a few feet past her bedroom and across the hall.
He passed her room and caught the scent of freshly washed female; clean and musky. The smell of subtly perfumed potions seeped out into the hallway as George dawdled in the kitchen, not at all anxious to make googly talk with Shyla in the living room. He breathed in deeply, enjoying her aroma. In her haste to excuse herself from George, Eve must have forgotten to completely close her bedroom door. Only an inch and a half or so sat between the door and the jamb but George could see movement in that space.
He sipped his coffee slowly and stood immobile in the kitchen, waiting for her to pause near the opening. He knew not to approach any closer and raise suspicion, but his curiousity gnawed at him. Eve was a luscious 45-year-old brick house. Her skin was slightly freckled and always had the slightest suggestion of moistness about it, as if some fountain inside her fueled her reservoirs. And that deep, dark womanly scent clung to her, lingering with a confidence that lured. There was no man in the office who wouldn't envy George his position at this moment.
The doorbell rang, Shyla screeched and George felt the blood rush from his penis to his heart. He started toward the front door but at Eve's bedroom, she emerged wrapping her robe around her again. She and George nearly collided and he got a full whiff of her richness. Small throbs of recognition resumed in his crotch.
"I'll get it. I'm sure it's Dawn to pick up Shyla." She scooted barefoot to the front door, her ass jiggling with each step.
Dawn had one glorious set of knockers that stretched her midriff length T-shirt provocatively. She had one of those torsos they put in beer commercials, and wore stretch pants that proclaimed every undulating muscle. She and Eve both leaned into the playpen and George unconsciously put his hand on his cock. Their round asses were nearly identical in shape, with Eve's being the fuller, more womanly of the two. George imagined himself walking up behind them and grabbing two happy handfuls of meaty ass.
Toys were collected and good-byes were exchanged before George could enjoy much more of his fantasy, let alone act on it. Eve collapsed in the leather armchair near the door, chuckling with exhaustion.
"How on earth did I ever raise babies? They wear me out!" She exclaimed, fanning herself with a magazine she pulled from between the cushions. George smiled indulgently, stifling the urge to blow softly on her chest to cool her off. As if reading his mind, she pulled her shawl collar open a bit to allow the breeze greater access to her overheated body. She was still wearing no bra and her large nipples strained through her robe. George rolled his tongue around the roof of his mouth to keep it inside his head.
George headed back down the hall to hide his insistent bulge, calling over his shoulder that he was going to get his coffee. Eve got up and returned to her bedroom, this time leaving a good three inches of space for him to see through from his vantagepoint in the kitchen.
Was she purposely tempting him? First the bathrobe, now twice failing to close the door completely. Was she asking for some? Should he offer it? Just take it? George shivered thinking about how a woman like Eve might want to be pleased. The lion in his pants roared and bucked impatiently.
He glanced over at the invitation he had to assume she intended to extend. She sat on the edge of the bed, her face mostly obscured by the door. She still wore her robe but it fell open, puddled on the floor at her sides. She raised one leg and slowly smoothed some lotion over it. Her movements, deliberate and loving, mesmerized George. He watched those full, shapely legs; substantial legs that made him want to sink his teeth into them, suck them, run his tongue up from toe to pussy. She leaned back and out of George's field of vision but then came forward to lavish attention on the other leg. Again, the long slow strokes, sensually circulating the lotion into every thirsty pore.
She rose to stand with her back to the door. George restrained himself from protest once he realized the show was not over. Suddenly her robe slipped off her shoulders and gracefully fell to the floor like a theater curtain. Her voluptuous backside was in full view to him now. She bent forward and placed her hands on either side of her fleshy ass and rubbed lotion into each smooth orb, as she had done with her legs. As she massaged, fleeting peeks of her cunt and asshole winked at him. His dick pushed hard against his pants and her musky odor wafted over to him. Her hands caressed her ass lovingly, each stroke at once soothing and tantalizing.
Too quickly, she stepped away from the crack in the door to continue with whatever other moisturizing rituals remained. George shut his eyes for composure and then realized his coffee, poured before Dawn arrived, was now cold. He returned to the coffeemaker for a refill.
As he poured, he heard the gentle slapping of bare feet on the kitchen floor behind him. His breathing ceased as he waited for her move.
Would she slip her arms around him from behind and press her big heavy tits into his back? Or maybe she'd be rougher and just grab his throbbing crotch, rubbing him till he came in his pants. Perhaps she'd force him to kneel and asphyxiate himself in her hairy mound. The possibilities were not only glorious, but endless.
He waited. Nothing. He felt her presence, as well as her aroma, surrounding him.
"Are you finished there?"
George jumped and turned around quickly to face her. She grinned with the left side of her moist mouth. "Have you got all the coffee you need?" she asked, holding an empty mug. Now she wore a short, white loose-fitting nightshirt, designed to look as if it had been borrowed from a man significantly larger than she. A husband, perhaps? Her well-oiled legs glowed in the kitchen sunlight. She smirked at him playfully.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Eve. Can I pour you some?" She held out her mug for him. He poured nonchalantly, but his hand shook slightly.
"Did you want sugar in your coffee?" she asked as he finished pouring.
"Actually, yes, that would be nice." Maybe you could just sit in it, he thought.
"Let me get it for you. I keep it with my baking stuff."
She hoisted herself deftly onto the kitchen counter and kneeled there as she opened a cabinet door. Once it was open, she reached up to the top shelf, exposing the velvety ass he'd watched her massage only moments before. It and her sturdy, smooth thighs shook slightly as she rummaged through spices, flour and assorted teas. He stood frozen and painfully erect as her ass danced only inches from his face. "Here we go!" She pulled the sugar container out and proffered it to him from her position on the counter. The shirt now covered her ass again. She flashed him a captivating smile that unnerved him. Did she want to be fucked? Right here? Was she teasing him? Testing him? Could he lose his job if he surrendered to her irresistible allure?
He approached to take the jar and was immediately struck by the scent of her arousal. He could think of nothing other than his face between the cheeks of her sweet ass, breathing in that rich, slippery readiness. And then he wanted to lick it up until she screamed and writhed all over her kitchen counter.
"Thanks," he said instead. "Why do you keep it in such an inaccessible place? The sugar, I mean." They both smiled.
"I don't use it very often. And it's easy enough to get at." Still smiling. Still filling the room with pussy scent.
She sat at the kitchen table. George watched her, wishing he was the seat of her chair.
"I never would have dreamed you had grandchildren," George said.
"Grandchild. There's only one!"
Way to go, George. You'll have your face between her legs in no time.
"Even one!" George tried to save his faux pas. "But I'm sure you hear about how young you look all the time."
"Show me the woman who ever hears that enough!" She laughed and rose from the table with her coffee. "I'm going to finish dressing, George, so we can stop wasting your weekend. I'm sure you've got better things to do than review sales projections at a co-worker's house on a Saturday!"
She closed her door this time and George felt he'd failed. Maybe she was tired of his failure to act and didn't want to play anymore. Or maybe there was no guile in her at all and she'd just felt comfortable enough with him to relax. He considered whether most people relaxed the same way Eve did.
He returned to the living room and brought out the reports and graphs they needed to review. She joined him momentarily, her rich musk triggering George's salivary glands.
She wore a white, button-front blouse (was it the nightshirt she wore in the kitchen?) tucked into blue jeans. A black bra lurked beneath the blouse but managed to be the focal point of her ensemble. George saw it through the blouse and stared long enough to bring back her crooked smile.
"What seems to have riveted your attention, George?"
He would bite now, if she was fishing. "Your bra. I can see it through your blouse."
"Does that offend you?" She sat to his left on the sofa.
"No. I like it very much."
"It's such a pretty bra, I hate to keep it hidden." Eve unbuttoned a button to expose additional cleavage and pulled the shirt open. Transparent black fabric with lace trim strained to cover her ripe DDs. George placed his wide, eager palm over the bra on her warm breast. His right hand slowly squeezed her left tit. Eve placed her hand on George's, following his movements as if she wanted to learn them. He squeezed and caressed rhythmically and she moaned softly. Then she removed her hand from George's and grabbed her other breast, mirroring George's movements herself. Her eyes were closed. Seconds before George moved to reach his hand into the bra, she reached deep into the bra cup she was fondling and pulled out a huge, soft tit. The dark nipple begged for sucking. She held her tit in both hands, pointing the erect nipple at George.
"Suck my tit."
Never taking his hand from her other breast, George put his hot, hungry mouth on her big dark nipple. Her skin tasted like perfume at first but he sucked and licked away all traces of it. Her nipple grew in his mouth, like a cock, which made him suck harder.
His dick raged against his zipper. He wanted nothing more than to stick it into any of her hot orifices. He'd even fuck her in the ass, which he rarely did. He sucked her tit so hard he expected her to wince. Instead, she released the breast George's mouth covered and raised the other to her own mouth. She sat there licking and sucking, distracting George to the point where he had to stand to let his dick out of his pants. She watched him while she lapped loudly at her huge tit. When he released his raging hard-on from its zippered prison, she smiled with her tongue still on her nipple, appraising him. Grabbing both tits, she raised her head to speak.
"Go to my bedroom and bring me the oil on my nightstand."
Pants unzipped, belt flapping, and dick at engorged attention, George made his way to her bedroom and retrieved the oil that she'd used earlier on her beautiful ass.
Eve still held two handfuls of meaty tit flesh when George returned.
"Pour some oil on them and rub it in."
The oil oozed seductively over her quivering breasts. It separated and spread like streets on a road map covering huge tracts of land. He grabbed her glistening tits and massaged as instructed. She took hold of his cock and pulled him closer to her.
"Wouldn't you like to fuck my big tits?" she purred, enveloping his meat in her slippery mammaries. He stood and she worked her tits expertly up and down the length of him. The tip of his dick emerged each time her breasts were at the base of his shaft, nipples skimming his balls.
After a few strokes, she licked the head of his penis each time it shot out from between her well-oiled tits. He watched, breathless. What a agile tongue she had! It circled the tip of his cock swiftly but covered every hot, needy spot.
His rhythm matched hers now and he thrust his hips in tandem with her movements. She separated her breasts periodically and then gently slapped them together, sending shock waves of pleasure through George's happily sandwiched cock.
Suddenly, she swooped down toward his rock-hard member and slid all of it into her mouth. Once inside, her tongue snaked around it all the while sucking and pulling like a wild animal. George fucked her mouth hard, past the point of restraint. Cum brewed at the base of his cock.
He exploded in her mouth but as he came, she took his dick from between her wet lips and aimed his eruption at her face. George's mind blurred in ecstasy as he watched his cum spurt powerfully over her cheeks, nose, and eyes. He liked looking at her face covered with his juice.
Eve ran her fingers over her face. She ate up the cum like it was frosting in her favorite flavor, licking her fingers and savoring the taste of him. George stood over her, spent and still vaguely aroused. She stood now, covering her breasts with her blouse. Cradling George's balls in her hand, she smiled. "You'll have to come back next week, George. We still have a lot of work to do."
Copyright(c)1998 by Custom Erotica Source