Office Sex: The Secretary

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Bosses traditionally fuck their secretaries, don’t they?

She glared at him, willing him to notice her. Shifting position, she edged closer, nudging his arm as he scooped up the pile of meeting minutes stacked precariously on the edge of his desk. She gasped when he wavered and struggled to stop his load from toppling.

Looking up, he frowned at her.

“Sorry,” she said, fluttering her lashes.

She smiled, anxiously hoping he’d smile back.

He didn’t. Hugging the folders to his chest, he pushed in his chair with a flick of his hip.

“Do you want something?”

“Yes, I’d…” She cleared her throat. “I’d like your opinion on something.”


“It’s about this.” Bending, she pointed to the hem of her pencil skirt. “I spilled some coffee here, see?” She pinched the offending portion of material and pulled it upward, exposing a slither of patterned lace stocking top. “Does it look bad?”

She bent a little lower, angling her cleavage toward him. Come on, look at me.

He did. Briefly.

“Looks fine to me,” he muttered. “Is that all?”

When she nodded, he repositioned his load and turned away.

Pouting, she watched him head for the door. Looks fine? That was hardly the reaction she’d wanted and his swift exit was downright rude. In expensive high heels, figure-hugging skirt and low-cut, semi-transparent blouse, her attire screamed ‘I’m available and willing’ as loudly as her actions.

She twisted her fingers irritably while gazing longingly at his arse, wiggling delightfully inside tight trousers. Oh, to grab those buttocks and squeeze them… She clenched her fists and sighed. His disinterest was infuriating. No matter what she wore or how much time she spent on her appearance, he didn’t notice her gym-honed hourglass curves, her baby doll eyes, or come-to-bed smile.

But I like a challenge, she reminded herself, and I’m not giving up yet. She ran her hands through her sleek black hair and shook it out. Other men find me attractive, so he might, eventually. She watched the door click shut behind him, then smoothed her skirt, covering her stocking tops. If I could break the ice, charm him…

Huffing, she straightened the pens scattered on his desk then trailed her fingertips across the jacket hanging on his chair back. She breathed in the lingering scent on the fabric. Umm… he smelled as good as he looked.

Bosses traditionally fvck their secretaries, don’t they? They did in this building. They were all at it, if office gossip was to be believed, and the noises she’d heard from inside locked offices backed up the theory. The cliché, however, wasn’t working for her.

“Typical,” she muttered, plucking a stray hair off the jacket’s collar. “Horny men all over the building and I want the only one who isn’t. Either that, or he’s a tease.”

A sudden commotion out in the corridor caught her attention: a loud bang, thuds, angry curses. Trotting to the door, she stuck her head out to see. Oh dear… Reluctant Romeo was there, red-faced, muttering, and surrounded by paper and folders, scattered in heaps over the polished stone floor.

“Couldn’t get the door open. Dropped the sodding lot,” he said, spotting her.

“So I see.” She’d never seen him look flustered before. “Need help?”

Without waiting for an answer, she hurried to his aid. Her skirt rode upward as she ran and she let it. You going to look this time? Kneeling at his feet, she gathered up papers.

“Thank you,” he said, crouching beside her.

“You’re welcome.”

Their eyes met. Fuck, he’s beautiful. Gazing into his grey-green eyes, she froze, lips parted. And when he smiled, her head spun. In a daze, she sorted the papers and handed them back to him.

“There,” she said, “it’s not as bad as it looks.” She beamed at him, her heart fluttering. Picking up the last folder, she struggled to her feet. “Shall I get the door for you?”

“No need.”

He held her gaze and a rush of excitement fizzed in her stomach. Talk to me, notice me. She held her breath.

“I’ve got it. Thanks.”

He broke eye contact and, tucking the folders securely under his arm, retreated backward into the boardroom. The door swung shut.

Blinking, she felt a sudden and surprising sting of tears. She sniffed and stiffened, her bottom lip trembling. He’d passed up the perfect opportunity to get to know her, walked away as fast as he could. His indifference was plain to see. Lost, she dithered in the corridor, hands clasping her face. She could hear him in the boardroom, walking around, and wondered what he was doing. He was supposed to be dropping off the minutes, nothing more. The delay suggested he was he purposefully not coming out, avoiding her.

She stamped her foot. “Sod you! Enough’s enough.”

Taking a deep breath, then another, she hauled open the door and rounded on him.

“For goodness sake, why don’t you like me?”

She knew at once she shouldn’t have said it and, mortified by his shocked expression, she slapped a hand across her forehead.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, backing away. “I’m such a—”

“No. Wait.” He held up a hand. “Don’t go.”

“And embarrass myself even more? I’m going.”

“No! Please wait.” He placed the last of the minutes, in an orderly, neat pile. “You’re wrong about me, I…” Grimacing, he stroked his chin. “I do like you.”

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“I like you a lot. I haven’t said anything because it’s, well, it’s… inappropriate.”

Her hands dropped limply to her sides. He likes me?

“Very inappropriate. Don’t you think?”

He fucking likes me? Her mouth had dropped open.

“And I wasn’t sure how you felt.” He hesitated, a frown creasing his brow. “Do… do you?”

“Yes,” she blurted, finding her voice. “Didn’t I make it obvious?”

Gaping like a rabbit caught in the headlights, he shook his head.

How much more obvious could I be?

“I fancy the pants off you.” A smile slowly curved her lips. “Fvck, you had me going.” She waggled a finger at him. “I thought you hated me or something.”

“No. Not at all. You’re…”

“Yes?” Her pulse raced, blood singing in her ears. “I’m what?”

“You’re, erm… you’re fucking gorgeous.”

Her jaw fell slack and joy enveloped her, like she’d stepped into a bath filled to the brim with hot, soapy water and mountains of bubbles in her favourite fragrance.

“Gorgeous? Huh,” she shrugged one shoulder, “I guess that is inappropriate, but what the hell? I won’t complain if you don’t.”

She watched a smile spread across his face, crinkling the corners of his mouth and showing his perfect white teeth.

“Come here,” she said, beckoning.

She met him halfway and, on tiptoes, kissed him, pressing her lips hard against his. She shuddered when he hugged her, she’d waited a long time for this moment and it felt wonderful. But a door slam had them jumping apart. She looked around nervously.

“Lock the door,” she instructed.

“Lock it? Why? Oh…” he sucked air through his teeth, “you want to… in here? Now?”

“Don’t you?” She caressed his cheek with the back of her hand. “Go on, lock it. You’ve got the only key, yes?”

He nodded, then glanced at the clock on the wall.

“We’ve got time.” She cupped his face in her hands. “I thought I’d never get close to you and I’m not going to back away now. Are you?”

“I don’t want to, but…”

He shot another look at the clock.

“Don’t,” she said, turning his face back toward her. “Live dangerously. A quickie, yes?” she kissed his neck, her lipstick leaving scarlet marks. “We can do a lot in”, she looked at the clock, “seven minutes.”

“Seven, is that… umm…” He groaned as she kissed him again. “Seven minutes?”

“Six now.”

“Six? Shit!”

“Oh, come on,” she goaded. She touched his crotch, her eyebrows arching. Hard as rock. “I think six minutes is plenty.”

He glanced down at the bulge in his trousers. “Maybe.” His smile widened. “We’ll have to get on with it.”

“Yes. So lock the door and—”

She squealed when he scooped her up, and giggled as he carried her across to the huge, oval table, depositing her on top. He hurried to lock the door and, returning, kissed her hard on the lips. He fumbled with her skirt.

“Allow me.”

She took charge, hooking the material up over her hips. Staring into his eyes, she removed her satin panties.

“Oh, lovely,” he whispered. Slowly, deliberately, he stroked her slit. “Fvck, you’re wet, beautifully wet.”

Sinking to his knees, he buried his head between her thighs.

She gasped at the first lick. Wow! Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined his tongue would feel so good. His oral skills were second to none and, with her thighs clamping his face, lace stocking tops tickling his cheeks, shivers raced through her. Then he rubbed her clit at the same time… Ooh… all her birthdays came at once.

The boss and the secretary – it does work. On her back, thighs parted, she relished the delicious rasping of his tongue. Tremors rippled through her body and, shuddering, she wound his hair around her fingers, messing up his short, dark locks.

She moaned, low and continuous: a tigress purring. Shaking her head from side to side, she fought to keep her hips from bucking. Sweat beaded on her brow and her cream silk blouse clung to her clammy skin. Buttons undone, the material gaped, revealing her breasts, heaving as if desperate to escape from her satin bra.

“Oh, yes… right there,” she cried as he slipped a finger inside.

Another spasm rocked her right to the core. She squirmed. She was close, so close…

A good thing too: she glanced at the clock, noting that time was passing perilously fast. In mere minutes, the room would be invaded by the company’s most important members. They’d barge in, jostling for coffee and cake before settling around the table to debate the latest sales figures – this very table on which she was currently sprawled, legs akimbo.

Right on cue, the door rattled. Turning her head, she saw the handle rotate. Her ears pricked up as she heard the muffled clatter of clinking china and the squeak of a wheel in need of oil. Someone knocked.

“Crap! The caterers…” she shrieked.

Her heart missed a beat, yet she tingled with excitement at her depravity: fucking in the boardroom with a meeting imminent and caterers at the door. How delightfully wicked.

Throwing back her head, she cried, “Give me more, I want more.”

His head popped up, a look of wonderment on his face, juices dripping from his chin.

“Finish me off, please,” she begged. “Bend me over the table and fuck me, I’m yours.”

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A smile creased his face then, masterful and quick, he spun her around. Palms flat on the table, she listened to the jangle of his belt buckle and, looking back over her shoulder, watched his trousers crumple around his ankles as he pushed down his boxer shorts.

Her eyes widened. Goodness… She couldn’t quite believe it. He was stroking what could only be described as the cock of her dreams. Thick and long, it pointed straight upward, ready for action. She gaped at it before, grabbed by her hips, she was forced to brace against the polished table.

He entered her slick passage in one thrust. Then, grasping her tightly, he thrust again. And again. His thick cock filled her, stretched her, and he rammed her with wild abandon. Urgently fucking against the clock, he sank his coc.k to the hilt, his balls slapping against her, his fingers digging into her thighs.

Good. Very good. She wanted it. Loved it. His rough fucking was bliss.

The caterers knocked again, temporarily distracting him.

“Keep going,” she urged, panting, “they can wait.” His cock felt incredible in her pussy, she couldn’t let him stop now. “Fuck me harder, make me come. Do it.” To her relief, the pounding resumed. “Yes, that’s it!”

She took a sharp intake of breath as she was slammed against the table, his rhythmic thrusts shaking the pile of meeting minutes, sending them toppling again. She didn’t care. All she could think about was him, and how satisfying he was.

Sexual pleasure swamped her senses and silenced the alarm bells ringing madly inside her brain – by now, the ‘suits’ in their offices must be closing their laptops and straightening their ties, preparing to head her way. They were sticklers for punctuality, they always came on time.

Thankfully, so did he. He stiffened, groaned, and as she pushed back against him, he shot his load inside her. His grunts and the heady scent of sex triggered a reaction deep in her core. Crying out, she came a second after he did, her pu$sy contracting around his, the rippling spasms, milking him. Satisfied, she exhaled. Ahh… Release at last.

With her desperate need gratified, she stole a glance at the clock. Shit! Panicked, she pushed him away, and his cock slipped from her depths, trailing juices.

“Sorry,” she muttered.

Turning to face him, she gestured to the door and pointed at the clock.

“Oh hell,” he said, shaking his cock.

He grabbed tissues from a box in the middle of the table and cleaned his wilting penis. He pulled out more and offered them to her. She took them without a word. There was another knock from outside and a voice calling.

“Just a moment,” she yelled. Meeting his worried look, she shrugged. “I think they know we’re here.”

He nodded and a mischievous grin lit up his face. Beaming back, she wrestled with her clothing; buttoning, tucking, and smoothing down until she looked presentable. Then she wiped down the table while he straightened chairs, and opened windows to ventilate the room.

“Okay?” he asked. He held up the key.

“One moment.” She discarded the tissues in the bin. “Okay.”

She straightened her shoulders, her smile faded. Striding to the head of the table she pulled out a chair and sat. She rubbed her neck, moistened her lips, then clasped her hands on the tabletop. Settled, she watched him unlock the door.

The caterers immediately trundled in and she glared as one dared cast a quizzical look her way. To her delight, he quickly bowed his head and joined the others, setting out coffee cups and pastries for the hungry hordes. The ‘suits’ entered next, prompt as ever. As they did, her partner in crime busied himself placing copies of the minutes in front of each chair around the table. He worked methodically, neatly, efficiently, then, with a sly wink, he left.

Hmm…that’s better. A wink, eh? She sighed contentedly. It was great having a secretary and now that she’d broken the ice – melted it – she’d have some fun with him. A fuck in the boardroom was just the start. Imagine what could happen on her next business trip.

She shuffled in her seat, aware of a squelch in her panties. She fought to hide her smirk and, failing, slapped a hand over her mouth, pretending to cough. Then another thought tickled her – the promotion. If successful, she’d get a new office on the top floor and two secretaries of her choice. Imagine that! What more could a girl want?

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Obinwanne Umunna

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