Sarahs Sexploits - The Beginning

by K. T. Red

  “I like you too, Scott - and I whole-heap-of-lust you too! I don’t want serious. I’ve had serious and I ended up getting hurt. But if the opportunity presents itself for this to happen again, I’d be more than up for it and I think you would be too. We all need a little physical release sometimes. I am not - and never will be - any threat to your marriage. Friends with Benefits?”

  Scott nods. “Friends With Benefits it is then. But I think we both need a few days to recover! Did I hurt you? I got a bit - well - over-excited towards the end. Sorry.”

  “No, don’t worry. You didn’t hurt me at all. Well - maybe just a tiny bit. That is quite a beast you’ve got there.” I gesture at his crotch.

  He laughs and stands, holding his hand out. “Come on, you. Time you got dressed and let me get on with my proper work. I’m starting to feel more than a little drowsy now - and that is all your fault!”

  I retrieve my clothes and get dressed. I laugh as Scott stands there, fidgeting and looking a bit sheepish. He rubs his hand through his hair and laughs then runs his fingers through mine. “Just trying to make you look a bit less - erm - post coital.” Tilting my chin up, he kisses me lazily.

  I lean into him, returning his kiss. “Mmmmm - I think I’d better go before my legs dissolve!” He kisses the top of my head and pats my ass. “Hey!”

  He chuckles throatily. “Sorry - couldn’t resist! Now get the fuck out of here before I get my breath back and take you again!”

  I kiss him quickly and walk from the building. I close my eyes and take a deep breath as I step out into the warm evening air. Did that really just happen? The ebbing throbs between my legs prove beyond all doubt that it absolutely did. Oh. My. God! What have I started?

  Nothing I can’t handle. I think!

  Chapter Eight

  The blissful - and extremely physical! - encounter with Scott was almost a week ago. I haven’t had the opportunity to bump into him again and I’m not sure when I’ll be able to again. Pity. It was absolutely fucking fantastic. Such absolutely, wonderfully fantastic fucking. I had a satisfied smile on my face for days - even though I was quite sore as well! It was so worth it. No pain, no gain.

  And now it’s back to normal at work - politely enduring unwelcome flirting from the office guys, watching the factory workers from a discreet distance. I have to admit that I don’t watch them with quite the same level of curiosity since I got my hands (and mouth!) on the delicious Scott.

  I’ve been summoned to a meeting with the new Managing Director in a few minutes which I’m a bit unsure about. Our factory was taken over by a French company a few months ago and we “gained” a rather aloof new boss. I was more than a little surprised to find an email from him calling me for this meeting as he never even acknowledges me if we pass in the corridor.

  I didn’t even know he knew I existed - I’m probably just some girl in the accounts department - let alone know what my name is. I wouldn’t mind so much if the meeting was during the day but he’s scheduled it for 6.00 so yet again I’ve got no choice but to work late. I do have a life outside this place. All work and no play, as they say.

  He’s called Emil and he’s attractive in a rather arrogant way. I would say he’s anywhere between the age of forty and forty five. Greying brown hair - quite thick and wavy. Clean shaven with a light tan. Healthy looking - looks like he really takes care of himself. I suppose being French he’s very suave and sophisticated and, being the boss, used to getting his own way. He certainly looks the part in his expensive suits driving a brand new flashy sports car. And I must confess that he always smells very nice when he walks past.

  I knock on his door and he calls for me to come in. I nervously open the door and go in. I’ve never been in this room before and I’m taken aback by the sheer size of it. He is sitting behind the biggest carved oak desk I have ever seen.

  “Good evening, Monsieur Emil.” This is what we have been told to call him. How arrogant is that? I wonder if I should curtsey.

  “Bonsoir, mon chere. Assayez-vous, s’il vous plait.”

  I obediently sit, a bit taken aback that he called me “my dear“. Maybe that’s what he calls all the women he has to deal with - it’s probably much easier than remembering their names, I suppose. He hasn’t even had the good manners to look up since I walked in, too busy working on his computer. I take the opportunity to gaze round the room. There is a large, smooth oval table over one side of the room, presumably for meetings. On the wall behind it is an enormous television screen and the far corner houses a more relaxed seating area. Two nice black leather sofas that would look awesome in my house. But there are no windows - which strikes me as a bit strange.

  He stops typing and looks up at me. “You understand French?”

  “Only what I learnt at school. Bonjour and au revoir. And merci, of course.”

  He nods. “Yes indeed. Hello, goodbye and thank you. The basics. I think that it is always good to have a basic knowledge of most things, don’t you agree?”

  “Yes, I think so.” Where is this going?

  “Oui - me too, chere.” He stands and walks around to my side of the desk. “But I think you are being modest, no?”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t quite understand what you mean.”

  He is now standing directly behind my chair, his hands resting on the back of the chair. I feel more than a little unnerved. I briefly close my eyes, noticing again how good he smells.

  “I have been here a few months now and yet we have never talked, have we? I do not usually concern myself with becoming acquainted with anyone who is not senior management. I do usually have the time or - to be perfectly frank - the inclination. But have I been negligent I ask myself. I thought you were just a girl who worked here. Just another average office girl.” He places his hands on my shoulders. “But you aren’t, are you? I think perhaps you are someone of great interest.”

  My stomach lurches and I feel my heart beating quicker. What the hell is he playing at? If he wasn’t the boss, I would get up and walk out of the room. I try to sound calm. “Me? What do you mean, Monsieur Emil?”

  “You have worked hard on the stock take this week - above and beyond what you are contractually obligated to do. Dedication like that is to be respected and admired.” I tense as he starts to massage my shoulders then despite myself my body starts to react. I take a deep breath in. “And encouraged. I like members of staff that are prepared to put their heart, body and soul into their work.”

  He walks over to the oval table and picks up a remote control. “And you don’t you, mon chere. Especially your body.” And then he switches on the television.

  Chapter Nine

  The large screen crackles into life and I can’t believe what I’m looking at. There in widescreen and explicit high definition are two people having frenzied, passionate sex. And I’m one of them. On my back, legs spread enjoying the pounding of my life from Scott as the camera zooms in and glorifies every intimate little detail. Jesus, caught by the security cameras! “No!” I cry as I bury my face in my hands.

  My face burns and my breath catches as I watch then look at my fellow voyeur. He is watching me, my reaction - not watching the adult entertainment playing on the screen. I look back at the television. My eyes widen as I watch myself writhe in ecstasy with Scott inside me, buried to the hilt. Thank God there’s no volume. I can’t help but start to feel turned on remembering what it felt like that night.

  He pauses the real-life sex show. “Yes, chere. I was quite surprised to find this. I had the cameras installed a month ago hoping to catch someone either stealing or - how do you say? - skiving, I think that is the word.” He walks back to stand behind me, his hands resuming their massage. “Very pleasantly surprised.”

  I feel hot, almost sick. “What are you going to do?”

  “Ah, yes, what am I going to do? Now that depends on y
ou. And how reasonable you are prepared to be.” His hands move lower and ease their way inside my blouse. I want to move, to stand, to stop him. But I can’t. “I could dismiss one or both of you on grounds of gross misconduct - I think having sex with a colleague on company premises during working hours would more than qualify, don’t you?” His hands are now on my breasts, fingers twirling over my nipples as I look at the frozen picture on the screen. “But I think maybe that I am prepared to take a more reasonable stance - given the right incentive.” In spite of not wanting to, my body starts to react to the combination of both physical and visual stimulation. He’s very good with his hands. And it’s pretty obvious what he wants - he wants the same.

  “And if I say no?” The effort to sound calm and unaffected is enormous. He stops fondling my breasts and takes his hands back out.

  “I do not think you will.” He walks away, over to the door and clicks the lock on. What the.....? “It will not be a wise idea. And I think that whatever else you may be, that you are not a stupid woman.”

  “That’s blackmail!”

  “No, mon chere. It is - to use your own words - mutual need. Or do you only like the boys in their dirt and grime? Playing the whore with bits of rough from the factory floor. On your back, spreading your legs and opening your mouth for whoever happens to be working the late shift.”

  I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I can’t speak. My image is staring back at me, face captured in the throes of passion. Without my realising, Emil has moved back to sitting on the other side of the desk. He has a satisfied smirk on his face that I’d like to slap. He knows he’s won. What else can I do?

  “You sit there, looking at yourself on the screen and it arouses you. Do not bother to deny it. I know it and you know it. It is deliciously refreshing to find a woman who has such a healthy appetite for the physical. Why waste your desires and obvious talents on men like him?” He waves at Scott with derision.

  “Leave him out of this!” I’m angry now.

  “I will happily leave him out of this. He does not matter. He is nothing. A no-one. But me - I am someone. Someone who could be of benefit to someone like you. And you, chere, could be of extremely enjoyable benefit to me.”

  “Sarah. My name is Sarah - not mon chere.”

  He chuckles. “Ah - a woman with pride too. Pride mixed with sex, with passion - a very powerful and intoxicating combination.” He leans forward, hands raised and fingers interlinked as if conducting an interview - which I suppose is precisely what he’s doing. “So, what do you say, Sarah?”

  My mind’s a whirlpool. Thoughts and images swirling round and round. Part of me is horrified and wants to run from the room and the building. Another part of me is intrigued. And tempted, very tempted. Emil gets to his feet, resuming his position behind me. He lowers his face to me, whispering “Think about it, Sarah. No strings. No rules. No boundaries. No holds barred - is that right? Think of the enjoyment we could have together. The pleasure we could give and receive.” Then he walks away and sits down on one of the sofas at the far end of the room.

  My heart is racing in my chest and my stomach lurches as I get to my feet and walk over to him. “There is one rule, Monsieur Emil. And it is not for up for negotiation.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “Oh? And that is?”

  “Switch the cameras off.” I hold his gaze. “Now.”

  Chapter Ten

  He doesn’t even bother to deny it. He just reaches down the side of the sofa for another remote and presses a button. “Smart too. You can’t blame a guy for trying. Watching a replay could keep me warm on a cold night. Or maybe I could compare the two performances on a split screen and watch who turns you on the most.” He shrugs his shoulders. “Now then. Enough of the verbal foreplay. As you have accepted my offer - as I knew you would - I suggest that we waste no more time and get down to more serious matters. Take your top off.”

  I take a deep breath and slowly undo each button before letting my blouse fall to the floor. Now I’m more than grateful for the lack of windows. His eyes bore right into me and before he has chance to ask I remove my bra, tossing it to him. “So, Emil. Do you like what you see? Am I as appealing in the flesh as I am on the screen? Or maybe you just like to watch?”

  “What do you think, Sarah?” and with that he opens his zip and frees a very healthy erection. My word, he’s a very good size - not especially long but nice and thick. “And you? Tell me, do you also like what you see?”

  I lick my lips. “Oh yes, Emil. I believe that I do.” I take a few steps forward and position myself between his parted legs. I bend forward slightly and trail my hands up his legs, from his knees to his inner thighs until they rest just short of his groin. Again I feel his expert hands fondle my breasts which are barely inches from his face. “In fact, I like what I see very much.”

  I squeeze his muscular thighs, making circular motions with my thumbs. Warm hands press my breasts together and he begins to nuzzle, kissing each fleshy mound. His thick, wet tongue twirls over my nipples, quickly making them firm and proud. Pulling back slightly, he blows gently on them, making the aureole pucker, giving the illusion of even firmer nipples.

  His hands pummel as he licks and sucks each nipple in turn before burying his head between my curves. It feels so nice then he drops his hands to my hips, teasing them slowly down to the hem of my skirt. In one continuous, confident and extremely sexy move, he slides both hands up my skirt. I straighten up as he brushes the backs of his fingers against the now damp gusset of my panties.

  “I think we will dispense of these.” Emil hooks his thumbs under the lacy sides and expertly eases them down my legs until they fall to the floor. I step out of them and kick them to one side with my stilettos. Those devilish hands of his travel the length of my legs, pushing my skirt up around my waist. And here I am, standing in my new boss‘ office - almost naked, looking like the cheap slut he wants me to be. “We will leave your skirt on I think. It looks so much raunchier. Naughtier. Dirtier.”

  My heart rate increases as he explores my abdomen with those hands before sneaking round the back to squeeze my buttocks. I don’t need to be asked to part my legs ready for his next stage of exploration. He takes his hands down the back of my legs to my knees then takes them back up the front, stopping just short of my crotch.

  The heat inside me is building and he hasn’t even touched me intimately. He trails his thumbs along the inside of my damp thighs, making me tremble and gasp. His thumbs press my folds together, travelling along their lines up to my clitoris. “You see, Sarah, how much you want this; how hot and wet you are and I‘ve barely even touched you. Just imagine what it will feel like to have me deep inside you - pushing, driving hard.”

  Emil presses his face into my stomach and nibbles lightly as his thumbs circle my slick button. I can’t believe I’m already close to orgasm. Skilful fingers tease and tickle and dance along my shaven haven while he keeps his thumbs pressing each side of my pleasure point. I start to rock slightly, throwing my head back. “Oh, Emil.....you’re a very bad man.” My voice catches in my throat, my words almost a croak.

  The intense, naughty thrill of doing something I thought of as repulsive, as something I was being coerced into doing such a few minutes earlier is too much and I grab his shoulders to steady myself. His fingers move quickly then he covers my entire mound with the palm of one hand. With a brisk circular motion, he presses the heel of his hand against my clit. I feel my orgasm about to hit and I wrap my fingers round a handful of his hair as he pulls away to watch my face as I climax.

  With a quiet, deep moan, I close my eyes and let wave after wave wash over me as a quick orgasm breaks and I feel my thighs grip his busy hand. A slow flow of juices trickle out and he smears these all over my lips and inner thighs. “Well, chere, aren’t you the responsive one? Very hot blooded.”

  Chapter Eleven

 
With a few deep breaths, I feel my self-control returning and open my eyes. He still has that knowing smirk on his face. “Mmmm - that was........nice.” And before he can respond, I drop to my knees and take him in my hand. He’s hot and hard, yet soft and velvety to the touch. I love the feel of a fully hard cock in my hand. The way it pulses and twitches. It feels alive as I move my hand up and down the length of his shaft, feeling every ridge and vein.

  I lower his fly a little further and ease my free hand inside. His balls are surprisingly cool and he gasps as I fondle them, pulling slightly on his hair. Cupping them, I circle my thumb over each ball in turn. I match this movement with my other thumb on his soft sensitive head. My tongue flicks over my bottom lip suggestively and I hold Emil’s gaze, his eyes becoming heavy.

  He opens his legs wider so I can get closer. “I want your sweet mouth. Take me inside your beautiful lips and devour me whole. I want to feel your pleasure as you drink me. ” I moisten my lips and lower my head until he can feel my breath upon him. I tilt my head sideways and glance upwards. He’s waiting for me to start and when I don’t, he glances down quickly. And this is the instant I wrap my lips over him - slowly parting them as they take in his thick, bulbous head before sliding them down the hot meat.

  I hear a groan as he has no choice but to surrender his arrogant need to control and dominate. Now it’s my turn to be in control. He is completely at my mercy and what a heady rush it is. The big boss. Monsieur Emil, the aloof and distant Managing Director. Hard as Hell and in my mouth. Totally and utterly under my control as I hold him motionless in my mouth. Now I’m the boss. I’m in charge!

  Slowly, I ease my way back up until all I have left to enjoy is the delicious head. I swirl the back of my wet tongue over the head, round and round. My lips glide back and forth, up and down as I hear soft mumblings in French from Emil. I don’t know what he’s saying but from the timbre of his voice I’m quietly confident that he’s enjoying himself. My saliva makes a lovely slippery lubricant as I begin a long, slow slide to take in as much of him as possible.