She giggled uncertainly, tried to shrug me off, but you don’t get far in this business by being easily discouraged. I ran my tongue up and down the side of her neck, shifted her shiny, black curtain of hair to one side, and sent my tongue in behind her ear.
The charming little teenager didn’t cry ‘Mommy!’ or anything, instead she moaned softly when my wet tongue licked at the back of her delicately shaped ear. Then she turned her head and looked at me with her wide, baby-blue eyes, her face burning red. ‘Whatcha doin’, Mr Morgan?’ she asked in a little-girl voice.
‘Helping you deal with the stress, sweetheart,’ I whispered, before replacing words with action and swirling my tongue around inside her rose petal of an ear.
‘Mmmm,’ she murmured. ‘No, no, sir, I didn’t say anything,’ she hastily spoke into the headset, to the customer dangling on the end of the line. ‘I was just, uh, you know, thinkin’ about what you said. Please, go on.’
I took that last part as being directed at the both of us, and as the customer droned on about his computer problem, or some such nonsense, I batted Vicky’s earlobe around with my tongue, then caught it between my lips and tugged on it. I pushed the straps of her Hilary Duff tank-top off her shoulders and caressed the honey-coloured flesh of her arms and chest, slid my big, sweaty hands beneath the thin fabric of her girlish top and openly fondled her boobs, skin-on-skin.
‘Yeah…’ she whimpered, the guy on the phone thinking, no doubt, that she was agreeing with what he said.
I cupped and squeezed her firm, high, handful titties, played with her rubbery nipples, her buds flowering rapidly to fullness as I rolled and lightly pinched them. I kissed her neck more urgently, biting into her delectable flesh, inhaling her young girl essence as I felt up her titties.
‘Don’t stop,’ she breathed, her head lolling back on her shoulders, basking in the erotic sensations that my loving hands and lips were eliciting. She tilted the receiver up, away from her mouth, her hand shaking, her entire slim body quivering slightly under my fingers and tongue.
I spun the chair around so that she was facing me, and she stared into my eyes and bit her lip, realizing, quick study that she was, that I meant to have her cunny – meant to make her come right then and there, while she handled a customer on the phone, as a reward for her one-and-a-half nights of labour.
One of my greatest pleasures in life is tasting come-of-age coochie, digging my probing tongue into a ripe, juicy, barely-legal pussy and swirling it around, lapping at a teenaged babe’s soaking wet box until she squirts girlie-juice into my mouth, all over my face. I love the taste of cunny-honey in the evening. And there’s no better way to begin a, hopefully, long-term relationship with a sweet young thing than to eat out her conch, demonstrate to her that you’re as interested in her pleasure as your own.
Vicky nodded her head.
I plucked the headset control box off the elasticized waist of her tiny white shorts and set it on the desk, then pulled her top all the way down, leaving her chest bare and heaving. She was tanned all over from what must have been countless hours spent lying under a grateful sun on the beach, except for a couple of small, white triangles on her pointed boobs where her bikini top normally covered her up. Her cherry-red nipples jutted out at me, yearning for my hands and mouth, the exclamation points on our mutual want.
I dropped to my knees in front of her, gripped her titties, and without further ado, began teasing her blossomed buds with my tongue. ‘Ohmigod!’ she yelped, leaning forward so that I could make better mouth-contact with her teen queen jugs.
‘Huh!? No…I’m, uh, all right, sir,’ she mumbled into the phone, flipping the receiver back down to her mouth. She took a deep breath and ran her trembling fingers through her long, shimmering, jet-black tresses, as I flicked my tongue underneath first one swollen nipple and then the other, swirled it all around and over her rigid nubbies.
The customer babbled on, little realizing that his teenaged service rep was getting some servicing of her own. I latched my lips onto one of Vicky’s wickedly engorged buds and sucked on it, pulled on it, before swallowing up as much of her succulent titty as I could. She thrust her chest out, urging me to devour her tender titties, and I disgorged her left boob and went to work on her right, clutching and squeezing the sopping flesh of one breast while I nursed on the other. She closed her eyes and moaned, her burnished upper body gently undulating as I fed on her tits and nips, felt up her boobs.
Then I pulled my head back, gave her glistening titties a final playful squeeze, her nipples a pinch, and slipped my fingers under the waistband of her shorts. Her eyes popped open and she vaguely shook her head. I nodded slowly and surely, and she grinned mischievously and brought her slender, bronze legs together and arched her body off the chair, so that I could slide her shorts down. I took my time, the backs of my fingers rubbing her slim, supple legs all the way down.
I pulled her shorts off her dainty, bare feet – it’s pretty casual at our workplace – and threw them aside, gazed with satisfaction at her moistened cunny. Her mound was as bare as a baby’s bottom, except for an inverted triangle of downy, black fur that crowned her slit. Her quim glistened under the fluorescent lights, her puffy, rosy-red lips crying out to me to tongue and taste them, fuck her sexhole with my tongue, lick and suck her clit.
She spread her legs as wide as the chair would allow, and I picked them up and placed them on my shoulders, then leaned forward and brought my face to within an inch of her slickened cunny. ‘Do it, Mr Morgan!’ she hissed, prompting another agitated inquiry from her phone-bound client.
I gazed at her luscious poon for a good, long moment, licked my lips, inhaled the musky scent of her aroused girlhood. Then I ran my tongue down the side of one of her thighs, bit into the vulnerable flesh right next to her pussy. I repeated the process with her other thigh. She gasped, her legs quivering as I stroked her inner thighs with my tongue, painted her hot skin with my spit.
She covered the receiver with her hand and yelled, ‘Eat me, Mr Morgan!’ her blue-fire angel eyes blazing.
I took firm hold of her fleshy thighs, dipped my head down, and plunged my hardened tongue directly into her cunny. Her body jumped as I parted her shiny lips with my tongue, but I held on tight, driving my pink sticker deep into her sexual core. Then I started rhythmically fucking the young beauty with my tongue.
‘Yeah!’ she shrieked, frantically gripping her jugs and squeezing them.
I pistoned my head back and forth, pumping my cock-hard tongue in and out of the girl’s soaking snatch, totally immersing myself in the erotic taste and smell of her cunny. I spread her slick folds with my fingers, exposing an even deeper pinkness, and excitedly tongue-fucked her for a while longer, before dragging my slimy pleasure tool in long, hard, slow strokes from her butthole to her clitty, over and over.
Vicky held onto her pert titties for dear life, her pretty face a grim mask of sexual agony. But, top-notch employee that she’d already become, she still managed to squeak into her headset, ‘And, uh, have you been… experiencing any other problems, sir?’ which, of course, he had.
I lapped at my young colleague’s cunny, savouring the slick feel and tart taste of her teenaged coochie. Then I gave her puss one final long lick, smacked my lips with satisfaction, and exposed her clit with my fingers. I quickly covered her pink button with my mouth, sucked hard on her inflamed clitoris, desperate now to bring the eager-to-be-pleased youngster to shattering orgasm and drown myself in her sticky juices.
Vicky stared fixedly down at me, her teeth clenched, her hands kneading her swollen boobies, her fingers pulling on her stiffened nipples. I unmouthed her engorged clitty only long enough to slap it with my tongue a few times, and then I went right back to sucking on it, sucking her off.
‘Y-yeah, r-right,’ she gulped into the phone, then squealed with joy when I shoved two fingers into her greasy slit.
That did it. Her body went rigid, her muscles locking and standing out in stark rel
ief on her bowed, brown body, and then she was jolted by orgasm. I desperately ploughed my fingers in and out of her cunny, sucked and tongued her clitty, as her sweat-dappled body jerked around like her nerves had been short-circuited, shocked by ecstasy again and again and again. How she managed not to give her customer a blistering earful of genuine hardcore phone sex, I have no idea. But she did. She rode out her orally-induced orgasms in stunning, flaming silence, her bucking body and gushing cunny speaking volumes.
The following afternoon, when I was wallowing in paperwork, I had an unexpected visitor to my office.
‘Heya, Mr M,’ Vicky said, suddenly appearing in the doorway, even though her shift didn’t start for another ten hours.
‘H-hi,’ I stammered, my eyes widening and mouth watering as I took in the outfit that the young hottie was wearing.
She was barely-clothed in a tight, tiny candy-apple-red tube-top that struggled to contain her twin peaks, flashed her warm, brown cleavage, fully revealed her flat stomach and metal-studded bellybutton, and a midnight black, form-fitting mini-skirt that highlighted her tight, round bottom and lithe, dancer’s legs. Her hair was braided into twin ponytails, and she had a black choker around her neck, red, ankle-high boots with stiletto heels on her feet, a pile of silver and gold bracelets around her wrists and up her arms, and enough make-up on her face to make a painted whore blush with pride.
I swallowed hard and said, ‘Uh, what’s up, Vicky?’
‘I need you … like, right now,’ she replied, her glossy, crimson lips breaking into a smile.
I stood up, ran around my desk, and hustled the young cock-tease inside my office, slammed the door shut before any more of our co-workers could get an eyeful. ‘I’m kind of backed up with paperwork right now,’ I began, before the telephone rang, cutting me off. I walked past Vicky, through a cloud of perfume, and scooped the phone up off my desk. It was Takkinen from head office; he wanted to discuss, in detail, the latest monthly incoming-call report. I gave Vicky a tight smile and gestured for her to sit down.
She didn’t. The tarted-up teen flipped the lock on the door and twisted shut all the venetian blinds on the windows that looked out on to the cubicle farm, her taut butt cheeks twitching suggestively under her incredibly brief, clingy skirt. And then, while Takkinen nattered away about the two percent increase in call-connection times over year-to-date average, Vicky nonchalantly pulled up her top and down her skirt. She stood there in front of me, in my office, completely and jarringly naked except for her boots, jewellery, and slut-paint.
‘Time for some payback, Mr Morgan,’ she stated, grinning evilly.
I eyed her nubile body, my eyes lingering hazardously on her perky titties, her erect nipples, her shiny slit. I tried to make sense out of what Takkinen was yammering on about, but my brain had gone all warm and mushy. Vicky puckered her lips and blew me a kiss, cupped her boobs and spread her legs wider apart. She squeezed and kneaded her tits, rolled her jutting nipples between her fingers, her trim lower body swaying from side to side. Then she turned around and bent at the waist and pointed her heart-shaped, oh-so-grabbable ass at me, awkwardly but effectively.
‘Yeah, baby,’ I mumbled, rubbing the hard outline of my cock through my pants.
‘What’d ya call me?’ Takkinen asked.
‘Huh? Sorry, nothing. Just agreeing with you, is all. Keep talking.’
Vicky nodded, straightened up and faced me again, her scorching teen body searing my eyes as Takkinen talked shop in my ear. She strutted, stumbled over to me, until we were mere inches apart, and then she brushed my hand away from my swollen cock and replaced it with hers.
‘I’m gonna suck your big, hard prick till you come buckets – right in my mouth,’ she breathed in my face, her breath hot and humid and smelling of bubble gum.
I nodded excitedly when Takkinen asked if there was someone in the office with me. ‘N-no, no,’ I muttered. Then I held my breath as Vicky fumbled my zipper open and pulled out my cock, grasped the hard, pink power-tool in her hot little brown hand and squeezed it, her spangle-tipped fingers barely fitting all the way around my throbbing member. She started gliding her hand up and down my swollen pecker, and I gulped down my excitement and croaked into the phone, ‘What’s, um, up with that new call-tracking software, anyway? I-I bet you want to talk about that, huh?’
Takkinen cooperated, went off on a long-winded monologue as Vicky squatted down in front of me, stuck out her kitten-pink tongue and licked at my bloated cocktop. I groaned, barely able to maintain my composure. She tickled my dickhead with her darting, devilish tongue, her hand swirling all over my prick, and then she sucked my purple hood into her mouth and tugged on it.
I leaned back against the desk, Takkinen’s voice rattling on in the distance, Vicky sucking on my cockhead, stroking my shaft, juggling my balls around with her fingers. I stared down into her child-like eyes, watched anxiously as she sucked and tongued my hood a while longer, hand-polished my pecker, and then ran her tongue all the way up from my tightened balls to my mushroomed dicktip, bathing my shaft in hot saliva. She gripped me at the base and licked my pulsating schlong like she was determinedly tonguing a popsicle before it melted all over her hand.
‘Fuck, yeah, baby,’ I growled, my voice a strangled whisper, my balls boiling with semen, as I watched that young innocent hungrily attack my meat with her mouth.
‘It’ll lower operating costs in the long run…’ Takkinen continued, not suspecting for a moment that I was getting a truly wicked blowjob from a pretty little workmate, while he was blowing wind on the phone.
Vicky tilted my rigid cock downwards and engulfed my dickhead with her warm, wet mouth again, sucked vigorously on my cocktop, her cheeks billowing, her tongue buffing the sensitive underside of my hood. She started bobbed her head up and down, taking more and more of my jacked-up dong into her mouth each time.
I cradled the phone receiver between my head and shoulder and grabbed on to the anxious young girl’s ponytails, trying to guide her head, her mouth, back and forth on my straining cock. She scraped me with her teeth a couple of times, but I hardly noticed, and the talented teen got a good, sucking rhythm going, her lips sliding easily up and down my raging prick. She wet-vacced more and more of me into her mouth, rapidly driving me to the slippery edge of all-out orgasm.
I doubt if she could’ve gobbled up all of my prong, but I was in no condition to find out for sure. The whole dangerous liaison had fired me up so much that I lost control even quicker than usual, such that when she’d devoured a good three-quarters of my cock, I threw back my head, grunted with joyful abandon, and rocketed spicy, sizzling jizz deep into her dirty mouth, down her throat. I clung to her ponytails, crushed the phone between my ear and shoulder, my body spasming uncontrollably with each and every cum-blast.
Vicky, naughty girl that she was, didn’t even try to peel her jism-slick lips off my rupturing cock. Instead, the sexy wild-child stared up at me with a happy expression on her flushed face, her throat working as she earnestly chugged my spurting sperm. Takkinen went on and on, but, unfortunately, I wasn’t so lucky; my dick was soon convulsing on empty, drained of an incredible heated load by my eager-beaver co-worker.
Vicky yanked my dripping cock out of her mouth and squeezed a final few drops of goo from my slit, tongued them up and gulped them down. Then she shook my hands out of her hair, climbed to her feet, and kissed me sloppily on the lips, before quickly re-clothing herself.
‘See ya tonight, big guy!’ she yelled over her shoulder, as she slipped out the door, giggling.
‘You get what I’m saying?’ Takkinen inquired on the other end of the line.
‘Sure…sure,’ I replied exhaustedly, zipping myself back up with a shaky hand. ‘You’ve been a real help.’
A Rank Outsider
by Phoebe Grafton
Sometimes I used to wonder what Janet saw in me. She was my best friend, was Janet. We had known each other since school. We just didn’t seem to have a lot in c
ommon. While she was out being chased by all the boys, I was in being pencil monitor.
Physically, there was no similarity at all. We were like two pieces of a jigsaw. Where she stuck out, I caved in. Where she caved in, I stayed the same.
Some unkind soul christened us Beauty and the Beast. Janet, vivacious, hour-glass figure, blonde. No prize for guessing which one I was supposed to be. The relationship had mutual benefits when we left school and tackled the world of commerce. Janet and I shared a flat.
Any persistent guy that managed to get past the front door felt his ardour cooling rapidly when he found me there.
Particularly when we explained that it was a one bed-roomed flat.
It wasn’t really, but that usually worked. Of course when Janet encouraged a persistent guy, that was a different ball game altogether. Groans, grunts and sighs would flood through the thin bedroom wall.
It was like television without the picture. Meanwhile I’d be munching my way through a chair leg in sheer frustration.
The breakfast which followed such nights were awful. The guy would strut the kitchen in his jockey shorts, all limp macho and stale sexuality.
He’d get the last egg…I’d settle for the wholemeal crust. Janet would get a pat on the bottom. I’d get a pat on the head.
For all that, Janet didn’t seem really ready for a permanent relationship. That’s why we decided on a holiday together.
We kicked several ideas around. Like the words of the song – we’d been everywhere man. After much discussion, a quick argument and a sulk or two we settled on an Aegean cruise. Neither of us had been to sea before, so at least it would be a new experience. You only had to look at our baggage to realise that.
Janet and I had a council of war about the accommodation.
‘After all,’ she explained. ‘If one of us hits the jackpot, it’s going to be awkward if we are sharing a cabin.’
I got her drift. She didn’t want me cramping her style. Yet I might get lucky, I reasoned to myself in the tall bathroom mirror. Then I took another look. I should live so long.
Five Minute Fantasies 2 Page 6
