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About six months ago my job when to hell. Before that time I told people I had the best job in the world, with decent pay, decent hours and decent benefits. I could take time off when I needed to, sneak in a round of golf without having to take a vacation day, and even was able to carve out some three-day weekends at the shore.
Then came the slump in the economy. Everyone was asked to do more, and that “more” multiplied when several positions were eliminated. The good news is my job was secure. The bad news is I am working long hours and more days than ever.
Fact is, I am happy I have a good job and not in danger of losing it. But those long hours, unrealistic deadlines and lack of help do begin to wear on you.
Working on Saturdays became the norm, at least a half day in the office, and during the week there were many days I’d be in at 7:30 in the morning and still there at 6:30 at night.
At first, I’d pack up and take work home, but after a bit I just decided to wait out the traffic and just keep working until I had about as much work done as I’d be able to do. I knew I was working late when I was interrupted by the cleaning crew that made its way through the floors each evening.
I’d hear them doing their work and it meant I was definitely there too late!
First came the person who emptied the trash cans and desktop shredders. Then the guy with the heavy duty vacuum cleaner entered. Finally, a bit after the first two, came Lucia. She was in charge, I guess, of cleaning up desks, wiping things down, getting rid of germs, you name it.
It seemed backward to me, as I would have thought she’d do her work before the vacuum guy, but, hey, I am not the expert here.
I knew her name was Lucia because she wore a work shirt with the name stitched on, and late one night I asked why the cleaners worked in the order they did. In broken English she explained something to the effect that the early bird would sweep things onto the floor, the vacuum guy would whisk things up and she was the last line of cleaning.
At least that’s what I think she said.
Over the weeks that followed I’d talk with the woman, with each subsequent week we’d become a little more familiar with each other. After nearly two months we graduating to harmless flirting. At this time of night only the cleaners were on the floor, my co-workers long gone. I learned she was 26, two decades younger than me.
She had beautiful dark brown hair, a captive smile and a decent body. She was no knockout in her work clothes, but she appeared to have an ample top, maybe 32c breasts, and a tight behind. I wondered what she would look like in a dress and fantasized about her favorite underwear. She didn’t seem to be a thong girl, as I could see panty lines when she would polish my small conference table. She’d bend over the round table to wipe it down and my eyes darted to her backside.
That she’d bend over, unladylike, was odd, because early on I noticed she’d sort of walk around the able and clean it, but after a bit of flirting I think she wanted to have me look at her behind.
Suddenly I actually liked working late. The idea that Lucia would grace my office and we’d have a little bit of banter — she in broken English — made my day. What can I say, it was a great way to end the evening before heading out of the building.
She was a pleasant girl, always wearing a smile, but was fun to speak with about this and that. She had a voice that I loved listening too, her accent was strong, but after a while I understood her as well as anyone. I guess the human ear learns to adapt.
I noticed she wore a wedding ring, so I figured she was merely having some flirtatious fun. One night I asked about her husband.
You would have thought I asked her if she was afraid of snakes or something, because she stopped what she was doing and pulled up. Her face blanched and I was afraid there was something wrong with the man or something.
‘All men are pigs,” was all she said, brushing a tear from her eye.
Not knowing what to say, I merely shook my head yes.
With that Lucia made a few cursory swipes pendik escort around my desk then walked from the room. I don’t know what I said or did, but clearly I upset the woman.
I deliberately stayed late the next night. I had to ask her what was up. At first I thought she wasn’t working because there was a large gap in time between the first two workers and her, but eventually she entered my office.
Working on my computer I stole glances at the girl as she did her work. After a couple minutes our eyes met, and she surprisingly sat in the chair across from me.
“People used to think I was pretty, but I am getting old and fat,” said the girl, speaking better English than I though she had in her. “I know I’ve let myself go, but with so many responsibilities there just isn’t time to work out.”
I looked at her as if she was crazy. The girl, 20 years my junior, was adorable, and I told her so.
“Do you really think so? My husband says I am fat,” said the girl. “That’s why he is cheating on me, that’s why he’s fucking his secretary.”
Doing a double take, my mind wasn’t sure I heard what I thought I heard.
“He told you that?” was my inquisitive reply, all the while smiling at how “is” sounded just like “ease” or “ezz” coming from her mouth.
“Yes, that I am fat. And he’s always with her. She’s gone on business trips with him, I know she has. I smell her on his clothes. And my friend said she saw them together after work at a bar. Said they left holding hands.”
I told her how sorry I was, how it was probably just a mistake and that she was jumping to conclusions. But she emphatically said she “knew what she knew” and that a girl “could tell these things.”
She went on to say she had confronted him, but he had denied everything. He said she was dreaming. Then he called her fat. That’s why he was no longer attracted to him.
“Yea, we hardly ever make love any more, and when we do he’s done in a minute or two. He uses me when his girlfriend isn’t around I bet. If it wasn’t for the kids I’d go home to Tucson.”
I felt sorry for the girl. I couldn’t believe she was confiding so much in me, I had no idea why, but I did feel honored she did. I asked her why. She was so open with her personal life, I couldn’t understand why she picked me, but apparently the weeks of being nice, flirting and open with her on day to day things paid off tonight for whatever reason.
“You seem so nice. You aren’t like the other guys around here. Oh, you have flirted with me, but you didn’t grab my behind like the guy downstairs. I enjoy the way you, well, look at me, like you think I’m a little bit attractive. And I like talking with a guy like you who seems to be nice.”
Telling her I thought she was very attractive, I mentioned I’d think of her late at night, letting her think about what that meant. I think she did, because she gave a shy smile.
“You think about me, uh, in bed? When you are with your wife?”
I looked at the ring on my finger. “My wife left me a couple years ago, I always thought she’d be back…”
“I’m sorry,” said the girl. “I didn’t know.’
It was awkward for a bit, but I brushed it off. “No problem.”
A few minutes of chit chat later the girl left my office, quickly finishing her work, much to my dismay. I was having so much fun talking with her. She was the first girl I’d had such talk with since my wife left me, and I couldn’t wait for the next time.
I didn’t have to wait long, as she returned about 15 minutes later.
“I only have a couple minutes before they will miss me upstairs. Would you kiss me? I have wondered what it would be like and if I don’t ask tonight I never will.”
She didn’t have to ask twice.
I walked over to her, pulling her close. Looking into her eyes a smile crossed my lips, and then I moved forward and kissed her, slowly at first but then more passionately. Her lips were amazing, so soft yet so experienced. Her tongue slipped in and out of my mouth as my cock began to grow.
She felt it, much to my dismay.
“You like me, you like kissing me?” said the girl. “I haven’t maltepe escort kissed a man since I got married.”
“Your lips are like sugar, they are so sweet, and you, young lady, are a very pretty woman,” I said. “Your husband doesn’t know what he is doing.”
“Oh he knows, he’s fucking his tramp of a secretary. He’s probably with her right now.”
“And what are they doing.”
“She is probably sucking his cock, the puta, the slut,” said Lucia.
Looking her in the eyes, I asked if she wanted to suck mine. Her look was priceless. “I don’t do that. Whores do that. Like my husband’s whore.”
I spent the next few minutes telling her that wasn’t true, but it wasn’t until I told her that doing it to me would be the perfect punishment for her husband that she acquiesced to my request.
It was as if my statement made sense. Heck, I was just throwing it on the table, I never thought for a minute she’d bite on it. She stood back, looked at me, then the floor. She walked over to the office door, closed it, and locked it.
She slowly returned, kissed me again and then dropped to her knees. Struggling with my zipper, she sort of massaged my dick in my pants while she attempted to open the pesky zipper. Soon she figured it out. Slowly, tantalizingly, she unleashed my rock-hard cock. “What do I do?”
“Just lick it, all over,” was my reply as I luxuriated to her tongue’s soft, wet touch. I directed her around my dick, then had her oval her mouth and slip my cock in. It was amazing and I couldn’t believe she hadn’t done it before. But maybe that’s why it was so very good. So very tentative, so slow and deliberate, merely nibbling around and around my throbbing cock.
She wasn’t an accomplished cocksucker, but she more than made up for that by her attention to my dick. She stroked it, kissed it, and sucked it in succession. She was like a kitten playing with a ball of twine.
I looked down at her and she looked angelic. It was a beautiful sight. And that sight sent me over the edge, which was a big mistake.
My cock erupted in her mouth on an in stroke, and she attempted to pull away only to be held on my dick by my hands. I shot several volleys into her mouth before she pulled away, choking on my seed while spitting as much as she could on the floor. I was afraid she’d barf or something, it was not a pretty sight.
“You bastard, you bastard,” she said, choking back tears. “You are a mean and nasty and dirty man.”
I pulled her toward me, kissing her cum-drenched mouth. At first she attempted to pull away, but after a bit held the kiss. I held her tight, thanking her for the pleasure of her mouth, and apologizing for my insensitivity.
“I forgive you, but only because you kissed me.”
Thank goodness I had the will to do it! It saved the situation. We spoke for a bit, she said she’d see me tomorrow, and said, though, it wouldn’t happen again.
“It will be our little secret,” said a coy Lucia.
I went home that night thinking that while it might be a secret, I hoped it wasn’t a one-time thing. That gave me an idea.
The next day at work I waited with serious anticipation of the cleaners reaching my floor. I didn’t want to seem too obvious in my desire to see Lucia again, but I couldn’t help myself. When she didn’t enter, and another woman did, my heart nearly stopped.
Was she mad at me? Would she tell her husband? Dozens of like thoughts cascaded through my mind.
I was frantic the next 24 hours until Lucia entered the room and smiled, I knew she wasn’t mad.
She cleaned a little and we talked. Her son wasn’t feeling well and she had used a personal day to take care of him. I thanked her for the activities of two nights before, telling her that she was incredible.
She smiled and said that, after thinking a bit, it wasn’t all that bad. “I guess I overreacted a little,” said the girl, “but it was my first time. Oh, I’ve kissed my husband there, but he always says it’s wrong for a girl to do it. Still, I know his secretary does, my friend Alicia told me she saw that slut with her head in his lap in the parking lot of the bar. kartal escort I believe her, even if he denies everything.”
Looking at Lucia, I told her I brought her a present. She quizzically looked at me as I reached into my desk.
I gave her a package of condoms, strawberry flavored ones. “In case you ever want to give your husband a blow job and don’t want to have him cum in your mouth.”
The girl laughed, and then had a puzzled look on her face. “I just might do that, but I don’t know if I know how to use these….”
Lucia clearly was leading me down a path, leaving me an opening wide enough to drive a truck through. Of course she knew how to use a condom. She just wanted be coaxed.
“I could show you.”
The girl began wiping down my desk, then smiled and said she had work to do. Still, she slipped the condom pack into her work pants, shaking her head.
She re-entered my room about 45 minutes later, right as I was packing up. “You know, I do know how to use a condom, I’m not stupid!” she said with a laugh.
I smiled back. “Yes, I figured, but those are special ones, you know, strawberry. I had you’ve never used those?” I said as she shook her head no. “They require a whole different way of putting them on. So you better be careful.”
She looked at the package, mentioning there was no set of special directions for them…and besides, her English wasn’t that good. Maybe she misunderstood the directions.
That softball of an answer let me offer to show her how to use them, and she smiled and once again said she only had a few minutes left on her break. Could I show her fast?
Nodding, I ensured my door was closed and locked.
“First you open the packet, and then carefully remove the condom.” I said the words so very clinically, as if teaching a class. “Then roll open one turn, then put the condom in your mouth.”
I thought her eyes were pop out at that direction.
“Then put your mouth on the guy’s cock, and move your lips tightly down it, moving the condom down the shaft. He’s going to love it.”
She said she was afraid that she’d do it wrong. Could she try on me?
Now she was talking!
“Of course, of course you can,” I said with a big, wide smile.
It was awkward, it wasn’t perfect, but it was so very erotic. Lucia knelt in front of me and opened the small square packet. Pulling out the condom, she brought it to her nose.
“Smells good, a lot like strawberry,” she said, smiling.
To make it easy, I had her put the condom around the tip of my cock. Then, I advised her to tightly put her lips on my cock and gently use her lips to roll the rubber down my manhood. It was an incredible, sensuous act.
A couple times it didn’t seem to be moving down the shaft, but soon Lucia got the knack and got it going. Soon it was easy, and she had a good four inches of cock wrapped with condom. She used her fingers to get it the rest of the way securely coating my rock-hard dick.
“Now what do I do,” she laughed, ignoring my stuttering and going back down on my cock. She worked the reservoir end with her lips, and then circled the base of my cock with a couple fingers. She then alternated sucks from the top down the shaft of the rubber coated, strawberry flavored dick while moving her fingers slowly up and down the base of the shaft.
The girl may have been a novice but she was an excellent, fast study. She worked my cock like a pro, her eyes closed and angelic look while performing a devilish act. I attempted to stay as still as possible, rocking just a little in and out of her mouth as she worked my bulging cock.
I swear I heard her purr as she blew me, as I think she loved act of giving me a blow job.
Up and down her head worked on my cock. As I began to moan she worked me harder and faster and soon I was spurting red hot cum into the rubber. The fact that cum wasn’t hitting her throat was obviously a good thing, as she didn’t remove her mouth from me until I was shrinking down.
“That was incredible, Lucia, simply incredible,” I said, carefully removing the condom from my cock.
“Oh, that was hot,” said the girl. “Can we do it again sometime?”
“Anytime, Lucia, anytime.”
The girl smiled, rose, kissed me and then left my office.
A couple weeks later she asked if she could do it bareback.
But that’s another story.
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