Lucy, A Letter From Work

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Masturbation

Hi Sweetheart.

You know that business I had to stay late for? Well, it turned into an office party. One that I’m not invited to. And I know I’m already four hours late, but I’m on my way home and I miss you a lot. But I figured I’d send you this message so you wouldn’t be too surprised when I get home.

I’ve been dreaming of your hot little bod for the last several hours. In fact, when the boss said I had to work late, I was pissed, because I had an erection with your name on it. When I found out I had to stick around, I considered telling him to fuck off, but I did my usual “good employee” bit and said, “Yes, Sir.” And that’s how you got the text message with the disappointing news that I wasn’t going to make it home in time for the bedroom fun we’ve been planning all week.

I sat in my office, finishing up the paperwork that goes with the proposal that he is pitching to our prospective client. And the noises in the outer office got louder and louder. Eventually, my stiff back and sore neck demanded that I get up and walk around a little bit and I discovered that, lo and behold, the upper management team was having a private holiday party in the executive offices. Once I’d figured out that they were all in the lobby of their office area AND that they had an open bar, I started to feel resentful towards them.

Eh, fuck those guys anyway. Bunch of stuffed shirts.

And then I saw the ladies. Some of the men had invited their wives. Some of the single guys had brought dates. And more than a couple had some family members with them. “Family members” as in “girls who they claim are sisters”. No kids, just hot women everywhere. But one and all, the women were all dressed to the nines. I sneaked a peak and decided that I’d better get back to my desk, finish my work, and see if I could salvage part of the night that I had planned with you. I really was planning on making this a night you’d never forget. Now, I thought, I’ll be lucky to get home while you’re still awake. And I absolutely hate disappointing you.

After a half hour back at my desk, I caught myself daydreaming about your warm, sexy body in our big bed. I rehashed some of the things that I’d been planning on doing with you tonight and I got up to pace back and forth in my office a little. I stared out at the lights of the city but all I could see was your blond hair flopping back and forth as I pounded you doggy style on top of the big fluffy comforter of our bed. And, again, I found I had a raging erection. I absent-mindedly stroked my cock through my slacks, but held off going any further than that. After all, the upper management of the company–the people responsible for deciding my financial future–were only fifty feet away having a semi-drunken good time and had not invited me. That should be all the indication of what they think of my abilities right there. Like I said, fuck ’em.

A movement near my office door startled me. Embarrassed, I turned towards the movement and saw a young lady. Completely flabbergasted that I still had my hand on my dick. I just stared with my mouth hanging open. There was something about this one. Besides the fact that she was laughing at me and looking at where my hand was, she had a very intriguing look to her.

Short black hair fell about her face in a modern style, the tight red sweater did nothing to hide her perky B-cup tits perched high on her chest. Her flat stomach was evident through the sweater except where a piercing poked out slightly ataşehir escort bayan at her belly button. Low rise jeans hugged her waist line and slim legs. And at the bottom of it all, a pair of open toed high heeled sandals barely concealed dainty, feminine toes without paint. You know me, Baby. Her physical features are not “my type.” You’re my type. You know I love YOU. But dammit, this chick is hot and I can’t place my finger on why.

In my mind, I had a running dialogue that ran something like this, “Oh shit, I hope she didn’t see me rubbing my dick. Who is this chick? Please, tell me that she didn’t see me rubbing myself. Who IS she? Where did she come from and why is she looking at me like that? Did she see me rubbing my dick? Who the fuck is she? Shit, she’s smiling; she’s laughing at me for rubbing my dick in my office. Who THE FUCK IS SHE!?!?!? Why is my hand still on my dick? Wait, can she SEE my hard on through my pants? I can’t figure out why this chick looks so hot… Why is she looking at me like that? Dammit, I’m going to give her something to smile about in a minute if she doesn’t quit smiling at me like that. WHO THE FUCK IS SHE???”

And then she started to speak. In my mind, I wanted to say, “Dear Penthouse….” but I found all that I wanted was for something that wasn’t cliche to come out of her mouth. I could stand it if she didn’t turn the encounter into a sexual tryst worthy of an eye melting story in the porn mag, but if she said something like “Working HARD…?” I would fucking die. Dammit I hate a cliche.

Instead of something predictable like that, she said, “Who the fuck are you?”

Well, that wasn’t expected. I was thinking that I was the one who was going to be suspicious of an intruder in the offices and instead, she was treating me like the interloper. Other than having a raging eight inch boner tenting the front of my pants, I’d done nothing wrong. And I was just irritated enough with the lack of an invitation to the free flowing booze and broads party that was going on just down the hall that I was not in the mood to be delayed from getting home to you and your inviting arms (and legs).

I’m Dave. I’m a senior project manager in this shit hole of a company.”

“Nice attitude. What’re you so mad about?”

“Well, I want to get home to my girl, Lucy. In fact, I had big plans with her tonight and my dumbass lazy boss has basically forced me to work late and do work that will make him look good while I get none of the credit.” Why was I saying these things? I don’t know who this girl was, but all I could come up with to pacify my thought process that she must be the daughter of one of the trolls who cleaned up after we all went home for the night.

“You poor baby…” She was clearly mocking me now.

“Look, I’ve had plans with her for the entire week. And to add to the insult, he’s down the hall drinking Patron with the other stuffed shirts at their secret holiday party. It would have been nice to at least been offered a drink or two since he knows that I’m here working late FOR HIM!”

“Yep, that sounds like a personal problem.” So I was failing to make any impression on her of the anger I was feeling or the fact that you were waiting at home for me in the hopes that I would finish earlier than expected and get to spend a little time with you.

“Never mind. I’m sorry. I don’t know you and you certainly didn’t come in here looking for me to tell you what a shitty company we work escort kadıköy for and what a dumbass jerk Bill Sturtevant is. I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing.” Apparently, it had failed to dawn on me that cleaning ladies didn’t wear sexy heals to work nor did they usually look like this. I sat back down to sulk at my desk and figured she’d just find her way out.

Instead, she moved further into the office and closer to me. “Yep, that Sturtevant guy is an asshole. Why don’t you just leave?”

“Nice. How will I feed myself without a job? My girl won’t understand if I come home jobless.” My despair at ever getting home to see your naked blond hotness was waning by the second. And for some reason, this girl was still here. And she was still very hot looking, yet I couldn’t place my finger on why. Like I said, she’s just not my type. All I could think of when I examined her physical features was “Grudge fuck” and you know me; I’m not that kind of guy.

And yet, my cock had not shrunk back to its normal un-erect size, despite the decidedly non-sexy conversation that we were having. If anything, I was harder.

She also noticed that I was still hard. There was no way to hide the physical proof of my interest in her body while facing her in such a small office. Fucking Sturtevant and his office party and this stupid fucking company and this pissant little office and, dammit, why is this chick turning me on so much? She can’t be much more than half my age. Since when do 23 year olds look at me like this? I’m invisible to hot young chicks. Wait, did I just call her “hot”? What the fuck? Really, she’s not my type. But that’s the big head talking and you know me; the little one’s in charge.

“So, what’s this girl like? The one who’s waiting on you?”

I was thinking, “What the fuck does she care?” and next thing I knew I was talking about you. I ran on and on talking about how you and I went to high school together, how we almost go together during college, and how over twenty years later, we re-united on Facebook, and on a whim, I moved to Hawaii and just as we thought, we hit it off and within weeks moved in together. Our new bigger house was a split plan with two big rooms for your boys on one side and a giant master bedroom on the other side of the living room complete with a view of the pool and our private area for our hot tub. I told her how much I enjoyed helping you with the boys, I blabbed about working constantly to improve myself to be worthy of you. I told her how special you are in just about every way I could imagine.

And she listened raptly. When I finished, she said, “Wow, Lucy really is special. I can see how she makes you feel.”

Embarrassed by my long monologue about the “Joys of Living with Lucy” and wondering how I had managed to say that much to someone that I don’t know at all, she laughed for the first time. And for the first time, she looked cute. Not smoking hot. Not bombshell beautiful. Not drop dead gorgeous. Just cute. But “sexy as hell” cute. Remember I said the body–even though it’s not my type–is awesome? With the cute smile that radiated from that face, she went from mildly intriguing to “holy shit if I don’t fuck this chick, I’m going to bust a nut in my slacks” in under two seconds.

And therein lay the dilemma. I’ve got you. A beautiful, sexy, horny, vibrant, smart, successful, hot, loving, curvy, and inventive woman all my own waiting at home for me. And despite not finishing the maltepe escort paperwork, despite the fact that I’ve done nothing but dream of new ways to get you off all week, and despite the fact that I have never imagined cheating on you, I was trying to figure out a way to bury my stiff rod in this chick’s pussy in the next three minutes. If she was putting out some kind of pheromone, that would explain the sudden attraction. She turned to look out the door to my office and I got my first real look at her ass. Holy shit, her ass was so hot that I immediately had visions of her bent over our couch with my face buried between those two, small, perfect cheeks while I lapped at the delicious treat hidden between them. The chance to touch that ass, to fondle those cheeks, to nip at the tender flesh, to drag my tongue slowly down the valley created by those round, tight globes and stab at her anus with my pointed and stiffened tongue was too much. I continued staring even after she turned to face me again at the door.

As I struggled to find a way to initiate the sex that I knew I must have with her, she broke that ice for me. “Why don’t I go home with you?”

Time stopped. The sounds from the party down the hall stopped instantly. The possibilities in that simple statement hung in the air. Could she really be asking what I think she was asking? Really? Women just don’t think of me like that, especially, young ones built like this. I thought for a minute and deciding that I didn’t really have a good line for this situation, I decided to go for broke. “What could go wrong?” I thought. I’m already in danger of losing my job and I could care less. Plus there’s that “possibility” that we’ve always talked about. You know, the one where we bring another girl into our bed? Could this be THAT night?

Well, Baby, it is. I’m almost done here. She’s finishing up crossing the i’s and dotting the t’s on my report, something that she is oddly good at. I haven’t quite figured it out yet, but she seems strangely at ease with the concepts I’ve put into that report. She would be a natural to work here and has even interrupted this letter to you to offer improvements to my report for the dumbass boss, all of which I’ve agreed to. Honey, don’t be mad at me, but after you meet her, you’re going to see how hard it is to say no to her. And I hope after meeting her you don’t want to say no to her. I just know that this is going to be that hot threesome we’ve always wanted. Don’t worry, Sweetheart, there won’t be anything happening that you don’t want to happen. But the things she’s hinted at wanting to do with us will boggle your mind. I’m so horny for you right now I can barely stand it.

She just proof read my report one last time. We literally just finished a few minutes ago. As I decided that maybe this was too much for you and that I’d better think it through one last time, I stood up and walked to the window again. I jingled my keys in my pocket and thought, “What the hell? She wants a threesome with another girl as much as I do. I hope she likes this one.” Before hitting the send button on the email program and rushing out the door, I asked her what her name is. After all, with the ways that I want to defile this hot young body, it would only be proper to at least know her name first, right?

I asked, absent mindedly while putting the finishing touches on this letter to you. I figured that I’d re-read it to make sure I wasn’t rushing foolishly into something that you weren’t going to like. I almost didn’t hear her answer.

“Katy. Katy Sturtevant.”

I looked up at her, surprised.

“Yep, I’m the dumbass’ daughter.” I stood stock still, mouth agape. “Could we leave now? I really want to meet Lucy…”

See you in twenty minutes, Doll.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Bir cevap yazın

E-posta hesabınız yayımlanmayacak. Gerekli alanlar * ile işaretlenmişlerdir