black friday

I saw you from behind, catching a glimpse of your jeans, just tight enough and trim, hugging every curve as you sauntered from one store to the next between the crowds of people. It didn’t take long for me to forget why I was in the mall in the first place.

Little by little, I got closer and closer to you, and soon, I was only a few feet away. It was a decent-sized shop, simple attire, hanging from the circular racks scattered about the floor. You browsed a few shirts and sweaters; holding up one white, tight top, with buttons from the navel right up to the neckline, you eyed it up and down.

“Now I think that would look very nice on you,” my voice, right behind you.

You whirl around; startled.

“On the hanger,” I gesture to the tight white shirt, “it doesn’t look all that great. But I think you should try it on.” I suggested. “And if it does look great, I just might have to buy it for you.”

I should try it on then.

Right away, I find an empty fitting room and tell you to wait outside while I try it on. I shed my sweater, hanging it on the hook by the mirror. I slip the shirt up and over my head - but realize that I’m wearing a black bra. The shirt’s thin fabric lets you see it. Still, it looks really cute - a little tight in the chest area. I pull the shirt up and off my arms, just enough so I can take this bra off. I unclasp it and also put it on the hook. And the shirt goes back down and over my breasts.

“Are you still out there?” I call out. I hear your answer. Conscious of the thin white material, coupled with the lack of a bra, I open the door and face you.

I only had one glimpse.

It took only that split second - where my eyes fell first on your face, then dropping down, suddenly to what was in front of me, the thin fabric stretched tight over your breasts, pert nipples pointing right at me. Yes, it was a little tight in the chest, but it did wonders, holding your breasts together like two perfect globes I wanted to immediately touch, hold, prod, and lick.

I stepped right in and closed the flimsy door behind me. Fast? Yes, I was moving very fast. My mind flashed to my pants - there’s no way, it was too fast - my cock can’t be hard already can it?

“It’s very flattering,” I finally say, eyes darting from your breasts, to your nipples, then to your eyes, and then back. Looking at the mirror to our left, I notice just how tight it is, and how your breasts fight back against the fabric. How your nipples stick right out. “Well,” I say, turning my head. “It’s anything but flattening though.”

I smirk, at the cheesy joke. The mood changes suddenly; my hand reaches up, and takes a hold of your left nipple. Right in between my thumb and forefinger. “Are these going to be a problem for you?”

My mind is reeling.

“A minor one.” I let loose a sigh. Was that a mistake? “What do you think should be done… about it?”

Your hand is up at my shirt. You reach out and pop the first button. A bolt of electricity runs down from my breasts right down to my pussy. Oh my God I am getting so hot. I glance at your pants, like my eyes have suddenly developed x-ray vision. I can only see the growing bulge but am glad to discover you’re as turned on as I am.

One button.

Then another.

My eyes centering my hands, then quickly darting back to your eyes. The opening in your tight shirt soon crept between your breasts, giving them just enough room - all the while giving me the most revealing look at your cleavage. “How’s that feel?” I ask.

No, I don’t bother for an answer.

Putting both hands on your breasts, and pushing you back against the wall, my mouth goes right for your neck. Your head is flung to the side, and you see us in the mirror. My hands clamped on your breasts, my tongue flicking and licking at your neck, letting my mouth suck on your skin just a little as I slowly move downward.

You know where my tongue is headed, don’t you?

My shirt is halfway unbuttoned. You’re kissing my neck and slowly moving down. Without meaning to, I thrust my chest towards you - your mouth is right on the mound of my breast but not touching it. I feel the heat of your breath coming through the fabric like invisible fingers. It takes all of my willpower not to reach between my legs and massage away the ache that you’re causing.

Oh God!

“Please touch me!”

Without waiting for your reaction, I grab my shirt and rip open the last few buttons and expose my chest to your eyes - and to your mouth.

Your sudden movement catches me off-guard, and I grab your right arm and pin it above your head. Your shirt hangs off of your shoulders, now just curtains framing your exposed chest. Realizing now what has happened, I smile, no, I grin, confronted with the sight of your breasts, hanging heavy with lust, nipples tight and hard.

Greedily, my mouth dives for your breasts, sucking and licking on them. I roll your nipple around in my mouth with my tongue. I pinch the other one with my free hand. I am feasting on your chest, and I loving every minute of it. I can’t ignore the tightness in my pants. Can you?

Of course not.

My hands drop to your jeans, and fumble with the button. Tearing at the zipper. And finally getting them apart. All with my head submerged in your breasts.

I come up for air, and stand right up against you. My cock straining now, and rubbing right against your pussy through your jeans. Our eyes meet again. Can you see it in my eyes? I licked, sucked, and ate up your breasts. Now I want your pussy. And I slowly bring my head down, past those delicious breasts, and to the hemline of your panties. Biting and gnawing at them, I look up one last time before grabbing hold of those jeans and peeling them right down to your ankles. I let you step out of one leg, but catch your leg in midair, and lift it up, right behind the knee. And looking up at the damp fabric covering your pussy, I nuzzle against it with my nose and mouth. I smell your juices. I feel the heat pouring out of your pussy. And I want it.

My body is shaking with desire. I don’t care where we are. Your hot breath is driving my pussy crazy. I am silently begging - willing - pleading you to slowly slide my panties down and bury your face in my dripping pussy.

You don’t do that.

You bring your fingers up to my pussy and slowly slide them under the fabric. I jump at the light touch. You run your fingers over my pussy lips, never delving in to my soaked center. I can’t breathe. You tease me like this for what seems like forever. Finally - finally - finally, you hook your fingers are my panties and start the slow, tortured pull downwards.

My naked pussy before you, your tongue slides gently up my slit and I cannot suppress the shudder that goes through my body. You stop your tongue on my clit and I force a whispered shout. You flick your tongue back and forth across my clit and I can’t breathe. My pussy gets even wetter, and starts clenching. I cannot help myself, I reach up to my tits and start playing with my nipples. Your tongue starts working faster against my clit and I grind my pussy into your face. I feel a tightening in my pussy. On instinct, you slam two fingers into my dripping hole.

I curve my fingers as soon as I feel your pussy clench. Immediately I felt the cat-tongue roughness right at my finger tips, and I continue to flex my fingers inside, you - inside your tight, wet pussy, curling them up like I motioning for you to come here. That’s right, I’m asking you to come here. Cum, and here.

My tongue twisting on your throbbing clit, my saliva mixing in with your juices, you cum. Your pussy clenches and holds my fingers tight, a vise gripping them in place, as it pulses with pleasure, now rippling outwards from your dripping wet core. I look up to catch your hands frozen mid-pinch, playing with your nipples, your eyes shut tight, your mouth agape and letting whimpering moans escape between breaths. My hand is soaked. And it feels amazing.

Slowly, I pull my fingers out, and they shine lewdly in the fitting room. I let your leg fall, and stand up. Your eyes finally open and they look at me with wonder; they look at me with amazement. I look down, at the tent in my pants. As I bring my eyes up, I don’t need to say a word, your hands tear at my pants, button, belt, zipper.

My hand comes up and I gently lick at the two fingers that were buried in your pussy. You look at them jealously, and I notice. So, in your mouth they go, where your tongue licks and circles them, your lips purse and press them, and you enjoy exactly how you taste.

My breath was slowly coming back to me. My pussy was purring in bliss… and my mouth was watering.

I dropped to me knees, not wanting to wait a second for my dessert. Your cock was already standing at attention, but I wanted this to be as good for you as I felt when you ate me.

I have your pants down in two second flat and then decide to take my time with your boxers. I slip my finger under the waistband of your boxers and just lightly stroke the skin under the band. Your breathing becomes a little erratic because you know exactly what is coming.

I bring your boxers down slowly, enjoying my first glimpse of your gorgeous cock.

Not being able to help my self I lean over and kiss the tip. My tongue is not as patient as the rest of me and darts out of my mouth to swirl around your cock. I lick you from root to tip, knowing that you want me to engulf you. I bent down further and tongued your balls. As I gently take one of your balls into my mouth to lightly suck on, I reached my hand up to stroke your throbbing shaft. Your breath caught in your throat and you groan in appreciation. I replace my mouth with my hand on your balls and move up to your cock. I take the head in my mouth and play with the underside with my tongue. I take your entire cock into my mouth in one motion. I withdraw my mouth, my lips sliding over you, and take you all in again. I lose myself in the motion of you sliding in and out of my mouth. My tongue massaging your cock, one hand massaging your balls and the other hand playing with my dripping pussy. I feel you balls start to contract, I remove my hand from my pussy and use the flat of my thumb to rub right on the spot between your balls and asshole as my mouth continues to work your cock.

You are so close.

With a yell, you grab a fistful of my hair and piston your hips so your cock is rapidly moving in my mouth. Your first pump of cum hits my throat and I swallow greedily. I want to drink in it all. You blast several times into my willing mouth and I am disappointed when you have no more to give me.

I stand up and you trace my swollen lips with your fingers and tell me, “Let’s get out of here - now that we’ve taken the edge off.”

I cannot contain myself, this is the start of a long evening.

My mind is racing - I emptied myself into your wanting, hungry mouth, and I could tell by the gleam in your eyes that you wanted more. You’re right, this is definitely the start of a long evening. And as I pull my pants up, tucking my cock (still quite hard) into my pants, I watch you peeling the white top off your chest, torn buttons, and wrinkled fabric. I did promise to buy it for you, but now it’s ruined.

“On second thought, stay right here.” I demand, pausing only to smile at the ideas running through my head. “I’ll be right back.”

You look at me, confused. Oh, we’re leaving, so don’t you worry. I leave and come back, only a minute later. I walk right in, to the sight of you still naked. I’ve brought another identical top, and a navy blue skirt. “Put these on,” I ask, and watch you and your reflection in the mirror. “And without your panties.”

I quickly tug at the tags, and hold them in my hand. Your panties go in my pocket, and we leave the dressing room. You step out, and I look back, pick up the torn white knit top, and decide to bring it with us. It’s a wonder that the only witness to our leaving the same dressing room was the security camera watching the fitting room entrance. A short stop over to the counter, and I paid for the two tops, and the skirt. The sales clerk looked at the torn garment, puzzled. “It’s fine,” I sternly say, and with a shrug, it’s paid for, and in the bag, along with the clothes you walked in with. The sales girl could barely see the only-now subsiding bulge in my pants over the counter. You’re watching her face, looking me over, and also wondering if she saw my pants.

Yes, I caught you licking your lips.

Leaving the store, I offer you my arm. I’m amazed at how many guys I see staring at you. As we go down the escalators, men turn their heads to follow your nipples. The women with them scowl their disapproval. And I’m thinking about exactly what is and isn’t under that skirt.

It’s tougher than I thought to sneak away, with so many eyes drawn to you. On the way to the parking garage though, we’re alone for once, near the faint odor of oil, tires, and exhaust. It’s then that I pull you into an empty stairwell, letting the door close behind us.

Our footsteps echo as we move away from the door and into the space underneath the first flight of stairs. It’s dark, shielded from the fluorescent lights over-illuminating the stairwell.

We’re alone.

And I put my back flat against the wall, pulling you towards me. I can’t help but put my mouth on yours, tasting the fading salty taste of my own cum. My hands are back on your breasts, kneading those nipples through the newly purchased thin knit fabric. I can feel your breath quicken. Our bodies rub close and I am again fully aroused. I leave your breasts and plant my hands right on your ass, slowly gripping and pushing the skirt up until my hands are on your bare skin, tightly gripping your flesh, rhythmically pulling your hips into mine, as my cock rubs against you.

It’s clear what I want.

I push off the wall and spin us around - and as I push your back into the wall, I take my hands off your ass, and they make contact with the cold, painted concrete wall. You gasp at the sudden contact. I bring my hands around to the front of your skirt, pulling it all up, gathering fabric like a belt, no - like a leash - around your waist. I let your hands free my cock once again, and before my pants hit the ground around my ankles, I’ve slid my cock right along your pussy lips. Our bodies meet, and I can feel the skin above my cock rub against your clit.

My lips leave yours and whisper in your ear. “I want my cock in your pussy, and now.”

That’s all the warning you get as I pull back and aim higher this time, parting your legs to make room to penetrate your still damp pussy.

The cold wall is in stark contrast to your warm body. Your cock is paused at the entrance to my dripping pussy. Before I can think you have slammed your cock deep in me. I moan loudly. You start to move in move, slowly at first, your cock gliding in and out moving against my wet heat. Your pubic bone is in direct contact with my clit and I am going crazy. I bring my hands to my nipples and begin pulling on them.

You hips start moving quicker and quicker and it is all I can do to keep my balance. I close my eyes, to just feel you in me. My pussy is throbbing around you and I can feel my body clenching in need. I open my eyes to see you looking straight in my face.

You pull and turn me against the wall and bend me over. My hands are braced against the wall as you begin to power into my pussy with strong driving strokes. My juice is leaking down my thighs. My breasts are straining to be releases from the fabric of the shirt, so I quickly free them. They swing free and one hand goes to rub my clit.

You pound away at my pussy for what seems like forever. I am sobbing with need and my hand is flailing away at my little nub. I begin to feel my pussy tightening around your cock and I know that I am cumming soon. “Put your finger up my ass,” I gasp. You work your finger into my tight ass. That was the push that I needed and my pussy goes crazy spasming around your cock, milking it with clenching muscles.

Knowing that you just came in the fitting room, it will be a while. You slow down your strokes so I can catch my breath. Your finger is still stuck in my ass.

It’s decided. As good as it was around my fingers, the way your pussy cums around my cock just feels so much better. How it pulls and tugs at me. The sounds it makes as my cock slides and rubs all the way from the head to the base of the shaft. The sight of it disappearing into wet, glistening skin, and that beautiful pink pussy. And let’s not forget about my finger in your ass, held tight as your orgasm slowly subsides, waves lapping gently at my cock.

I pull my finger out and it makes a pop as it is freed. More ideas. More ways to have fun with you. To savor every fuck I have with you.

I remember just how greedily you swallowed every little drop of cum in the fitting room. How emphatically you sucked and savored, tasted and toyed with me. I pull my cock out of your pussy, slick and covered in your cum. “Clean me off,” I ask, my voice echoing off those cold walls. I hear you whimper as your pussy is now empty. But I know you also want my cock in your mouth, rubbing against your tongue, twitching and throbbing as you slurp around it. And I know you want to taste yourself too, the sweet flavor of your pussy coating my aching cock.

And so we switch again, as I take your position on the wall, feeling the fading traces of your body heat on my back. Your eyes looking at my cock, then at me, as you first lick the head. My cock responds to your actions and it isn’t long before I feel the need to grab your hair again. But I hold back. I’m watching intently, the care and the attention you give, using your whole mouth and your tongue; the way you bend your neck, and those timed moans and “mmm”s sending vibrations rattling up my cock and right into my pelvis, trickling down to my balls. You’ve lapped up all your pussy juices, and replaced it with your saliva. One hand is on my balls, and the other has gone to your greedy pussy. As good as this feels, I pull away, and I see the pleading look in your eyes.

“There’ll be more of this later,” I promise, as I lift up your chin and lead you back to your feet. “Get back against the wall, baby, and turn around.”

I slide my cock back up your tight pussy. It isn’t long before I’m back on pace, pounding your pussy and putting it back on the verge of cumming. I put the palm of my hand on the small of your back, with my thumb right by your ass crack. With each thrust moving it down, until the fingertip is on your ass, pressing in time with the cock diving in and out of your pussy. A little more pressure and your ass yields to my fingertip. The now-familiar feeling of your pussy clenching echoes around my cock. Its milking motions bringing me closer, grabbing at me, pulling at me, begging me to cum.

I time it just right, pulling out of your pussy as the first wave of another orgasm hits you, and push only the head of my cock into your ass, replacing the tip of my thumb, and my cock jerks as it begins to spurts cum. I grunt and groan as I hold my body still, your knees weakening as you cum hard yet again. Again and again I can feel my cock shudder and eject its load into your ass, splashing it with hot, sticky cum. Our bodies are covered in a thin mist of sweat.

When I finally pull out of your ass, I’m greeted by another satisfying pop. I push you flat against the wall again and look you right in the eyes.

“From now on, I want nothing else but to fuck. I want you to want the same thing.”

We’re both breathing heavily, panting from our last orgasm.

“Let’s get to my car. Then, you tell me - your place, or mine?”

[six], finally.

the turkey, the stuffing, and all the fixings

Thank you.

You, the reader. I’m not doing this for stats, but I’m taken aback by the hit counter.

You, the commenter. I appreciate the words you have to say:

• Tara Tartly of tartesque, eighteen times
• Z of The Naked Truth, five times
• Marcelle Manhattan of sexegesis, four times
• kis lee, three times
• A Nawty Mouz, twice
• cyranoq of Aiming to Arouse, once
• chelsea girl of pretty dumb things, once
• penny of Birds Are Smart, once
• Joy, shared, once
• Jane Jones of We’re Only Animals, once

You, the newcomers, who are of course welcome to peruse the older posts. There are some gems in there I think.

Thanks again,
.6

I was inspired Nawty’s post (and of course, his own inspiration) - Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

bipolar

“Harder!” she spat onto the wall.

My cock was buried in her pussy, the walls hugging and squeezing me. I was already deep, and she wanted deeper. I obeyed, and pushed in more, her buttocks compressed flat against my hips as I was able to squeeze myself further in that impossibly tight, impossibly wet hole. In, in, in, I felt myself sucked in.

“No, p-please, softer…” slithered out from between her lips between gasps.

My fingers were glossy, slick, coated in her wetness, rubbing violently against the front wall of her pussy. My thumb mashed on her clit, each circle making her wince and moan at the same time, one hand on my wrist, the other pressing against my shoulder. I felt her fingernails digging into my skin. My motions became gentle, delicate. She needed coaxing, not forcing.

“Faster, faster, faster!” the low shouting bursting with intensity instead of volume.

Her fist held my hair, her arm reaching behind her head and grabbing mine. Her grip was firm, she yanked on me like she held on a horse’s reins. She wanted her stallion to buck against her, to piston in and out of her pussy. With only one arm holding herself up, she fell onto her crumbling limb, her face landing on her hand. Her breasts pinned to the wall, she felt her nipples, against the cold surface, now pressing back into her chest.

“Slower… slower… slow… -er…” she whined, pleaded, bargained.

Her hand went lower, down my shirt, to my pants, and lower still. She found my cock through the fabric of the boxer shorts and squeezed. She attempted to pull up, like jerking up the handbrake to hold the car stationary. She wanted a break, her eyes pleading, her voice dry and raspy from the breathing and the gasping and the moaning. Drained, she yanked on me once more, until my motions became calmer. It was all a façade of control. She got what she wanted because I let her.

“Yes, yes, yes…” the sharp words exploding into the air.

We moved as one, our bodies meeting and separating in unison. She was insatiable, her thirst wouldn’t be quenched, and she demanded more and more from me. The wall was left hot from her body heat; my back now rested against it as she pried herself off of me. Her eyes were wild as she glanced over her shoulder and crept onto the bed, shaking her ass in front of me.

“No… no… no…” escaped from her lips.

I slowed to a stop, her body quivering and shaking like the last autumn leaves clinging to the branches. I stroked her leg, held her face. Her eyes were wide, shiny, and deep. And she whispered yet again, as if the words were too fragile to be let out into the room. She whispered into my ear that she didn’t want me to stop, that she instead wanted more, her legs slowly spreading again as her hand now tugged gently at my cock.

* * * * * *

Somewhere, in the middle, it all made sense. I found myself between legs, looking down at breasts heaving and jiggling with each thrust. I felt wetness, tightness, heat; I had my hands on her, she had her hands on me. And together, apart, we found ourselves blasted into orbit, which is really just a euphemism for continuously falling towards something that is continuously moving away.

alphabet soup

The tantalizing Tara Tartly of tartesque had a brilliant idea for some posts - titled, “The things I do to you,” it’s fascinating word play… enjoy!

• A
• B
• C
• D
• E
• F
• G
• H
• I
• J
• K
• L
• M
• N
• O
• P
• Q
• R
• S
• T
• U
• V
• W
• X, Y, Z

tying up loose ends

Dear readers,

So… um… how’s it going? It’s been quite a while since I’ve written here hasn’t it, and I miss you all, dearly. I want to get caught up, and there’s a lot to catch up on, so let’s jump right in:

My last post left us with quite a cliffhanger, didn’t it? Mmm, yes, the printing room. And let me tell you, tearing myself off of Bunny Slippers was quite honestly one of the hardest things I’ve had to do. What’s the saying… ?

Most powerful is he who has himself in his own power.

… Or something like that - but yeah… I can say that I opened the door, didn’t look back, and took some rather quick steps to get back to my desk (seriously guys, huge rock hard erection in my pants, and I had to cross quite the distance to get back to safety). I also had to do something about the wet spot from the precum - so I just let it air out a bit (yep, I opened the fly underneath my desk) and thankfully it dried clear. Or at least clear enough!

I can only assume that Bunny Slippers made it back to her desk okay. I didn’t look in her direction for the rest of the day; it also helped that I had a rather boring and exhausting meeting to eat up some time. I returned to my desk to find an interoffice mail envelope - you know the kind, the boring manila paper with the scribbled addresses of people on the grid on one side - it was addressed to me, and must have been dropped off while I was gone.

It lay on the desk funny, not flat, with a slight bulge to the paper; I sat down to investigate its contents. No wonder it didn’t lay flat - it was stuffed with Bunny Slippers’ panties! The white satin was still damp, and I fingered it gently… she was watching me from across the room, she had to be. I stopped myself and found something else in the envelope; it was a post-it note:

Tonight, wherever, however you want. Please? I need you.

The panties were quickly stuffed in my pocket. I waited for a moment before walking over to her desk. Her eyes were on me the entire way over.

It was a short trip to her place; hell, I couldn’t tell you what we either saw, passed by, or went through to get there. The only thing I was thinking about was her - the endless teasing, the flirting… lines were crossed, and I had her damp panties crumpled in my pocket.

I had her pussy on my mouth, too. And before soon, my fingers slick with her juices. My tongue circled her clit, feathered the soft fleshy pussy lips, and licked her all over. I sucked everything I could, my mouth firmly clamped on her gushing slit.

She was on her hands and knees on the bed, her ass in front of me, as I slid my fingers in yet again; I had lost count. I pressed in and down, mashing my fingertips against the spongy soft, cat-tongue rough spot until she cried and yelled face-down into the pillow. I told her how much she’d been teasing me - and how much I had wanted to do this to her. She sputtered and gasped, admitting to everything. How she chose what she wore each day for me. How she would always pass by my desk. How she would flirt and play with me during lunch just to watch the growing bulge in my pants. How she rubbed herself under her desk while reading my emails.

She came, once, twice, three times, four times, five times… endlessly, it seemed. Each time collapsing and spasming, while I licked her gently - only to rough her up again.

And while I’d like to tell you that we fucked, my cock plowing itself deeper and deeper in her pussy as I grabbed her hips, watching her breasts jiggling and feeling her pussy milk me… we didn’t. She pleaded, she begged - but I couldn’t. She would ask, and it only made me work harder, my tongue and mouth diving back on her pussy until she could no longer ask, the gasps and moans drowning out the words.

I left at around nine. I went home, but took the most roundabout, winding, circular route possible. I had a lot on my mind, and I still do.

I called out sick the next day; I wasn’t in the mood, really. The next day, Bunny Slippers and I had only slight contact - a few short words, and no emails at all. And just like that, the days slipped by, work got busier, and a weekend passed.

And so, a little more introspective, I marched on through the week, not really knowing where my mind is. I plan on taking care of a few things… that aren’t so taxing. I’ve got to fix up the links (I really really really have to do that!) on the sidebar, as well as get my head wrapped around categories, tags, etc.

But I hope all is well with you, dear readers, and I plan on writing more soon.

Yours,
.6

interesting developments in the workplace (celebrating my birthday on time)

“Do you understand why you are here?” is an odd way to begin a conversation. But, nevertheless, I found myself in one of the meeting rooms in the Human Resources department, answering the question - no, I did not understand. I did not know. But I could have guessed. I would have been wrong, though.

The email invite for this meeting was nondescript, and I know that in a corporate environment, those are the emails to be afraid of most. A meeting was placed in my work calendar/schedule, and then the waiting began. I worried, just a little bit, because while fiercely loyal to work, I’m sure some of the things I do (um, like spend some odd hours writing instead of working) don’t look to great. A policy or two might be breached with the content of my writing (you think?) as well as my internet browser history. Oh, and the meeting was at eleven - I was told HR likes to do their firing before lunch. On Tuesdays.

It came as no surprise that the woman, a very pleasant (yet strict, in a headmistress kind of sense) brunette (I’d estimate she was in her early 40’s) dressed in her classy pant-suit segued into policy. Specifically, sexual harassment in the workplace. Conduct. Behavior. The words were vague. Intentionally. It was as if the second person personal pronoun was as illegal and taboo as the harassment itself. The words “employee” and “firm” were tossed around until they too lost meaning. I was fairly concerned.

And right then it became interesting.

“Listen, I’m going to cut to the chase” she said unexpectedly, taking her reading glasses off and staring at me with cold, piercing hazel eyes. I’m pretty sure I managed to answer “yes” or “okay.” She inhaled, in preparation. “Your name was written…” she exhaled before continuing, “scribbled, is more like it, in the women’s restroom.” A pause. And I’m sure my face was white and blank and all manner of surprised. “Specifically, it said, ‘[six] gives great head.’ And that’s… a problem.”

I was stunned, and it would take a minute, or two, for this to sink in. I wasn’t given that much time.

“This is kind of a big deal,” she continued. “We take harassment, sexual, or otherwise, very seriously here…” the sentence trailed off. She softened a bit. “Look, I know you didn’t sneak into the women’s bathroom and write that yourself.”

Um, yeah. Not to mention, there are security cameras covering the doors and hallways.

“So it’s clear that someone, as a joke, or something, decided to write this - would you know who? It’s not our business to dictate your personal life, but this is the workplace, and this kind of thing… isn’t really acceptable.”

I couldn’t have agreed any more. And I knew who it was. But it wasn’t something I wanted HR to take care of.

The rest of the meeting went off in several directions. I was able to regain some of my composure, start protecting myself - no, I didn’t know who could have done this. No, I am not harassing anyone. No, I am not being harassed. No, I will not file a lawsuit. Et cetera. Sadly, I did not take the opportunity to joke that she should find out if what was written was true.

I was glad to finally leave HR, the clock showing that the strange interlude had taken only forty five minutes or so. And for the time being, I still had my job - albeit with a somewhat marked record.

Wandering between desks a little bit on my way back, I re-evaluated a few of the looks I got from the women over the past few days. How many of them have seen it? I felt a little strange, my name scrawled in the bathroom like that. I wondered if it was still there - it couldn’t be.

Bunny Slippers was on the phone, her eyes up and to the left as she listened in, spoke, and then listened again. One hand was wrapped up in the cord, and the other on the mouse as she was browsing the Banana Republic website. She didn’t notice that I had walked up beside her desk. I pressed the mute button on the phone.

“Is this call important?” I demanded.

She looked up at me, confused for a moment. I noticed the slight change in the look in her eyes. She shook her head. I hit disconnect, and grabbed her wrist, leaving the phone handset to fall from her hand, landing noisily on the desk. I held on tight, right above her watch, and dragged her into the first open door I found. It was the print room, the small-ish closet space occupied mainly by the industrial copy machine and the shelves, with its reams of paper in neat stacks along the wall. I yanked her inside, shut the door, and threw both her, and then my body, against it.

“You,” I said, calmer than I thought I would be, “have given me a fucking scare this morning with HR.”

She knew what I was talking about. She had to have known, staring right into my eyes as I held her wrist above her head, my hips pinning hers to the door.

“Why,” I asked slowly, “did you write that I give ‘good head,’ [Bunny Slippers]?”

She cowered beneath my gaze. Her breathing was ragged, shallow. Her breasts rose and fell sharply, covered in the thinly knit maroon fabric of her tunic dress. I felt myself grow hard from the contact with her hips. She must have felt it too, pressing against her skirt. I began to visualize what I would see through her skirt, the little “V” between her thighs, my cock pressing against it… Her voice broke the thought.

“It was a guess.” Her voice low and soft. Meek. Submissive.

“But you don’t know, do you?” I asked, my lips barely touching hers.

“N-no.” She was fearful, she was small.

I let her wrist go and slid down her body, to her knees. I did not bother looking up at her. I looked forward. Straight ahead. Right into the fabric.

My hands were on her hips, and I pulled her forward, her ass up and away from the door. She held it still, no doubt looking down at the crown of my head, watching, waiting. My hands gripped the sides of her dress by her hips and I pulled up, gathering and bunching the soft fabric up around her waist. My eyes, still forward, now stared down her pelvis, clad in pantyhose.

It tore easily.

I had shred away the black nylon, tearing it from her hips, revealing her crotch. I found her white panties damp, rubbing my middle finger, the palm of my hand up, between her legs, which were now widening - knees bent, thighs separating. I resisted every urge to look up and instead chose to lean in, my nose brushing against the damp fabric. I could smell her scent; she was all I breathed in. I pressed my face into her mound, my lips on her panties, soft moaning coming from above.

No. I will not look up.

My jaw began to move as I opened my mouth and tried to cup her pussy with it. My tongue fell flat against the fabric, pushed up and into her, as far as I could reach. My hands on her hips, holding her steady, holding her still. My tongue traced the edge of the fabric, feeling the difference in tactile sensations from the smooth fabric to her smooth skin. My lips pulled at the fabric, I sucked the juice from it as if I was dying of thirst. I felt her hands on my head, her fingers through my hair, her nails digging into my scalp.

And then I spoke, right into the fabric; I spoke into her pussy, my voice vibrating my lips, the fabric, the fleshy folds of skin on her pussy, her clit.

“You really think I give great head?” came out in mumbles, my mouth full of pussy and panties.

“Y-yes,” she answered, breathless.

“What?” I growled; I demanded.

“Yes!” the shout burst from above and filled the tiny room.

I stopped. With my cock nearly bursting out of my pants, a wet spot developing on my crotch from the precum, and my chin slick with her juices, I stopped. With her hips pressing on my face, her pussy leaking juice, her hands grabbing fistfuls of my hair, I stopped.

I rose to my feet and finally looked her in the eyes.

“Now I want you to spend the rest of the day thinking about how you’re going to make it up to the birthday boy.” I peeled her off the door, I placed my hands flat along the sides of her torso and smoothed her dress back down. My hand on the door handle, I spoke again.

“Because I’m not done with you.”