She was definitely the kind of girl who got a guy's attention and she knew it: a bit short, small firm tits, tiny waist, and dirty blonde hair that fell over her face a lot while she spoke, prompting her to draw the silky strands back with her neatly manicured fingers, plucking them off her full, shiny wet lips. She worked as a receptionist in his mom's office, and every time he went to visit his mom, she'd tease him. She'd finger the buttons on her blouse, right between her breasts, drawing his attention to where she wanted it, or bend over the desk to reach for the phone, letting the short, tight skirt rise up over the back of her thighs, often deliberately looking over her shoulder at him, just to make sure he was looking. And he was. She loved the affect she had on him--the power. He definitely had the potential to be exactly what she needed, she thought. A target...
He was one of those nerdy guys--shorter than average, tightly cropped curly hair, round face, a little stocky, with a slight squeak to his voice that made him seem less than manly. He was a bit of a know-it-all, using an arrogant tone, often trying to order her around. When he came to visit his mother, she teased him for it, making him wait until she finished some menial task before she'd press the intercom button. "Mrs. Thomas, your son is here," she said smirking at him.
It was around 6 pm, and everyone else had cleared the office but her. The doors were locked and she laughed to herself as she saw him wrestling with the handle outside. Turning the deadbolt, she let him in, swinging the door wide and turning, her long straight hair swaying as she walked back to her desk, deliberately strutting. His eyes were drawn to her ass as it wiggled side-to-side, until she turned suddenly, lifting herself playfully onto the desk, her legs swinging as she leaned forward to meet his lowered gaze, smiling widely, knowing right where it had been. She pulled at the long strand of her hair that had fallen over her nose, pushing the tip of her tongue out to meet it. "You're mom's not here," she said, her eyes glinting "So I guess that mean's you're here to take me out for a drink?"
He laughed nervously. She knew she had him. She slid off the desk, bending over to grab her purse across the desk, again looking over her shoulder to catch him as his eyes poured over her body. She was hopeful that he'd be the right type for what she had in mind, but there was one thing she had to be sure of before she could truly know.
They'd had several drinks in at the bar. As they left, she closed in on him. She deliberately swiveled around after he'd opened the car door for her, instead of climbing into the passenger's seat, as he'd expected. She stepped forward, guiding his hand off the door handle and slamming it shut behind her. As she looked him directly in the eye, she reached forward, grasping his belt buckle, stepping sideways a few paces, guiding him. Her hand sought the handle to the rear door, and as she flung it open, she pushed him into the back seat and straddled his lap.
She needed to be sure. She reached for the bulge, and squeezing with her palm, she sighed with feigned disappointment and genuine relief. *Small*, just as she'd hoped. He pulled her forward, kissing her passionately. She made quick work of his belt and zipper, thrusting her hand down into his briefs, and curling her fingers easily around his tiny shaft. It really didn't take more than a few strokes... She thought to herself, how perfect he was... completely inadequate to please her in any way, except as a target for her humilation. And little did he know, but she had loads of it in store for him.
"Well that was quick" she said, wrinkling her nose at him. She giggled a bit as she pulled her sticky hand out of her his pants. She held it up to his face. "Lick it off," she demanded. His face froze and he shook his head. "It's only fair. It is your mess...and on my pretty little hand," she said in a pouty voice. She waited, her hand held steady as the cum dribbled down over her palm . Her face became serious, her voice lowering. "Do it," she commanded, pushing her hand to his lips.
He remembered doing it as if he were watching somebody else do it, his tongue slowly slipping out of his mouth to lap at her delicate palm, gagging on the taste and texture of his own cum. He couldn't believe he was doing it, but he did, and he wasn't sure why. He was always in control of himself.
But she knew why. And he was perfect... just perfect for what she had in mind.
They were quiet in the car as he drove her home. She didn't let him come in, and she wouldn't give him her number, either. Not now, anyway. He knew where to find her, and she knew that he'd be back for more.
Copyright Nuala MacMoragh, January 21, 2011, all rights reserved.
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