Christmas at the Office

I was twenty five, and he was twenty nine. We were coworkers, and I guess you could say that he was my superior. Was he married? No. But he had been with the same girlfriend for nearly eight years. I would be hard pressed to put my finger on exactly why I liked him, but I did. No, "liked" is the wrong word. "Wanted to fuck his brains out" would have been much, much more appropriate.

Every time he popped his head in to my office, I swear he was flirting with me too. The smiling eyes, lingering glances across my chest, pointless touches on the shoulders, sliding his arm around my waist when we needed to pass one another in the hallway.

On more than a few afternoons I had ended up closing my door under the pretense of an "important phone call," and would then proceed to spend a good ten minutes fingering myself, imagining that it was his hand drifting under my skirt and stroking my wet pussy.

But nothing happened; until, that is, the annual office Christmas party.

The party took place, as usual, in the bar above our office. What was unusual was that this year, the boss had decided to make it a costume party, which is why I found myself on December 21st, standing next to a Christmas tree, dressed in a short velvet Santa dress and making small talk with some colleagues. That god I also had a sizable glass of wine in hand.

"Wow, Lisbeth, you look great!" Said Shelly, one of the receptionists. She was wearing her normal clothes plus a pair or reindeer antlers, and I had a feeling that her comment was designed to make me feel self conscious rather than flattered. The truth is, I enjoyed dressing up, and it wasn't a bad opportunity to make a little more than my usual impression on the guys around office. Costumes mean you are allowed to look a bit more slutty than usual, which is why I had opted for the short skirt/low top/high heels Santa look. It seemed to be working too; already I had noticed more than one male colleague offer a hug that lingered just a bit too long.

But there was no sign of Him yet. Probably off at some function with his stupid girlfriend. I sighed and took a sip of wine. I loved the way the red velvet felt against my chest whenever I breathed in deeply, and I could definitely feel the gaze of my boss, who had had his eyes practically glued to my cleavage all evening. He was at least twenty years older; tall, but kind of pot-bellied. And way too old, obviously.

"Hi Liz."

I spun around. I had been so lost in my train of through that I hadn't even noticed Him enter. He was decked out in a loose red and white Santa suit, which made him look a little like Billy Bob Thorton in Bad Santa. It didn't hurt that his eyes always had a naughty gleam, and that his hair was messy and he had a day or two of scruff on his face. Yeah, he did the bad boy thing well. I could feel myself getting wet just looking at him, and it seemed a little like he was trying not to stare at the tops of my luscious breasts, practically popping out of their red and white velvet cups.

Hi there," I said. "About time you got here." I gave him a playful slap on the arm, and he responded by pretending to sock me in the shoulder. I noticed that his hand lingered just a second too long on my bare skin.

"I can't believe I wasn't here earlier to protect you from this lot," he said in a low voice, nodding his head toward a group of our coworkers which included our not so subtly leering boss. "That's some outfit you've got on." He pinched the white, feathery rim of my skirt, nearly putting his fingers on my inner thigh in the process. "Fluffy."

"I'm just getting into the holiday spirit," I said. I knew my voice sounded flirtatious, but then again, so did his. We had always had a kind of under-the-current flirtation going on, but never anything this blatant. I couldn't believe that his hand had just been that close to the red, lacy panties I was wearing. (To complete the whole Christmas get-up, of course).

He ran off to get himself a drink before I had time to ask where the stupid girlfriend was on this particular night.

"Ms. Jones! Glad to see you've got yourself into the holiday spirit!"

Ugh. The big man himself. I flashed on a smile. "Hi Mr. Fogston, you too." He was in the traditional Santa garb, beard and all, which fit his portly composition. The boss gave me a sort of pat/rub on the shoulder, that I'm sure was meant to display some friendly affection for his staff, but just came off as kind of sleazy. I did not need my boss's fingers anywhere near my bra straps.

My Bad Santa returned at that very moment, and Mr. Fogston, to my immense pleasure, slunk off immediately. Baddie handed me another drink, and we clinked glasses. Then, he lowered his lips to my ear.

"Want to see something interesting?" He murmured.

No, I thought to myself, what I want is for you to hold your lips exactly where they are.

"Sure," I replied.

"Okay, but we have to go downstairs."

Our company is located on the twelfth floor of a high rise, and for the Christmas party, we had booked out the restaurant/bar on the floor above. Why was he asking me to go downstairs with him, into our dark, empty office? I tried not to think too much about my much re-played fantasies involving him and me alone together after work, fucking wildly on a conference table.

We walked quickly over to the security door and down the stairs. "Wouldn't want anyone to see us," he whispered in my ear. He unlocked the door to our office and ushered me inside, his arm wrapped around my waist a bit more tightly than it needed to be.

Once we were inside, he kept his hand firmly in place, clutching my hip. "This way," he said, leading me down the row of dark offices.

"I'm getting very excited," I murmured. And it was true, in more ways than one. His face was close to mine, and he smelled like juniper and orange peel. The silly, floppy Santa hat on his head did nothing to distract from his eyes, which at the moment were staring down at my long legs, as though trying to jump out of their sockets and take a peek under my already short skirt.

"Okay, here we are."

He lead me into his office. It was completely dark, except for the twinkling lights on a miniature Christmas tree in one corner. I sat down on one of his chairs, and threw my legs onto the desk. I could feel my dress falling down and revealing even more leg. I tapped a black heel against his keyboard. "So what's this interesting thing you were going to show me?"

He walked toward me slowly, and put one hand on the top of my thigh. Without breaking eye contact, he began rubbing it, moving his hand slowly up my leg and eventually under my skirt. My breathing got heavier, and I was suddenly very aware of how my underwear felt against my dampening pussy. "You cannot go around tempting people with bodies like yours, and expect not to be taken into darkened offices and felt up by leery old men." He spoke gruffly, and I was so turned on by the scolding tone in his voice.

He put one hand on each of my legs then, easing my thighs slightly apart and moving closer and closer toward my lacy red panties. I had scooted down slightly in the chair, moving closer to his touch. "mmm, your hands are cold," I chided, softly.

"You'll soon warm up," he said. I could see the tip of his cock poking through the silly, red velvet fabric of his Santa costume. By this time his hands had nearly reached my pussy, and I gave a groan of pleasure as he slipped two fingers underneath my panties, and began to explore.

"You really are Bad Santa," I murmured; a statement he responded to by suddenly shoving two fingers inside me.

"You, miss, are the naughty girl, putting your high heels on office furniture and letting your colleague whom you barely know play with your pussy after hours."

I just nodded my agreement, basically incapable of speaking now that he had one finger still inside me, one circling my clit, and his other hand working its way down the front of my dress, under my bra, and all around my sizable breasts and small, hard nipples. Still standing, he had now moved his body closer to mine, and I could feel his hard cock pushing into the side of my thigh. I reached over to try and touch it, but he swatted my hand away.

"You've been a naughty girl," he pronounced, his eyes boring into mine. "No present from Santa just yet."

"Please?" I begged, sticking out my lower lip. I tried unsuccessfully to sit up straighter and make another grab for his cock; he responded to this by pushing me back down, and increasing the pace of his fingers in my pussy. This, along with the way he was playing with my nipples, gave me the need to say, "oh my god, you have got stop, I'm going to come so soon."

"Good," he said. Although he didn't let me touch his cock, he was grinding it against me with more vigour now. I could tell that it was big, and I wanted nothing more than to hold it and stroke it and put it all in my mouth.

"Oh, oh, no, I don't want to come yet, wait, oooo, ah, right there, oh..." My attempts at slowing him down were fruitless, and within a second I was coming, with his fingers still pounding away inside me. "Oh, god, yes!" It occurred to me that all of our coworkers were separated from us by only a thin ceiling, and I was not being at all quiet. At that moment, obviously, I did not care.

It took me at least a minute to get my breathing regular again, at which point I immediately reached over and unzipped his pants, before he could stop me. I stood up from the chair, only to kneel down again in front of him.

"Know what I want for Christmas this year, Santa?" I cooed, pulling his zipper all the way down. I put a hand around his back, and brought my mouth closer to his throbbing cock, which was standing straight up and glistening with a drop or two of pre-cum. I began by licking him all up and down, letting my tongue travel the ridges of his cock, everywhere but the tip. When I glanced up briefly, I could see him looking at me in this really sexy, kind of aggressive way. Even though I had just come (and hard, too), having him in my mouth was starting to get me wet all over again.

"Oh yeah, put it all in your mouth, slutty little Santa's helper," he groaned.

So I did. I popped the head of his cock between my lips first, just concentrated on that, then slowly took the rest of him in as well, running my tongue over every inch of it that I could.

"Fuck yeah, suck my dick, suck it," he groaned. I felt a twinge of surprise at hearing a colleague use the "F" word at work, then realized that, considering the fact that I was on my knees in front of his desk with a cock in my mouth, I really shouldn't have been astonished by his use of a curse word.

"I always knew you were a dirty one Lizzie." He was rocking his hips, burying his cock deeper and deeper in my mouth, until I was nearly choking on it. "You like this, huh? You like sucking on my dick? I bet you spent the whole first half of that Christmas party in your slutty red dress, imagining how it would feel to get fucked by someone under the Christmas tree."

My mouth was too full to respond, so I just moaned as much as I could, and reached out my hand to play with his balls, which made him groan even louder. I shifted them between my fingers, squeezing lightly, still keeping up the rhythm of my tongue and lips sucking on his cock. I could feel him pulsing deeper and deeper, like he was getting ready to come.

He suddenly pulled his cock from my mouth, grabbed hold of my hair and jerked my face upwards. "Not yet," he said, waving a finger. "As much as I know you want to feel my hot cum all over your face, you're just going to have to wait."

By this time my pussy was ever more hot and wet than before, and I was dying to get his cock inside me. Before I could articulate these thoughts to him, he pulled me up from the ground and whispered, "lean against the desk. No, not like that. Turn around."

I did so. I still had on my Santa's Little Helper outfit, which I started to remove. "No," he said. "Leave it on." Instead, he reached around and popped my breasts out of the top, kneading them and playing with my nipples as he did so. I moaned with happiness; a moan that became even louder when he let go of my breasts with one hand, and used it to slowly pull down my soaking wet panties. He flipped the short red skirt over my pert ass and began fingering my slit again.

"It is ridiculous how much you need a cock," he murmured in my ear. I didn't have the wherewithall to respond, and settled for an affirmative moan.

Then he stopped touching me, and put his Santa hat on top of my head. It was rather large, and so fell down across my eyes. "Absolutely no peeking," he told me. "If you do, Santa will find out, and we know what he does with naughty little girls."

"No peeking," I cooed. "Now can I please have your big fat cock in my pussy already?" I asked in my sweetest voice.

There was some rustling behind me, and I guessed that he was removing what was left of his Santa outfit. I was so horny, but tried to be a good girl and stay where I was instead of jumping him, like I wanted to.

"You're really going to love this," came his voice from off to the side. I felt the thick head of a cock poking in between my legs, rubbing all around, up and down my slit and my clit, but not inside me just yet.

"Oh yeah," I groaned. "Put it in!" There was a bout of low, guttural laughter from behind me, and then he suddenly slammed his cock deep inside me, in one fluid motion.

"Ooo!" I cried out, a mix of surprise and pleasure.

He held steady inside of me for a moment, really letting me feel his dick inside me. Then he started to move, slowly at first, but then quicker and quicker. I leaned back to meet his thrusts; although I still couldn't see anything, due to the Santa hat blindfold, I could definitely hear the desk rattling along with our fucking.

He turned me around so that I was facing him, and although his dick slipped out of me for just a moment, he quickly shoved it back in, with some force. I loved facing him, feeling the base of his cock rubbing my clit, and the whole blindfold thing was kind of sexy. I loved that I couldn't even see the fact of the person slamming his dick into me.

"Oh, yeah, that's amazing," I moaned. "Your cock feels even bigger than it did when you were fucking my mouth."

And it's true; it did.

"Thanks," he said from off to the side, laughing . Wait. Something was wrong. Why did it sound like his voice was coming from the other side of the room, when his cock was right here, buried deep in my pussy?

"You're right, it didn't take much work at all to turn her into a horny little slut," said the person currently fucking me. And it was most certainly not Him.

I whipped off the Santa hat, and sure enough: My boss, the pot-bellied old man himself, Mr. Fogston, was the one holding me against the desk, pushing my thighs open, and thrusting his cock into my hot, eager box.

"Oh my god, wait, what is going on?!" I could barely manage to say this, because Mr. Fogston was still fucking me, and to be perfectly honest, I was having a hard time trying to tell my body to stop.

"Come on, you know you like it, you know you don't want me to take my dick out, do you?" My boss said, in a condescending tone.

He looked like an idiot, as always, still wearing the red velvet top of his Santa costume, and he hadn't even taken off the Santa beard. Few people could look that unattractive, but the fact was that his cock was big, and he sure knew how to use it. What choice did I have but to keep riding him? It's not as though I could have stopped myself, anyway.

He lifted me up onto the desk and put my legs nearly behind my head, then really started pounding into me, grabbing at my hair and breasts, whispering in my ear, "this was the plan all along Little Lizzie; I told your coworker here to get you hot and heavy and all wet and ready for me. we knew you'd be too horny to say no by the time your boss came down and started pounding you with his big fat dick."

And damnit, he was right. I was so caught up in thoughts of my pulsing clit, rock hard nipples, and this cock inside me that I didn't even care that it was my boss who had been fucking me the whole time. It almost made it hotter, especially considering the fact that he was even more well hung than my coworker.

"Oh yeah," I said, really getting into it now; totally surrendering myself. My boss was grunting and whispering dirty comments in my ear, while his dick fucked my pussy even harder. I could vaguely hear my colleague at the other end of the room, and I knew that he was getting himself off to the sight of his young, sexy coworker, laid across the desk, breasts bouncing up and down as she was wildly fucked by the fifty-year old boss.

"Santa is very happy with his little helper this year, and for her present, she's going to get her pussy filled with Santa's hot cum."

"Oh yeah, come inside me, fill me up Santa, oh! Oh, I'm coming!" I could feel my pussy pulsing all around his hard cock, the base of which kept bumping my clit. I pushed myself onto his dick again, and again, and again, using one hand to grab his ass and the other to touch my breasts. So. Good.

"Oh yeah baby, come on my cock, oh, oh!" He pulled my hair, groped my ass, and shoved himself in me for a final, deep stroke. Then he pulled himself out and unloaded streams of hot, white cum all over my naked breasts.

I lay on the desk, half naked, moaning from what was probably the best orgasm of my life. My boss pulled the bottom part of his Santa suit back on, gave me one last look, then left the room.

"So, did you enjoy that?" asked my colleague from the corner, arranging his costume as well. "You didn't look too upset by the series of events. "Hand me a tissue, naughty boy," I managed to say. "And don't think you're off the hook just yet; you know I've wanted a fuck from you for a long time, and I fully plan to get it.

He gave my body a long, lingering look, watching me mop up my cum-covered breasts. "Merry Christmas, Lizzie."