Office Encounter

Craig liked to work late at the office. Left in peace he got more done, and when business was over he had time to himself. Time he put to good use.

A superfast Internet connection let him browse his favorite porn sites without the endless delays and dropped connections he suffered at home on his ancient PC. He knew the company had strict policy on viewing inappropriate material, but he knew more about the computer system than anybody in the office and was well able to cover his tracks. It was not that any of the sites he visited were particularly offensive or that he had much to hide, still he had to keep his after hours activity under wraps. He knew no-one would understand his peculiar taste.

Craig Alexander Brunswick, unmarried 24-year-old graduate of business and economics, temporary acting second assistant to the senior supervising partner for corporate affairs in LMX Industries (Southwest division), was a dedicated panty enthusiast. He simply loved panties and all things that could be done with them, always had and always would. His so far limited experience with girlfriends had only confirmed his attraction.

He had probably started his obsessive interest by daydreaming about the demure models posing in lingerie in his mother's shopping catalogs. Such wonderful concoctions of excitingly shiny or lacy fabric over smooth shapely forms, all delicate trimmings, exotic fastenings, contrast of colors, the women always so perfect. That real women could wear such things under their clothes had fascinated him as a young boy, and when he became old enough to masturbate he did, frequently and enthusiastically, thinking of those women, looking at their pictures, and coming joyously, most often with the aid of his own mother's underclothes to give solid dimension to his blissful fantasies.

However it started, his panty fancy took flight with the growth of the Internet. It seemed to serve up an inexhaustible supply of panty porn in one form or another, too much to fulfill a lifetime of looking, and he hadn't to look very hard to find what he liked.

His preferred imagery would in fact seem rather tame if it came to an inquest. No hardcore stuff, nothing distasteful and certainly nothing illegal. Not much that was offensive, or particularly unusual for those of a broad mind. When he thought about it, there was nothing really that involved actual sex, or much nudity. He preferred photographs of partially clothed women engaged in simple, seemingly innocent poses, not far removed from the catalog pictures of early yearnings. Any age, any type, pretty or plain; anything would go if panties were on show. Dressed, undressed, or undressing, alone or not alone; all he asked was that intoxicating display of feminine undergarments in their seemingly infinite variety.

Yes, harmless enough, it might even be thought quaint, but for better or worse that was his taste, and he would readily concede it was so peculiar to most that he preferred to keep it his secret. A guilty pleasure, but pleasure it was.

He stared now at a somewhat mature woman with short blonde hair and black underwear, smiling seductively as she lay on a bed, breasts cupped by her arm, transparent negligee slid off one shoulder, her relaxed hand fondling inside her panties. He could easily imagine burying his head in those fulsome breasts, breathing in her fragrance, his own hands running under those smooth silky panties.

His cock bulged in his pants, his loins ached. He had time to himself before the cleaners arrived, and the urge was irresistible. He unzipped, and grasped his erection, eyes fixed on that sultry smiling face and those pretty black panties as he rubbed his cock firmly up and down in slow steady strokes.

Voices and footsteps sounded out in the corridor. Quickly he tucked his erection into his shorts, and fastened his pants. He reached for some papers to look busy. There was no need; a door slammed down the hall and he heard raised muffled voices. After waiting a long moment for his cock to subside, he cautiously went out to look.

His boss had returned to the office with his young female assistant, a stuck up bitch if ever there was one. Model looks and she knew it. They had left an hour earlier, now they seemed to be having some kind of argument. Their voices carried along the corridor, but then quieted down. He crept nearer and peeped through the partly open blinds to his boss's office.

Holy fuck. His boss had his assistant bent over his desk, her panties and hose down around one leg, shoes off and skirt bunched up over her waist. Pants around his ankles, the boss held her roughly by the shoulders and pounded her from behind. "You like that, bitch?"

Evidently she did. Her hands groped behind to pull him to her as she bucked wildly, long blonde hair tossed back as she gasped and spurred him on. "Yes, fuck me, fuck me."

Unseen in the corridor, Craig slipped a hand inside his pants and caressed his cock, enjoying the show. He hardly dared breathe as he pressed his nose as close to the glass as he dared. They about had their backs to him, so he wouldn't be seen the other side of the blinds, even if they were not so absorbed, but still he made sure to keep silent.

The assistant's moans grew louder, his boss grunting on each thrust, her hair bunched in his fist as he pulled her head back, pressing down on her body as they rocked and swayed, humping faster and faster. They were like wild animals, and didn't seem to care whether anybody was left in the office, their lust obviously too hot to wait. They were ready for it too; in no time his boss came, barging the assistant hard into the desk, groaning as he bent over her still writhing body then collapsing on top, clearly spent. After the brief moment that they lay gasping he grunted, and tore away, pulling up his pants, snatching from her limp foot as he did so the panties, which he twirled from a finger as he slumped to the chair behind his desk.

Craig barely had time to get started, but continued to stroke his erection as he drank in the sight of the assistant's long legs and creamy bare buttocks. She lay over the desk, head down for a while, then brushed hair from her face, pulled the hose from her leg and reached for her shoes. She smoothed down her skirt and stood looking at Craig's boss, now smirking behind his desk. "Well?" she asked, coldly.

"Well, what?"

"My panties."

"Yours?" he laughed. "I paid for them."

"You bastard."

She turned on her heel and stormed out, stuffing her hose in her bag and tugging on shoes. Craig hastily zipped up, and flattened himself behind the water cooler, but she was too angry to notice him hiding there and went the other way, slamming the main doors as she left.

In the sudden quiet Craig dare not creep back to his own office, and peeped between the blinds again.

His boss sat behind his desk, holding the panties up in his hands. He brought them close for a moment and seemed ready to kiss or caress them. Craig's heart skipped - was it possible his boss shared his own tastes? Yet he just laughed, and dropped the panties into a wastebasket. He rose abruptly, grabbed his jacket and left the same way as his erstwhile lover. Craig heard the bang of the outside office door, and stood in the silence, feeling his heart beating from the unexpected excitement of the last few minutes.

He now had the whole office to himself. His interest piqued, he entered his boss's office and stooped to the wastebasket by the desk. On top lay treasure. He pulled out the panties and thrilled at the sight: ivory silk, delicately trimmed in pure lace, with a small pretty bow at the front. Very expensive, very sexy. The crotch was damp.

Spellbound, Craig brought the panties to his face. His still semi-erect penis surged into life as the sweet smell of pussy filled his nostrils. He inhaled deeply, and rubbed the panties over his face, feeling the cool silk that moments before had caressed the assistant's smooth skin, had pressed against her trim bush, stretched taut over her ass, pulled tight against her juicy cunt. He touched the tip of his tongue to the crotch, savoring the taste. Quickly he undid his pants, and his erection burst free as he slid his shorts down. He closed his eyes and stroked his cock, imagining the assistant bent over the desk right here beside him as she had been just moments ago. He held the panties up to his nose to breathe in her scent as he imagined that he was fucking her. Yes, fucking that stuck-up bitch, treating her to a good dose of what she deserved, filling her sweet precious pussy that she no doubt thought was too good for the likes of him. She could never imagine he would know what she kept so proudly hidden in her designer underwear, yet here now he had intimate connection with her most precious asset. With the panties pressed to his face he knew exactly how she smelt when she was ready for sex, and the smell made him ready too. He was ready to respond to that animal scent, and if she were here now he would show her how ready he was, his engorged penis throbbing in his fist, purple head bulging with power. He would give it to her, all right, hearing her beg for it the way she had begged the boss.

Craig thrust his hips, jerking his cock, imagining what he would do to her, that bitch, that stuck up bitch, that hot fucking bitch. He would show her her place, yes he would, using her roughly in the way that his boss had, loving every moment, knowing that was what she wanted, what she needed.

He needed it too. His eyes were shut tight as the blood pounded in his head, his senses flooded with the scent of her panties, hand stroking faster and faster. God, oh, God, oh God... he moaned and sniffed greedily, her juices flooding his senses.

"Madre de Dios!"

He gasped and froze, cock in hand, pants around his ankles and the delicate panties draped over his face. He came back to reality and stared dizzily.

In the doorway stood a young Latina holding a plastic pail. Craig snatched the panties away as she stood open-mouthed, and tried to step forward but stumbled, and made a useless attempt to cover himself. She gave a little scream and dropped the pail, clattering to the floor as she fled. He groped to pull up his pants, and heard hysterical chatter in Spanish from further down the corridor as he blundered after her in an effort to explain.

He reached his office, tucking in his shirt and breathing hard. The cleaning woman stood with two others, one much older, the other much fatter, both of whom she cowered behind as he burst in.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't hear you! I didn't mean to scare you, I'm sorry you were afraid. I'm sorry."

The fat girl held a vacuum nozzle brandished like a weapon in his direction.

"Really, I didn't mean to give you a shock like that, it's all right, I work here. This is my desk, see here, my photo ID. I was just--I was just--"

"We know what you were doing, senor." The older one fixed him with a stern gaze, and whispered something in Spanish that caused the fat one to burst into laughter. Even the young girl allowed herself a smile. Craig felt himself redden.

"You like to see senoritas in their little panties, no?"

Oh, God. He had left the browser window open on his computer screen, with the mature woman and her black underwear. The three of them stood behind his desk looking at it with some amusement.

"Mmm, she has pretty panties. You like pretty panties, no?"

He was rooted with fear, shame, embarrassment.

"You think hers are so pretty as mine?"

That shocked him. He felt as if he were in a dream, or a nightmare. His head throbbed, he felt sick and dizzy, and unaccountably weak. As he tried to comprehend her words the woman raised up her coverall, showing her legs to the top of her thighs. She seemed to be naked under it, until she suddenly exposed her underwear. A pair of voluminous white panties. He reeled at the shock of it, unable to speak, an unbearable heat rising in him. The two younger girls shrieked with laughter. The woman stepped forward slowly, hem of her coverall held up to her waist, rolling her hips provocatively to squeals of delight from the others.

"You like only to look or you like sometimes to touch?"

The woman advanced, and he swallowed hard, unable to move. The younger one said something under her breath and they all laughed again.

"You like to touch your little pee-pee, no? Ah, but what do you have there, little one?" The woman saw the panties hanging from his pocket and roughly snatched them out. He now felt completely paralyzed. "Yours?" She looked coyly at him and strung them out between her fingers, bringing them to her nose, theatrically. The girls collapsed in peals of laughter. "Mmm, such strange perfume. No, no, I think these are not yours at all."

His head was giddy, his body felt weak. "No, they--they... I found them," he stammered, lamely. "I found them, and--"

"You found them, and they make you feel sexy. You find they turn you on." She spoke huskily, no longer acting. "They make your little pee-pee grow hard."

The fat girl made a comment in Spanish and the older woman raised an eyebrow, glancing to his crotch. "Yes, you are hard there. Let us see. Oh, you are shy, but you must let us see what you keep here in your pants. Sisters, come here and help the shy senor take off his pants and show us."

This couldn't be happening. He should say something, they had no right to do this. He opened his mouth to protest, but before he uttered a sound, the woman brought the panties to his face and roughly stuffed them in his mouth. Shocked, he reeled backwards and bumped into a chair as the woman grasped his pants at the front and pulled down the zip. Her experienced hand reached in and grabbed hold of his cock.

"I don't think your boss knows what you do here on your own, does he, senor. Maybe we should tell him about this picture on your computer. Maybe we should show him these panties you found. Perhaps he knows to who they belong. Would you like us to tell?" The blood drained from Craig's face. He shook his head dumbly.

The woman held a firm grip on his penis. Her other hand undid the top button on his pants. The fat girl came around behind him and slid the pants down, tugging his shorts to his knees as she did so. He tried to protest but made only muffled sounds as the older woman pressed her fingers to his lips, the silk panties folded inside. She massaged his cock roughly. He groaned. "Hush, little one, you make so much noise."

He doubled in spasm as she dug a fingernail into his cock, then grabbed his balls tight with her other hand. The blood pounded in his head, he was unable to resist, completely at her mercy, under their control.

The fat girl knelt at his feet, yanking off his shoes and tugging his pants from his ankles. The younger one joined the humiliation, loosening his tie before nimbly unbuttoning his shirt and slipping it over his shoulders. His arms felt like lead as she pulled the sleeves down, for a moment imprisoning his arms behind his back.

The older woman ran her hand appreciatively over his near hairless chest, and traced the muscles down to his stomach as she dug her nails in. He grunted involuntarily as she gave a hard pull on his stiff cock, making him stumble just as the fat girl lifted one leg from his trousers. He fell forward, cock slipping from the woman's hand, and he fell hard, rolling onto the carpet.

He struggled for a moment, his shirt tangled behind his back, pants rolled over his feet. As the fat girl tugged again at his pants, the three women doubled with laughter. He felt sudden anger at the unjust humiliation. He tried to sit up, wrestling his arms about and panting through the silken gag.

Swiftly, the fat girl pushed him back and sat heavily on his chest, winding him. He still had the panties in his mouth and panicked a little, his breath in short tight snorts through his nose. The young girl quickly leaned down and pulled out the panties. He looked in her eyes and gasped, "Thank you."

She smiled shyly. The older woman looked down. "There is something you can do more than say thank you." She reached under her blue nylon coverall and pulled down her panties.

White, plain nylon, more than a little dirty he noticed with fascination despite his distressed state. She leaned over him and brought the panties to his face.

"Mine are not so pretty, but perhaps they attract you in a different way," she said huskily as she slipped them over his mouth and nose.

He had no power to resist as the panties were pulled tight like a mask, the woman's hands stroking his head through the nylon, pulling the waistband up under his throat, the dirty cotton crotch panel tight across his nose.

The smell was incredible: deep, musky, spicy. This was not the delicate scent of sexual excitement like the last pair of panties, daintily tainted on intimate contact, but the rich earthy smell of a working woman, permeating the very fabric. These were the daily secretions of sweat and urine, without notion of modesty. The pungent aroma overwhelmed him as the woman slid the panties up and down across his nose, rubbing the filthy crotch hard against his open nostrils. He breathed in again and again, gasping at the power of it.

"There, little one, smell what a real woman is like. You do not get such as this from a picture. Now, see where this smell comes from, and know what a real woman can be."

The woman removed the panties from his face, then pushed the fat girl back a little. He watched with alarm as she lifted her coverall and stepped over to straddle his shoulders, lowering herself onto his face. Suddenly he was engulfed in her thick fleshy thighs.

Her dark hairy mound pressed against his nose and mouth, his nostrils filled with the musky scent direct from her cunt as her wet lips squelched over his mouth. The woman gripped his hair at the temples, forcing him up to meet her as she thrust against him. She was so wet, her thick slippery juices running down his chin, which he licked as he fought for air between urgent thrusts. "Use your tongue here, little puppy," she ordered, and the other girls giggled and squealed encouragement. The fat one had turned about to face his cock, rigid beyond all control. As he tentatively probed with his tongue at the fleshy cunt over his face in response to the command, he felt a hand seize his cock and pull back the skin till it ached.

Then the grip was released, and replaced by a gentler hand. A warm wet mouth slid over the head, shocking him with the unexpected sensation. He wondered for a moment how the fat girl had bent down, then realized it must be the young girl, now eager to join the action. He heard the fat girl murmuring encouragement, digging her nails into his stomach and whispering urgent words in Spanish that he could not understand.

The older woman muttered in Spanish too, seemingly lost in her own world as she rocked back and forth on his face, guiding him firmly to the spot where she wanted attention from his now eager tongue. He probed deep inside, juices streaming out. He had never tasted anything quite like this; greasy and musky, syrupy thick, utterly intoxicating. He lapped furiously, giving himself over to the situation about which he could do nothing but obey animal instincts.

With wild abandon he felt waves of pleasure build in his body, his breathing constricted by the weight of the fat girl on his chest, and the woman jiggling frantically across his face, forcing his breathing in gasps. His hips rolled to meet the mouth sliding smoothly up and down his erect shaft, his arms still pinned uncomfortably under his body and feet wrapped in rolled pants. Unable to move of his own volition, his senses were completely given over to the demands of the three eager women cruelly using his body.