A Short Story - My Baby's Dad

I didn't fancy him. I thought he was handsome. He looked smart, his grey suit was expensive, his shirt was pressed thick cotton, his gold cufflinks studded his french cuffs smartly just below the sleeve of his jacket.

He was tall, his hair dark peppered with silver, his smile was broad portraying a false trust.

He was rich, his business successful, his wife pretty and his sons would become like brothers.

They took me on to tidy the office, file and make coffee. I was young and attractive, keen to learn, I'd pick things up quickly and I discovered mathematical skills never before used in school.

My career really took off after I became pregnant for the first time. I'd always known he was the father, but then I pretended to myself that it could have been a boy from the club I'd slept with the same day, or a boy in the park on Saturday.

I spread myself about. But my boss, old enough to be my dad, his aftershave wafted in the room, a lingering rich spice, wrapped in a sweet edge of something I'd not smelt before.

We were the only two in the office. He shouted for coffee and I duly made it. Taking it in for him I set it on the desk.

"What are you doing now?" He smiled sweetly; it was different this time. He seemed powerful and I felt ill at ease.

His chair was back from the desk, I couldn't take my eyes from his bulge.

I smiled back, my brain thought of the opportunities that may come. "Would you like help with that?" I uttered huskily and unsure. I was usually confident, but this time I was meek and a little scared.

I knelt before him, between his knees, unbuckling the black leather belt. I unzipped his fly and put my hand in. He was large, and I was shocked at his size. I pulled it out and ran my hands down his throbbing shaft. I thought about putting it in mouth to choke on it, but my stomach turned and I knew that was a step too far.

I ran my hand down his cock. "You're a very big boy. I'm not sure I can manage that." I spoke. A little fear was building inside me and I was shocked.

I imagined what he'd give me for a quickie, a promotion, a little bonus to spoil myself, money towards a night out with friends.

He stood and helped me up, he pushed me back on the desk, and kissed me. Kissing, I'd kissed a lot of boys, and I never really liked it. I'd finish it quickly and offer my neck. I'd whisper compliments to build their ego's, running my hands down their backs.

He pulled my skirt up around my waist. It was a tight black skirt, elasticated that covered my arse. My pink thong was soon on the floor as he dropped his trousers.

My feet in black flat pumps clamped behind him. I gritted my teeth and screamed lightly as he made his way inside me. He held me down, telling me all is fine, and he soon fucked me on his desk.

I thought my pussy was going to tear, I wondered if I'd be able to walk when he'd finished. I began to punish myself for what I'm doing.

The desk creaked, and I was lost, taking his shaft up to my spine. When he came, he lingered and held me, that was a first. He smiled and told me how good I was. He congratulated me as he did himself up, and I picked my knickers up, frustrated I'd not been rewarded.

But I would be. I had a girl, they brought me a flat and paid for my studies, a few years later they helped me get my beautiful house when my second was born. I worked to be their financial executive officer, a lynchpin to their business.

The daughter I bore was confirmed recently as his. I fucked his married son too. They didn't desert me when I came out, I had to deal with their chauvinistic jokes, their ill-timed comments and little quips that went too far with client's.

I fucked men to be straight, to further myself. I'm fucked by women for love, enjoyment. I go down on them without hesitation.

I no longer touch men, my girlfriend's all I need in me, for nothing else but their love.