A Taste of Ambrosia

Gary Jennings knocked quietly on the Human Resource's Director's door, and listened nervously for an invitation to enter her office. He had no idea why Mrs Carter wanted to see him, but he doubted the meeting was going to be enjoyable even if her intention was theoretically positive as she always made him feel very uncomfortable even when passing each other in a corridor.

He heard a shout of "Come in!", opened the door, quietly half-smiled a nervous "Good Morning. You wanted to see me?" and sat down in the chair she directed him to.

"Yes," she said emotionlessly, "We need to discuss your position and come to an agreement if you are to continue working here."

Gary Jennings spluttered his reply: "S,s,s,s, sorry, I don't understand. What am I supposed to have done?"

Sharon Carter smirked in a way that he thought menacing, put her hands together as if about to pray, and added "Accessing inappropriate websites while at work is a disciplinary offence for most employees, but as you've only been here a little over three months I'm well within my authority to terminate your contract today."

He protested his innocence as she continued while waving a sheet of A4, "Well you either looked at the websites on this list, or you left your computer logged on and unattended and someone else did. Either way, I need to be convinced that it's in the company's best interests to continue your employment". Mrs Carter slid the sheet of paper across the desk as she continued, "The IP address is your work station," and then grinned so widely that deep creases appeared all over her face as she added, "And have you always fanatasised about older women? Not that it matters of course, I'm just curious."

Gary Jennings picked up the sheet of paper, saw his name, numbers, dates and times, and read the list of website summaries, all which were variations on a theme: women twice his age getting orally pleasured by men like him.

He felt a lump form in his throat as Mrs Carter stood up, walked round the front of her desk, and sat on the edge facing him. Gary Jennings tried to look her in the eyes, but he couldn't. She was too intimidating. All he could do was look down at her black, high-heeled, over-the-calf leather boots as they swayed gently, and tell himself that on no account should he lift his head even slighly in case in case he accidentally looked up her skirt.

He listened intently as she outlined her plan to keep him as "he was very good at his job," "showed a lot of potential" and added laughing "and it's even a little flattering that women my age are so appealing to someone of your's." He didn't respond until she stepped down from the edge of the desk, stood in front of him, titled his head upwards with her index finger and said, "This conversation is strictly between the two of us. Nobody else knows anything, so if I draft something about future conduct and confidentiality ging fowards, will you sign it?" He nodded intently, thanked her enthusiastically, nervously muttered "good bye" and walked slowly back to his desk in a large shared office down the corridor.

The next day, he answered the telephone on his desk, and felt his heart sink when Mrs Carter "invited" him to a meeting using a tone of voice which made it sound very much like an order, not a request.

Gary Jennings was even less comfortable knocking on the HR Director's door than he had been the previous day. She'd sounded cold and unfriendly, and even though he hadn't left his desk at all so knew that his computer hadn't been used, somehow knew that he was going to be accused of doing something inappropriate at work again.

"Come in and sit down," she said emotionlessly as he opened her office door, "We need to talk." Gary Jennings just nodded as Mrs Carter stood up, walked round to the front of her desk, sat on the edge and continued: "Yesterday, we discussed you looking at pornographic websites and reading erotic stories, but that's not quite everything is it? You've also been putting your fantasies on the internet instead of doing what we pay you for."

He looked up from gazing at the floor and shook his head vigorously. "No, that's not true. I haven't done anything and nobody's been on my computer. I didn't leave it all day yesterday and haven't moved from it until I came here. There's some sort of mistake!"

Sharon Carter picked up a sheet of paper from her desk and said, "According to our Technical Team, your workstation was used to access this particular website yesterday afternoon, where this blog was posted at 4pm. Shall I read it? It's anonymous of course, but it was obviously written by you."

Gary Jennings was desperate to know what had convinced her he was the post's author, and not the victim of an error someone had made when identifying which work station had been used to access the website, so nodded his agreement vigorously.

Mrs Carter put on her black thick rimmed glasses, and started to read out loud: "The innocent 21-year-old was summoned to the HR Director's office to be disciplined for a breach of company rules, and almost came in his pants at the thought. She was twice his age with short jet black hair, always wore expensive clothes which highlighted just how toned her body was, and even though he'd only ever seen her legs from just above the knee, had spent three months dreaming about having them wrapped around his neck."

Sharon Carter stopped reading, put the sheet of paper down, and glared at him, "Three months? That's how long you've been here isn't it? And I'm a HR Director twice your age with short black hair who asked you to come here for a displicinary meeting only yesterday."

He tried to speak but managed only to half-splutter something incoherent about it being a coincidence, and the technical people having made another mistake.

"It was your workstation," she said coldy, "but the coincidences don't stop there." Sharon Carter picked up sheet of paper, held it in front of her face and started reading aloud: "'I bet she tastes like ambrosia' he thought as she sat on the edge of the desk with her legs parted just enough for him to stare up her skirt and enjoy the view. She was wearing pink and white striped panties which he thought were out of character for such a forceful woman, and all he could think about was wanting to beg for permission to pull them off and bury his head between her thighs until one of them passed out from exhaustion."

Mrs Carter put the sheet of paper back on her desk and sneered menacingly, "That's me in this perverted fantasy isn't it?" before adding with a snort of amused derision, "But I don't know about tasting like ambrosia."

"I don't know who wrote that," he spluttered, "but I didn't do it." She sneered down at him and replied, "So who did?" as tears started to gently roll down Gary Jenning's cheeks. "Please don't get rid of me," he sobbed, "I really need this job."

Sharon Carter sneered again, "We all have needs," as he slid from his chair onto his knees in front of her and started to beg.

"This is rather like that little fantasy isn't it?" she grinned, "Are you down there so you can get a really good look up my skirt before I dismiss you, or because you're desperate to keep your job?"

He glanced up, suddenly realised that his head was now level with Mrs Carter's knees, and that he was looking directly up her skirt at a pink and white striped triangle at the top of her thighs.

"I'm really really sorry!" he exclaimed shutting his eyes tightly, "I didn't mean to! I'm not thinking clearly, but I'm desperate to keep my job. I'll do anything!" "Anything?" she smirked, "Well after you've signed this agreement we should be able to... um... come to an arrangement."

Gary Jennings took the papers she handed him, signed everywhere there was a little post-it without reading a single word and then said, "What do you want me to do." Sharon Carter took a deep breath, smiled and replied very softly, "That little fantasy sounds quite interesting, so why we don't we start by acting it out? We both know that you want to."

He looked up at her and was about to ask if she was serious when Mrs Carter sneered again: "I want to listen to you beg, but not now. This time I just want your pretty face right here." She pointed at the pink and white striped triangle half-hidden up her skirt and lay back on her desk. "Now", she repeated, "I've waited long enough."

Gary Jennings took a very deep breath, reached up the inside of her skirt, and pulled her panties down her legs and over her calf-length black leather boots. He stared at the little triangle of short black hair just above some glistening folds of pink, red, scarlet, and crimson flesh quivvering with excitement and felt instant conflicting emotions of fear, excitement and desire.

Sharon Carter snorted with derision again, said "Now!", grabbed hold of the hair on the back of his head with both hands, pulled him forwards, and wrapped her legs around the back of his head as her newly-acquired 21-year-old sex toy's tongue thrust as far into her as it could reach.

He licked, sucked, chewed, nibbled and kissed as she pressed him into her, felt every shudder of her almost-instaneous orgasm as she relaxed her grip slightly, and was then pulled against her thobbing crevice with so much force that he found it difficult to breathe.

Sharon Carter's second and third orgasms were even more vigorous and noisy than the first, and by the time she let go of Gary's head to push him away, he was completely exhausted, soaked with sweat and the fluids which had gushed out of her, and in absolute agony. The skin had gone from his knees where they'd rubbed against the carpet, his back had been deeply scratched by the zippers and heels of her leather boots, his ears hurt from the squeezing of her thighs, and his head ached from having his hair pulled.

"Neither of us have passed out," she sniggered, "but I'm exhausted and you're a real mess. Now clean yourself up and go, but don't tell anyone anything or I'll take you to court for defamation of character as well as dismissing you without any notice or settlement, and now you've signed that agreement, you'll also be liable for the cost of finding your replacement at short notice which will cost you thousands."

Gary Jennings staggered to his feet and did his best to make himself look presentable as Mrs Carter wiped herself with a handful of tissues, wriggled back into her pink and white striped panties, and sniggered, "Next time I'm going to make you beg, but that won't be for a day or two."

Gary walked to the door, opened it, and turned to face Mrs Carter: "I've never been on those websites, and I didn't write that blog post," he said quietly.

She grinned back at him. "Oh I know that," she said obviously trying very hard not to laugh, "I wrote it yesterday afternoon. I've dreamt about wrapping my legs around your pretty face ever since you started working here. It took me a while to think of a way to make it happen, and it turned out to be even better than I thought it would be."

Gary Jennings turned his back so that she couldn't see the expression on his face as he smiled at the irony of the situation. He hadn't been on any of the websites on Mrs Carter's list, and nor had he written any blog posts, but he'd spent three months fantasising about having her 40-year-old legs wrapped around the back of neck, and it had been even better than any of his dreams.

And even though he wasn't quite sure what Mrs Carter had meant by ambrosia, he was absolutely certain that it couldn't taste any better than she did.