Brenda

byrusseltrust©

Brenda came into my office yesterday morning the way she did every morning. She sashayed her hips through the door as she brought me a cup of coffee in one hand and the day's mail in the other.

"Good morning, Boss." I liked it when she called me Boss. I thought it was cute.

"Good morning, Brenda."

She set the coffee down on my credenza, and put the mail down on my desk. With an elegant motion, she extended her leg behind her, and gently closed the door to my office. I noticed she was wearing a very classic pair of black pumps, with maybe a two-inch heel.

I rolled my leather chair away from my desk.

"I like the shoes you're wearing today," I told Brenda.

"Thank you," she said, coming around to my side of the desk. "My husband and I went shopping this weekend."

There was a filing cabinet behind my desk. Brenda opened the bottom drawer to the filing cabinet, and took out the red cushion (it was about the size of a throw pillow) that we kept there.

"You know, Brenda, you actually make me glad it's Monday morning."

She giggled. "Yeah, well, me too," she said with a sly smile. It amazed me how youthful she was!

"Are you sure you're actually over forty?" I asked her as she knelt down on the pillow.

She smiled. "Yep. But that's the thing you've really got to keep secret," she said and winked up at me. Brenda was forty-four, but absolutely did not look it.

Today she was wearing dark hose and a black pencil skirt made from some cotton-like material. The skirt stopped conservatively above her knees; knees which now rested on the red cushion. Brenda was wearing a matching black top, rather tightly fitted, with sleeves ending just past her elbows. She was the first black secretary I had ever had, and her skin was a rich, delicious brown. Her top made a small "v" down her décolletage, but stopped well short of revealing the faintest hint of cleavage.

Richmond was still a conservative city, and the longer I worked with Brenda (the polite way of saying, the longer Brenda worked for me as my secretary), the more I was discovering how conservative and traditional Brenda herself was. Married, grown children, steady job, good work habits, always tastefully attired.

Her hair was very short (only a little longer than mine, really) and processed straight so it looked like a white woman's hair, but very short and fashionable. I reached down and touched her hair, tenderly. "I've been waiting for this since Friday night," I said.

She looked up at me with her large eyes the color of deep chocolate. "T.G.I.M.," she said. "Thank God it's Monday."

Then, like every morning, she began to undo my belt, unzip my fly, open my trousers and reach into my underwear. Today it was gray boxer briefs. I began to stiffen in anticipation, while her hand felt around for its prize, and when she made contact I hardened at an even faster rate.

Our eyes locked together, and without a further expression, Brenda slipped my cock between her lips. She closed her eyes as she began to feel me with her mouth.

Like all black women, Brenda had full, sensual lips. The sensation was no different than when white girls had given me blow jobs, but the sight of her dusky, plump lips encircling my manhood—often when I would masturbate I would think of just the way her mouth looked, her fat lips sucking my cock.

"That's very good, Brenda," I said in a hushed tone. Always had to be quiet around the office, lest a co-worker overhear.

Brenda did not respond, just kept up her slow, steady pace. She knew what I liked. She knew how to give it to me.

"Lick my balls, baby," I instructed her. True, the sensation does not do much for me, but the idea of it thrills. The visceral quality of a tongue on an unshaven scrotum, and even better: the sight of my white prick against Brenda's mahogany cheek.

While she licked me, she rubbed my hard cock against her face. Then, she buried her nose in my pubic hair, audibly inhaling my scent. My hands perched on her shoulders, feeling her lithe, black body through the fabric of her top.

She returned my cock to the warmth of her mouth. Brenda had a gift; she could suck my cock comfortably without using any hands, just her lips on my prick, her tight suction and teasing tongue building and building my desire until it would reach a fever pitch. Of course, sometimes she used her hands. Sometimes she played with my balls, or stroked my leg, or, even once, slid a long, dark finger up my anus until I exploded with abandon.

I moved her top aside enough so I could see what type of bra she was wearing. It was black, and I did not recognize it.

"Is the bra new?" I asked.

"Mmm-hmmm," she moaned, mid-suck.

"It looks nice."

"Thank you," she said, but it came out garbled—she did not take her mouth off of my cock.

"Another part of the shopping spree this past weekend?"

She just nodded. Then, as a change of pace, Brenda took her mouth off of my cock, took hold of it in one hand, and preceded to begin a series of long licks, stem to tip and back down again.

"Did your husband buy it for you?" I asked her.

"Yes," she said, and glanced up at me once, quickly.

My hands reached down, finding her breasts through her top. I fondled her at will; I knew that part of this was subconscious, that I wanted to take possession of her, show her I could, but at the same time I also just wanted to play with her sexy chest.

"Take off that top," I said, "I want to see your new bra."

Without getting off of her knees, Brenda crossed her arms in front of her and grabbed hold of the bottom of her top. Careful not to smudge her makeup, Brenda pulled the top up over her head, and dropped it onto my desk.

Her bra was satin, with full cups covering most of Brenda's cleavage. She was about a C-cup. She kept her back straight, letting me look to my content.

"I'll bet he bought you matching panties, too," I said.

Brenda blushed. "He did . . . but I'm not wearing them."

"Oh, why not?"

"Too much fuss today. Too much bother, with the pantyhose."

"You'll have to show me the whole outfit some other time, then."

"I think that could be arranged."

"Your body looks great," I told her.

She smiled. "Would you like me to get back on your dick, now?"

"Yes, please."

Brenda's mouth sunk down on my hard-on again. These morning blow jobs had been going on for ten months now, slightly less time than I had worked there. Our morning routine was down pat; each morning she would bring me coffee, the mail, and then close the door and quietly suck me off. Occasionally, during lulls in the day, I would call her in for an afternoon conference. We had even stayed late together a few times. She was more than ten years older than I, and I had never even dated a black girl, let alone share such physical intimacies. She had been married the whole time, and I believe her husband was blissfully unaware. As I said, Brenda was a very conservative, traditional woman.

I wanted a special treat today.

"Take off your bra. I want to feel your tits."

Brenda paused in her oral ministrations to reach a hand behind her back and undo the clip. I pulled the soft black straps down her toned arms. The cups held on to her breasts for a moment, and then released them. Her tits sagged slightly; they were a good size and weight and thus not immune to the pull of gravity. I put her bra on my desk next to her top.

Her nipples perked up under my palms. The soft flesh of a woman's breasts are always a pleasant surprise—they are so different from our manly experience, this soft tissue, made to give sustenance, to encourage new life.

I squeezed her breasts gently, and then more firmly. Brenda had large nipples and even larger aureoles, details that I found very sexy, very real. I let my fingertips graze over her black breasts, stopping at her nipples which I lightly plucked.

"Your nipples are so big, Brenda," I said. "Is it from the cold, or are you excited?"

She took her mouth off of my cock for a moment. "Maybe it's a little of both."

I moaned, enjoying her tease, enjoying her skill as a fellatrix, enjoying the womanly flesh of her chest.

"You look so wonderful; topless, on your knees." I told her that a lot.

She took her mouth off my cock again. "I feel wonderful; topless, on my knees."

"Oh, do it to me, Brenda. Make me feel good."

Her mouth was wet and she was slurping up and down on me. Her head bobbed up and down as she ministered to my need. I leaned forward in my raised position and saw the long expanse of her back. Brenda was so fit, so careful with her diet, the ebony skin of her back and the underlying musculature was a testament to what good care she took of herself.

The sight of her thighs folded under herself, of the bottoms of her heels sticking out behind her—why is it that simply the position of a woman on her knees is so erotic?

"Oh, Brenda, you look so beautiful like this!"

Her dutiful mouth did not even stop to receive the compliment but continued its work, sucking me ever harder and ever faster. My right hand rested itself on the back of her neck, following her in her back-and-forth rhythm. My left hand obscenely squeezed one of Brenda's black titties. Her other one bounced in time with her sucking. I loved touching Brenda's black skin, I loved touching her in her intimate places even more.

"That's right, Brenda. That's so good." I was near my bursting point.

Brenda's only response was to moan lewdly, her mouth stuffed with my meat. "Mmmm," she moaned, "Mmmm," letting me know she was enjoying every inch of my white prick inside her hot, black mouth.

My hands now grasped the sides of her head, but there was no need to force myself in and out of her mouth. Brenda knew my style, and as she felt my hands touch her head she began to suck as hard and fast as she could. The insistent pressure of her lips and the unyielding pace of her sucks were a silent order to me: Finish! Finish! Finish in my mouth!

I gave my black secretary just what she wanted. My hot semen shot out from my cock into her mouth. My cock spasmed again, my whole body shuddered, and then once more, and then a fourth time, each time sending an explosion of sperm into Brenda's mouth.

With amazing resolve, Brenda did not loose her suction for a moment, but eyes shut in concentration, followed the spasms of my orgasms, all the while collecting my seed in her mouth.

As my orgasm subsided, Brenda slid her mouth off of my member. She opened her eyes and looked at me. There was a fire in her glance; I was seeing Brenda as the tigress she was. Carefully, Brenda opened her mouth, revealing the white liquid she had captured and held.

"Oh, yeah," I said.

Still looking at me, the very embodiment of a vixen, Brenda's lips closed together, and she swallowed my come. "Ahhh . . ." she said, smiling broadly, opening to show me that it was:

"All gone!" she said cheerfully

"Well done, Brenda."

"Thanks, Boss."

She stayed there, perched on her knees on the red cushion, letting me look at her body, naked to the waist, while I lolled in post-orgasmic stupor. She leaned forward, gave a quick farewell suck to my cock, then stood up and reached for her satiny bra. She pulled the straps up her arm, set her breasts preliminarily in the cups, and then reached around her back, fixing it together.

"That was so good," I said.

"I'm glad you liked it. It felt like a little more than usual."

"That's possible. I didn't come since Saturday with my girlfriend. So you had all of Sunday stored up there as well."

She laughed. "You just like to work me extra hard, I know. Very, very naughty, Boss."

"I hope it wasn't too much to take."

"Honey," she said, "you know this black bitch loves all the hot load she can get out of that white prick of yours."

"You better watch the way you talk to me, or I might need you to suck me off again."

"I wouldn't mind," she said playfully. She pulled on her top and patted down her clothes, making sure she was neat. I could see the gold band of her wedding ring, and the diamond in the setting.

"Come here a second," I said. Brenda walked over to me. "Turn around." She turned, her ass just inches from my face. I reached up and squeezed her ass through her clothes, then began stroking down her hose-covered legs.

"You better watch out," Brenda said. "Keep touching me like that and you really are going to need my help again."

"What would our coworkers think?" I asked rhetorically, continuing to her explore her strong legs and her sexy dark pantyhose.

"They'd think you're fucking your married, black secretary. And they'd be right."

"What are you doing for lunch today?"

"I think we both know what I'm doing for lunch today."

"I think you're right."

With two quick pats on her bottom I was done, and Brenda began striding to the door. I quickly tucked my cock back into my pants and zipped up again. It was difficult; she had already gotten me hard again. Ah, the joys of youth.

"Anything else?" Brenda asked at the door.

"Yes, could you photocopy the Dent file and distribute a copy to Candace and one to Daniel. And there's a file saved on the U:/ drive in the Singley folder with today's date on it—it's a fax, could you make sure that gets sent out?"

"No problem," Brenda said. She opened the door to my office and went out, leaving the door open. Another week had begun.

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