Bureaucratic Benefits

Author's note: the following story is purely a work of fiction and any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental. The author wishes to express his gratitude to Copperbutterfly for her editing to make this a better story.

It was one of those never-ending affairs that I hate to attend but, given my status in the current administration, I was assigned to be one of the administration's representatives. That meant that the guest of honor was not sufficiently important or high enough up the diplomatic ladder to justify one of the more significant names from the administration.

It didn't bother me that I was not higher on the ladder – I believed that the work I did was important and I felt good doing it. That marked me for some of the powers that be as not having enough eagerness and hunger to progress in politics. That was okay with me, too. I preferred to work in the background anyway.

This particular get together was mostly for show so everyone who drew the short straw for their particular organizations came, sucked up the hors d'oeuvres of pate de foie gras or stuffed shrimp on crackers or whatever else was floating around on the platters carried by the cummerbund-attired waiters and washed them down with the flutes of champagne offered by the servers in short black dresses.

I had made it through the receiving line, extending my best wishes to the prime minister of one of the world's poorest nations and shaking the hands of the other dignitaries in the line. I spent the next hour going around to the little groups of people and making small talk, the mainstay of our nation's capital.

There were always people to meet, issues to discuss, options to attack or defend. So there was no dearth of things to talk about. I passed from group to group, listening most of the time, contributing here and there, stating the administration's stance when asked. However after a while, the groups all seemed to be just alike. There were the up-and-comers who thought themselves more important than they really were, both men and women, there were the wallflowers who spoke only when directly spoken to, and there were a lot of people who were just completely bored with the whole process.

At first glance, I thought she was one of the wallflowers and I started to pass by her. On second thought, I decided to speak to her. She was an African-American – her name tag identified her as a member of one of the local government agencies. She was probably my age or maybe a few years older. She had a light tan color to her skin that was very attractive. And even though she was somewhat heavy, I thought she was a beautiful woman. She was obviously proud of her breasts; they were large, unsupported, and mostly on open display. I had to force my eyes up to her face when I spoke to her.

“Hi,” I said, offering my hand. “I'm Kevin Douglas.”

She giggled. “Yeah, I know,” she said, nodding to my name tag. “And I'm Stephie Lawrence.”

I laughed, pointing to her tag. “Yeah, I guessed. I haven't seen you around any of these things before tonight.”

“No. Actually this is only the second one I've had to attend since I got into town.”

“Oh? So you've not been here long?”

“No, just three weeks. How about you?”

“I'm an old hand, by D.C. standards. I've been here seven years.”

“Oh, wow! That is a long time. Do you like it here?”

I laughed. “Here? Tonight? No! My job? Yeah, I like that part. I could do with fewer of these things though ... except that if I hadn't come tonight, I wouldn't have met you.”

She put her hand on my arm and ducked her head toward me, smiling. “Oh, honey! Flattery will get you everywhere! I'm glad to meet you too.”

“Do you ... have someone to go home to?”

“Nope, it's just me. How about you?”

“No, I'm alone too. Have you been here long enough?”

“Yes, I'm getting really bored.”

“Me too. Would you like to go somewhere and get some coffee or something?”

“I'd love to.”

She tucked her hand under my arm and we headed for the door. There was a line of cabs waiting outside and we climbed into the first one. I gave the cabbie the address of a coffee house out on Wisconsin Avenue and sat back to get to know Stephie. My eyes frequently went to her cleavage and I watched her big beautiful melons jiggle as she talked.

When we pulled up at the coffee house, I paid the cabbie, got out and offered Stephie my hand. She slid out, her slit skirt showing a lot of smooth tan thigh. Then as she stepped up on the curb, she stumbled and fell against me heavily, mashing those beautiful breasts into my chest. We both laughed, once I made sure she was all right.

Inside the dimly lit place, we found an empty booth right at the rear of the place. She slid into the bench with her back to the shop and patted the seat beside her. I slid in next to her, our thighs touching. We talked for several minutes before a harried waitress came to take our order. I found out that Stephie had been married when she was very young but her husband didn't stay very long before he started shacking up with other women so she divorced him and had never married since then. She had had a few boyfriends over the years but none that were really as steady as she would have liked. Her body language told me that she was very sexual and would have liked a more lasting relationship. I guessed that whoever she had that relationship with would not lack for sex – she rubbed her shoulder against my chest several times.

After our coffees arrived, she asked about my background and I told her I was from the southwest, had lived in a number of states in various capacities, usually trying to raise funds for one campaign or another, before being asked to join the current administration's organization. Once our success had been determined, I was offered a job in the White House, although it wasn't a very prestigious job. That didn't matter to me. I took the job.

I noticed that the more I talked, the more Stephie turned her body to face me, putting her breasts in a position I could not ignore them. I turned a little toward her and her smile grew broader. We talked a little about the work she was doing, which she didn't feel really comfortable with yet but liked it so far. I casually put my right hand on her left knee and she didn't react at all. We kept talking and I began softly running my fingers up and down that thigh and still got no direct response.

My fingers found the slit in her skirt and slipped under it. She was wearing stockings so it wasn't touching her bare skin. She just kept talking – until my fingers found the tops of her thigh-highs and finally touched bare skin. Instantly her eyes closed but her knee pushed hard against my leg, seeming to spread herself apart.

I slid my left arm around her shoulders and let my right hand continue the tour. I soon touched her panties, to find her soaking wet.

She leaned close to my ear and whispered, “Do you live close?”

“About three miles.”

“Let's go.”

I picked up the bill, put some greenbacks on it and dropped it on the waitress's tray as we headed to the door. The cab ride took forever, if seven minutes can be an eternity.

Inside my closed front door, Stephie turned to me, started unbuttoning my shirt while I shed my jacket, and said, “Honey, I'll do anything you want to as long as you take it slow and easy and make it last. Okay?”

“Of course. Let's start this way,” I replied, my fingers going to the buttons of her dress.

I backed her slowly to my bedroom, pulled her dress over her head and placed it neatly on a chair. Then she helped me out of my pants, shoes and socks. With both of us standing in our underwear, I pulled her to me and we kissed – long, deep, and wet. Our tongues quickly became acquainted intimately.

We didn't stay in the embrace as long as I would have liked though. Stephie pulled back, lifting her tits and said, “Come on, honey. Lick these. My nipples are really sensitive.”

I bent to lick her held offerings, and sure enough, her breathing quickly became ragged and shallow as she heated up. Still sucking one of her inch-long nipples, I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of her panties and pushed them down. She kicked them away and stepped back onto the bed, climbing into the middle. She propped up on three pillows and spread her legs.

I climbed in after her and lowered my face into the patch of thin curly black hair around her cunt. She was already dripping wet and I loved the taste of her juices, lapping up every minuscule drop I could find. The nice thing was that she kept producing it about as fast as I could lick it up. At one point, I stopped to extract a curly black hair from my teeth.

“Honey, I'll shave it for you for next time ... if you think there will be a next time,” she said with a touch of a question to the last.

“Oh, I think there will definitely be a next time,” I replied. “And in the not too distant future.”

She giggled. “Good. I think so too. I promise to make it better for you.”

I went back to her puffy pussy lips, gradually pulling them apart to let my tongue delve a little deeper into her crease. Her folds were already frothy with the juices that had been stirred up by the bit of walking we did and my fingering of her twat. After dipping my tongue into her opening, I knew why a man could call his partner 'honey' – she tasted better than any bee-derived nectar I had ever sampled.

I got a lovely surprise when I zipped my tongue to the top of her layered flesh, finding her clit exposed, shiny with fresh blood and ready for attention. Her nubbin was as big around as the last joint of my thumb; I certainly didn't have to hunt to find it. No sooner had I sucked it into my mouth than she exploded like a bundle of dynamite sticks on a short fuse. Between her hands and legs, she almost smothered me by trying to push me into the interior of her cunt. Only by fighting with my fingers to press a little air passage into her soft mounds of flesh was I able to gulp enough air to keep from passing out.

When she had recovered a bit so that her legs relaxed, I set about to resume the same activities but she was so sensitive she didn't want me to touch her clit right then. Instead I pushed her legs high and wide and licked her anus, which sent her into a series of mini-orgasms.

Climbing up over her ample form, I sank my thobbing cock all the way to the root into her slick cunt. Bending around until I could nip on her nipples, I started to fuck her slowly. Again she went into a series of mini-orgasms, barely finishing one before shuddering into another. Holding her legs out wide to give me deep access, she kept up a steady stream of verbal encouragements, telling me how much she loved what she was feeling, how she wanted me to keep going forever – or until she dissolved into a puddle of her own cum, whichever came first. She scraped her long fingernails down my arms and up my back, across my butt and lightly around my scrotum. She dug them into my chest, then wrapped her hands around my head and pulled me harder into her big tits.

She asked if we could change positions. I agreed. She wanted to do it doggy but she didn't want me to take my cock out of her twat. So we began to fuck in slowly changing positions. She lowered one leg and lifted the other higher and I kept plowing. Every few plunges, I'd move her top leg over a couple of inches. The change in feelings was absolutely delicious. As we turned, my hands roved over her newly-exposed skin as well as some of the old territory. Then I had to hold her ass tightly to keep in contact as she turned onto her knees.

Nearly twenty minutes had passed by the time she was face down and it took so much of my cock to span the distance from her buttocks to her pussy entrance that I could only thrust three or four inches into her. Then while my hands probed her soft smooth ass and hips, she inched her knees up to raise her ass into the air and I was able to drive several inches into her hot slick vagina.

With her hooters swinging wildly every time I banged her butt, I slammed myself into her over and over, loving the feeling of crushing her ass into my crotch. She might not have had the classic tight bottom but, man, it was sexy in my mind! I shifted my hands forward and squeezed a handful of her breasts, rolling her big nipples between fingers. Stephie was soon moaning and groaning and grinding her ass back into me in time with my thrusts. As much as I loved the sensations that fucking her sent throughout my body, I couldn't last. With a groan at having to give it up, I began spurting shot after shot of hot sticky cum into her pussy. Stephie either came about the same time or did a great job of faking it.

Several minutes later as I lay on the bed resting, Stephie crawled down to the foot of the bed, turned between my legs, and began to suck my wet but limp cock. This was a woman who knew how to please a man. She had me hard and throbbing in a few minutes. It got even harder when she started pushing her head down until her lips circled the base of my dong, the head pushing into her tight throat. However she never did gag.

She brought both hands up to my scrotum and began moving my balls around, unlike anyone I had ever been with before. I sat up to watch what she was doing and she looked into my eyes with a devilishly lustful grin – and carefully pushed one of my balls into her already full mouth. Ohmigawd! I was astonished. I could feel her tongue exploring the contour of my testicle. Her eyes were glued to mine. I'm sure she got an eyeful when I watched her gingerly slide my other nut into the other side of her mouth. I didn't think it was possible but there it was, right in front of my face. Stephie had my erection in her throat and both of my egg sized balls in her mouth, sucking on them like a Hoover.

She could have done anything in the world to me then, but I didn't expect what she did. She spread my buttocks and drove the middle finger of her right hand into my anus, shoving it in until she pressed against my prostate. With her finger wiggling against my gland and her mouth sucking my family jewels, I was in a world formerly unknown to me. My body turned into one big sensation. I don't know how long I lasted, whether it was a minute or an hour but it was a lifetime memory and, when I shot my load directly into her throat, it felt like the best orgasm I'd ever had.

We cuddled up and slept for a while after that. I held Stephie spooned into my body, although she made me keep my hands off her nipples. She said she would never get to sleep if I kept touching them.

Sometime in the night, I awoke to find her holding one of my hands on her tit, her nipple hard in my fingers. Her other hand was on my cock, lightly stroking it behind her.

When I kissed Stephie, she looked over her shoulder and said, “Looks like you're ready again, huh?”

“Yeah, I sure am.”

“Wanna do my ass?” she whispered.

“Sure!” I responded with enthusiasm.

She pulled a dispenser of lubricant from her purse and slathered it on both of us. “Let's do it this way, honey,” she said, indicating that she wanted us to remain on our sides with me behind her.

I eased forward when she lifted her right leg and reached back to direct my spear into her rear door. My few experiences at fucking ass had all shown that it was difficult to pierce an anus at first and it got easier only after the first painful entry. However it wasn't that way with Stephie. She obviously knew how to relax her anal sphincter because I gently pushed against her opening and it easily spread and let me enter. It was still tighter than her pussy but not uncomfortably so. I pushed in until my crotch was mashed against her buttocks.

Since I was lying on my side, my strokes were only a couple of inches in length but that was enough to send magnificent feelings through our bodies. Besides the position let me circle my arms around her and hold one of her beautiful tits in each hand. And of course I tweaked and pulled at her big nipples which caused her to respond just as wildly as she had before.

Without a doubt, Stephie had a direct connection from her nipples to her clit and every little bit of attention to her chest buds sent her into spasms of extravagant pleasure. And when Stephie was pleased, she made sure that her partner was pleased – at least, that was my experience with her. She fondled my balls, pressed her magic tits harder into my hands, pushed her hips back around my intruding cock, and generally made me feel fantastic. By the time my balls again contracted and shot a load of cum into her bowels, she had shuddered through two more climaxes. She even brought a warm washcloth to clean my cock before we went back to sleep.

In the morning, Stephie was up before my alarm went off, dressing in her cocktail dress from the previous night. When she asked if I wanted to get together again, I asked how soon. She suggested that night and I accepted, grinning with lust. I insisted on sucking her tits again for several minutes before she left and she complained about me leaving her with a dripping pussy ... but she smiled when she said it.

That evening after work, Stephie met me at my apartment shortly after I got home. Right after the door closed behind her, we kissed and she pulled her dress off her shoulders, baring her big breasts. That was the beginning of five hours of fucking-kissing /resting /fucking-kissing /resting /fucking-kissing, ad infinitum. Since neither of us had to be anywhere the next morning, which was Saturday, we didn't give up until deep into the following morning.

In fact we spent most of the weekend screwing, whether it was in my bed, in the shower, on the living room carpet or bent over the kitchen table. Pretty much exhausted, we dressed Sunday evening and went out for dinner, only to come back to my apartment and fuck again before dropping off to sleep.

Stephie and I became an item. We spent every night together at either her place or mine, unless one or both of us had to be away for our jobs. We went out together often, sometimes for job related gatherings but more often for dinners or a concert or show. I soon found out that every dress and blouse Stephie owned was cut the same way as the one I had first seen her wearing.

She truly was proud of her tits and so was I, although I have to admit to feeling some jealousy when some guys ogled her big, mostly exposed boobs. She was never embarrassed when we were out in public and one of her tits became exposed, as they seemed to have a way of doing fairly often; she'd just smile and tuck it back in. Even with me sitting beside her at a restaurant or a bar, it wasn't unusual for guys to come over and hit on her. She'd smile sweetly and say that she was a one-man woman and she was already with her man. The guys went away disappointed but I'm certain they appreciated the view they had momentarily, looking down her dress.

We wound up being together for over six years before she was transferred to a west coast office of her agency. I had changed jobs, working for the winner of the last election after the incumbent's second term had expired. It was different from my last job but still not a high profile position and that was okay with me.

I hated being separated from Stephie, knowing that we would probably never see each other again. I'm sure she began looking for a new lover soon after she settled down; she was the type of lady who needed frequent sexual attention. I was still on the frequent attendees list of unimportant meetings but at least I had a new perspective of those still boring events. Perhaps it was really a benefit to be assigned to so many of the endless functions, since there were many unattached ladies from our nation's capital who also attended. I once found Stephie at one of those events. Perhaps one of these days, I could find another gem that would qualify as a bureaucratic benefit, if I appreciated that even the wallflowers might turn into my dream girl – as Stephie had.