Little Factory Office Worker

It was 1972 and I had my first office job at a small factory outside of New Britain, Connecticut. The factory floor, where the pieceworkers were busy prying rubber gaskets and such out of the huge sheets delivered to their benches, was on the lower level along with the press workers and tool & die people.

The second story had the offices, overlooking the open factory floor. There were four executives, a half-dozen managers, a secretarial pool consisting of six desks in an open area plan, and of course the cafeteria and conference room.

I'm telling you all this so you get the layout, but of course that's not why I'm writing.

I was twenty years old and unmarried. I had a sometime girlfriend but we weren't having sex because of her strict upbringing, unless you consider hand jobs and pussy-fingering to be sex. We weren't in love, just heavily into "like a lot", I guess you could call it, along with both of us enjoying partying.

There was an office girl (that's what they were calling 'em then, today it's administrative assistant and god-knows-what-else) named Joan. We all called her Joanie. She was there to do work deemed too menial for the secretaries, like filing and document storage, but mostly she made coffee and ran errands.

She was a tiny, pretty little thing with long, straight honey-blonde hair almost to the middle of her back. She couldn't have stood more than five feet in her heels, but she was no mouse. In fact, considering that 80% of the place consisted of female workers, Joanie stood out, mostly by being very helpful and friendly.

Since the Connecticut labor laws required full-time employees to be at least 18, I know she was of age, but damned if she didn't look and seem younger. Maybe it was because she was so petite. My own hands, for instance, seemed double hers in size. I remember she always had a wry, humorous expression on her face, like something was about to make her laugh at any minute. Or, that she had a secret.

I discovered that secret one day when I went over to a manager's office door, one of several guys to whom I reported. I was accustomed to just walking in, even if his door was closed. Luckily, because of the weird sound I caught just as I turned the handle, I stopped myself from fully-flinging open the door. I say luckily because there was no way I could have coped professionally or socially if I'd been caught observing the activity inside.

The manager, Eddie Bowman, was slouching low in his high-back chair, facing somewhat away from the doorway. His huge desk was big enough to mostly hide the other person in the office with him from my view. She was kneeling before the guy. I could just see the top of her head, which was moving in an unmistakable way. It was Joanie.

The weird sound I'd heard was coming from Bowman. He was so deep into the pleasure of what Joanie was doing, he hadn't noticed me opening the door a crack. I stood frozen in place for a few moments, befuddled: why hadn't he locked his door? Was anyone else hearing this? How can I close the door without either of them hearing me? Why in the world would she be giving that ugly bastard a blowjob?

I came out of my trance only when Joanie lifted her head for a moment and looked my way, over the top of the desk. Even through the narrow opening in the doorway I knew she could see who was watching her. I remember her lips were shiny and wet, and her eyes were excited-looking. I closed the door as rapidly and as silently as possible.

I found myself in the men's room, standing at the urinal trying to piss, which I badly needed to do...but my dick was so hard I could barely go. She had been sucking him off! Right there in his office, with the door not even locked. By now he'd probably filled her mouth with his cum.

I couldn't get the vision of her moist and shiny lips out of my mind. My cock was so filled with blood I could barely touch it. I wished my girlfriend was with me right then. I thought briefly of stepping into a stall and relieving myself, but someone could come in at any time. I decided to zip up and get back to work and force my mind into concentrating on something else. Trying not to think of what I might say or do the next time I'd see Joanie.

My desk was behind the secretarial pool, with a low wall surrounding two sides of it, sort of like a cubicle before those became the norm. I made my way back to it with a file folder held in front of me so none of the women might notice the bulge in my pants, certain that my arousal must be obvious to everyone. I busied myself with tidying-up a few mounds of paper on my desk, putting stuff in its proper place, all the while with my mind straying back to that picture...of the sweet office girl Joanie and the way her eyes and lips had shone.

It was only a matter of minutes before I looked up to see Joanie standing there by my desk! She seemed to be studying me. My face grew red in seconds. I could feel the heat creeping up my neck.

"Here's that file you wanted, Mark," she said, loudly enough for others to hear. She handed me a folder with a title on it that was absolutely meaningless to my job, but I studied the name on it stupidly anyway, not able to meet her eyes. Then she lowered her voice.

"Are you free for break in an hour?"

"Huh?"

She smiled, like it was a cute game we were playing.

"You know, a break, at 3?"

"I don't know what you-", I began, but she cut me off with a short whisper.

"Meet me at your car out back, in the lot," Joanie instructed, then abruptly moved on to someone else's desk.

You can bet that things went through my mind in that hour or so until break. My first belief was that she wanted to keep me quiet about what I'd seen. That would be logical. Not that I ever intended to tell a soul. Our management and admin departments weren't a tight, chummy bunch of people in the first place, and it wasn't one of those places where the guys all get together to muse about the women and share tales of who might be doing who. So, Joanie had nothing to fear from me.

The next thing that occurred to me was maybe I should apologize for breaking in on her like that. Not that I felt sorry for doing so, really, but just to give her a break despite her risky behavior. Like I say, Joanie was a friendly girl who everybody in the place seemed to like and get along with, so why not act like it was no big deal?

Anyway, three o'clock finally came and I made my way cautiously out of the building. I wondered if anyone in the place would notice the two of us being missing at the same time. Most everybody else hung out in small groups in the cafeteria or took the two-block stroll to the Dairy Queen (this being summer) during break time, so I hoped no one else would be in the parking lot. Also, it would be great if none of the loading dock guys were hanging around out back. At least there were no windows in the back of the building, thank god.

I found her leaning against the passenger side of my car. Until that moment I wasn't even aware she knew what I drove, which right then was a '68 Camaro I'd inherited from my brother. It was dark blue, I recall, and had way too many miles on it. I approached her, my opening words running through my mind. She looked really nice with the afternoon sun shining on all that hair, slouching there with her arms behind her back in a white peasant blouse, a blue mini-skirt and black heels. Joanie didn't have a voluptuous shape but her body was all female, and she stood with confidence.

"Joanie," I began, "I'm sorry I nearly walked in on you and Bowman like that. It's none of my busi-"

"I've always liked this car," she interrupted. "Let's get in."

Taken aback, I gave her a long look as I fumbled for the keys. What was there about her that had me tongue-tied and embarrassed and helpless? And just exactly why were we getting into my car...?

I held the passenger door open and she scurried into the bucket seat like a little kid. Even in a compact like the Camaro she looked small. I let myself in the driver's side and turned to face her, realizing that again my face was red.

"We should go over there, by the trees," she pointed. Her voice held the hint of conspiracy. I found myself firing up the Chevy and maneuvering it to the far side of the back lot, away from the building and any prying eyes, sliding it into a space almost under the low-spread branches of a pine. I shut the ignition off and again turned to her.

"You just relax, Mark, but keep an eye in the mirrors and let me know if anyone's coming."

"Joanie," I began again, but stopped abruptly when she gracefully folded her legs down into the space in front of her seat, almost with a slithery move, and eagerly moved her body into a position so that her head was suddenly in my lap. The gearshift didn't even seem to be in her way.

Her hands deftly began working my crotch, one of them rubbing my equipment through my slacks while the other loosened my belt and pulled my zipper down, quick as a wink. My heart was pounding. I really hadn't anticipated this scenario. I was caught so much by surprise that at first there was no resurrection of the hard-on that had bloomed so fiercely, barely an hour or so before (and hadn't truly dissipated until almost 3), despite her earnest, educated caresses.

It was only when she fished me out of my Fruit of the Looms and uttered in a low, excited voice, "Oh, good, I love feeling it get hard in my mouth" that I began to react. This was really happening, I was really sitting out here in my car with a lovely girl about to put my cock where it had never been before.

To describe the wonderful sensation of her warm wet mouth engulfing me fully, while one of her small hands entered the opening in my slacks and underwear to gently caress my ball sac, is impossible. I'm sure I was making some sounds or other of pleasure, but there was an inner hissing in my head that sounded like an old house radiator's steam coming up, drowning out any of my vocalizations.

I could actually feel the blood entering my penis in a rush, bringing me to a full, throbbing erection that Joanie began working with loving, insistent care. Up to that moment I'd thought girls like this only

existed in stories. I managed to look down at her by craning my neck a bit, afraid even as I did so that this experience might not be real and would vanish before my eyes. Gingerly I moved her luxurious hair out of the way so I could get a look at her mouth as she sucked at the tip of my member and swirled her tongue around the head.

Swirling her tongue! I hadn't even imagined that. Sensing my need to observe, Joanie shifted

position, sliding her body around a bit so that her head more directly faced the driver side door. I noticed she'd kicked off her shoes and put her knees up on the seat, curling her feet up against the opposite door. Since her tiny skirt had ridden up, I suddenly wished I could be both outside that window and in the driver's seat at the same time.

All of this seemed to be happening so fast, my head was flushed and sweaty. I must have looked a sight to her, but dear Joanie just made a big show for me as she continued to suck my dick and tease my balls with her fingers. In fact she fished them clean out of my underwear at one point and put her mouth on them, giving me little ball-kisses as she stroked my cock. Her tiny features made my equipment seem positively huge, an illusion I'll always be grateful for.

And that smile! It was half satisfied kitten, half predatory lion as her lips sluiced around my flesh.

Clearly she enjoyed pleasing men, or maybe it was that pleasing men gave her pleasure; Joanie seemed to actually beam with excitement as she devoured my aching cock with her wet lips and mouth, bobbing her head up and down on me and at one point truly deep-throating it. I could feel her lips at the base of my stalk and the head of it being squeezed by a most pleasurable grip in her throat.

Oh my god, I suddenly thought, is anybody watching?! I craned my neck to look around and used the car mirrors to spy for any sign of movement. Nothing, thank goodness. My nerves were jangling now, though, fighting with the overwhelming pleasure of seeing her big eyes looking up into mine as her lips stretched around my dick.

And, oh, was her tongue busy – I could feel it laving over my heated shaft, up and down and around. Even the liquid sounds of sucking she was making were turning me on something fierce. I couldn't help but reach out to caress Joanie's head as she worked on me. Not that she needed any direction, let me tell you, but just to make absolutely sure she was real. She thankfully didn't seem to mind me stroking her hair, or running my fingers under to rest my hand softly against her face and ear. In an odd way, just as the point-of-no-return was beginning to occur deep within me, I felt very close to her at that moment.

"Joanie", I warned her, "I'm going to..."

"Mmmph, mmmm," she agreed, answering my concern for what was about to happen by putting an absolute lip-lock on the head of my dick and swirling ferociously over and over the sensitive tip with her educated tongue. I had to force myself not to grab onto her shoulder or something as I felt my orgasm take over. It felt like my cock was swollen to twice its normal size, and my balls positively tightened up

against my body. There was something so...forbidden and dirty about what was happening, I guess that's what I felt, hidden behind the overwhelming pleasure, contrasting with something so...adult and knowing in the way Joanie sucked at my raging hard-on, urging me with all her talents to come. It was almost unbearable.

And then all the tension was released, all at once, in a series of exquisite eruptions that ran from the tightness of my balls up to the tip of my cock and into her mouth and throat. It felt like she was dragging every last liquid in my body up through my shaft – semen, sperm, blood and everything else. I think I bellowed, or maybe just groaned a lot as each indescribable spasm launched streams of cum into

her willing mouth. I pictured my juices spurting down her throat and over her active tongue. That image only increased the wonderful dirtiness of the moment.

And she was swallowing! I could see and hear her throat working as I emptied my balls into her warm, wet, fabulous mouth. My god, I was coming in a girl's mouth, and she wasn't recoiling in disgust; in fact, she was sucking tightly at my bloated glans to get it all out, and drinking it down.

If I seem naïve, here, it's just that Joanie was the first orally-fixated woman I'd known. She wasn't the last, but I've found them to be few and far between. Others may disagree. I guess it's all up to chance.

As my orgasm abated, Joanie looked up at me again with those eyes and suckled at my stiff member, drawing out my essence until the pleasure finally subsided. Somehow she managed an assuring smile while she did it. I must've looked like a man half-dead, so strongly had those too-few moments of pleasure sapped me of strength. I swear, I felt like I could drift happily off to sleep with her still licking at

my gradually softening cock, just like that.

She seemed to delight at the mess she'd made of my sensibilities, and actually giggled a little as she carefully held my penis and withdrew it from between her satiny lips. With obvious experience Joanie studied the shrinking tip as she squeezed me gently to milk out whatever might be left of my ejaculate. As a drop appeared, her tongue darted out to lap it up. I stared in amazement as my pearl essence would momentarily coat her pinkness and then be quickly drawn in and swallowed.

She did this until satisfied there was no more left in my dwindling shaft, and then calmly rearranged my genitalia inside my underwear, just as it had been only a few minutes before. I was physically devastated. I could only stare at her as she looked around us carefully before slipping out of my car. We said not a word, and all I could do was follow her form with my eyes as she strode back to work.

Did I imagine a bit of a triumphant spring to her walk? She looked back at me only once, just before turning the corner to the front of the building, and from that distance I couldn't read a thing on her face.

I didn't have a chance to be alone with Joanie again until the next day before lunch. There were just too many people around to hazard a private conversation, and it didn't seem like she was eager to get me alone to herself, anyway. Oh, sure, a nice "Good morning", with a quick, wicked gleam in her eye, but no more than that, until later.

We met by the Accounts Payable file cabinets in the hall, near a closed office door.

"Joanie," I whispered, "That was incredible. I can't thank you enough." Which was a foolish, awkward way to put it, as we both instantly knew.

"I'm glad, Mark", she replied, as though all I had meant was to give praise for her excellent filing technique. Her eyes were alive, though. We both kept looking around surreptitiously to be sure no one came by as we talked.

"Can I take you out, maybe get something to eat?"

She seemed to consider that for a few moments. It was like I could see her mind working it over, testing out the idea.

"You live far?", she asked. Which was hardly an answer.

"A few miles. Over by-"

"You live alone?"

"Well, yes, that is... I have an apartment," I replied in a low voice.

"Take me there for lunch," she said, and it was like an order. I suddenly envisioned the mess in my apartment, and tried to remember if there was anything in the fridge. Funny what you think about when you're young.

"You mean today?"

Joanie nodded. "I'll be by your car at twelve-thirty."

And then she was gone, over to one of the secretary's desks in a flash. I could feel my heart suddenly pumping in my chest, like it had been suspended from action during our brief talk and was now trying to catch up.

On the ride to my apartment I kept looking over at Joanie as though she were a product of my imagination. But the hand she had in my lap most certainly wasn't! Her fingers deftly maneuvered my dick until it was straining against my underwear and slacks. I said nothing, except to moan and grunt a little. Likewise, Joanie was silent. It wasn't the kind of situation where small talk would've been

appropriate.

I noticed she was sort of squirming in her seat, rubbing her thighs against one another, so I expect she was enjoying herself. I was starting to wonder if I was like a big toy to her, not a full-blown person. Or, if maybe all men were.

Her pantyhose-clad legs were on view since she was wearing yet another short skirt; between the sidelong glances I was giving to her charms and what she was doing to my equipment, I wasn't paying enough attention to the road.

"Take it out, Mark," she said, and I didn't need to be told twice. It wasn't easy getting my zipper down but somehow I managed. As soon as enough of my uncovered cock was available Joanie began her handiwork. Her caresses were so experienced and instinctive that it seemed as if I were masturbating myself. She giggled at my sudden gasping out loud, delighted at the surges of pleasure she was causing. She'd rub at the sensitive spot just below the glans of my penis, then brush gently at the rapidly-mushrooming head, and then firmly grasp my shaft and slide up and down its length.

I struggled to concentrate on driving, not to mention on controlling myself from orgasming. Joanie continued without mercy to tease and stroke, tease and stroke, until finally I had the Camaro parked in the lot behind my apartment building. I somehow managed to stuff my aching prick back into my drawers.

In the elevator I tried to hug her but she maneuvered away. I wanted to grab the girl, pick her up in my arms and put my tongue down her throat, all at once. She'd driven me wild with lust and longing, but Joanie just laughed and kept pushing me away. Thankfully, none of the neighbors seemed to be home, judging from the silence as we made our way down the hall to my door. It seemed like an eternity getting the latch unlocked.