Maggie May Ch. 06

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Trying to be helpful, still not knowing exactly where this path was leading, John reached out for the jar. Charlotte let her fingertips linger on John's palm as he touched the container. "Thank you so much, John, I'd like you to hold onto it after you manage to get it open, please. After all, I am a customer, and I'll require some personalized service."

John unscrewed the lid with an audible 'pop', and remained transfixed. This was the second time this week he was immersed in sexual tension in his office, and he couldn't say that he was becoming comfortable with the feeling yet. Nonetheless, he did as instructed, awaiting Charlotte's next move. He knew he was swimming in waters with quite an unpredictable and potentially dangerous current. He didn't have to wait long.

Charlotte stood up from her chair suddenly, and in one motion, she grabbed the bottom of her tight sweater, yanking it over her head, leaving her standing in front of him wearing a transparent, light pink push-up bra, that clearly exposed her steel-hard nipples and large, pale brown areolas.

John gasped inwardly, valiantly struggling to maintain his composure. Immediately, he felt the all-too-predictable stirring from within his trousers, the below-the-waist vote always vetoing the disdain of the between-the-ears instinct.

Charlotte stood there with her full, pouty lips curled downward. "I don't think your nice ladies in lingerie can take accurate measurements, Mr. Davis, I'd like to file a formal complaint." She reached behind her back and unsnapped the bra straps and stood gloriously naked from the waist up. John felt the beads of sweat forming on his brow, but, again, his cock betrayed him, virtually break-dancing into his zipper. His first thought that this was the most amazing set of tits he'd ever seen on any woman, regardless of age. And they were inches from him.

Charlotte copiously examined the tags dangling from the bra. "They say this is a 38-D, but it's much too snug for me." She next grabbed both of her luscious breasts in her hands and began to massage them and pinched the erect nipples. "Or, then again, perhaps it's my fault, perhaps I've gotten larger." She took John's free hand and pressed it into the gap between her beautiful mounds. "Oh, dear, I'm so confused. Maybe we just should take some measurements of our own."

Charlotte again reached down into the shopping bag, her big breasts hanging as if suspended by a freak force of gravity, and this time emerged with a small, 48-inch tape measure. "Let's measure some body parts now, shall we?"

Charlotte turned around so that her bare back pushed into John's white shirt and her jean-clad butt cheeks eased onto John's trouser-encased cock. She pushed back more tightly and reached back down around her to pull John's own ass so that his hips grinded into her backside. She grinned to herself as she felt the arousal that she had evoked, while simultaneously being impressed with what she felt from beneath John's pants. Maggie wasn't fabricating, Charlotte thought, this was one prime cut of meat.

Without giving time for John to react, Charlotte swiftly turned around and knelt in front of John, expertly pulling at his belt buckle. She was good at this, the cougar thought to herself, this was her favorite part of the chase, the excitement of the first view of the 'catch'. She truly didn't know what she enjoyed more, the first sighting of a large young cock throbbing and pulsing inches for her mouth, or the look in the prey's eyes when she pounced.

In this instance, the former was true. John looked down almost detachedly at Charlotte, still being the obedient retail servant acting out the charade of pleasing his client. If this meant having the customer take him for a test ride, so be it, John thought to himself. He leered at Charlotte in a way that almost, but not quite, discomforted the 'tigress'. With one hand, she yanked his trousers down to his knees, and with the other, the hand that still held the tape measure, she reached up and grabbed the jar of lotion from John's hand.

"Charlotte must really like tapes, of all kinds", he thought to himself.

Charlotte rubbed the entire long length of John's cock through his white briefs, as if taking inventory. With each caress of Charlotte's experienced palm and fingers, John grew and grew in response to her erotic digital administrations. While never taking her eyes from his, she peeled the thin layer of cotton separating her hands from his cock, and his member sprung free, twitching, dancing, angry, purple. "Huge," she thought.

She reached into the jar and began to liberally cup the lotion into her palms. With her hands coated with the cool cream, she continued to stroke John's monster with one hand, while rubbing the lotion onto her world-class tits with the other. To say that this exercise excited John was an understatement, yet he was doing his utmost to not disclose any other emotional demonstration of his arousal to Charlotte, figuring correctly that the unmistakably pulsing cock being massaged by Charlotte's expert hands were confirmation enough.

His gaze was expressionless as he looked down at her, yet such was the eroticism of the situation that he knew he wouldn't last long until exploding, either.

Charlotte was more than well versed in anticipating a man's pending ejaculation, and she wasn't nearly ready for John to cum just yet. For one thing, she had a measurement to take, and she also felt a need to memorialize the occasion for her own sordid amusement.

She knelt closer to John and momentarily removed her hand from his cock, moving so that both of her hands were now cupping her own massive tits together, creating a virtually perfect destination for john's cock. She resumed her grasp of John's dick, but this time, she pressed it deeply into her cleavage, tit-fucking him furiously now, John desperately trying to stifle his moans so that they could not be heard in the outer office.

"He's all mine now," Charlotte delightedly thought to herself, noticing that John had closed his eyes and held his head back in torturous ecstasy. She reached for the camera phone concealed in her shopping bag and extracted it. She brought John's own hands to her breasts now, so that he was pulling her tits tightly together, essentially orchestrating the tit-fucking himself. Both of her hands were free. With one, she unraveled the tape, and extended it onto the top of John's cock, now firmly ensconced deeply between her swaying, bouncing tits. His cock felt like an insect caught between windshield wipers on high speed, at the complete mercy of the mammaries.

John opened his eyes in wonderment at the strange sensation of the tape head stretched on his engorged penis. He was on the verge of cumming now, Charlotte knew, the perfect time to measure a man's full extension. Unbeknownst to John, however, Charlotte was going to get what she came for, and John would not yet be permitted to gush his imminent load of jism. Not yet. Not just yet. Not quite yet. John's face was the brightest of crimson, it took every bit of his self-control to continue to maintain his balls from erupting, as he continued to rock back and forth on Mrs. Olson's fabulous chest.

Charlotte looked down at the 'tale of the tape'. Very impressive, she thought as she peered at the results. She had estimated eight inches, after all, this was not her first rodeo as far as such estimations were concerned. She was bit of a snobby connoisseur when it cam to her cock sizes. She had slightly over-estimated, but by mere centimeters. The tape showed just over seven-and-three quarters inches, and with that, Charlotte reached imperceptibly down to grab her cell phone, just in time to capture John's massive load of semen shooting explosively onto her chest with a swift series of snaps of her finger on the 'go' button, the last with the lens pointed upward to capture John's 'O' face.

John never saw nor heard the cell phone, his own concentration completely focused on the incredible sensation of his own erupting, seven-and-three quarter-inch mini-volcano. When a man is cumming, Charlotte knew, each and every one of them turned into their own version of Helen Keller, their senses of sight and sound rendered non-existent, overwhelmed by the tactile senses of taste and touch and smell.

Just as quickly as she had invaded John's office, she prepared herself for her departure, mission accomplished for today. With the alacrity and precision of a master thief, and this was a rather poignant analogy, since she had just raided John's jewels, she picked up the phone and deposited it into her bag.

In swift succession, she placed the tape measure and the lotion in the bag also, scurried to reattach her bra, wiped the thick strands of John's cum deeply into the pores of her skin, scooping the residue into her mouth. She then pulled her sweater over her head, and put the bundle of golden curls back again into a tight ponytail. She did all this while John caught his breath, his pants still bunched around his ankles. He finally gathered his wits and frantically pulled up his pants, realizing Charlotte was making the proverbial beeline for the exit.

He buckled his belt a second or two before Charlotte opened the door, saying loud enough for Madeline to hear, "No need to get up again, John, thank you so much for your service, and we'll see you and your guest Sunday at eight."

Charlotte hastily found the nearest ladies' room stall, her jeans saturated from the liquids streaming from her slit, and finger-fucked her cunt feverishly with one hand while flicking John's still wet cum from her tits with the other, devouring his yummy seed hungrily. She quickly came, her gasps subdued so that other patrons couldn't decipher her orgasmic glee.

She glanced at her Rolex and pulled up her soaked jeans. She soon had an appointment with her newest personal 'trainer'. She hadn't lifted a weight with him yet in two previous sessions. Yet last week she had compensated the young stud dearly to have herself pile-drived in various positions for an hour on her bench press seat in her house gym. All duly video recorded for the archives, of course. An instructional work-out video of sorts, at least in Charlotte's reasoning.

She drove home in her Jaguar, her hot, oozing cunt still dripping, her sweet scent of heightened arousal permeating through the car.

"It's good to be the queen," she smiled to herself.

Game and set to Mrs. Olson. Yet, this was not to be a one-set match by any means.

Play on.

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