Panty Trap Pt. 04

Rob had been anticipating Sherry's entrance so strongly that when she finally arrived in the office that morning, his mind spasmed at the sight of her, and it took a moment to slow his thoughts and take her in.

He was becoming more and more consumed with her — and he didn't care in the least.

"Doughnut?" Sherry asked, standing before him and opening a box that contained two doughnuts, a powdered jelly, evidenced by a bit of red jam extruding from a hole in its side, and a frosted with sprinkles.

"I'd love one," Rob said, trying to keep her gaze and not gawk at her from head to toe. She wore a red shirt and a denim skirt that didn't make it to her knees, and the contrast of her black hair and red shirt put the allure of the sugary treats to shame.

"These look great," Rob said, reaching for the box.

"Choose wisely," Sherry said, pulling the box from his reach.

Rob smiled. "I will," he said, and started to take the jelly doughnut.

Sherry again moved the box out of reach. "You don't really want that one, do you?"

"I thought I did," Rob said, loving the way she was mock frowning at him.

Her countenance turned even sterner, and Rob felt a warmth growing inside, an ever-growing appreciation for every moment with her. "I think you want the one with sprinkles," she said.

"Oh, um, yes, of course. I definitely want the one with sprinkles. I might even be allergic to jelly," he said.

"Smart choice," Sherry said, and let him take the doughnut.

"Now don't take a bite until I tell you to," Sherry insisted.

"Okay," Rob agreed, thinking he'd have trouble disobeying anything she told him.

Sherry set the box with the jelly doughnut on her desk and took her office chair, spinning it to face Rob. Her knees didn't quite touch, and the skirt had crept a bit up her legs. She turned slightly to pick up the jelly doughnut, letting her knees come apart and then come apart even more when she turned fully back to him.

"Look at the sprinkles," she said, raising the jelly doughnut to her mouth.

Rob looked at the sprinkles decorating the frosting on his doughnut with whites, yellows, red, blues, and pinks.

"Colorful," he said.

"Look at the sprinkles," she repeated, the doughnut so close to her lips her breath raised a puff of powdered sugar. Her knees came apart even more, revealing white panties embellished with playful flecks of color similar to those on Rob's doughnut. The triangle of material between her thighs exhibited the sheen of either silk or satin.

Rob's cock grew instantly hard.

"Now eat," Sherry commanded, and bit into her own doughnut, immediately putting her hand up to her mouth to contain the explosion of jelly and dough and powdered sugar.

Rob bit into his doughnut, the dough and frosting and sprinkles almost crackling on his tongue as the image of her panties, so like the doughnut, melding with his bite and swallow, almost as though he were eating her.

At Rob's last bite, Sherry spread her legs even wider, her own doughnut devoured, and used her pointer finger to spread a little powdered sugar on her thigh, so close to the colorful, almost shiny material of her panties.

"Now get to work," she said, and spun to her computer as though nothing unusual had happened at all.

Rob moaned, wanting to squeeze his cock through his pants but fearing he might actually cum. How was he going to make it through the day?

As tortured as he was, he couldn't deny that the friction between the obvious sexual tension and the pretense that the office place was business as usual was driving him to a place he'd never before experienced.

"Sherry," he said when he'd lost even the slightest ability to concentrate on anything but her.

"Yes?" she said, pushing a strand of jet-black hair behind an ear and smiling her oh-so-mischievous smile.

"Would you like to get dinner tonight?"

Sherry's hands hovered over her keyboard. "Like a date?"

"Uh, yes, like a date," Rob answered, unnerved by her tone.

She turned to him, careful to cross her legs. "I don't think so."

Rob opened his mouth and shut it again. He wasn't sure what he'd expected, only hopeful, but he hadn't expected her to be angry, which she almost seemed.

"I just . . ."

"Thought we'd get something going? Pursue a little office romance?"

"I don't know, I . . ."

Sherry shook her head. "Come on."

Rob didn't know what to make of her sudden coldness. "I thought dinner would be nice. We could do something outside the office."

Sherry held his gaze until he looked away. "I'll tell you why it isn't nice," she said. "It isn't nice because I'm a fat girl, and you're some hotshot jock, right? Some hotshot tennis player? Or you were. And hotshot jocks don't get serious with fat girls. I'm sure you like getting your jollies looking up my skirt. Hell, maybe you have a panty fetish and I'm hitting all your buttons, but you could never be serious about me."

John's gut dropped and he wished he hadn't eaten the doughnut earlier, but it soured in his stomach. "That isn't true."

"Oh, but it is, isn't it?"

John looked away again. He didn't honestly know if what she was saying was true or not. He hated that it might be. He'd never dated anyone who didn't look like, well, a tennis player, a slim and trim athlete. So maybe she was right.

"See," she said.

But maybe she wasn't right either. He enjoyed the hell out of being around her even before she'd begun flashing him. But he had to admit, too, that he'd never considered her romantically until then, and he didn't know why that was. Maybe she was right, and jocks didn't date fat girls.

When he fantasized about her, though — and he was fantasizing about her all the time — her curves were something he dreamed about. He dreamed about running his hands over her belly and breasts, over her plump thighs and ass. He imagined her on top of him, all her weight weighing on him and it being like a cornucopia of delights, a tactile and visual feast he could never get enough of.

And the thing with her panties? He'd never felt anything like that. It had turned him on in a way he'd never been turned on before, in a way he wouldn't even have thought was possible, and he didn't know what to make of that either. He didn't know what to make of any of it.

"I don't know," he admitted, feeling almost as though he were going to cry.

"Don't look so sad, Rob. I'm okay with being a fat girl. I know what it is," she said, and turned to her computer.

Rob took a deep breath. "It's not that simple, Sherry." He put real heat into her name, something rising up inside him. "No, I don't know what's going on. Do you? I mean, this has been . . . unreal. And sudden. And I haven't thought about it. But I want to spend time with you, and not here in the office. I want to find out what this is."

He stared at her, at the pretty turn of her nose, at lips that might still taste of powdered sugar. She didn't say anything for the longest time.

"Hey," she finally said, her voice sounding much different, vulnerable this time, a quality she'd never allowed him.

"Yeah?" he asked, again hopeful.

"You really are some kind of hotshot tennis player, aren't you?"

It took him a moment to answer. "I was, anyway."

"I'd like to see you play."

Rob was genuinely surprised. "You would?"

"Yeah," she said. "I like seeing people do something well."

"Okay," he said.

"How about tonight?"

"Uh, okay. I mean, I don't have anything set up, but you could watch me serve, if nothing else."

"That's like when you throw the ball up above your head and hit it or something?"

Rob was pretty sure she was making fun of him, and in her very Sherry way he knew that was a good sign. "Yeah, something like that."

"And you have a good serve? Like, it's impressive?"

Rob sat up straighter, unconsciously, feeling confidence surge through him. "Sherry, it'll blow your skirt up."