Stockings and Some Milk

When I was twenty I took a job in a govt. corporation as a messenger while awaiting exam results. Almost all the ladies in the human resources dept. out of which I worked soon became nice and friendly towards me; the young, the not so young, the middle aged and the few old heads. Of course, many of them were friendly for practical reasons - they could get me to run errands for them on company time when I was out delivering documents.

Others showed interest for a more personal reason and I had a bunch of playmates, so to speak, who engaged in a range of interactions ranging from joking and teasing; light to brazen flirting and in some cases less than subtle expressions of sexual interest. After all I was young, good looking, smart, good mannered, helpful and a budding poet, some of my work finding a place in two local newspapers. Some of the ladies would compliment my work and sometimes seek to engage me in discussions. Within the first three months I'd managed to bone two of the younger ones.

One of the light teasers was Ms. West, an early to mid-thirties married woman. Her husband, a perpetually grumpy fellow, would drop her off every morning and then return for her in the afternoon after picking up their two kids one, a two year old who was still breastfeeding. I came by that last bit of information after overhearing a conversation between Ms. West and another lady.

Ms. West was a shapely chubby woman of half Black, half East Indian ancestry. She was very dark; her skin a smooth shade of black if there is such a thing. She was a jovial soul, with glittery eyes that were of an unusual olive-like colour. Her lips were full and wide and almost always in a stage of smiling, which made her dimples immediately noticeable. I liked her and enjoyed the playful little punches and body bounces she liked giving me.

One day, after returning from road duties, I went into the messenger's room which was at the end of a corridor that had a number of offices. She was at the stencil machine printing a document. Her usually happy face bore a look of solemnity and I could see she'd been crying because tear stains were on her dark cheeks. While enquiring if she was alright I took the chance and placed a hand on her shoulder. She immediately leaned her cheek briefly onto the back of my hand. She assured me that she would be alright, saying that she'd been briefly overwhelmed by a personal family problem.

She gave my free hand a little squeeze and thanked me for my concern. From that day onwards a bond developed between us that progressed as the weeks went by. We mutually and often sought out each other's company.

Of the four messengers I was the only one who remained in the office during the one hour lunch break. I'd sit in the room and eat a snack brought from home or one acquired from a little café up the street when returning from my last morning task. The remaining time I'd spend reading or working on a poem, and had earned the nickname 'professor'.

One morning Ms. West asked me to stop at a downtown department store and buy her a pair of black, nylon panty hose. She was going to a funeral after work, and needed something black to go along with her work clothes. At the store I saw a mannequin displaying sexy red mesh stockings that reached far up the thighs, stopping just below the crotch. I imagined Ms. West in it and even though and even though they cost twice as much as those she'd sent me for I purchased them, thinking that such a gift could set things in motion to take our relationship to new heights. I returned on the stroke of lunch break and most of the office was on their way out. None of my mates were around and I saw no sign of Ms. West so I took the package to my room.

Ten minutes later I heard a soft knock on the door and she came in beaming.

"You got it Professor?"

She closed the door and turned the safety knob which I thought was a bit odd but did not question it. I handed her the package and surprise showed on her face as she looked at the contents.

"What's this?" she asked, holding up the red stockings.

"Just a little gift for you, I saw it on a mannequin in the store and thought it would look just as nice on you."

She examined the stocking and I saw a fiery glint take over her eyes.

"But what's the occasion; it's not my birthday and it's not Christmas?

"No occasion, just my way of saying thanks for being so nice and to let you know that I think you're a very attractive woman."

"Ooh, that's so sweet, but you shouldn't have, this must have cost you a lot."

"It's OK; your friendship is worth it."

She stared into my eyes steadily for about ten seconds before saying:

"You don't need to buy me presents to make me know you find me attractive. I already know that by the way you look at me. Anyhow, thanks."

She stepped forward and gave me a little peck on the cheek then walked pass me to a far corner near a desk.

"I'll try on the one I have to wear this afternoon to make sure they're alright. If they aren't you'll have to go get me another pair. So you, young man, will have to look in the other direction for a few minutes"

I turned around and stared at the silent door, nervous and excited from the thought of what was there to be seen behind me if I only turned around before being told to do so; My cock, understandably, growing hard as wood in my trousers.

I'm no fool, she could have asked me to leave the room for a while or better yet go to the ladies room which was just next door. There she would have had privacy and a mirror. And then there was the issue of her turning the safety knob the moment she entered the room. She was either testing me, sending me a message or offering up herself for a quick fuck there on the spot. So after about three minutes of silence I turned around.

She had her skirt pulled all the way up to her belly button and was just about to pull the panty hose past her crotch; and what a lovely sight that crotch was. I gasped when I saw the fat lump of tempting womanhood covered in tight red lace. She didn't look in any way startled by my uninvited turn around, but never-the-less calmly said:

"You're supposed to be looking the other way Professor."

"There's nothing nice to look at on that door," I said casually.

"And what's so nice to look at over here?" she asked.

Without pulling down her skirt, she continued pulling the hose up in place around her lovely black body, higher than necessary, the seam slicing the thick lips, adding extra emphasis to the red covered lump. The sight simply blew my mind and my cock bucked, messaging me its need to spill hot cum between those thick thighs.

"That" I said, pointing with my chin as I looked below her waist.

"What, these big old fat thighs?"

"Yes, those big old fat thighs as you call them and something else too."

"Really, what's that?"

"Your big, old, fat pussy."

"That's a bad word, you wicked boy."

"Maybe, but I like how it sounds," I whispered.

She laughed heartily, her heavy bosom jumping. She suddenly pulled down her skirt,

"You satisfied with the stockings?"

"Yeah," she said, looking down. "How they look to you?"

"Fine, a nice fit"

"Well, maybe I should get out of them until this afternoon, or just keep them on, what do you think"

"I think you should get out of them and try on the red ones"

"What, there's no time for all that," she said, looking surprised.

"There's time for that and more. We have more than half an hour before people start coming back into the office."

She looked at me steadily without replying and then started rolling down the waist of the hose, almost taking down her panties in the process. I got a glimpse of neatly trimmed curly black hair above her labia.

"Face the door, and this time wait until I tell you to look around," she said.

It seemed like a lifetime before I heard her say:

"You may turn around now"

I spun around and stared with popping eyes at the seductive sight, my mouth open, my heart beating wildly.

"How do I look?"

"Fucking sexy," I blurted. Out.

"Oops, you said another bad word. But this time I like how it sounds."

She giggled softly, with a tinge of shyness on her face but her eyes blazed sexual desire as I looked her over lustily, deeply impressed by the hot, juicy, dark meat before me, wrapped in thin, red, lace panties; She hadn't put on the red stockings.

"Time's running out Professor" she whispered, spurring me into action.

I stepped forward and she leaned against the desk, spreading her plump thighs wide as my hand dived between them cupping her massive vulva and gently massaging it. She put her mouth to mine and gave me a deep but gentle kiss; a love kiss. I pulled the leg of the panty aside and inserted a stiff middle finger. She hissed and wiggled. I felt her hands undoing my pants waist. When she had it and my briefs pulled down to my knees she gripped my cock and squeezed it hard.

"I want this now."

"Give me a second," I said.

Dropping to my knees I pulled the panties down. She stepped out of one leg. Pulling the big lips of her vulva apart, I licked the revealed deep pink insides of her vagina and then her clit for about a minute. Then I sprung up and placed the head of my cock to her entrance. Her fingers helped me center it as I arched my back, and then straightened up, sending the impatient tool up into her close confines. She made a little subdued squeal and I wasted no time. I began hammering her hard and fast, wanting to come as quick as I could because of the time factor.

She leaned back on her hands and took the pounding silently, her eyes tightly closed, her mouth open wide but holding back any telltale sounds. After a few minutes I leaned over and gripping her behind the knees lifted her off the floor, plopping her fleshy ass down on the desk top. She instinctually pulled her legs far back, holding them close to her chest, and I re-entered the hot hungry cunt, filling her surprisingly tight hole with big, hard, man meat. Her pussy gobbled it all up.

While she took the pounding she released her legs and opened her blouse, pulling the bra over the black globes, letting them tumble out. I heard her say:

"If you hadn't lunch yet you may have some milk."

I quickly attacked a long black nipple as she squeezed the round sponge ball sending hot baby food spurting into my mouth. I moved over to the other one and ate some more. After feeding, I leaned back and watched the huge bubbies bouncing about as I fucked her hard. I took one of each in a hand and suddenly remembering the time factor went into top gear with my thrusting hips. I felt myself coming, and her hands pushing against my chest hard. She said:

"I haven't had lunch as yet."

She quickly slid down and took me between her lips. I made a few more thrusts and then emptied my thick cum into her mouth and down her throat. She was working on her clit with her hand as she sucked me dry.

"I'm still hungry," I said.

She understood and hastily got back on the desk top and pulled her legs back. I went straight for the clit with my mouth and within two minutes she was coming hard. I gripped her tightly, keeping my mouth to her center of pleasure as she shook out the orgasm.

When she was near finished I give her a little bonus. I stuck a stiffened tongue against her puckered hole and probed the twitching back door.

"You know bad things as well as bad words Professor, you'll have me looking forward to your lessons" She whispered.

We quickly cleaned up and she moved to the door. I handed her the stockings that were on the desk. She looked at the black one and said:

"I was in such a hurry getting out of these I ruined them,"

She showed me the huge rip and I hoped she wouldn't ask me to go get another pair when I next went out.

"You'll have to go to the funeral without black"

She looked at me with a deadpan face "What funeral, you believed that?"

Later that afternoon when her husband turned up to collect her he found her standing safely in a group of fellow workers chatting merrily as usual. I was there too, poised on my bicycle. She bade us all goodbye before moving toward the car with an extra bounce in her step and jokingly said to the happy looking baby:

"Mommy doesn't have any milk for you today, another baby drank it all."

The baby laughed joyfully, guessing that she was only joking. Seating herself, she looked at me, smiling softly. I rode away shortly afterward as happy as the baby; satisfied and assured of similar lunch break action and more milk in the coming days. She had promised that earlier.