Trouble At The Office

Paula's voice was very ragged, now, her body shaking like a leaf.

"Then – then – she felt a hand pushing down the front of her panties – feeling her hair – down there – and then – and then – she could feel fingers right between her legs – feeling her bare pussy – and – and – then suddenly a hard long finger went into her..."

Paula's body went rigid. Her teeth were chattering and her voice rose until she was almost screaming...

"He stuck – his finger – right into – Linda's cunt – right up her – right up her tight – wet – cunt!!!!!!"

Her breath was coming in huge gulping gasps and, suddenly, belatedly, I became aware of her frantic hand movements, between our two bodies – Paula, my shy little wife was in the grip of a massive orgasm. It was not fear which lay at the root of her shaking, shuddering state – it was arousal – uncontrollable and unleashed.

And – me and my fucking conscience! – my cock was flaccid, unexcited – the result of berating myself at the thought of my wife's tits being handled by a load of young guys, while she convulsed in one of the strongest climaxes I had ever seen her have.

I held Paula tightly until the storm passed, and she lay flat on her back, her head to one side, her eyes closed. It was almost as though she was dead. Her hands were lying by her sides.

I slid an experimental hand between her thighs. Her pubic bush was matted and very damp. I felt it wet the palm of my hand as I slid it downwards. My middle finger drifted between swollen, puffy lips, and Paula jerked, with a gasp.

She wasn't asleep, then! My cock twitched, and I cupped my hand round her moist pussy. The wetness carried on right round her slit, in between her ass-cheeks and I glided my finger down there.

"Oh, oh, oh, oh," Paula groaned, quietly.

"You owe me one," I whispered. "I thought you were upset – and all the time you were getting off!"

"I was upset – at the time," Paula replied, her hand cupping mine, companionably, over her saturated cunt. "I was really frightened – we both were. We both thought they wouldn't stop until they had all raped us. But then we looked outside the shelter and realised they had gone - and our shirts were lying on the ground. I dashed out and got them, and we both felt better after we got them on. We didn't say much on the way home, and I didn't sleep much that night, but Linda came round to mine the next afternoon and we went up to my bedroom and talked."

"After a while – well, somehow, it didn't seem so bad. After all, we didn't get hurt, or raped. It began to seem like a kind of – adventure – and I think, for both of us, but maybe Linda especially, but me, too, it was exciting to think that our bodies could arouse that response. They may have laughed at my tits a bit, but they had been keen enough to touch them – and they had wanted to go further – to get my jeans off and feel my pussy."

"Linda kept going on about the boy who had felt her pussy, and pushed his finger into her, and I began to feel almost envious. I could see that, whatever she felt at the time, the memory of it was beginning to turn her on. She had called off her date with Alan the previous night, because of the marks on her breasts, but she was seeing him again during the week and she said, if he tried to feel her – down there – she was going to let him. She said she wanted to feel what it was like, with a boy she liked."

My cock was stiffening again, as she spoke. Paula had never told me anything about her previous boyfriends, or her sexual experiences, before she met me. I kind of always knew I wasn't the first guy to get inside her bra and have a feel of her tits, but I'm sure no-one else had been in her panties.

But she had never talked so frankly before, and I wanted to learn as much as I could, while the mood was still on her. What I really wanted to know was what she thought about her experience, once the initial shock had worn off. Had the memory of it begun to arouse her – had she played with herself – masturbated – when she thought about it? But I didn't know how to ask her, so I said – "And did she? Let her boyfriend feel inside her knickers, I mean."

She shook her head.

"I'm really not sure – well, I'm pretty sure she did, because they went out for quite a long time, after that, and I expect they went 'all the way'. I didn't see an awful lot of Linda after that – mainly because she spent most of her time with Alan, I suppose. Anyway, we never really talked about – that afternoon – again."

"Did you – think about it?" I asked, taking a chance. I was very conscious of my hand on Paula's pussy, trying to gauge her reaction. Her thighs seemed to tighten a little.

"Yes," she whispered. "I thought about it a lot. It made me very wary of boys, for quite a long time, but..." Her voice trailed away, and I urged her to continue.

"But – what?"

"Well," she said, slowly, "thinking about it used to excite me, as well, especially when I was in bed. It was something to do with being – helpless, and knowing that, really, I couldn't have done anything to stop them, no matter what. In a strange sort of way, I was envious of Linda. I could tell that, once the shock had worn off, she had begun to enjoy the memory of her pussy being fingered – and – and – I almost wished it had happened to me, too. Because it could have – it would have, if I hadn't been wearing that belt."

Her hand had tightened over mine, and my fingers were pushing down into her wetness. Her voice was becoming jerky, again, and lower.

"They could have stripped me – both of us – naked – and done what they wanted with us. I used to imagine them pulling my jeans and panties off, and opening my legs and holding them apart, to look up my – my vagina. And then, they would take us both out of the shelter, stark naked, and hold us down on the grass, side by side, and they'd begin to take their cocks out and then – and then – they would take turns at fucking us – Linda and me – holding us down – feeling our tits as they fucked us, one by one..."

Her hand was pressing hard on mine, now, and I had two fingers inside her sopping cunt. Her other hand groped for my cock and, grabbing it, she started to masturbate me.

"Are you thinking about it, John?" she muttered, through gritted teeth. "Are you thinking about me, helpless and naked on the grass, while these boys take turns at pushing their hard cocks up my tight young pussy...?"

"Oh, Christ, Paula," I groaned. "Oh, yes – yes – yes..."

But, now, it was too much for me, and I started to spurt wildly, in her hand. Paula tightened her grip round my shaft and milked the cum out of me, expertly draining every last drop until I collapsed beside her, gasping for breath.

Usually, after I've shot my load, especially like that, I drop off, almost immediately, into a dreamless sleep, but my brain was still racing, my mind filled with images of a teenage Paula surrounded by boys, touching and fondling her naked tits...

And, I was dimly aware, Paula hadn't come, again, and my hand was still nestling against a very wet bush, and engorged pussy lips. I had 'come down' enough, though, to still feel some traces of shame and guilt about enjoying, so much, a true story about my wife's, if not rape, at least ravishment. It wasn't what she was entitled to expect from her husband, and I began to try to stutter some sort of apology.

But she interrupted me, almost immediately, cupping her hand round my limp cock, and balls, and kissed me, softly, on the mouth.

"Stop, John," she whispered. "I've – I've something else to tell you. I must tell you, now, or I never will... I don't know how you'll feel about it – it's a bit – similar – but it's, well, more – recent."

I honestly didn't know if I could take any more, but I did know that, if I didn't let her go on, now, she might never again muster the nerve to tell me. My balls were tightening, but, this time, there was an element of fear. What if she was going to tell me she was having an affair – that there was someone else – someone she loved more than me? But, she had said it was 'similar' – what if she had been raped? Even gang-raped? I knew that such a thing – really happening – in reality – would devastate me. My arousal disappeared quickly, and it was with real apprehension that I muttered – "Go on – you can tell me. Just remember – I love you."

Paula squeezed my cock and balls, gently, and kissed me again.

"And I love you, too, John. But this is going to be difficult, my love – please let me tell it in my own way."

I returned her kiss and put an arm round her shoulders, and nodded, not quite trusting myself to speak.

"It happened – well, it started – in February," she said, her voice now calm and controlled. "It was late on a Friday afternoon, and Jack suddenly called me into his office. That's not unusual, so I didn't think anything of it, and I sat down, facing him, on the other side of his desk."

(I should explain about Jack. He joined the company – the one I've now left, and Paula is now working for, again – about a year after me. He's a very forceful, decisive character, and very good at his job, and he is, now, the general manager on the research side, in which Paula works. We're quite friendly with Jack and his wife, Donna, and he was a big help when Paula wanted her job back. Donna is totally different from Paula – she's got magnificent big tits – and a really fleshy round bum. She's not really my type, as a person, but I do sometimes fantasise about what she's like, naked, and what it would be like to fuck her.)

"He asked how things were going," Paula continued, "and I told him everything was fine. Then he pulled a file out of his desk drawer and slid it over the desk to me. 'Recognise that one, Paula?' he said."

"I opened the file, and my heart did a flip. It was the original data, and the results, from a project which Sandra and I completed just before Christmas. Just before we handed it in, when I was checking it, I found that the data was incomplete, and Sandra had 'made up' some input to bring it into line. I was horrified. I got hold of Sandra straight away, and she burst into tears. Things had been going wrong at home and she had let her work slip. Her husband had been made redundant and she was so frightened of losing her job, too, she hadn't had the nerve to admit she had fallen behind on this project, and had 'made up' some data to complete her quota."

"As her boss, it was ultimately my responsibility, and I decided to take a chance. I doctored the stuff a bit more, to make the substitution harder to spot, and handed it in, just on the deadline. I was worried all over Christmas, but, by the end of January, I reckoned we had got away with it, and I made sure that I kept a good eye on Sandra, to make sure she didn't backslide again."

"I had practically forgotten all about it, until that Friday afternoon."

"I think the expression on my face must have given me away, completely. I didn't even open the file – I just sat and looked at it, with an awful feeling in the pit of my stomach. Jack didn't move – he just sat, staring at me, his face totally expressionless."

I could feel Paula beginning to tremble, beside me, as she recalled these moments. Her voice had lowered, further, and she was speaking almost as if she was a little girl, caught out in some bad behaviour.

My own thoughts were in a turmoil. When I had wondered if Paula was having an affair, it was Jack who automatically came to mind. I suppose, if the truth be told, he's one of those guys you automatically measure yourself against – and usually come out feeling – well, not too clever, anyway. He's got this sort of natural authority – when he comes into a room, people immediately know he's there. I've often wondered what would have happened if I had stayed at my old workplace – almost certainly, it would have been between him and me for the job he's now got, and I've more than a sneaking suspicion that he would have got it, anyway, even if I'd still been around.

Paula was talking again.

"I had never seen him look that. I had heard some of the others say how terrible he could be when he was crossed, or let down, but I – I never had, until now. He was looking at me as if I was a complete stranger – like a piece of dirt. Then he said, in an icy cold voice – 'Well?'"

"I didn't dare raise my head, to meet his eye. I tried to apologise, but he cut me off. 'Don't give me your fucking apologies, you stupid girl! You know as well as I do what this means – this is nothing less than fraud! This isn't just your job on the line – this could turn into a police matter! You and that fucking idiot girl, Sandra, could go to jail for this! If I hadn't spotted it, I'd be looking at doing time, too! So don't waste my time with fucking apologising!"

"He had pushed his chair back and stood up, standing over me, the words spitting out of him. He wasn't shouting – he was ice-cold – his voice full of contempt. I was trying to keep the tears back, but I couldn't. They were running down my face and my whole body was shaking. I kept thinking about you, and the kids, and what would happen if the police were brought in..."

"I don't know what I was saying to him – it was a mixture of apologies and pleading to him to keep the police out of it, if he could – I was utterly petrified with fear – beside myself – out of control..."

"At last, I ran out of things to say, and just sat in the chair, sobbing. Jack was sitting down, again, just waiting for me to stop and, when I did, he still didn't move, just sat there, looking at me. I could hardly see him, through my tears. Then he said, quietly, 'Stand up.'"

"'What?' I said, and he repeated himself. 'Stand up.' I stood up, and put my hands on the desk in front of me. He pushed a box of tissues over the desk and told me to wipe my eyes. I did as I was told, and he pulled the box back."

"Then he said – 'Open the front of your jeans!' I couldn't believe I had heard him correctly. I just gaped at him. Then I said – 'What?' 'Open the front of your jeans,' he said, again. 'Why?' I said. 'What for?'"

"He said – 'Look at me', and I raised my eyes to meet his. He looked me straight in the eye and said 'Now, listen carefully – I'm only going to tell you this once. After that, the decision's yours, but I'm not interested in arguing about it. Understood?'"

"I had a really cold feeling in the pit of my stomach. I think I knew what was coming, but, at least, getting him to spell it out would give me a few more moments to think."

Paula's voice was really low, and frightened, now. I knew she was reliving these moments. I was in an agony of mixed emotions. My heart was thumping with a mixture of outrage and arousal – but my cock was like a ramrod, pointing straight up from my belly. I didn't dare touch it, and I prayed that Paula wouldn't either.

"I nodded, and he carried on. 'We have to keep the original data for 60 days, after which we can destroy it, with no comeback. Until then – the 23rd of this month – it's available for me to check its authenticity. I can 'discover' that it's invalid at any time until that deadline runs out. You have a clear choice. Either you choose to own up to what you've done, and take the consequences – certain dismissal and probable prosecution – or, you follow my orders, to the letter, until the 23rd, when I'll hand you the data to dispose of. The choice is yours, Paula – but you have to make it, now.'"

"I knew I had no option. I couldn't face the alternative – especially the possibility of going to jail. I felt icy cold, and I was shaking all over. I whispered – 'You bastard – I thought you were our friend.' He laughed. 'Oh, we're going to be very 'friendly', now, Paula,' he said – then he rapped – ' Now open your jeans!'"

"I looked at him, but there was no mercy in his eyes. They were cold, like the rest of his face. But I pled with him, just the same – talking about you, and Donna, and our friendship – until he reached out a hand for the phone. I grabbed it from him, tehn started doing what he had told me to do.

"I wasn't wearing a belt, but my hands were shaking so much, I couldn't get hold of the button, to pop it. I kept thinking about you – about how you were so possessive and jealous, in our courting days, and how you'd 'flip' if I as much as looked at another man. I couldn't imagine what you'd think if you knew what I was about to do. And I kept thinking about that Saturday, in the park, with Linda, with all these boys, feeling my breasts and trying to get between my legs..."

"And then – and then – the button gave, and I felt my jeans loosen. I took hold of the zip, and pulled it down. I held the material together, hiding my panties. Jack said – 'Open it' – and I parted my hands. I was wearing white panties, and Jack looked at them, then he said – 'Pull your jeans down, to your knees.' It was as if I was in a trance. I put my hands behind me, just as though I was undressing to go to bed, or change, or something, and I eased my jeans down, over my bottom."

"When they were halfway down my thighs, he told me to stop, and I did. Automatically, I adjusted my panties at the back, and he laughed again. I looked at him. He was staring at my panties. I knew he could see the shadow of my pubic hair through them – and one or two hairs had escaped round the sides. Despite my fear, I knew I was turning red with shame and embarrassment. Apart from one doctor, you were the only man who had ever seen my pubic hair."

"Then he told me to turn round. It was awkward, with my jeans where they were, but I turned, so that he could look at my bottom. My panties covered my cheeks, but I was still cringing with shame. Also, I couldn't see him any more, and I thought he might – touch me. I listened for the slightest sound, but, any second, I thought I might feel his hand on me..."

"Then, he told me to turn around again. Then he said – "Donna's kept her pussy shaved for the last six years, you know. I liked it, at first, but not any more – anyway, she never was as hairy as you, Paula. I want a closer look – come here!'"

"I had to sort of shuffle round the edge of his desk – that made it worse, somehow. It was so – undignified – creeping round, holding my jeans half-up and half-down. He made me come right up to beside his chair, until I was standing at his elbow. He turned in his chair. His face was only inches away from my panties and the tops of my thighs. I could feel his breath on my skin."

"Then – then – he raised both of his hands – and – he pulled the top of my panties forward and leaned over and looked down into them. I was looking down on the top of his head – and he was looking down at my bush. Then, still holding my panties away from me, he looked up at me and said – 'Oh, yes, Paula – what a lovely hairy twat you've got.' Then he suddenly let go and my panties twanged back into my stomach, and I flinched, and he laughed, again."

"Then, very quickly, he felt between the tops of my thighs and slid his finger along my vaginal slit. I felt my damp panties push against my pussy lips, then he withdrew his finger, and smiled."

"Then – he looked at his watch! He sat up, straight, and said – 'OK – that's enough fun for you today. Pull your jeans back up – I'll see you on Monday.' And he pulled a file across and opened it! I backed away from him, pulling up my jeans, then hesitated. 'Off you go,' he said. 'Have a nice weekend.' I almost ran to the door and, as I reached for the handle, he said – 'Come and see me at two o'clock on Monday – oh, and by the way – I'll want you in a skirt – and no panties! In fact, I think I want you wearing a skirt all day on Monday – and you can manage without panties, too...'"

I think, by now, I was in a state of total shock. There was a complete welter of mixed emotions jostling inside me. I was enraged at Jack's treachery, but, at the same time, weirdly excited at the thought of him seeing Paula's pubic bush, and touching the damp patch on her panties. I was also, at that moment, not only feeling fiercely protective towards my wife, but also more in love with her than I had felt for many years.