With Interest Ch. 1

"Next time I'll have some lube," she whispered, as if not to me but directly to my twitching penis. I was rapidly reaching ignition.

"Don't get any on my suit," I hissed, amazed at my crassness.

"Okay," she whispered, looking about for a tissue or something. She settled for a sheet of scratch paper, which she slid onto my lap. "Sorry." I don't really know why she apologized, but the return of her second hand detonated my orgasm. She continued her caress as I twitched and jerked and spat cum – the first volley, a high arc over the sheet of scratch paper and onto the floor between my feet. She caught the rest on her hands as she tortured my super-sensitive bone until it drooped into semi-consciousness.

"Thank you, my dear."

"You're welcome, Sir." She wasn't quite sure what to do next – neither was I, for that matter. My bleary eyes fell on the clock. It was twenty to four. We had taken only about ten minutes.

"Well done, Ms. Lord. I'll make a note of your bonus." As I sat there, semi-comatose, she got some tissues off her desk and came back to wipe me up. She was such a dear. Things sure looked good from where I sat, I'll tell you. "Take the rest of the day off," I met her glance with a goofy, satisfied grin, as she tucked me in and zipped me up. "Oh," I sighed to myself more than to her, "you really are precious."

"Thank you, sir."

"Have a good weekend." I could hardly move from the chair as she gathered her coat and left. It had been a good week, and, I believed the best was yet to come.

–– o ––

The Friday afternoon hand job repeated itself over and over in my head throughout the weekend, so that by Monday morning I was vibrating in anticipation of what would happen next. My random gropings of her delightfully tender body were becoming commonplace. She would simply pause in her work while I fondled her tits or grabbed at her bush, then, when I stopped, continue in her business. While she never smiled at the attacks, neither did she flinch or grimace. She really seemed to accept my attentions as merely 'part of the job'.

By the time she returned from lunch, I was revved right up, yet, it amazed me how much work I'd actually gotten done. The sexual tension in the office, while titillating beyond belief, seemed to heighten my business effectiveness as well. Of course, it didn't hurt that, as distracting as she was, I now had an incredibly efficient assistant helping with the workload. So, the moment she got back to her desk I went over and pressed my now substantial erection against her shoulder. "I was just thinking about last Friday afternoon," I said casually.

She turned without a word, briefly glanced up at me, then reached for my zipper. As she unzipped, she said matter-of-factly, "Better get a chair." While I grabbed my wheeled seat and planted myself with a plop, she grabbed some tissue from her desk, and leaned forward to extricate my meaty schlong. Staring at my crotch with complete concentration, Penelope began methodically working her hands – up and down, up and down in an excruciatingly slow rhythm. Just as I was to say something, she produced a small tube of lube from somewhere and spread it on her hands, hardly missing a beat.

I could feel the scalding blood, flooding into my cock. I let my head loll back, closing my eyes to the onset of delirious pleasure. Just at that moment, I felt a breath of warmth against my glans. I waited but a moment before it became a marvelously wet, velvet touch. It felt so good, I could barely breathe. Gently enclosing my cock-head, Penelope's lips glided on and off in time with her hands, engulfing slightly more of my rock-hard shaft with each downstroke. Quivering every time it disappeared into her wonderful mouth, my cock strained against its skin, trying to swell beyond its seven – maybe eight inches. While not exactly deep-throating, Penelope pushed her hand with her lips, up tight into my pubes. She was so very patient, keeping her tempo slow and steady, as my knuckles whitened, squeezing the arms of my chair, and my buttocks bounced and stiffened against the seat. It was deliciously maddening. I held back for as long as I could, until, cupping the back of her head with my hands, I held her deep on my root as fireworks flashed in my brain and I jetted stream after stream of semen down her throat. She gagged only a bit, pushing back slightly against my hands, before relaxing her mouth and holding my spitting, spurting rod with her tongue. Not until I'd completely stopped did she pull off.

She cleaned me up perfunctorily, wiped her mouth, then turned back to the work on her desk. In my post-orgasmic haze, I wondered if she were really so – I don't know – cold, hard, unhappy, maybe, that she could do this without showing any trace of emotion. In some deep corner of my mind, that was a concern, but – hey – up front, in the here and now, who gave a shit.

We were frightfully busy at the office, so Tuesday raced by without – other than the odd grope – incident. Wednesday morning, as soon as we'd hung our jackets and got to our respective desks, I called Penelope over. "I have several meetings to attend, today," scanning my agenda, "so I'll be gone much of the day. I'm sure you have many things to keep you busy." She was rapidly becoming an integral part of my office, and was extremely self-reliant, so I trusted she would stay gainfully occupied in my absence. I didn't have time to beat around the bush, so I looked her straight in the face and said, "I need a blowjob, first off."

It was like I'd asked for a cup of coffee. Without hesitation, she dropped smoothly to a crouch, pushing me back so that my buttocks caught the edge of the desk, and pulling the front of my trousers open, withdrew my stiffening member. This was only her second time with me but she slid onto my pole like an expert. I wondered vaguely what her relationship with that no-good boyfriend had been like. Cupping my ass with both hands, she pulled me deep into her mouth, then began to bob her head. Once more, her rhythm was superb – not too fast, not too slow. I leaned back, hands on the desktop, and let her do me. It was wet and warm and marvelous.

I looked down to watch her, this young, tight, beautiful blonde, slurping and sucking up and down my pole. The sight of her body springing back and forth on flexed toes, her head bouncing like a dashboard doll, was almost too much. Gritting my teeth, I concentrated on holding off at least a little longer, although a burning deep within my loins was already sparking and snapping along the nerve endings that connected my brain to groin. The warm suction that gripped my manhood with a firm softness inside her mouth, slipping and sliding, with infuriating persistence, was more than I could resist. Suddenly thrusting my hips to meet her descending lips, I let go a bellowed, "Uungh!" and pumped my copious come into her mouth and gullet. She fought to contain the onslaught, gagging softly but staying at her post, as it were.

Sweat glistened on her heaving chest as she sat back, after one last slurp of my dick. I reached down and caught with my finger a single drop of come that threatened to drip onto her blouse. Wiping me dry, more or less, with her hand, she tucked me back in and pulled up my fly. "There," she said, patting the front of my pants, "ready for battle." Then she stood and headed back to her desk.

"Thank you, Ms. Lord."

"Just doin' my job," she replied, with a shrug of her shoulders. There was a hint of something new in her manner – tolerance? Acceptance? Resignation? I don't know, but she seemed more relaxed, maybe even happier, if only marginally.

"Thanks for keeping my suit clean," I added.

"Sure." She sat down at the PC I'd brought in for her, on a stand next to her desk, and logged on. She then turned to her desk and riffled through the documents scattered there, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened – and maybe nothing had.

As I gathered my papers and portfolio to leave, I started thinking, "If this is what 'ordinary' has become, I don't mind being 'ordinary' – not at all."

"I'll be back mid-afternoon," I called, as I left.

"'Bye." She didn't even look away from her screen.

Thursday, once again, we were so busy that I barely managed to cop a feel. Friday morning was just as bad. Penelope and I worked really well together, and when things got hectic, she seemed to really come into her own. The more frantic I got, the more calming she became. She was easily worth the twenty-five dollars an hour I was really paying her. We had worked right through lunch, so I sent her out for a break around one, as things seemed to slow down. A half-hour later when she returned, I was finally able to sit down.

"You look frazzled," she remarked as she turned to her computer.

"You look cute as ever." And she did. Without another word, I walked over and lifted her out of her chair. Holding her arms, I kissed her full on the lips, poking my tongue deep into her mouth. Although she held her tongue, as it were, she let her lips respond ever so slightly, working them against mine. Releasing my grip, I pulled her blouse open, popping a few buttons, then dropped my face to her chest.

Penelope's breasts were not large, but they were pert and perfect; just a little more than a handful – soft yet firm, with virtually no sag. Her wonderfully standy-up nipples just begged to be suckled.

Snuzzling deep into her cleavage, I squeezed her tits against my cheeks, luxuriating in their warm softness. As I searched with my tongue, side to side, trying to locate a nipple without losing the glowing comfort of her boob flesh, I felt her fingers thread through my hair and hold me gently to her breast. "Mmmm," I buzzed, latching onto one nipple then abandoning it to attend to the other. Reaching under her skirt, I grasped her buns with both hands and hoisted her onto her desk. She squirmed slightly, to clear a space for herself, then let me push her with my head slowly back across the desktop. She continued to hold my head in place firmly, as I nursed at her succulent mammaries – sucking and slurping, flicking and teasing her nipples.

With my own hands, I released my dick, which, by then, was a throbbing hard-on. It sprang out with such enthusiasm that it slapped the edge of the desk. Driving with my toes, I managed to swivel us around lengthwise and climb onto Penelope's desk, amidst her papers, between her legs. It was hard to tell by the firmness with which she grasped my hair, just what she was thinking; but what I was thinking was, "If I don't get into her pretty damn soon, I'm gonna explode!" Placing my hands on either side of her shoulders, I heaved out of her clasp and raised my face above hers. Her eyes glinted with a peculiar light. It wasn't fear, or disgust or anything that simple; it was something more than I could understand at that moment.

In any case, I couldn't wait, dropping my bum, I tilted my hips until my sword just touched her sheath, then, staring into her unwavering gaze, I punched myself into her. Her mouth opened to emit a breathy gasp as I tangled my pubic hairs with hers. Pulling back to her entrance, I jammed into her again. A slight moan was all she gave; however, I could feel her vaginal muscles contracting then releasing me, over and over. Ever so slightly, her hips rose to meet my thrusts. I was in heaven. She was so warm and wet, so tight I didn't know how long I could last. I could feel her trembling as my arrow repeatedly filled her quiver, stabbing her quivering flesh. The desk began to resonate with our matched rhythms as my ardour was coming to a boil.

I reached my crisis with a scream, slamming myself against her thrusting pubis. I felt like a fire hose, nozzling gallons of come into her welcoming snatch, and, as I pumped, Penelope bucked and whimpered, writhing just short of an orgasm.

I was tempted to slip down and bring her off with my tongue, but, instead, I just let myself collapse on her still heaving chest, our ragged breaths keeping time with one another. It was my orgasm that was important, that was the nature of the contract. I felt like a bit of a pig, but I was still working this out. There would still be plenty of opportunity, I hoped, for her to have orgasms.

"Phew," I said, when I finally rose off her. "I needed that, after these last few days." I looked at her as she sat up and slipped off her desk. Her face was red and sweaty, her blouse rumpled and her thighs glistening wet. "Thanks." She simply nodded in response and fastened her blouse with a clip from her desk. "Might as well knock off early, eh?" I shuffled back to my desk, fastening my pants. "I don't know about you, but I don't think I'll be good for much now." The very thin edge of a smile touched her lips as she shut down her computer and moved to retrieve her coat. "That's a thousand bucks in bonuses this week, eh? Not bad." I turned to close up things for the weekend, "See you Monday."

Her "See ya," was barely audible as the door swung closed.

–– o ––

Our experiences grew exponentially from there. Penelope sucked me or fucked me willingly several times a week. In-between times she became an increasingly valuable office assistant and an asset to my business.

Sometime, well into the first month of her employment, I had a visit from a long-time client. Jock was, besides his namesake, a contractor, developer and speculator. I don't know how much one could actually trust him, but in the realm of our business dealings, Jock and I got along just fine. Of course, when he came swaggering into the office, the first thing he noticed was Penelope, working conscientiously at her computer.

"I see you've added something new since I was last here," he leered.

I pretended that I misunderstood, "Oh, yes, the couch. I just got it the other week. It sort of warms the place up a bit, don't you think?" And I actually had brought it in just two weeks earlier. It was a long, modern sofa with removable bolsters for arms, in a neutral patterned fabric. Penelope and I had already tried it out in several configurations.

"Oh," he puffed, "Yeah. No, I meant your secretary, there."

"Oh, her," I exclaimed, as if I were surprised he'd even noticed. "Actually, she's not a secretary at all," I explained, patiently, ignoring his impatience, "she's my Personal Assistant." I said it dramatically – with capitals. "Ms. Lord," she paused and turned toward me. The sight of her breasts swinging free beneath her top, the hint of her nipples poking through, made me catch my breath once again. My God, but she was cute. "This is Jock M^acAllistair, an old and loyal client of mine." She nodded and said hi, then returned her attention to her computer.

Jock laid a hand on my arm and whispered conspiratorially, "Not so old that I can't appreciate a real bit of crumpet when I see one. How the hell did you manage to get that?" He nodded back toward Penelope as I led him to my desk.

"Just good luck, I s'pose," I said dryly, while locating his file. "Or good management," I added, with a wink.

Jock's gaze strayed continually across to Penelope, who worked diligently at her station, without taking – or, at least, betraying – the slightest notice of us, the whole time we conducted our business. It was a routine transaction, and when I had completed everything except the final contract, I stood up and said to Jock, "Just give me a few minutes to wrap things up here." I then called across the office, "Ms. Lord, would you please ensure that Mr. M^acAllistair, here, is entirely comfortable while I tie up the ends?" Jock's look of astonishment was priceless as he almost jumped up out of his seat. Penelope stood up and I led Jock over to her, giving her ass a friendly squeeze as I got there. "Have a seat, Jock. Ms. Lord will look after you." I gave him an exaggerated wink before returning to my desk.

"Would you like a drink, Mr. M^acAllistair?" Penelope asked, moving across to the makeshift filing-come-liquor-cabinet, next to the tiny bar fridge.

Full of stumbling bravado, he chortled, "If it's coffee, tea or you, I'll take you, darlin'." He settled for a Jack Daniels on ice, and patted the couch next to himself as he accepted it. "Wah-ell," he drawled, taking a long pull on his drink, "I'm not often stuck for words, honey, but you and your boss, here got me bamboozled, I believe." I glanced over to see Penelope sitting silently prim and proper, hands clasped in her lap, except that her blouse exposed an impressive expanse of flesh, her skirt rode up to show her stocking tops. Jock looked her up and down, fairly drooling at what he saw. Finally, he asked in a low voice, "Just how comfortable are you prepared to make me?" I studiously looked down at my desk as he glanced over.

Penelope just leaned over and casually unbuckled his belt, remarking, "This looks a little tight, doesn't it?"

"Whoa, whoa," he sputtered, as she proceeded to unzip his pants and fondle his growing erection. Even from where I sat, I could see he was substantially bigger than me. I tried to watch without being obvious, although, very soon it became rather academic. After giving him a just a few strokes, Penelope peeled his pants and underwear down below his buttocks, and smoothly engulfed his now rampant pego with her velvet mouth. "Whoa-oh." He sucked a bit of air at that, then threw his head back and moaned out his surprised satisfaction with a long, breathy groan.

Penelope, wiggled and twisted, moving around, changing her angle, trying to get more than half of him into her mouth. As she got up kneeling on the couch, head toward his knees, bobbing up and down in a sort of modified sixty-nine position, Jock discovered her bare bush. I had to laugh. It looked like he almost had a coronary as his right hand came up to grab and prod her snatch.

I was enjoying a rare – at least I still though so, at that time – opportunity for some real-life voyeurism. It was stupendous. There's something about the real thing that even the best filmed sex can't touch. I was more than content to watch the 'tawdry tango' developing on my couch.

"Oooh, oooh, oooh," Jock was virtually singing, as Penelope worked tirelessly on him, now getting somewhat past the half-way point on her down-strokes. Her slurping and slopping played a lovely counterpoint to his groaning. Suddenly Jock pushed her away and bellowed, "Omigod! I just got to have me some of that pussy. I couldn't live with myself if I let this opportunity pass me by." He jumped up, his penis popping out of Penelope's mouth and bouncing like a steel pole. He grabbed Penelope by the arm , swinging her onto her bottom. "Lay down, my dear," he shouted, "This is an emergency."

Without a word Penelope lay back on the couch and led her knees fall open. Even from my desk, I could see that she was moist and open. Scrambling up between her feet, Jock threw himself on her, his large cock leading the way, like a heraldic lance. "You are something else," Jock marveled, giving his head a shake, and, without further ado, he plunged himself fully into her steamy box. The cry Penelope emitted was more surprise than upset – more pleasure, I believe, than pain; still, I could see that it took quite a few strokes for her to adjust to, and accommodate his size.

It was a real, if somewhat unexpected, pleasure watching them find their rhythm. Jock was rather coarse and brutal, but very soon Penelope was lifting her hips at every stroke, gasping at every thrust, pulling his shoulders to keep him from getting away. Of course, the dance was doomed to be brief from the start. Jock huffed and puffed, and accelerated until his white butt, already free of his trousers, was just a blur. "Oh, oh, oh," Penelope was more vocal than ever. It was obvious that she was close to spending, but she just wouldn't, somehow, let it come, and too soon for her, Jock roared as he sank himself deep, deep into her, holding the two of them so tight together their pubic hair tangled into a single mass.