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January 21, 2008

Weekend Overtime

With today’s new competitiveness in business, more and more hard work is going into our work weeks. Often I find myself working weekends in order to satisfy the need for additional work efforts. Recently, however, I was delighted by a turn of events which made this weekend requirement easier to take. Our company, like most, has be undergoing constant reorganization in an attempt to become more effective and with this comes the inevitable procession of changes in upper management. In addition the general age of my bosses had been declining. A recent change found me working for a good-looking woman about five years older than myself. I wondered how this was going to work out, and as you will learn it not only worked out great but has provided me with some of the most interesting work experiences in my life.

It all started, as I said, with my new boss. Jane was a good-looking dark-haired lady with nice tits and a great figure. While she looked nice she wore very conservative suits around the office and I did not think of her in especially carnal ways. Jane had brought with her a number of women who formed her inner circle, and while some of my peers thought this was a sign that the guys were going to get the shit jobs, I waited to see how things developed. Soon after Jane took over I received a number of interesting and sensitive assignments which were due in short time-frames. I was assigned one of Jane’s people to work for me and we began to work the project. Sue, the woman assigned to me, was a pretty, slim woman about 23, and while she wasn’t Bo Derrick she seemed to always to give off a very sexual aura which attracted me to her from the first. We ended up spending many evenings working on our project and I got to know Sue quite well. Sue had small firm breasts which she almost never covered with a bra and while her dress was never overtly sexy I found myself drawn to her and wondering how she would be in bed.

When the project was nearing completion the work effort intensified, and in addition to working nights, Sue and I were getting together on the weekends to complete the work on the required schedule. Sue invited me over to her house so we could work on the project in some more comfortable surroundings and since she was single I thought it would be nice. I arrived about 8:30 Saturday morning, Sue greeted me at her door wearing a short t-shirt nighty and apologizing for over-sleeping. I told her it was ok and how sexy she looked in her short nighty. Sue’s small firm tits were clearly visible under the thin white cotton and her nipples poked out against the fabric, making my cock get stiff.

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October 15, 2007

Untitled Exploration

I hated this feeling. I can can tell exactly where he is standing: over to the side and back a bit. Around the corner of the bar and moving into the hallway. To the bathrooms? Sigh. I am feeling, well, heh, warmed up.

Mmm. If I take a deep breath [BJ breaths in], I can feel the my top tighten against my breasts. As there is no bra tonight, I can feel my nipples rub across the knit fabric. A thick yarn. Rub, rub. My legs too; movement, or squeezing is good. There is that slippery sensation and a bit of dampness on my panties. Arrgh!

What would he be like? I’d love to run my hands through his hair; to feel his hair tickling my fingers. To trace a finger down his chest. What would the hair be like on his legs? Soft and fuzzy like some forest animal? Or strong, tickling my hands as they rubbed his inner thighs? To kiss his neck. He has a beautiful neck. I love to kiss necks; a sloppy sucking kind of a kiss. His ears too. Then to move down to his chest. Maybe nibble a nipple? Wonder what he likes. Across his stomach, which I imagine as a washboard. And then, oh! I should stop thinking like this! Dam it, I’m married!

I open my eyes. Hey — where did Jamie go? Oh, there out slithering with that guy she met on the dance floor. They look like they are having fun. If anything Jamie says is true, boy is he in for a treat tonight! Wish someone would do that sort of thing to me!

Wait. Here he comes again. I can feel that tugging in between my legs. I try to squeeze it way, but it is still there. And stronger. It must be really wet. Mmmm. Oh! He’s coming closer. Checking me out. Ah yes, the usual male scan. Rests a while on my breasts — I push them out and feel my sweater rub across my nipples. Wonder if he saw the expression on my face. Moves down to my legs. I’m wearing a short mini-skirt so he should get an eyeful.

Yikes! Eye contact. I’m locked. I can feel a flood of heat into my face. Good thing the strobe lights, etc. don’t show anything. He looks around at the dance floor. At Jamie. Why did he do that? Back at me. Oh my! He’s coming over. He’s asking me to dance!

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October 6, 2007

A Dancer’s Fantasy

My name is ‘Show Girl.’ I’m 23 years old, 5′5″ tall, 115 pounds, and my measurements are 36C-21-34. I’m a natural blonde, with blue eyes and I’m into sexy talking and sexy ideas.

Actually, MY fantasy is to be on a stage with a lot of people watching me dance naked. In my fantasy, the guys hoot and holler, making very lewd and suggestive remarks about what they’d like to do to me in bed. I dance alone for a while, shaking my tits in their faces, or bending over in front of them close enough for them to try to lick my pussy. They all chicken out at the last minute though, and this makes be bolder and hotter the longer I dance.

I have in mind one of those semi-round stages, with a short, straight runway straight out from the stage. I start out dressed in a skirt and blouse, and quickly lose my clothes to stand completely nude before everyone.

While I’m dancing, my pussy gets wetter and wetter, and I feel my pussy cream mixing with the sweat that covers me from dancing under the hot lights. Faces are blurred beyond the edge of the stage, but the men are all intent on checking out my body. As I dance, I get more and more suggestive about what I want. I’ll lay on my back with my legs spread and rock my hips as though I was being fucked hard and fast. Then I roll over and spread my legs and thrust back, showing everyone my wet pussy and sexy ass. This I do with a nice looking guy of about 27 sitting at the edge of the stage. I shove my ass and cunt almost in his face several times. When I get up and dance by him, I can see a thick bulge in his lap, and I know he’s hot for me.

Finally, I see a pretty woman about my age sitting at the edge of the runway with her boyfriend across the table from her. I dance down towards her and lay on my stomach, pressing my large breasts against the floor. I look her in the eye and run my tongue across my lips sensuously, then flick my tongue up and down, showing her I’d like to eat her pussy too. To my surprise, she gives me an air-kiss, and runs her tongue around her lips too.

Excited, I sit up and spread my legs wide, with my ass at the edge of the stage, gyrating my hips lewdly right in front of her. I’m daring her to show me. Then she leans forward, and I hear the crowd hush. Her tongue lightly licks my soaking pussy, and she runs it over my clit, taking me closer to a climax. She leans back and fingers my vagina, and then licks my cream from her fingers, smiling up at me.

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September 13, 2007

The Aviary

Sex always seemed to be a contest for Lisa and Trey, a competition of imagination or stamina or daring or flexibility. Who could do what, where, how, the most?

To him she seemed to be a dream come true. An attractive older woman with no apparent inhibitions who floated into his life three or four times a year and then disappeared with out a trace. He suspected that she was a celebrity of some sort and that added spice to an already hot relationship.

He seemed like a child to her. A well-hung, sexually talented child who drew astonishing responses from her body. She enjoyed the relationship. There was something inexplicably delicious about playing the role of a “woman of mystery.”

They walked hand in hand through the intermittent drizzle into the nearly-deserted city zoo. Her full breasts bounced gently beneath the fabric of her lavender blouse which was tucked into a long flowing skirt beneath which she wore nothing at all. She was already wet with anticipation. “Where’s the aviary?”

He grinned, “What’s the hurry? Don’t you want to see the wild animals?”

“Only one, dear. Only one.” They took the path up the hill and entered the net-covered aviary. The gravel path wound through dense foliage in which all manner of brightly colored birds perched. There were concrete benches set back into the foliage at irregular intervals along the path.

This had been an excellent choice. There was no one around and even the normally raucous birds were somewhat subdued by the rain.

He chose a bench midway along the path and sat facing the direction of the entrance, then pulled her to stand before him and raised her skirt. He stroked the wiry red-brown curls that framed her pussy, ran a finger lightly over her long inner lips which protruded slightly, a deep rosy pink and slippery wet.

She lifted her leg, putting one foot on the bench beside him and reached down and pulled her inner lips wide apart, opening herself to his eyes and fingers and mouth. She felt his warm hands cupping her ass and then the sweet shock as velvet met velvet, his tongue moved tenderly around and over her clit and he sucked at it gently.

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August 31, 2007

Controlling Jennifer

Jennifer was a frosh at Jefferson College, and so far she liked it a lot. As she walked down toward the gym, she smiled to herself at the California weather. It was nothing like the weather in Alaska. Here it was, the middle of February, and she could walk around in shorts without worrying about freezing to death. Others complained that it was cold and told her she was a nut for wearing shorts. Obviously they didn’t come from Alaska like she did. To her, the crisp chill in the air was more refreshing than it was chilling, and she knew that after running around the track a few times, she would actually be hot.

Jennifer liked to run; it was a good way to keep in shape, and it was a good way to daydream while still being productive. She was a good student and very responsible, and this was her way to escape the constant academic pressures she put upon herself. She could jog around the track a few times, letting her body do the work while her mind wandered onto other things. Others wouldn’t believe her, but running relaxed her. (Her roommate thought she was crazy, but then again, Jenny’s roommate was a plump girl who looked like she had never exercised a day in her life.)

Jenny was wearing a tank top and a loose fitting pair of shorts. Underneath the shorts, she wore a pair of those tight-fitting bike pants, made of the stretchy black material. This was mostly to keep her warm, and to keep her decent. Plus, whenever she ran in panties, they got all drenched in her sweat and basically became too disgusting to wear. Similarly, under her tanktop, Jenny wore a tightfitting elastic top over her breasts. The reason for this was that she hated the feeling of running in the discomfort of a bra, and if she wore nothing, she bounced, and that became painful after awhile.

Jenny was happy with her body, unlike most women, and this happiness gave her a very visible confidence. This confidence almost did more to make her attractive than her actual physical appearance. Jenny had dark hair and tan skin, and a nice smile. When she had first arrived on campus, men had swarmed around her, mostly frat guys checking out the new women, but Jenny had made it through without acquiring any boyfriends. She was not one that had to have a boyfriend; on the whole, she preferred not to, as they took up a lot of time and never seemed to be much worth it. She didn’t need the time-drain. Yes, Jenny would only settle for a boyfriend that she actually loved, and the frat guys soon gave up on her, disgusted, and moved to other prey.

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