This is an original story of mine. You can find more on my tumblr, http://daddysdespot.tumblr.com where I occasionally post stories. Hope you enjoy!
A ghost ran his hand over the curve of my ass and tried to cop a feel as I bent over the bar, trying to get the bartender’s attention. I batted away his sheet covered hand, and rolled my eyes. I couldn't deck him, as it was quite possible it was my pervy old boss, Rodney, beneath the white bed sheet, and departmental politics dictated we not punch co-workers.
A Halloween party for work was not exactly my idea of a rocking Friday evening, but I’d sucked it up and played along when our social chair had sent out the invite suggesting that we have a “non-mandatory” after-hours party at a bar. And although it was officially non-mandatory, realistically, it was one of those things where everyone gets on your case if you don’t show up.
So, I’d dutifully complied, and even agreed to dress up in a dorky costume. I’d run to the crappy seasonal costume store after work and searched through the picked over costumes that were left.
There weren’t a whole lot of options for women. Slutty Cat, Slutty Nurse, Slutty Bar-maid. The cat I couldn’t risk as the list-serv had already gotten a couple snarky e-mails from Social Chair Staci telling us that “headbands with ears are NOT costumes!” Same goes for bunny, puppy, and all other “easy costume” possibilities.
I flicked through the rack with distaste, noticing the crappy materials, and the bad stitching. A really terrible Bo-Peep costume gives me an idea, though. I have plenty of nice stuff in my closet that could be slightly altered to make a much better costume than the crap these people were selling.
I rush home after picking up some ribbon, thread and other accessories. I mess around in the back of the closet until I find what I’ve been looking for- a corset I’d gotten on my last visit to New Orleans. I’d always really wanted one, but they’re pretty ridiculously expensive, so I’d always thought of the million reasons I shouldn’t have one. My car payments, my student loans. But this pretty little boutique in the French Quarter had been having a sample sale, and had a beautiful champagne satin corset in my size, and it was 60 percent off. I’d never really worn it for anybody, just put it on with a set of pearls and admired myself in the mirror. It made me feel lovely and feminine.
While it was definitely too racy to wear out in public generally, with a few accessories it would probably look less trampy than what 90 percent of the women in my office would wear to the party. I replaced the laces with the baby blue satin ribbon, before tossing it on over a little button down blue dress shirt I had with little poofy cap sleeves. I put the whole thing over a little cream tweed mini-skirt, put on a pair of cream thigh highs, to which I tack little blue bows. I put blue bows in my hair, as well, pulling my curly locks into two cute little pigtails. I tie my feet into my brown oxford booties, and with a slick of some pink lip gloss, and a little extra blush, and Executive Bo-Peep is ready to go.
When I arrived at the bar, I realized I’d been way right about things. The majority of the eligible women in our department were leaps and bounds over the line of professional attire. There were a couple of kitties in skin tight black dresses with a wealth of cleavage popping out. Slutty witches with little left to the imagination. A slutty pirate with a Jolly Rogers bikini top.
Overall, we were lucky the company ethics board wasn’t making an appearance to shut the place down.
Why all the public debacle and various stages of undress? You, naturally. The newest hire in the department- a single man. It’s practically unheard of in our department, which seems to be over-run with married couples and single women. Cuter than you have any right to be, you were leaning against the pool table, your teeth gleaming in the dim bar lighting as you laughed at something my best friend David mentioned.
As David’s best gal pal, I’d been the first of the office girls to be informed of your single and hetero status. It pays to be besties with the office gossip hound. David had become friends with you in the name of the office welcoming committee, and I’d had an instant in to hang out with the two of you on occasion. David was looking fairly similar to his regular self, if a bit more rumpled, which fit with what he told me earlier- that he was coming as Heath Ledger.
I snagged my drink from the bar, as well as an extra vodka-cran as I knew David would want one, and popped over to join the two of you.
“Where’s the sheep, Bo-Peep?” David mocks with a grin.
“They’re lost. Don’t be a bitch, or you don’t get your drink,” I retort. He smirks, and kisses my cheek, relieving me of the extra cup.
I look you over, taking in the tight white v-neck t-shirt, and the jeans, and bite my lip. Before I can ask, you shrug a shoulder. “I’m James Dean. David picked it.”
“It’s all I could do with what he had in his closet”, David responds. “Plus, he’s barely James Dean. He wouldn’t even wear the rolled up cigarette pack in his sleeve and he complained about hair gel.”
I smile, and ignore the little stutter of my pulse as I notice just how very thin your shirt is. Your hair looks soft- just a little bit of curl to it, and it’s gone just a little too long since you had it cut last. You are entirely too handsome for your own good.
Throughout the night, as our co-workers drunkenly parade around us, and David and I keep cracking snarky little jokes, you smile that enigmatic little smile I never know quite how to interpret. And when you tell me that if we get a little too tipsy, David and I can crash at your place, I have to say I plan on taking full advantage. It’s not really that I’ve had too much, or that I plan on drinking a ton more, but the idea of heading back to your place is incredibly relevant to my interests, as is the fact that although all of the available women in our office have accidentally brushed against you, or found something they need to talk to you about that can’t wait until Monday, I seem to have held your attention all night.
I’ve flirted with you before- nervous little touches of the arm, occasional glances, and you’d reciprocated, but I wanted you to ask me out, not the other way around. So, I’d waited, and waited, and it seemed like it was never going to happen.
Tonight, though, your eyes are locked on mine, and I feel more like Red Riding Hood being watched by the Wolf than Little Bo Peep. When Staci the Social chair finally leaves, we’re free to go, and the three of us meander down a couple blocks to your house. Strictly speaking, I probably just needed an hour and a glass of water before I’d be fine to drive, but the attraction of getting to stay at your place is pretty high.
I head to the bathroom, after you show me the way, to scrub off a little of my make-up, but am stopped when you knock on the door frame and pop your head in apologetically. “David says he needs an aspirin so he doesn’t wake up with a headache.”
I try and scoot out of the way so you can reach the medicine cabinet, but it’s a small bathroom, and your big body crowds mine. I end up looking just over your shoulder as your body is pressed to mine, and biting my lip, knowing eye contact now when our bodies are so close and liquor has loosened my inhibitions a little could be far too intimate. And then, with one hand on the bottom of the open cabinet, you slide your other hand against my lower back and you laugh, this low, rumbly laugh that I swear I can feel resonate between my legs, and your breath teases my neck when you say “You have to quit biting your lip like that.”
My breath and my heart stop, as I stutter out “Why?”
“That crooked little half smile and the lip biting get me every time,” you say. “I keep thinking about you doing it while I’m… doing other things.”
“Other things?” I squeak out.
“Office inappropriate things. I’m pretty sure I watched a video on this.” You say, but your lips are brushing whisper soft kisses against the column of my neck and up to my jaw.
“We’re not at the office now,” I offer.
Your lips meet mine, and I moan into your mouth as you give this satisfied, pleased, hungry little sigh, and your hands slide down to grip my ass in your big hands. And I have this fleeting thought of being really happy that I wore my cute ruffle butt panties this morning, and then I can’t think, because you are making these yummy, delicious, ravenous noises, and boosting me up on your lap as you lean against the sink. If I could think, I’d be embarrassed of the kind of shameless way I climb up your body, straddling your lap and rocking against the incredibly prominent bulge in your jeans.
You tug your face down to nip at the swell of my breasts, wrestling the shirt enough out of your way that you can slip your hands in and fill your hands with the full curves. I want to be naked, pressed against you, but the corset took forever to get tied, and it will take longer to get undone, and I need you now. Luckily, you seem to feel similarly, as you’re tugging my panties to the side and slipping two fingers into me, seeing how embarrassingly wet you’ve made me. If feels like if you kiss me more, I’ll make a puddle on the floor.
“Christ”, you murmur brokenly, before kissing me again, a biting, aching, devouring of a kiss. You fuck me with your fingers, listen to me whimper and bounce on your lap, and look up at me, my cheeks flushed from more than make-up, my breath short and my breasts bouncing above the corset. “You’re doing the lip biting. I want to watch you do it while I’m inside you.”
I brace myself, one arm wrapped around your shoulders and fumble with your belt with the other hand, before finally succeeding in getting your pants open so I can work one eager little hand inside to tug the hard length of you free.
Your cock feels amazing in my hand, velvety soft and wet with precum. I want to lick my hand clean, but the more pressing need of having you inside me makes me ignore it, so I wiggle my hips and position us so you can slide into the warm clasp of my pussy. You hiss at the wet, heated contact of it, the slick folds wrapping around you, almost begging you to come inside.
You wrap both arms around me, hugging me close as I start to buck and writhe on you. No matter what people say about men being mindless during sex, I’m the one with the racing libido at the moment. I want to come apart all over you, and I’m trying to hold off long enough that I’ll be able to feel you come, too. I wonder what you’ll think if I come right away- if I go off before you even get close, and I can feel the need to come thundering down on me, and then you make this gasp, and I can feel your cock pulse inside me, and you murmur “I want you to get me wet enough I could fuck your ass with it”, and it’s a good thing you’ve caught up with me, because that pushes me over the edge, and we’re gone. A sweaty, shaking tangle of need against the sink.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/1omm15/halloween_office_party_despots_dirty_diary_mf