[M]y secretary and I in the south of [F]rance, Pt 1

I have a job that usually has me crammed inside my office. I like to escape from it occasionally and take it on the road. Changes of scenery can get the creative juices flowing again sometimes, even if it's only a few hours' drive to a beach or into the mountains somewhere. The need for a secretary or assistant of some kind has been more and more apparent as time goes by as my various business partners don't really appreciate it when it takes me a week to get back to them.

I had hired the niece of a friend who was in college for something scientific. She is one of those horrendously organized people who never seemed to have a hair out of place, with maybe the exception of finals week. I've seen a few of her notebooks she used for school, they are terrifying. All straight lines and perfect handwriting. She started working for me over her summer break and had attacked with gusto the backlog of a few months I had created out of sheer procrastination. I would later realize what a monumental accomplishment I had achieved by occupying her full attention for an entire two weeks.

She could handle the job in her sleep, so what it really amounted to was her studying half the time she was there, but I must impress that having her there to answer the phone, email, bring me lunch, deal with my agent etc was an absolute life saver for me. I also wanted a break, a pretty big one, so I had something special in mind when partway through her spring quarter I asked her casually where, if anywhere, she would go for summer break.

France surprised me, but I should say something about Sophie before continuing. I learned at that point that her mother was part Moroccan, she was fluent in French and she had been there before as a kid, but just to Paris. She had wavy dark brown almost black hair, brown eyes, and lovely skin, just dark enough to look like she was perpetually tan even though not only was she a little bookish but we lived in a place that is not known for it's perpetual sunshine. She also loved to swim and do yoga, and I would be lying if I said I had never thought about the kinds of things she could do with those toned, smooth legs of hers.

In hindsight I prefer to think I had kept it at least moderately professional up to this point. I couldn't resist teasing her about her handwriting, her “diligent” fashion sense when the rest of the girls in her class were inevitably wearing sweatshirts and yoga pants, and any one of a thousand other things. I'm only in my early thirties but she wasn’t quite old enough to drink at the time – still young enough to have me sensitive of the creepy old guy vibe. Not to mention the whole boss thing, which I did try to downplay as much as possible, right up until she started ironically calling me sir. She was much more down to earth than I expected at first meeting her, and we got along pretty well.

I also thought she was more the straight laced conservative type until at one point after expressing her frustration with the boys in school, I sagely counseled her to try the girls instead. She briefly gave me the kind of knowing look that had me rather preoccupied with the implications afterward. “I’ll be in my bunk,” as it were.

You get so few opportunities in life to drop really big, pleasant news on people, so I put some effort into how I was going to convey this particular piece of information. It was all settled and I had already paid a travel agent an extortionate sum of money, even though I knew her, the bitch. (Joke, she’s awesome)

I had been cooped up in my office for a couple hours, about the time I would get up and go for a walk. On the way out I stopped by her desk and happened to mention that she shouldn’t make any plans for break because I was taking her to France for a couple weeks over the summer.

She laughed. “Good one.”

I stood there staring at her expectantly. Eventually she got it.

The most physical contact we’d shared up to this point were some shoulder rubs that she was both skilled and enthusiastic about giving, so who was I to say no? She screamed like a little girl, ran up and jumped into my arms, wrapping her legs around me. She was wearing a skirt, and she was very warm, but this isn’t where our story begins.

Our story begins a few days into the trip. My travel agent "friend" had found me a beautiful little villa not a mile up from the sea somewhere less than an hour’s drive south of Saint-Tropez. Any misgivings I had about the price dissolved when I saw the view. Damn.

My original plan for this trip was that she would run around and do whatever, while I found somewhere to work for the most part. That might have lasted two days, I guess the idea of taking someone on vacation then not spending the whole time with them is pretty strange for normal human beings.

She had driven me into town, and we had spent the day sightseeing and doing generally touristy things. I typed while she sunbathed, it was pleasant. We had a few glasses of wine at our early dinner. I drove home.

I sat down with my laptop on a folding couch on the balcony to enjoy the sunset. She appeared a few minutes later, having conjured another bottle of wine and two glasses. She set them down and walked to the foot of the couch, pulling it open to a more reclining position – rather rudely, I mused. She sat down beside me on the couch, took one look at my laptop, swept my hands out of the way and closed it, almost throwing it aside.

“Miss Sophie, the wine has made you very rude.”

She gave me a somewhat more playful version of “the look,” but didn’t say a word, instead filling both glasses and handing me one. She finally settled on the couch on her side with her knees over my lap. After a moment I shifted my wine glass to my other hand and awkwardly tried to put my arm along the top of the couch behind her. She leaned her head in and rested it on my shoulder. Well, what the hell then. I put my arm around her shoulder, then down her back. She seemed to relax a little at that.

She spoke for the first time. “I had fun today. Thanks for coming with me.”

“You’re welcome.” I’d like to say I said something with suave and panache, but I was a bit preoccupied with the warmth of her pressed all along my side. All she had on was a thin yellow and white sundress, with a bikini underneath. “I’m glad I came too.”

Another glass of wine passed. Then another. We talked. At some point I had started to absentmindedly rub her back, up and down through the open back of her dress. When her glass was empty the second time, she didn’t refill it, just set it down. She turned back to me and we looked at each other, more out of curiosity than anything.

And then my hand found her hair behind her head, and we were kissing. Slowly at first, no tongue, until she nipped at my lower lip and pulled away for a second. That devilish grin though. She straddled me, both arms over my shoulders. We stayed like that for a minute. I put both hands on the sides of her head and kissed her lips, her cheeks, her forehead, her eyes, back to her lips.

One of her hands had found my knee and was rubbing up my thigh underneath my shorts. Then both hands were behind her back, and she was running her fingernails up my thighs and down to my knees. I pulled her towards me for another kiss, deeper this time, finding her tongue with mine. Then I trailed kisses down her neck, and eventually to her chest.

I was at full mast at this point. My cock was pressing painfully against my shorts to the side of my zipper. She made a pleased sound in her throat when she found it with her palm. I kind of groaned when she pressed on it too hard, and she mocked me with another, pitying noise.

She undid the button, and pulled the zipper down, with exaggerated, painful slowness. She pulled my shorts down to the ground, leaving my boxer briefs on, with the same deliberate motion. She leaned back to admire her handiwork. My cock stood hard as a rock, tenting up my underwear. She traced it with her finger, stroked it with her palm, massaged it with her fingertips. She looked from me, to my cock, and back again.

Then she lay back down on her side, and brought her face down to my lap. She looked at it for a second, still tracing its outline. She leaned in closer and started kissing along the length of my shaft, from the base to the tip, through my underwear.

She looked up at me and made another pitying noise. I was hating her right now. Ok, not really…

My underwear came off. She looked happy to see it, which is always nice for the ego. She kept teasing me with her fingertips, coming back up to straddle me. I tried to get her dress open in the front, but she wouldn’t let me, instead starting to stroke me in earnest, staring at me. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” she said.

“Really?” I asked, incredulous.

She smiled, nodded. "Although sometimes I didn't know if I wanted to blow you or punch you. Maybe both."

She dipped immediately back down to my cock, kissed the head, then swirled her tongue all the way around it in a smooth, deliberate motion. I twitched. Fuck!

She chuckled, and I watched as the first few inches of my cock disappeared into her mouth. My head fell back and I sank what felt like a foot deeper into the cushions. She wasn’t fast, or rough, she was deliberate, massaging my cock with her mouth and her hands, moaning as if she loved the taste. I held her hair in one hand, gently guiding her rhythm.

That was about enough for me right there. It had been a while. Like most of the year a while. But I held on. Valiantly, I thought.

She kept going, with no pretense of wanting to stop or showing any signs of slowing down. She cupped my balls with one hand and wrapped her thumb and forefinger around the base of my shaft with the other, and tried to force herself further down on my cock. She made it another inch or so, but she didn't have the right angle, and did have a functioning gag reflex. I don’t have a pornstar cock, but in no way is it small, and seeing her trying to cram the whole thing down her throat was rather endearing.

This was basically launching me into orbit. I was in trouble. She glanced up at me, then reoriented herself, so she was kneeling in front of me. She gave my cock a few long, slow licks, bottom to top, getting it nice and wet, and took me back in her mouth.

She kept up the same smooth, deliberate pace as before. She ran her tongue along the bottom of my cock, alternating sucking just the head, and running her lips down my shaft. I had to keep stopping myself from pulling her hair too hard, my fingernails of my other hand digging into her upper arm. She didn't seem to mind. Every muscle in my body was tensing and relaxing.

She was moaning, and when she looked at me, her pupils were huge and dilated. It was almost as though she was enjoying this as much as I was… Not possible. She looked like she wanted nothing more in the world than for me to cum down her throat.

She stopped for a second, sucking hard on the end of my cock and looking back up at me, then without warning went as deep as she could go, sucking as hard and as fast as she could. That was it. My whole body tensed, and I forced her head as far down on my cock as I could as I shot rope after rope of cum down her throat, over and over. My orgasm lasted about half an hour. Not really, but that’s what it felt like.

She kept sucking, never taking me out of her mouth. She gradually slowed down. I was riveted to the spot. She went past the point of trying to get every last drop out, only stopping when I started getting soft.

She finally took my cock out of her mouth, swallowed, and licked her lips. I must have been looking at her like an idiot child. She laughed, and sat sideways in my lap, leaning against me. I slumped back into the couch.

“Wow.”

She laughed again. The bitch was pleased with herself, and repeated saying, “I have been wanting to do that for a very long time.”

“Was it everything you imagined and more?”

She made a low, pleased sound, and nipped at my neck.

I needed a second to recuperate. Okay, a few seconds. The sun still hadn't set.

Eventually, I wrapped my hand around her neck, gently forcing her head back, and kissed her again. I pushed her off of me, then kneeling in front of her, pushed her down against the couch…

Pt 2 coming soon. :)

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/3r1dum/my_secretary_and_i_in_the_south_of_france_pt_1