It didn’t take long for Heather’s charm to cast a spell on me.
From day one, Heather struck me as being the very definition of a “MILF” – a full-figured brunette with curves in all the right places. Her regular gym workouts and participation in charity runs gave her strong, toned legs. A playful personality, bubbly laugh and sweet smile completed the package. Heather had two boys aged five and eight and was in her mid-thirties – but she could easily have passed for younger.
Heather worked part-time as a filing clerk in our office. She was responsible for maintaining and updating the systems that recorded file locations, and for recording and distributing the morning’s transit amongst the team.
Her daily visits to my desk rapidly became a highlight. Heather would place my post down next to me, and as she leaned forward to do so, I would be afforded a prime view of her shapely torso. Her outfits were classy but well-fitted – and although she did not wear low-cut tops, her ample cleavage still made quite the impression.
Many a slow afternoon at work was whiled away fantasising about Heather… sneaking looks and sideways glances… imagining the shape of her naked breasts, and the way that they would jiggle as she moved. On more than one particularly slow day, I had gone to the gents to relieve myself of the tension.
I should have known that the attentions of a horny young graduate could not go unnoticed by Heather. However, I prided myself on being discreet, respectful, and never lecherous. And so things continued in this way, with me in blissful ignorance, for the duration of my first few months at the company.
My naivety was eventually exposed and the illusion shattered on, of all days, a Saturday.
It was a balmy, early-spring day. There was a light breeze in the air, bringing a gentle chill, however in the light of the sun it was warm. The ground was slick with overnight rain, and brightness glistened on the road as I drove into the office that morning.
I would have preferred to spend such a day almost anywhere else; however that was not an option. Our workload was cyclical, and this was our busiest time of the year. I was keen to impress during my first peak season with the firm, and so I came in that day to get a head-start on Monday’s tasks.
I was, however, not alone in pulling a Saturday shift. Heather had come in that day to do a quarterly audit of all the files on the wing. This was easier to do on weekends, when she could get access to all the cupboards without impeding upon other staff.
I was grateful for the company. And – lost free time aside – I was in good spirits as I set about my work. It was something of a relief to be able to concentrate on one thing at a time without the phones ringing off of the hook. I got Heather a morning cappuccino from the machine – as usual stealing a look as I did so! – and settled in at my desk. The radio played (another perk of weekend-working) and I lost myself in the task at hand.
Twenty minutes later Heather came over and ahem-ed to get my attention.
“Yes, Heather?”
“Hey, Carl. I’ve got this file here that I’m struggling with. I’m not sure where it is supposed to go.”
Heather often asked with my help in indexing things under appropriate, meaningful tags.
“Of course.” I flashed my best winning smile at her, and took the manila folder.
I flipped the folder open, and was presented with the most pleasant of shocks.
Instead of the usual email correspondence, the folder contained a collection of photos. I studied the first – a beautiful woman in red lingerie kneeling upon a bed. Her lustrous brunette locks fell down across her shoulders and towards her bosom, which bulged against the bra that struggled to contain it.
The photo was of Heather. Watching beside me, she giggled.
I was silent for a few moments as I caught my breath.
Eventually, I spoke. “Hmm. I can see why this one would need special attention.”
Heather grinned.
“My advice would be to file it under ‘F’ for ‘F Cup’”.
Not my best line. Nevertheless, Heather laughed.
“Thanks. Are you sure you don’t want to study the file a little longer? Wouldn’t want you to make any snap judgements.” Heather took the seat next to me. She brushed the hair from her forehead, leaned back and crossed her legs. “I can wait.”
“Sure”. And so I returned to studying this unique and wonderful treasure trove.
The pictures presented Heather in a variety of poses and locales. In one, she was working out in figure-hugging yoga pants, cameltoe visible. In another, frolicking in the water in a bikini. The shock wearing off, I was quickly becoming very aroused. My approval for the photos was surely obvious. I could feel my erection pressing against the fly of my jeans.
After a couple of minutes I felt Heather’s hand come across, and stroke the inside of my thigh.
“Don’t be shy. I want you to be comfortable and to take your time enjoying thes.”
She undid my belt, “Let’s get these trousers off of you, it’s too hot in here for those”.
Jeans around my ankles, there was no question of hiding the throbbing boner that I had. Heather chuckled and cooed approvingly. “That’s much better. Wank off if you like. Like I said, don’t be shy”.
I nodded. I abandoned restraint and began to rub myself through my boxers as I returned to the photos.
As I progressed through the gallery, the content became gradually more risqué. I spent a full five minutes studying the first naked photo of Heather’s tits. So that’s what they look like. Fuck. Her nipples were dark, pert, and just the right ratio of nipple to boob size. Not too big, not too small.
Heather meanwhile had graduated from caressing my thigh to caressing and tickling my balls. She had not said a word for some time and seemed captivated by my response to each of the photos as I viewed them.
Eventually she spoke. “I want to know which one is your favourite. Here, let me help you with this.” Gently she grabbed my wrist. A sign for me stop. Her hand slipped inside my boxers and gripped the shaft. “Just concentrate on the photos, Carl. When you are ready, just let me know.”
I went back to the photos, as Heather gave me the most wonderful handjob. Her hands were well practiced, and she knew exactly what she was doing, paying particular attention to the frenulum of my uncut penis.
It didn’t take long and I was close to cumming. Much too soon. I moaned softly and indicated I was not ready. Heather dialled back her ministrations and I moved away from the point of no return, the desire for release temporarily withheld.
The photos were now bordering on filthy. One, simply a close-up of Heather from behind, showed her bent over, anal beads in her arse and a vibrating dildo sticking out of her pussy. Unsurprisingly, it turned out that she had the most beautiful pussy – Heather’s vulva was well-kept, pubic hair trimmed, wonderful labia. She was an “innie”.
And then I came to a photo that to me was especially arousing. In it Heather was spead-eagled upon the bed, in suspenders but no knickers. She wore a bra but only one breast was fully covered, one nipple poured out of the cup. With one hand she fingered her pussy; meanwhile she sucked upon the fingers of her other hand. I wonder what her pussy tastes like? I mused. And she winked playfully at the camera.
Heather seemed to have pick up on my thoughts. She looked from the photo to me, and back again. “This one?”.
“Yes, Heather. This one.”
“Mmm. Good choice.”
Heather vacated her seat and kneeled in front of me. She filled me in on the day that the photo was taken, as she slowly pulled down my boxers: “It was rather slutty of me. Our house backs on close to the neighbour’s property, and we can see right into each other’s bedroom windows. I like to tease and flash the man at number 49… well, that day I stripped for him as I watched him wank for me. Afterwards I was so horny that I lay on the bed for an hour masturbating. And I took this photo. John was out with the boys at the football of course, so I took my time until I was fully satisfied.”
She looked up at me from between my legs. “It’s always more pleasurable if it is not rushed don’t you think?”.
I nodded. “Absolutely”.
“So… tell me what you like about this about photo. Why is it your favourite?”
Heather gripped my cock, and then leaned forwards and began to give me head. One hand stroked from the base to mid-shaft. Meanwhile her tongue swirled over and around my swollen glans. The stimulation sent electric sensations all through my body. I whimpered in pleasure.
Without slowing her motion, Heather raised her eyes to me and fixed me with an expectant, quizzical gaze. Oh yeah, I had a question to answer.
“Well…” I began breathlessly. “It shows a side of you I’ve not seen before. Really slutty. Sort of classy too… But mainly slutty.” She winked.
“It’s… um, well I guess you could say that you look like the perfect whore.”
As she slurped on my member I heard her murmur appreciably. She liked that. Heather then removed my cock from her mouth, and her lips moved down the shaft, and she took my balls into her mouth. God, that felt good.
I stared down in wonder as Heather pleasured my genitalia. One hand pumping my cock, tongue tickling my balls, she raised her eyes and fixed me with a penetrating stare. There could be no doubt that Heather knew what she was doing, she knew that I liked it, and she liked that I liked it.
Heather smiled then and paused. She pulled her top over her head, exposing her cleavage which poured out of her bra. I think my eyes nearly popped out of my head as I stared down at the impressive sight.
Back to the photo: “so. Tell me more, Carl. What would you do to me, if you found me like that on the bed?”
Where to begin. “Well, I would want to give you a helping hand.” I leaned back in the chair, desire building as I imagined penetrating her moist slit, first with one finger, then another…
“Mmm. Good boy. Tell me more. Don’t stop.” Heather returned to blowing me as I laid out in detail what I would do to her in bed. How I would remove her clothes. How I would tease her, how I would tongue her soaking pussy, getting it ready for my penis to come inside…
Heather was no longer using her both hands and mouth. Glancing down, I could see that one of her hands was reaching down between her legs, rubbing furiously. This was really turning her on.
Eventually I got to the part of my story where I was ready to fuck Heather. Missionary, her legs wrapped me, pulling me deep inside her. Penetration was gentle at first, I told her, but then the pace picked up. Between my legs Heather’s mouth bobbed up and down on my dick. My hands gripped her head on both sides, guiding her speed in time with the description of our fucking.
Climax quickly followed. Leaning back in the chair I surrendered all thought as my orgasm rolled over me, experiencing several sharp bursts of ecstasy as my cock ejaculated in Heather’s mouth (deep in her vagina), once, twice, thrice…
A minute or two passed, though I had little sense of the time. When I came to, Heather was wiping her mouth with the back of her wrist, savouring the taste of the sperm she had coaxed from me. She checked her watch.
“Oh dear. I said I would meet John and the boys to see a film when I was done here… and I’m late! All your fault of course… Maybe we can do it again sometime, hun. You can make it up to me for making me late.” She winked.
Still awash with bliss and somewhat lost for words, I mumbled something that passed for an assent. Heather stood, got dressed, gathered her things and bent down to give me a deep French kiss. The salty aftertaste of my ejaculate was on her tongue as we snogged.
And then she left. What had promised to be a mundane but productive Saturday had proven to be quite the opposite. Alone in the office now, I pulled my clothes back on and returned to my work, however after what had happened I just could not concentrate. Half an hour later I gave up and went home.
I was nervous returning to work Monday, but as it turned out I had no need to be. Heather was carrying on as if nothing had happened, and I tried hard to do the same. It was a relief, however, also a frustration. The genie was out of the bottle now. Heather had left the folder of photos with me. Every evening at home I masturbated while looking at a different one.
Days passed. Eventually Friday came round. A busy working week was winding down as Heather brought over a card to me to sign. “Just pop it back to me when you’re done”, she smiled and raised an eyebrow at me.
Discreetly, I opened up the card. Inside was a closeup photo of Heather in lace panties. A spot of her wetness glistened through the material. A caption was written underneath:
“Dinner is served? Saturday 6pm. H”
I grinned to myself. It would be very fine dining indeed.
***
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/9cyln9/heather