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Upper class man hunk
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
This story is another from the archives, and is not written by me.
Requests for just about anything concerning these posts will be ignored.
See the FAQ in a.s.s.d for more information. And stop sending talk
requests. Even when I'm logged in to this posting site, I usually
have the window closed, and if I don't, it's because I'm WORKING
THE UPPERCLASSMAN HUNK
Men do not seem aware that women have "codes". When women work
closely together in a busy office, we do not have the opportunity to
communicate in the normal fashion. So we have codes and "underground"
ways of communicating.
In my office there is one other secretary. I will call her "Amy"
as an alias. She is 27 years old (19 years younger than me). She lives
and was raised in a very small village near here and is, as a result, a
very "old-fashioned" girl. She is married and has one child, a two year
old son. She, her husband and son are surrounded by extended family in
this very small farming village. Amy's attitudes about life are very
restrictive by my standards and everything is "black and white" to her.
Everything has to be done in the traditional way and when I ask her why,
her answer is "just because that is the way it is done". Irregardless
that she and I are from two widely different backgrounds and that our
views of life are very different, Amy and I are good friends. And that is
fortunate because it is not always that way with women in an office, as I
have learned over the years.
There are many things Amy and I would disagree on regarding
morality, the importance (or lack of it) of tradition, how to do things
and freedom. Yet we have some nice things in common. One is a deep
appreciation for a good-looking man. When one comes into my office to
talk with me, she is facing a doorway into my room and can see everything.
If I am busy, someone coming in will normally see that and go to her for
assistance and I can see them. In such moments, it is not uncommon for
her or I to give the other one a wink or to smile discreetly at the other
in a lavicious way. We know what it means. It means "Hunk Alert". Part
of the fun of it is the way it makes the one talking to the man slightly
uncomfortable. It is funny to make the other blush. Amy is a natural
blonde and blushes very easily and, because of her old-fashioned nature,
she blushes at more things than I do. I am a strawberry blonde with fair
skin and blush too. It is hilarious to make the other blush when they are
talking seriously to a "hunk". It is funny to watch the other one try to
look natural as they tell the student about procedures or transact a
typing assignment with a faculty member.
A couple years ago there was an undergraduate student who looked
enough like Tom Cruise to be his double. He was quite a handsome fellow.
He had one unusual quirk which Amy found amusing. Whenever he came into
the office he would talk with me and not her. Even if I was busy, he
would take a seat and wait rather than talk to Amy. As far as Amy and I
knew he had no reason to feel a grudge against her. She had never talked
with him so she could not have given him a "wrong answer" sometime. He
just always waited on me. And when he talked to me Amy would be doing
everything she could do, including "chatting" naughty little messages to
my computer screen over the net. She did anything to get me to blush or
to stifle outright laughter. He would take care of whatever and leave
and, as usual, I would give her "hell" (in a friendly joking way) for
making me uncomfortable.
This young man had one other quirk which I never told to Amy and
which she never showed any sign of noticing from the ten or twelve foot
distance from my desk. He had a nice bulge. It was especially nice since
me sitting in my chair and him standing it was at eye level. It usually
grew as he talked with me. I could see it creeping upward. Its growth
would occur in jerks and pops as it rubbed its way up inside his clothing.
I don't know what other women would think in a moment like this.
My first reaction is one of amusement. There is also an element of pride
("Ooooooh, he LIKES me!"). If there is any length of time, my imagination
can run free. I can begin to visualise its shape as it curves upward, its
head enlarging. Perhaps it is veiny causing ridges along the shaft which
feel so good rubbing vertically along the lips of my pussy or along the
lubricated crack of my butt. The ridges and veins are even more
interesting as they ripple in and out of my lips or felt by my sensitive
tongue.
So this young "Tom Cruise" was the subject of many of Amy's raised
eyebrows, lavicious looks, network chats, etc. As far as I could tell, he
was never aware of my feelings nor of Amy's frantic attempts to embarass
me. I was always able to transact "business" with him as usual.
Privately, I wondered why he always came to me and what the
meaning was of his stiffening tool which grew enourmously large. Was he
one of these young men who appreciated "older women"? I am 46 but do not
look it. But even if I look 35, which people tell me, I still would be an
"older woman" to him.
I am convinced, after years of experience, that men and women
barely have a clue about the other sex's sexuality. What makes the other
sex tick? What their "kinkies" are? What are the feelings and
motivations which underly these sexual preferences and fetishes? Twenty
five years of marriage and an excellent marriage and sex life have just
really revealed a very small "window" to male sexuality. Also, men view
the sexuality of women through a very small window as well, when they are
sexually experienced. If the man's sexual experience is limited or he is
young, most of his guesses about what makes a woman tick sexually are
wrong. Many such men think female sexuality is the same as theirs. They
think we are visually stimulated like they are (like we would be as
inclined to masturbate with a copy of Playgirl as they are with Playboy).
Or they misinterpret our reactions to male strippers, thinking we are
aching to "take" the male stripper, when actually we are having a great
deal of fun at the stripper's expense and reacting more with our lady
friends than really with the stripper. A large part of our sexual
stimulation is tactile. Putting a dollar bill in the stripper's g-string
and getting a little feel of his hard (and usually large) cock is a thrill.
Anyway, this upperclassman was making a "hit" in our office, in
some ways that Amy was unaware.
Last summer I was doing some typing for a psych prof who writes
"poetry". I put that in quotes because his poetry is a serious venture on
his part but he doesn't have an artistic bone in his body and is "anal
retentive". His "poetry", as a result, is so funny it makes me hurt to
read it. My husband loves good poetry and reads what I type just for the
entertainment value. Because of the version of DOS at the office and a
different version at home, I found it best to do the word processing at
work because his discs were compatable with that version of DOS and the
version at home would do strange things to the documents. As a result, I
often went in to the office sometime on Saturday when I had nothing
pressing at home and would work an hour or two and catch up on what he had
left me.
One such Saturday, I arrived at 8:00 to my third floor office.
Walking down the hallway I noticed that not a single person was in our
department and, in fact, if one had been (especially at that hour) I would
have been extremely surprised. As I came to my office door, I turned off
the security alarm and unlocked the door and went inside to type.
After I was there for about 45 minutes a little "beep-beep-beep"
started to sound above the ceiling tiles in a corner of the office. We
had noticed that this sound ocurred at the same time each day and laughed
about it wondering what it was. On this quiet Saturday morning the sound
was more noticeable and aroused my curiosity to solve the mystery once and
for all. The sound was exactly like the sound of a digital watch alarm
going off and lasted about the same length of time.
I walked over to the corner of the room where this sound appeared
to come from. In that corner are several four drawer filing cabinets and
to the left, away from the corner, was a table and chairs. So I stepped
up onto a chair, then the table, and up on to the filing cabinets, having
to crouch down below the ceiling. When I came to the corner ceiling
panel, I lifted it and looked up into the dark cavity above the suspended
ceiling. As my eyes were adjusting to the darkness, I looked around. It
was not totally dark because a fair amount of light was coming up from the
ceiling light fixtures, creating a dull greyness. I couldn't see
anything, however, which caused the beep.
As I was looking and just about ready to give up my adventurous
search, I felt something below the ceiling on my leg. It was a hand. I
felt it gently grab my ankle. I wasn't alarmed. My initial impression
was that one of the faculty had come in and found my standing up into the
ceiling amusing and was playing games. I instantly thought about how
Cathy's excursion into the wonders of ceiling space would be the joke of
the department for weeks to come. I smiled. I began to come down from
the ceiling. As I lowered my knees onto the filing cabinets, my head
still above the ceiling, the "hands" removed my shoes and began caressing
the soles of my feet.
I doubled down to look and there behind me was the Tom Cruise
look-alike. I said something like "OH!..." and remembered trying to
explain what I was doing. I put the ceiling tile back into its place and
began to scoot off the filing cabinets. He (I'll call him Tom) took his
strong hands and guided me off and lifted me gently to the floor.
"Is there something I can do for you?" I added after explaining my
amusing position.
"Perhaps." He had not moved back from me. My butt was against
the filing cabinet drawers and his bulge was pressing against the area
between my navel and mound. I realized generally his intentions.
I had several options at that moment. If I screamed, someone
might hear me on the floor. If anyone were there, the pre-fab portable
walls are thin enough that someone several rooms away could probably hear
me and rescue me. I could talk with him. Tell him about the consequences
of rape and appeal to his logic and morality. I could allow myself to be
raped. I was a big girl and could take care of myself. Or I could enjoy
the moment. I considered all the options. I did not want to scream and
cause a ruckous which would destroy Tom and keep me busy with campus
police reports. I figured I could stop this easily and cleanly by
appealing to his logic. The consequences of his actions and the logical
outcomes were in my favor. But something deep within me (perhaps caused
by the pressure of his hard dick against my belly) caused me to take the
final option. Savor it. Enjoy.
I placed my hands at the side of his waist and put my mouth to his
lips and we kissed lightly. I turned up the pressure and forced my tongue
against his lips, causing him to open up and then our tongues danced the
tango together.
I locked the office door and turned the light out and we went into
my boss's office turning the light on in there and locking that door
behind us. My heart was pounding and I wondered what kind of lover this
young man would be. He could be inexperienced and "fast". I had no idea
but knew that I would find out. If he were inexperienced, I would play
"teacher" and introduce him to the World of Kink.
After I turned the light on and locked the door, he put his arm
gently around my shoulder and guided me again to his lips, pressing my
body against his. Again I could feel that bulge poking me...that same
bulge which I had imagined through the cloth of his pants so many times
before as he had stood before my desk in the office. Now it was being
pressed into my belly from the outside. I knew that soon it would be
pressed into my belly from the inside and then it would be part of me.
There were many thoughts flitting through my mind and it was his kisses
and my responses which slowed my mind down and caused me to remain in the
moment.
His hands were rubbing my back, up and down my spine. At the
lower end of my spine his hands followed the curvature of my buttocks and
each stroke there pressed me closer into him. I was kissing him wildly
then and breathing hard through my nose. I started down on him with my
kisses, along the sides of his neck to his shirt collar and around his
ears. My hands began to unbutton his shirt and as it unbuttoned I kissed
lower to his undershirt and my hands reached inside to his back. Then I
lifted up on his undershirt and knealt down to kiss his bare belly. In
one movement I lifted his undershirt over his head and off his arms with
his outer shirt. I hugged his naked torso and then kissed it up and down.
He unbuttoned my blouse and pulled it back and I removed it and he
unsnapped my brassiere and I pulled it over my head. We pressed our
bodies together and I went down on him again with my kisses, pausing at
his belt line as I undid his belt and pants. I spent several minutes
teasing him before pulling his pants and underwear down. He stepped out
of his pants, shoes and socks and his very large dick was before my face.
I took his cock into my hands and began to kiss it up and down the shaft
and as I did so, I removed my jeans and panties. We were both naked as I
took his manhood into my mouth and lubricated it for the action I was
intent on giving it.
His penis was as beautiful as I had imagined. It was indeed
large. The cum vein was massive and swollen. The head of his penis was
so swollen it looked like a water balloon ready to burst. The veins were
popping out and blue through the translucent skin binding them in. As I
placed my mouth over his shaft, I could feel the ridges and valleys subtly
caressing my lips. He placed his hands into my hair and guided my head as
I slowly thrust it in and out. I could feel his legs begin to tremble and
he was moaning very softly.
"Oh, let's not go to fast", he softly rasped. "Let's move over
here," and he gestured toward the couch. He took me by the hand and led
me over with him. "I'd like you to continue doing that but let me do the
same to you."
I love the 69 position and he lay on his back and I straddled his
head with my knees and continued what I had been doing. I could feel his
lips reach my pussy as he put his head between my thighs. It felt so good
and I began to "bump and grind" as I ate him and he was begining to eat
me. He seemed in control and was not about to come to early but I could
feel the first waves of spasms deep inside my tummy as he was so carefully
licking my outer lips and clitoris. He seemed to know what to do with my
clitoris. His tongue rolled it on its tip. He was not a newcomer to
this. I was begining to get a little shaky but his swollen dick showed no
signs of being about to burst forth.
Then I could feel the sharp throbs of arousal wave through my
loins and I felt it difficult to control my gyrating torso in his face.
My movements became more erratic and my feet were pressed hard against the
arm of the couch above his head as I attempted to guide myself into
orgasm. The shudders were begining and then the earthquake began. I am,
for all intents and purposes, not aware of what happens during and orgasm.
I know from watching video tapes of them that they can last as little as
15 seconds or as long as minutes but I loose track of time and my
surroundings at the moment of the "tremor". I remember trying to make a
conscious effort not to squeeze his head between my thighs and legs, which
were flailing out of control in jumps and spasms. When I groaned a loud
and gutteral groan I became aware of the thinness of our office walls and
wondered if anyone might have heard me.
He had not cum yet but was real close. I was getting the salty
taste of drips of come on my tastebuds. I continued to swab him up and
down wildly. Loud slurping noises filled the room just before his moans
began and then they took prominence. His moans were getting choppy and he
was throwing his hips forward into my face as his swollen dick jammed into
the back of my throat. I could have had a gag reflex but I think the
reason I didn't was because I wanted to feel his warm sperm in my throat
and mouth. I wanted to taste the salty taste and the yogurt-like texture
and I wanted to swallow it into me.
Then he came. It was an eruption I couldn't hold. I nearly
choked as large globs splashed the short distance from the tip of his head
to the back of my throat. I came up on his dick a little so that I would
not drown in it. As he came he screamed lowly and shook all over. His
cum vein was pounding with throbs and the juice was slamming me like waves
on a rocky shore. I swallowed as fast as I could but could not keep up
with it and the foamy overflow ran from my mouth to the upholstery of the
couch.
I hoped he was not done because I wanted him to fuck me. He was
not going soft and was still moaning a little. I asked him if he was up
for a screw and he gasped, "Yes, yes!" I asked him to get up with me and
we moved to my boss's desk.
My boss, the department chairman, is an absent minded professor.
I like him and we are good friends but his personality is comical to me.
It was not only the erotic desire that made me choose the desk it was also
the secret humor of imagining him come in the office on Monday and having
some dried cum drippings on his desk and whether he would notice them or
not. His personality is such that cleanliness is not necessarily a virtue
with him and if I didn't dust his office it would look like a haunted
house. I wagered he would never notice.
I asked him to do me doggie style and he was excited about that.
I got on my hands and knees on the edge of the desk and lowered my butt
until he could comfortably enter me and we started slowly. He reached
around from my back and caressed the sides of my tits as he slowly drove
home his dick which seemed still as erect as it had been. I rocked back
and forth and skewered myself on him. From our position and angle, the
large cum vein of his dick was rubbing with just the right amount of
lubricated pressure against my clitoris. Waves of heat were already
begining to throb through me. We were so sloppy wet with the juices of
our previous orgasm that it took a lot of concentration for me to keep
myself tight around him. I pressed and pressed the muscles and knew I was
succeeding when I could hear the loud, almost embarassing slurp of wet
suction each time we thrust.
He increased the pace gradually and the deepness and forcefulness
of his pumping and I matched him with my backward and upward gyrations of
my pelvis. Soon, our bodies were slapping together like rifle shots and I
could feel the milder and tamer waves of arousal coming on again. It took
us both a long time. When mine came it was smoother than the first one
but my orgasm was as deep. I could not tell if he came or not the second
time but he said he did.
I rolled onto my back and reached up for him to lay forward onto
me for some afterglow kissing and fondling. Well, this afterglow lasted
for some time and after some gentle kissing and moaning, his dripping,
flaccid cock came alive again and with my butt on the edge of the desk and
my back arched and my legs curved down to the floor, he entered me again.
I was slightly sore but was determined not to let it get in my way,
although I was sure I could not cum again. But I did and he did. Then he
was done.
He leaned the side of his head down to my breasts, breathing hard
from exhaustion now rather than arousal. He tenderly kissed my right
nipple and rolled it between his lips.
"Oh my God..." he gasped. "Oh my God..."
He told me how he had wanted to do these things to me from the
first time he saw me in the office. He said he had had a long-standing
desire or fantasy to have sex with an "older" woman (which he embarassedly
explained and qualified). He said this older woman of his fantasies was
experienced and had red hair (mine used to be red but is now a
reddish-blonde). The fantasy woman was well built and trim but "aged" in
the curves, or something to that effect. I was proud that I had been
chosen to be the one to fulfill this fantasy because it was flattering and
I told him so.
We also talked about how this was a one-time event, never to be
repeated and he not only agreed but said that was his idea from the start.
I told him how my personal and professional life would definitely be
screwed up if this got out at all and that his probably would too. He
agreed. I told him not to tell a soul...not a roommate or drinking buddy
after too many beers, or anyone. We were in agreement.
This student was in his senior year and he graduated after summer
term, when this happened last year. The few times I saw him in the office
after that he was perfectly cool. Stictly professional, not a smile, wink
or any sign which would "give away our secret". I admired that. It was
only the bulge in his pants which grew before my eyes which would tell and
that was no different than before, except that now it was not an erotic
fantasy to wonder what it looked, felt, smelled and tasted like. I knew
every fold and ridge and every nuance of delicious flavors and aromas. It
is now a memory.
On Monday morning my boss arrived and entered his office he was in
there a while and came out to go get his coffee. Sure enough, he had not
noticed his cum-spotted and smeared desk. I knew he'd be gone awhile
because there was a morning "coffee party" around the coffee machine. So
I entered his office and began to clean up because others in the
department would notice these tracks. The couch had a few shiny spots on
the upholstery which rubbed off easily. I had to smile when I looked at
the desk. The full-sized glass surface on his executive desk had obvious
cum pools, splashes and spots all over. Near the front edge was one of
those triangular ass & thigh shaped spots and near it were cummy hand
prints. It all cleaned up easily but I had to laugh.
--
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