I have always had a thing for the more mature women, especially those in business attire. I admire their femininity and the ‘polished’ business dress look. My mind always wanders in these environments, and I frequently daydream about what could happen.
Little did I know that they could come true.
I moved to a new department, and there was a very beautiful, more mature receptionist running the front desk. I would make excuses to work near her and attempt to make small talk but often struggled—I assume that I was a little in awe of her.
Fast forward a couple of months, we were working in the same area of the office, on one side of the building—I was working at a desk, while she happened to be in the storeroom right next to me with the door propped open as she sorted some boxes on the shelves.
I was standing up writing on my whiteboard, and so was she, alongside her, a yard or two apart, but if we both looked over our shoulders, we could chat a little. She was looking as perfect as usual, with neatly bobbed blond hair, perfect makeup (subtle but beautifully done), a deep cherry blouse, a flowing knee-length beige skirt, and the obligatory high heels.
As the afternoon passed and we chatted, she worked her way down the shelves and was crouched down, reaching the lower boxes at the back. I glanced over as she did and saw her head buried in the back of the unit, and she started to lose her balance. She maintained her hold on the far-off box by swinging one knee out; her skirt had ridden up over her knees. This moving knee spread her legs a little too far and exposed her inner thighs—right up to the reinforced panels of her pantyhose. I made an involuntary sound at the breathtaking sight of this intelligent, sophisticated lady briefly exposing her silken thighs to me. She pushed herself back up to regain her balance and turned her head.
“Did you say something?” she asked.
“Urm, no,” I spluttered back to her.
Had she seen me looking? My heart was racing; I turned my back to her slightly, as I was sure I had a raging hard-on that would be all too visible in these suit pants.
“Are you OK? Did you fall?” I stammered.
“I’m OK; some of these boxes are hard to get, like this one right at the back,” was her reply, her speech getting slower and quieter as she stretched for the back of the shelf.
I looked across, and everything seemed to be in slow motion; her knee closest to me rotated towards me, and slowly but surely her skirt started to rise again. I was transfixed; I couldn’t take my eyes off the slowly rising hem. I was glad to be at the edge of the office out of direct sight. I must have looked like a real dork, standing there staring—not moving. I’m not even sure I was breathing; I was certainly not blinking.
My heart thudded as I watched her knee appear out from under the hem, then the material kept moving up her leg. I could see her inner thigh once again; still it moved, and then the darker weave of the upper part of her pantyhose came into view. I gulped, and then she started to move back with the box.
I looked up at her, and she was staring directly at me.
“Are you OK?” she asked,
My eyes were transfixed on her deep red lipstick, and then I realized I was staring.
“Sorry, I was just thinking of something,” I stuttered.
“Well, let me know if there’s anything I can help with,” she answered.
Did she smile a little as she said that? I wasn’t sure if I just imagined that.
I went back to my board and carried on working. Did she see me looking? Did she do it on purpose? My mind was racing so much so I didn’t see her walk into my cubicle and tap me on the shoulder.
I jumped a little and let out a sound in surprise.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” she said.
“You are far from frightening,” I answered. Where did that come from???
“Could you just give me a hand with some of these bigger boxes, please?” she asked with those huge eyes of hers.
I had just witnessed the most delicious of candid flashes – I may have got away with looking, and now she wanted me to help her in the storeroom.
The task in hand was sorting through these boxes, seeing what contents were no longer of any use and putting those out to be sent to the trash, and sorting the ones that remained to clear some space on the shelves.
I eagerly (but trying not to appear so) joined her in the small storeroom; it was dimly lit, as two of the lights had blown and the other one was semi-obscured by more boxes.
We started moving the boxes; I’d get the higher ones down, and we’d open them and see what was inside. We chatted a little more, and things were very relaxed. As more boxes were opened, I noticed she turned to face me more and more when looking through the contents, as before she was squatting by the side of the box, and I was on the other side—I could swear she was opening her knees a little to flash now and then as she looked through the contents.
This was difficult; I had to keep turning to hide my obvious enjoyment of the small glimpses I was getting. A task made more difficult as we were reaching the higher shelves that I had to use a step ladder to reach.
Every so often, she would move behind from one side of me to the other as I was up the ladder.
She would say, “Moving behind you, don’t step back.”
while putting a hand on the back of my legs as she did. This must have been to let me know where she was, but was she letting her hand linger a little too long to be innocent? I just couldn’t tell.
My mind was racing; all sorts of thoughts were popping into my head. Could I get her to climb the ladder, and could I hold her legs to steady her? Should I just reach out and grab her and take advantage of the situation? Was she showing off to me? Was she teasing? Was this a prelude to more? I couldn’t decide. But one thing was for sure: I wasn’t paying attention to what I was doing.
I slid a large box forward off the top shelf and tried to take it, but it was heavier than I expected, and I started to overbalance.
She saw this and grabbed my legs, but the weight already had me moving. The stepladder wasn’t very big, only three steps, so I half jumped, half fell off it to reach the floor. I did so but with some momentum, so when I landed, I continued to fall backwards – but not too far as my shoulders and neck crashed into the wall of the small storeroom.
There I came to rest, still holding the box, half leaning against the wall. My beautiful co-worker was there immediately—right in front of me, taking the box off me and checking I was OK. I was in a daze, not just because of the fall—but with her so close, her eyes were wide, and her perfume was absolutely intoxicating.
“Are you OK?” she asked.
“Yes, I think so, although my neck is a little sore,” I replied, rubbing my shoulders and neck.
I was fine; the fall wasn’t bad—it just sounded much worse with the ladders crashing into the shelves and me hitting the office wall—but I wasn’t giving up this attention.
“You need to sit down in the cool and quiet and rest,” she said, almost whispering, “We can use next door.”
Next door to the storeroom was a room not much bigger, with no windows, a table, some chairs, and a table lamp. It was an old meeting room that had been changed into a ‘lactation room’ for a member of staff. Saying that, this room was hardly ever used and was cool and quiet.
She led me in and told me to sit. I was left alone for a few minutes, and then she returned with a drink of water and a painkiller.
“You rest for a while; I’ll tidy up the storeroom,” she said.
And that’s where I found myself, alone in the small room cursing my luck as I thought back to that storeroom, which was my chance and a little excitement, and I blew it—now left alone.
I must have dozed for a moment because I startled myself when the door opened again.
“How are you feeling?” she asked in a concerned tone. “I feel so bad; I shouldn’t have asked you to reach those boxes for me.”
“It’s OK, I was happy to help. It was a nice break from my regular day.” I replied, wincing as I turned my head to look at her.
“Oh—it’s bad, isn’t it?” she said in that ‘caring’ way. “Here, put your head on the table.”
With that, she eased my head onto the table and stood next to me, kneading my shoulders with her hands.
I couldn’t believe my luck. I know it wasn’t much, but here I am in a room (that we shouldn’t be interrupted in), her hands kneading my neck and shoulders. Her perfume wafted over me—such an intoxicating smell!
I pushed the chair back a little and put my arms on the table with my head between them, making it easier for her to rub my neck—but really so I could look at her legs as she stood beside me.
If my mind was racing before with potential scenarios it was going at the speed of light now. What an opportunity! I have to try something—but what if she doesn’t want to? What if I do something wrong—would she report me? What should I do?
Her attention to my neck continued; I thought it couldn’t go on for much longer—she is bound to get tired. I decided I had to go for it.
My mouth was dry. I took a breath and let my closest hand to her drop to the floor, and I feigned rubbing my leg—now or never, make or break. I reached out and put my hand around the back of her thigh and rubbed it briefly.
“Thank you; that feels good on my neck,” I said to her as my hand rested in place.
No response, no movement away; she just kept rubbing my neck.
I took that as a good sign and kept rubbing the back of her thigh. I ventured a little higher and put a little pressure on her legs, pulling her closer to me. She took a quick little step closer but nothing more.
Was this happening? She wasn’t stopping me. OK, one more test.
I turned to face her, my head still down but now inches from her legs. She stayed there – in fact, put a hand on both of my shoulders and rubbed a little harder.
Well, here goes.
I reached around her and put both hands on the back of her thighs, rolling my chair closer to her—she carried on rubbing my shoulders.
I sheepishly smoothed my hands up and down the back of her thighs; she took another small step towards me. That was it; I took that as the signal (yes, I know I’m a little slow) of the point of no return.
Moving my hands back down her thighs, just to her knees—I reached the hem of her skirt. In one movement, I went lower, moved my hands sideways slightly, and wrapped my thumbs around the front of her legs and then started back up her legs with my hands under her skirt.
Her legs felt sublime; the feel of the silken smooth material of her pantyhose was breathtaking—literally, I was not breathing as I had no idea if I was about to get slapped and everything would come to an abrupt and embarrassing end. But no, nothing.
My hands continued northwards, my thumbs moving back and forth like very slow windshield wipers caressing her legs, then I felt it, the change of material as my fingers met the upper reaches of her hosiery. I paused to enjoy the feeling, remembered to breathe, and noticed how much of her legs I could now see as my forearms were lifting her skirt. She had stopped massaging my shoulders; it was almost silent—we weren’t saying anything, but I could hear her breathing a little quicker.
My quest continued; I slid my hands up and around until my palms were cupping her buttocks. I couldn’t feel any panties—perhaps she had a thong on. I grasped a handful of her delicious flesh, and I heard her make a little gasping sound. No stopping me now.
I could see the darker shade of her pantyhose just peeking out from her hitched-up skirt draped over my arms. I bent forward and kissed the front of her thigh just below the change of shade—she moved her hands to the back of my head. I brought my hands back around to her front and grasped the hem of her skirt, gathering it as I went. I lifted her skirt and moved my hands back to her hips to hold her steady and reveal more of her. It was like uncovering a work of art or an expensive gift—I was so eager to do it but was enjoying the journey to get it immensely.
Then it was that moment: this beautiful example of the feminine form, a sophisticated, intelligent lady that I had struggled to talk to, was standing in front of me—my hands holding up her skirt to reveal the sight of her pantyhose-wrapped, panty-less body. I gasped and then could stop myself; I leaned forward until I was less than an inch from her skin, and I blew gently on her, and she let out a little giggle. I could feel her heat on my lips; her fingernails scratched my head slightly, and I moved forward and planted a light kiss directly onto the top of her pussy. Her gasp was all the encouragement I needed. Another kiss, a little firmer and then more, planted up and down her lips. She bent over double over me as my tongue started to explore.
“No,” she said.
I started to pull away.
“No, don’t stop,” she purred at me.
She rotated slightly, so I turned in my chair, and she was now leaning back on the desk. I looked up, and our eyes met for the first time since all of this started. Her pupils were dilated, her eyes wide and sparkling, and she sat up on the desk and held me by the chin.
“Don’t stop just as it’s getting interesting,” she hummed. With that, she took her skirt out of my hands and held it up as she lay back on the desk—her knees apart and me sitting right between them.
I stood slightly and leaned over her; the dim office light lit her perfectly. I was in awe of the vision in front of me—but her hand returned to my head to remind me of the job I had, persuading my face back between her beautiful legs.
I kissed my way back up her legs, past the change from barely black to black, and greedily buried my face back into her. Kissing back and forth on her lips, she started to move a little. My tongue was exploring more, and I found out exactly how much she was enjoying it as I reached her engorged clit. Lying my face sideways, I was able to flicker my tongue over it, and her pelvis jumped in approval. I encircled it, licked it, and sucked on it as best as I could until she pushed my arms down, put her legs over them, and rested her calves on my shoulders. She pulled herself forward on the table, and her heels pressed into my back, urging me forward. My tongue returned to its eager exploration of her pantyhose – my hands, now idle and in my lap under the table – I took the opportunity to touch my cock – and nearly exploded there and then I was so aroused, so I left that alone I was on a mission!
I grasped the top of her legs and pulled her closer, my arms under her thighs, as she ground into my face. Her perfume filled the air; the feel of her pantyhosed legs on my face was sublime—I was in heaven. But I wanted more.
While still paying her the attention she deserved with my lips, I sought out the central seam of her pantyhose with my fingers, a difficult task with my mind spinning, her hips gyrating, and in the semi-dark. I found the seam and tried to wrap it around my fingers to give me purchase; they were soaked with her pleasure, which only fired my ardor. I pulled as hard as I could, but nothing gave. I dug my fingernails into the material, and I heard a little rip.
I stopped.
She stopped; everything was still for a moment.
I then pulled again, and there was a little louder ripping sound. I looked down and saw the wondrous sight of her uncovered pussy; I dove in and kissed it deeply—which was met with a giggle, a gasp, and then a muffled ‘fuuuuck me’ as she bit her lip.
She tasted amazing; wave after wave of pleasure was rolling over me as I tried to take in what was happening. I kissed her thighs, over her pantyhose, and through the new ripped hole, my tongue explored her deliciousness and flickered over her clit. It was getting too much for her; both of her hands were in the back of my head, and she had handfuls of my hair clenched in her fists. I quickened my attempts and feverishly kissed and licked and slid my tongue as far as I could inside of her – that was too much.
Her heels snapped back, holding me onto her; her fingers dug into my scalp and forced me deeper—I had a second’s warning as her thighs squeezed my face. I took a deep breath and buried my face as she thrust up into me—my tongue gripped inside of her, and my face splashed as she exploded and rocked back and forth under me. She tried to lift up off the desk, but I held her (partly to not break contact with her and partly because her legs were holding me firmly in place), her body pulsed, her legs trembled, and she let out such a stifled scream I was so surprised no one heard. My hands kneaded her hips and lower back as I gently kissed her thighs; each one caused a shiver and a couple of ‘aftershocks’ that made her eyes widen and giggle after each one.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to do that.”
“I did,” I replied with a smile that would take a week to wipe off my face
“Did I get you all messy?” she asked, looking a little embarrassed.
“A little,” I answered, “but it was delicious.”
At that point, she shuffled forward on the desk; I stood up, and she planted a delicious kiss on me, which I gladly returned. She looked down at the veritable tent going on in my pants.
“Oh, we have to do something about that, don’t we?” she giggled, “but let me get straightened up first.”
I helped her up and smoothed down her skirt; she adjusted her hair, straightened her clothes, and made for the door.
“Back in a minute or two,” she winked.
And off she went, the door shut, and I wondered if I had dreamt it all. But no, I could still taste her.
This was going to be fun.