I was raised in a very traditional region where the patriarchy still held sway, and gender roles were set in stone; men were to be the breadwinners and in charge of everything, while women were to be housewives and baby-makers, with no rights and little or no say over their lives. Single women were allowed to go out to work to financially support their family until they left home upon marriage, but only doing the most menial jobs.
I was fortunate in that my parents, while products of this restrictive ethos, were keen that I have a good education and career. Of course, they also wanted me to marry and give them grandkids, but only after I established myself. Naturally, a girl wanting to pursue advanced education did not sit well with the Puritan great and good, especially with old male teachers who believed it was a complete waste of their vast knowledge and abilities to have to spend time teaching girls. However, with my parents’ support and several young teachers and by working far harder than any boy, I achieved the highest grades in school. As a result, even my detractors had to acknowledge my abilities and recommend me for a place at the University.
Even so, as I left home to go to the University, the clarion call was that I was going above my station, was bound to fail and would come crawling back home with my tail between my legs. Those comments just made me even more determined to succeed. So, four years later, when I came home for the summer, I had an Honours Degree, was about to start a doctoral study, and after a couple of bad fails even had a handsome, loving partner that I obviously could not bring home but who did my bidding and fully satisfied me if you know what I mean.
These achievements counted for nothing among the girls I went to school with. As far as they were concerned, I was just lucky. At first, I found their cutting remarks challenging. But then I realized they were just angry with themselves for obeying the naysayers and passing up an opportunity to improve their lives. They already knew what their future was: marriage, kids and a submissive hum-drum existence with few, if any, highlights. The idyl for some, but often a thankless and brutal nightmare for others. So, I became sorry for them, all that potential wiped out by the patriarchal thinking of the day.
Fortunately, my rebellion against Puritan dogma had sown a few seeds of ambition. Over the summer, several young girls came to talk with me because they were eager to better themselves. I did my best to guide and encourage them and direct them to teachers likely to support their academic ambitions. Thankfully, several who did advanced study have since gone on to rewarding careers and their own families.
After completing my degree, I joined a research group at the University. I immediately became the lowest of the low in a male-dominated hierarchy. Fortunately, my medic boss was not so old-fashioned in his ways and twigged that I was more than willing to put in extra effort and hours to get the work done. So, he transferred me to an all-female research team he was setting up to study women’s health issues. This move was the release I needed. Away from the constant sniping and backstabbing of supposed male colleagues, I developed and followed through with my own ideas and made significant progress. When I was offered the opportunity to form my own group, I jumped at the chance despite my inexperience in management.
I gathered a set of highly motivated female researchers and support staff and set about the research programme. Although we flourished, there were many hiccups along the way; a significant issue was that I was so obsessed with achieving success and out-competing the condescending males that I soon became a control freak. I micromanaged every aspect of the team’s work. I was a hard taskmaster who expected things to be perfect every time. Predictably, many people could not cope with my unreasonable demands and moved on to other posts. My head of department and the human resources department spotted this high staff turnover. They decided the issue resulted from my need for more management experience. So, they decided I should have an experienced deputy head of the group and transferred Harry into that position.
Obviously, I resented having a male foisted on the group. So, Harry and I had a few difficult weeks at first. But, as I watched him operate, I realized he was the experienced, calming hand the group and I needed. Team members still discussed their research with me, but they went to him on all other matters and issues to sort things out. He only brought matters that required my input/decision before me and would intercede with me if a group member felt I was mistreating them. Of course, Harry and I had our fair share of rows, but only within the confines of my office. Out with, we were united, and he supported me one hundred per cent.
Harry grew up in an ultra-traditional region, like me, with all the male privileges that conveyed but rejected them to move to the city. He wanted more than back-breaking work, marriage, kids, and a never-ending slog. Until I met Harry, it never dawned on me that the Puritan life of my upbringing, despite its many male privileges, could be as stifling and soul-destroying for them as it was for us. There was no room for free-thinking or new heretical ideas. They were expected to live out the austere life followed by their elders and ancestors before them. They were not allowed to think freely or broaden their horizons, or even, horror upon horror, look for some fun in life. So, Harry made the choice to leave home and follow a path like mine. He went to the University, then into research, and progressed up the career ladder to deputy group leader.
Harry was a lifelong bachelor and a borderline workaholic. He was as far removed as possible from the old-fashioned macho types who formed the university hierarchy. Harry had no problem working with or for women. Indeed, as reports from previous groups confirmed, he saw it as his role and duty to help and support us. Furthermore, while he remained very work-focused and driven, he was comfortable in his position as a deputy after many years of service and had no wish to go higher.
The research team prospered in the years that followed and had many successes. However, despite Harry’s best efforts, I still tended to be overbearing with staff, occasionally leading to situations where Harry had to intervene on their behalf. Usually, he and I worked things out to everyone’s satisfaction. However, in doing so, we often had massive rows. Although Harry was typically a quiet guy, he fiercely argued his point if he felt it was needed. Usually, once we had both let off steam, we sat together, working out and agreeing on a compromise solution to put to specific individuals or the team. Neither knew that one of these arguments would change our relationship forever.
One day, Harry came to see me after everyone had gone home. He knew that I had spent the day at an appraisal committee but had no idea how bad the day had been; the group comprised exclusively of senior male scientists, who were condescending, to say the least, and highly critical and dismissive of our work. So, I was already in a foul mood when Harry entered my room to tell me about the latest traumas of the research group. I tried to keep calm and listen to him, but we soon were arguing hammer and tongs. This day, instead of getting through that phase as usual, I got angrier and angrier. I completely lost the plot and began screaming at him.
Harry was mortified by this turn of events and desperate to defuse the situation. The big problem is that once the red mist has descended, there are few easy ways to bring things to a halt. However, Harry must have had a light bulb moment because he quickly walked around my desk, took me in his arms and pulled me into a bear hug. Then, he leaned in and kissed me. I immediately felt a deep sense of relief and relaxed as enthralling sensations now coursed between our lips. My rage diminished, and I quickly settled into a snog so intense that it literally took my breath away.
In today’s world, many would consider Harry’s actions as predatory, typical of a man forcing himself on a woman while she was weak and confused. However, that opinion would be wrong. Harry was incapable of thinking or acting that way, and I knew it. His first instinct was always to try to defuse a difficult situation, and so it was now. Although he did not know why, he recognized that I was about to go into meltdown and needed to be pulled back from the edge. On the hoof, he decided that the only way to achieve this was to channel my runaway emotions into a far more positive alternative, and his move had the desired effect. My anger quickly subsided, but perhaps less expected; my fiery emotions were converted into lust. The all-self-control-me switched to being the female I so despised, the love-hungry submissive, so desperate for affection that she was willing to put out and do anything to placate and satisfy any boyfriend.
Unsure if Harry was picking up on my building desires, I sent him an unmissable signal; I began to unbutton my blouse so that it slipped open to reveal my bra. He got the message straightaway and needed no further guidance. I exhaled with joy as his firm hands fondled the breast cups while his lips kissed my cleavage. Then, his fingers began to work along both halves of the bra band until they reached the hook and eye clasp and undid it, allowing the bra to come free. In no time at all, I was sighing with delight as those very same fingers then worked their way under the cups and began to caress my breasts. Every vestige of doubt disappeared in that joyous moment, and my conversion was complete. I no longer was Harry’s boss. Instead, I was his for the taking, a sexual plaything, eager to satisfy his inner caveman’s every desire.
You may wonder why I was so gushingly responsive to Harry, for he was far from being my first man. However, after two bad experiences, I never let a man take charge. After that, to get it on with me, a man had to be in my bed before I would strip off and get in on top of him. Then, we would pet and make love until we were satisfied. This may seem an extreme approach, but I felt it was the safest way to relieve my sexual frustrations.
Moreover, much to my surprise, I found this approach to sex was a huge turn-on for even the most macho of men. I never ceased to be amazed at how willing and thrilled they were to be taken in hand and ridden by a woman. Of course, their ready acceptance of female dominance greatly added to my excitement and sexual pleasure.
At first, I thought these men’s reactions indicated an excellent shift in male/female dynamics. But in time, I realized, to my utter dismay, that they were nothing of the sort. In playing the dominant, I was, in fact, helping them achieve the ultimate macho dream; to get all the pleasure they desired with no effort because a woman was doing all the hard work. A further bonus for them is that they could still tell their mates that they banged me stupid, safe in the knowledge that I would never refute the story, for I have no need of a reputation that would attract sexual weirdos. So, despite my best efforts, sex was, as usual, a win every time for the man.
I regularly enjoyed self-pleasure and always warmed myself up before bedding a man. Still, I had never allowed any man, even the first two, to foreplay with me in this way. So, I was stunned by the breathtaking effects Harry’s initial intimate moves were having on me; I was already hot and horny and desperate for more, even as his lips and fingers were teasing my boobs and nipples. I could hardly believe that my irrational fears had ensured I avoided such exquisite pleasure. Well, that was to be no more.
I was disappointed when Harry released my boobs and then kneeled before me. Still, I was thrilled when he then kissed my bare stomach, hooked his fingers around the waistband of my tights and gently pulled them off. I gurgled with glee as he ran his fingers up my inner thighs and over my panties and quivered with anticipation as he began pulling them down. I chuckled as his warm breath ruffled my now-exposed bush. This reaction spurred Harry on. Once my knickers were off, he leaned in, kissed my mound and slowly worked his way down towards my vulva. I was soon gasping with pleasure as his lips and tongue began to tease that uniquely feminine place into life.
I was momentarily saddened when he stopped the action on my twat, stood up, took me in his arms again and kissed me on the lips. However, this simple move just reinforced his spell over me. Indeed, I was even more turned on when I realized that the unexpected tangy taste on his lips and tongue was traces of my fanny juices. While I was entranced in our smooch, Harry was somehow able to get his trousers and drawers to drop to the ground and step out of them. I was oblivious to this until he cupped my buttocks and pulled me in close so that the shaft of his cock was pressing into my fuzzy mound.
Harry’s penis now began to twitch, and my beaver tremored as it anticipated the action to come. My anxiety intensified when Harry stepped back a little and directed his dick towards my crotch. I gasped as its head slid between my legs and over my pussy lips but relaxed a little once the whole shaft was nestled in my thigh groove. I instinctively closed my legs around Harry’s manhood and was shocked, not to say a little scared, by its size. My pussy had taken a rampant six inches many a time, but it had never tackled one of such jaw-dropping girth; it was more than twice the diameter of any my pussy had tackled before.
Common sense told me that this massive beast would be devastating. But, for the first time, I had an inner-body disconnect. While my head was sending out the clear message of no, no, no, my fanny was doing the opposite. Its moist lips were eagerly nuzzling and kissing Harry’s mighty rod, unmistakably indicating that it was keen, almost demanding, to do battle with this monster. My brain struggled hard to quash the clamour of messages from my twat. However, I quickly found that in becoming submissive to Harry, I had also lost control over my special lady bits. They were now in charge and eager to be used for purpose and pleasure, no matter the consequences. So, I succumbed to the inevitable, threw caution to the wind and whispered in Harry’s ear, “Okay, big boy, I am all yours. Do your best to shag me stupid.”
Straightaway, Harry picked me up and laid me out on my office desk with my legs dangling over the edge. He then began munching my muff until its lips were quivering and wet. Although I was already moaning, I gasped when the head of Harry’s hungry cock touched my vulva and penetrated. Thankfully, gentle Harry was just that. He did not ram his stiff dick straight into my pussy. Instead, he took his time and, step by step, edged it deeper and deeper into me. Despite this, my heart was racing, and I could hardly breathe as my over-stretched and bewildered fud frantically squeezed and squirmed around Harry’s mighty shaft while struggling to accommodate it.
My reactions to Harry’s dick were far more intense than I expected or had experienced with any other man. Of course, with my legs now akimbo and dangling down from my desk, my fud was exposed as never before. The additional penetration this allowed was shocking but also very exciting. My fanny went into a complete frenzy as the tip of Harry’s massive cock pillaged previously pristine depths. So much so that the simple act of complete penetration took me over the edge; I orgasmed the moment my fanny was thoroughly skewered by his pulsating dick.
As the waves of pleasure coursed through my body, Harry cupped my breasts with his hands and then began to slide his cock back and forth in my already excited pussy. He slowly increased the length of his stroke until I was taking almost the whole shaft every time. He was slow and relentless, and after a few minutes, I shrieked as the dam burst again, and my fanny was flooded with my juices. Undeterred, Harry continued drilling me for several minutes. I was moaning steadily throughout but then screamed when my frantic pussy spasmed again and spurted even more fluid. This reaction tripped a switch in Harry; for now, he upped the pace and power and screwed my pussy like a thing possessed. Soon, I was howling hysterically as my pussy turned to mush and climaxed, just as Harry’s rampant dick erupted and filled it with masses of hot spunk.
Harry collapsed on top of me, and we cuddled together as cock and pussy twitched together in the final delightful throws of copulation. My heart was still racing, my breathing was ragged, and my mind was just a blur. I had asked Harry to ride me stupid, and he certainly had.
I was still well out of it when Harry got off me and stood me up. He then picked up all our clothes, took me by the hand and led me out of my office along the long corridor to a staff restroom. Just as well, it was late, and there was no one around because anyone spotting us would have got an unforgettable eyeful. As we stepped inside the room, Harry locked the door. He then picked me up and carried me, like a newlywed bride, to the bed at the back of the room. He gently placed me into it and covered me with the duvet. Finally, I watched as my well-hung beau draped our clothes over two chairs, switched off the lights, and slipped into bed beside me.
The bed must have come from one of those unique sets of small furniture made only for new-build showhouses. It was only slightly wider than a single and cosy for two. But we had no complaints because we were delighted to be up close and tight anyway. After many cuddles and sloppy kisses, we finally got comfortable and fell asleep in each other’s arms.
A few hours later, I was awakened by Harry gently fondling and suckling one of my breasts. He was still sound asleep and obviously acting out a dream, but to my utter shock, I realized my lady bits did not care about this fact. This merest hint of sensual action was enough for them to spring back into life and begin bombarding my brain with messages that they were ready and hungry for more carnal action. Eventually, unable to get back to sleep, I succumbed to their incessant clamour and tried to wake Harry in the hope he was willing. How stupid could I be? Of course, he was. Like any man, even while sleeping, his sexual neurons were on a knife edge, ready to react in an instant to the possibility of action. So, even as he began to rouse, pure sexual instinct took over; he immediately moved up alongside me, clasped my tits in his hands and kissed me on the lips.
Once Harry was fully awake, he became incredibly frisky. His wandering hands worked their magic on every erogenous zone. Soon, my whole being was hot and desperate to be taken; my boobs and nipples were swollen and being driven to distraction by every loving touch of Harry’s fingers. Even more, my pussy was quivering and wet with anticipation. Soon, my fanny’s demands were met, and it went into a delighted frenzy as it was run through and heartily drilled by Harry’s ravenous dick. As before, he was relentless and soon rode me to orgasm. After that, he adjusted the pace and power of his strokes to keep my pussy on an ever-increasing high while ensuring his dick was close to but never reached the point of no return. Two climaxes later, and with my whole being on fire, Harry then pressed the accelerator and began riding me like there was no tomorrow. Soon, I was wailing my head off, and my fingernails were digging deep into Harry’s back before we finally orgasmed in unison. We hugged each other tightly and enjoyed every erotic sensation as the cock-fanny combo went berserk, passed through an earth-shaking climax and slowly but steadily calmed down again. Although I felt satisfied beyond belief when this maelstrom was over, I was also gaga and gibbering incoherently. If I remember correctly, Harry and I shared several passionate kisses before falling asleep again.
One could be forgiven for thinking that this mind-blowing carnal action would be it for us that night, but that takes no account of the great hunger of my now-in-charge pussy and the willingness of Harry’s cock to feed it. As the first rays of sunshine peered through the window, we quickly cast all hints of exhaustion aside and let lust have its way. This time was to be by far the best because we could now watch each other’s facial reactions and see every phase of joy and delight as we eagerly went through the erotic moves that would take us to seventh heaven. Although the action was already hot, these visions stoked the sensual fire between us. They swept us onto even more breathtaking levels of passion.
Amongst the tumult of sensations and emotions surging in my brain, I had a moment of mental clarity as I watched Harry’s face. I was completely submissive to him, but he was not dominating me in a heartless sexual plaything way. Yes, he was shagging me for all the pleasure he could get, but he was also doing so in a way that ensured I was getting the same or even greater satisfaction than him.
As this revelation sank in, my whole being was suddenly consumed with a raging carnal desire. Without further ado, I hooked my legs tightly around Harry’s back. Next, I heard a seemingly otherworldly voice whisper in his ear. “Why should rabbits have all the fun? This doe’s pussy is desperate for more. Be my feral buck and satisfy its hunger. Screw me until I scream.”
Right away, Harry set about fulfilling my request. Soon, his mighty cock was pillaging and ravishing my eager fanny with a speed and fervour that would have put many a rabbit to shame. I was howling and moaning like mad and even began begging for mercy as he went berserk and pounded my fud to jelly.
This situation was very much like the one I so much feared; being dominated and violated pitilessly by a man. But of course, this occasion was not such a case. Harry was just doing what I asked for and consented to. Despite its mighty struggles with Harry’s insatiable cock, my twat was, in fact, delighted to be so ruthlessly used for purpose. Eventually, my fud reacted in the only way it could; it climaxed again and again and again, leaving me shaking and quivering like a leaf and mentally away with the fairies.
Harry did not relent. So, I orgasmed two further times while he drilled my fanny with a series of mega-thrusts. I was, therefore, shrieking like the proverbial Banshee and barely compos mentis as the action came to a crescendo, and the earth moved. My body tensed and became almost rigid just as my twat and Harry’s dick began convulsing like mad and releasing masses of their love juices. My body then went limp as it was engulfed by wave after wave of sheer joy. Eventually, I passed out as my brain succumbed to sensual overload.
When I came to, I was a physical wreck; my heart was still racing, I was sweating like a well-raced horse, my fanny was trashed, and I was exhausted. But these were only trivial distractions, for I was also ecstatic. I was sighing and moaning, and my body was quivering and tingling with sheer joy as wave after wave of pure pleasure surged from my nether regions. Harry had well and truly ridden me to Nirvana. I am sure I was beaming like a Cheshire cat, for I could not have been happier.
In this sensual whirl, I suddenly realized that a worried Harry was fussing over me. “Are you hurt? Are you okay? I am so sorry. I should not have let myself go cavemen on you.”
I kissed Harry and said, “Do not fret. I am okay. In fact, I am more than okay. I am satisfied beyond belief. Unbeknownst to me, I have had a well-hidden desire to be taken and shagged to paradise by a dominant man. You unlocked that wish, and when I begged for it, you made that dream come true, big time.”
“Are you sure you are fine?”
“I have never been more certain of anything in my life.”
The broadest of smiles now broke out on Harry’s face. “I am so pleased because I am over the moon. You are so hot and horny that making love with you was a most exhilarating and rewarding treat. But it was being able to ride you through multiple orgasms to utter bliss that gave me the greatest pleasure, the sweet icing on a wonderous sexual cake.”
Harry blushed when I said, “Yes, you are a real stud. I do not know if my twat will recover from battling with your ravenous cock, but every lovely message from it says it is delighted to have lost.”
We now cuddled up in each other’s arms and slipped into the exceptional sleep of the just after. However, I took some time to drop off because of a nagging issue spinning around in my head. I have bedded and got great pleasure from the men I have allowed into my life, but Harry is the only one who has taken me to sexual euphoria. Why was this? I had to assume that it was because I did the previously unthinkable with him; I was totally submissive and even more encouraged him to go Neanderthal on me.
I had always rejected as pure male fantasy the idea that a woman needs a no-frills, no-holds-barred pussy-pounding now and again to fully quench her sensual frustrations. However, the powerful sense of contentment and well-being I now enjoyed after allowing Harry to ravish me suggests there may be truth in the concept. What does that mean for me going forward? I could not find an answer, and the question remained live in my brain as I eventually dosed off.
We were both awakened by the sound of an early starter walking along the corridor outside the restroom. We lay quiet and still until the sounds disappeared into the distance. Then, the next half-hour was a blur as we got up, showered together, towelled each other down, and began redressing each other. Yes, that is correct. Despite the significant risks, we still milked out every sensual second of our time together and could easily have succumbed again to lust; for when my eyes focussed on Harry’s erect cock, my much-pounded pussy still quivered with anticipation. However, on this occasion, my head was able to overrule these libidinous meanderings.
Harry now revealed that a bra was no mystery to him. He refitted mine and hooked up the back strap with great assurance, a skill that most males never master. Gold stars to Harry.
Harry then picked up my panties, but I stopped him immediately. “Hand them to me; I want you to wear them as a memento of this day.”
Harry gave them to me and willingly stepped into them when I held them before him. As I steadily pulled the knickers into place, my nose encountered the heady erotic scents of his tackle. These fragrances tested my resolve to continue the cover-up process to its limits. However, my head rejected the temptation, and I completed my task, albeit feeling a little disappointed when Harry’s cock and balls finally disappeared from sight.
I was shocked when Harry picked up a pair of navy blue Granny knickers and motioned that I was to put them on.
“What are you doing? Where did they come from?”
“These panties are mine. As a curious teenager, I one day sneaked into my sister’s room, found her knicker drawer and tried on a few pairs. They were so much softer, cosier and sensual than my thick, rough, tighty-whities that I was captivated straight away. In fact, that very afternoon, I bought my first ones from a shop in town and have worn knickers ever since.”
“Oh my, fancy that. But how were you able to purchase panties? Men never go near, let alone into, women’s clothing shops.”
“Yes, I know. I was scared, but surging teenage hormones helped me overcome my fears. Nevertheless, I must have walked by the shop window at least twenty times before entering that sea of women’s wear. Fortunately, Jane, the elderly shop owner, took pity on me and asked what I wanted.
I said, “I would like to buy a present for my sister; a pack of navy blue knickers.” Of course, Jane twigged to the truth straightaway but never said a word. She headed off to the back of the shop and soon returned with the necessary. She smiled when I paid for my goods and left for home with my precious purchase.
“Have a good day. I hope your sister likes her gift. Come back again soon.”
Mightily pleased and relieved, I said, “Thank you for being so kind.”
I was in such a daze that I did not overthink what Jane said until two months later, when I again found myself in her shop. When I entered the door, she said, “Good afternoon. Are we after another gift for your sister, sir?”
“I am not surprised. You were probably Jane’s only male customer ever, and so one to be remembered and treasured.”
“That must be true because Jane took me under her wing and taught me about girls wear. I remember she was always happy and smiling whenever she did.”
“Women’s clothing was probably Jane’s passion but almost certainly a frustrating one until you came along. Most, if not all, who visited her shop were not particularly interested in what she had to say; Jane was there only to provide what they wanted. However, as a boy, obviously eager to learn and hanging on her every word, you were manna from heaven—someone with whom she could share her knowledge.”
“Do you still visit Jane?”
“Yes, we have become friends, and you are correct; she is happiest when talking to me about the latest fashions and trends.”
“Jane is lucky to have you as a buddy.”
“I do hope you are not disgusted by these revelations.”
“Oh no, far from it. I was just surprised. I have never met a man who appreciates knickers. It is so cool. I am happy for you.”
A ridiculous question about a unique female conundrum now sprang into my mind.
“In your discussions with Jane, did she ever explain why it is a bra but a pair of knickers even though both are single items? If anything, the bra rather than the knickers should be plural, considering what it supports.”
“As it happens, I asked Jane the very same question. She told me that, despite having two cups, the bra and its predecessors have always been made as a single item. In contrast, in their original form, women’s undies had separate legs (knickers), which had to be tied together and held up with a drawstring around the waist. The name has persisted even though they are now produced as a single garment. Also, the small bow on the front of the waistband on many of today’s panties symbolizes the tie that once held the two legs together.”
“Oh my, what an elegant explanation. Now I know, but just embarrassed to have to learn that fact from a man.”
“Do not fret. You have more important things to think about than cramming your brain with trivia.”
With my questions satisfactorily answered, I stepped into the pair of knickers Harry held before me. While pulling them up into place, he froze momentarily as his nostrils encountered the strong, dare I say, enticing fragrances of my pussy. However, like me, he quickly moved on and hid the source from sight. I was shocked that my pussy lips quivered when they nestled into the gusset that had so recently housed Harry’s cock.
There were no further distractions, so we were soon fully redressed and ship-shape. We opened a window to air the room, removed the bed sheets, dropped them into the laundry and finally remade the bed with fresh linen. We waited by the door until we were sure there was no one in the corridor, then left the restroom and slowly made our way to my office. We had intended to run there as quickly as possible. But, after the night’s heavy action, our nether regions and legs refused to cooperate.
Once within the safety of my office, I went to my desk, sat down and immediately booted up my computer to keep up appearances. Meanwhile, Harry made strong coffee for us. Predictably, our conversation was quite stilted. I mean, what can you sensibly talk about when you have just spent the night shagging each other stupid. Eventually, we spoke about the work we planned for the next few days.
While chatting, we heard more and more people moving along the corridor. Eventually, Harry said, “I should probably go to my office. We do not want people to get the wrong ideas, do we.”
“Sadly, you are right, but could you answer one final question before you go?”
“Yes, certainly.”
“To be brutally honest, I have always thought you were celibate. But you have taken me to levels of bliss that no experienced man has even come near. When and how did you learn those skills?”
Harry walked around my desk, took me in his arms, and passionately kissed me. I then went all of a quiver and collapsed in his arms when he said, “Your instincts were correct. I was a virgin, and I am delighted to have lost my innocence with you. I have fantasized for a long time about making love with you, and the reality was out of this world. I am just glad I was not a disappointment.”
“Wow, you are a special man. You rode me to multiple orgasms and were still worried I might be dissatisfied. Do not fash yourself. You pleasured me so far above and beyond that wild messages of joy are still surging from my pussy.”
“I am glad to hear that, but it takes two to tango successfully. If you had not been so hot, horny, and receptive, it certainly would not have turned out so well.”
“Stop it, you are making me blush. You should be pleased with yourself because, while you shagged me to ecstasy, I learnt an important lesson; being a control freak is a bad thing. I have always needed to fully control everything I do, even in bed. But on this occasion, I just let you have free rein over me, and the resulting sensual delights have far surpassed anything I could have imagined. There is a clear message there that I will not forget. I do not have to micromanage people in bed or at work. They can and will do their best if I keep hands off and give them the guidance, support and encouragement they need.”
“HR wanted me to join your group to teach you that moderated approach. What would they think if they knew how it has been achieved? They would not believe it because it is not in the HR Manual. So why confuse them by explaining; it will just be another mysterious change.”
“Best we keep things that way. Now, you still have not explained how a virgin could blow me away like you did.”
“That is simple. You taught me that a good scientist gathers all the available data on a problem and then develops a detailed plan before experimenting. So, for more years than I like to recall, I have gathered every scrap of available information on sexual intercourse. A frustrating task once I realized it was unlikely to happen for me, but my persistence was rewarded. I knew to the nth theoretical degree what to do when you and I began to make love, and judging by your delighted reactions, my conversion of love theory into practice was a great success.”
“Yes, and so much more.”
At this moment, a mental revelation surfaced in my brain. If, as a virgin, Harry was capable of riding me to bliss like he did, just what would he be capable of once his practical skills were fully honed. I felt ashamed just to be thinking about this but was totally shocked to find my pussy was away ahead of the game; it was tingling and obviously keen to rejoin Harry’s cock in battle once more. However, it would have to be patient for several months before the opportunity arose.
Harry kissed me again, released me, and headed towards the door. As he did so, an intriguing idea came to mind.
“Stop, wait a minute, and take off your shirt and vest.”
Harry was dumbfounded but did not say a word as he followed my order to the tee. His eyes were out on stalks when, as only a woman knows how, I took off my bra without removing my blouse. Then, with the bra in hand, I went to Harry, fitted it on him, and replaced his vest and shirt.
“Since you are already wearing a pair of my panties, you should also have my bra because they are a matching set. In memory of this day, I want you to always wear them. In fact, we can exchange sets every few days, so we are both wearing intimate reminders of today’s love.”
Harry looked scared at first, but once the bra was in place and covered, he smiled and said, “Yes, let us do it.”
With those few words, Harry left the office and has since worn my bra and knickers daily. He is cautious and must understand the value of layering. Although I can see the distinctive signs under his clothes, no one else would ever suspect a thing.
Harry was quite apprehensive amongst people for the first few days but settled down once he realized nobody noticed anything untoward. Moreover, judging by his ever-contented smile, Harry appreciated the extra comfort given by a bra.
From then on, we exchanged bras and knickers in the restroom on agreed days. We could have just handed them over at any time, but taking them off and swapping them in each other’s presence was far more erotic and memorable. To this day, Harry is always excited when I fit him with the bra that moments before was covering my boobs. Equally, my fanny twitches and quivers with delight as it settles into the knickers that seconds before were housing Harry’s enthralling junk. Admittedly, there are occasions when we are very tempted to go further. But, so far, we have always drawn back from the edge and quelled those notions with a long, passionate snog.
Although Harry never objected, you may wonder why I insisted he don my bra and knickers. It was, in the main, a matter of self-preservation. While I was sure that Harry would not let our intimate day together change the dynamics within the research group because he was happy as depute, I knew it would do no harm to have some leverage, just in case. I knew that a man could, albeit with difficulty, come up with an acceptable explanation for why he is wearing knickers. However, there are no such acceptable excuses for a bra. So, while Harry appears okay with wearing mine, he still fears being found out. So, I will always have one over on him; if need be, a simple twang of his bra strap should be all needed to bring him to heel.
As it was, Harry was as good as gold, and I never had to twang his bra strap for this purpose. However, that did not prevent me from cheekily doing so on a few occasions, just so he could experience the same horror every female feels when a moronic male does it to them.
Harry got very angry on the first occasion and shouted, “Do not do that again. It is humiliating.”
“Get used to it. This jolly jape is a risk for all bra-wearers.”
Harry eventually got used to having his bra strap twanged occasionally, although it still upset him every time.
“If girls and women must forever deal with this distress, so will I. But from now on, if I see someone being tormented in this way, I will not stand by and allow it to happen.”
“Well, I am not the only one to have learnt a valuable lesson.”
After Harry left my office that morning, things generally returned to how they were before that night of unfettered intimacy. However, to the surprise of my team, I turned into the listening, tolerant, and supportive boss they needed, and we forged forward in our research.
Unfortunately, while my control freak nature was significantly reduced, it was not eliminated entirely. After three months, it slowly came back into play again. Team members began complaining to Harry, and he tried his best to calm the waters. But things came to a head one Friday after a series of fraught meetings with individual members of the research group.
When Harry and I returned to my office that evening, you could have cut the atmosphere between us with a knife. So, I should have been forewarned that something explosive was likely to happen. Nevertheless, I was taken completely unawares when Harry twanged my bra strap. Moreover, he had my full attention when he gripped it again and said commandingly, “You need to get rid of all that anger and return to being your more tolerant self. Leave this to me. I know exactly how that can be achieved.”
I gasped and went weak at the knees when Harry picked up the phone and booked a hotel room for the weekend. I was still trying to gather my thoughts as we made our way there, but I was shocked to find that my pussy was already wet with anticipation.
