Chantelle the Office Slut

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I’m really quite a shy man, not one for chatting up the girls in the office. The flirting is sort of fun, but I never know what to do after the first few times. And then I see the light die in their eyes, and the conversation goes safe and boring.

I do talk to them, but I hear about their boyfriends, families, domestic problems and holidays abroad. Never anything personal, never any hint about what they think about me.

I was married once, lasted 5 years, if you can call a slow falling apart a marriage. She was the first girl I slept with who seemed to enjoy herself. I was so grateful I proposed to her. I know, not a good basis for a marriage. And anyway, as I said, she only seemed to enjoy herself. After a while I found out that she had been scared of being on her own, and really she wasn’t that interested in sex.

I work in an office, sort of the second-in-command of the department. It’s open plan and I have a desk by the aisle to the coffee machine. Without having to be too obvious, I can see a lot from here, but at the end of the day, I’m too much of a coward to do anything about it.

Anyway, last week this new girl started, well woman really – she’s over 25, and not giggly and silly like the younger ones. Mind you, I don’t suppose most men notice whether she giggles. She has a figure you could fry an egg on. Her tits bounce in her blouse like a couple of puppies fighting in a sack. And her bum; what I wouldn’t do to see that naked over my lap. I have seen her smile, (I can look up you know), and I’ve caught her looking in my direction and smiling at me. I suppose it’s because we’re both a bit older than most of the staff who are mostly school-leavers fresh from 6th form.

She sits over the aisle from me, facing me. We can see each other and smile, but conversation would mean standing up and going over to her – far too scary.

And talking to her? I’d be so tongue tied I’d need surgery to loosen it up again. Somehow, I can believe that this woman doesn’t just like sex – she lives for it. I bet she’s got some big biker boyfriend or a trucker for a husband. Some male chauvinist jerk that gives her a right seeing to twice a week, and doesn’t really appreciate what he’s got.

So, she starts last week, and on the first day I stop by her desk and introduce myself (I’m a polite little bugger really). Her name is Chantelle, and she has cool soft hands. Apart from that, standing in front of her looking down the front of her blouse, I got vertigo. I could see this silken valley, and the lace fringes of her bra. I moved away before I ended up drooling down her tits. Well, now she knows who the shy boy in the office is.

Anyway, that was last week. You can tell she’s settling in. Most of the guys have stopped by and had a look see. She’s friendly, but not too friendly, I like that. And when she catches me looking in her direction, she gives me a cheeky grin and a little wave – just between friends.

She’s also started dressing a bit more relaxed. Her skirts are getting shorter, they’re mid thigh now, and her heels are getting higher. And her blouses? I could swear they have been shrinking in the wash, and have fewer buttons. One thing I have noticed, though, she wears hold ups. When she sits down, sometimes the skirt rides up a bit, and I catch a glimpse of the banding where the elastic grips the thigh. Lucky elastic, her thighs would look so good around me.

Today, however, feels different. There is a new intensity in Chantelle. It’s like she has made up her mind about something. Whatever it is, some lucky bastard is in for a treat. You know what I said about her blouse shrinking? Today it’s so tight she hasn’t bothered with a bra. Her tits look softer, but still have a wonderful shape and I itch to touch them, rub them, and chew the little nubbins at the tips. I can see her nipples clearly now, casting shadows on the whiteness of her blouse. She must have someone in her sights, güvenilir bahis and she’s brought out the big guns.

Earlier, I heard her voice a bit louder than usual, talking to a client on the phone. I glanced up, and did a double take. She was leaning back in her chair, looking at the computer screen. Or at least, her face was looking at the computer screen. Her body was facing me, and her legs were wide apart, her heels on the ground. I could just make out this flash of red, in the gloom at the top of her legs. Bloody hell, I was looking up her skirt, and she was making it easy for me. I looked away before she caught me ogling her. When she put the phone down I looked again, and she gave me a big smile and a wink. As I said, some lucky bastard.

A few minutes ago she dropped her pen, the third time this morning. As always, she has to lean forward and I get a quick look down her blouse. This is killing me. It’s like she’s got what I want and she’s dangling in front of me, like a treat for some poor puppy. I wonder if she really knows what she’s doing to me.

What’s this? She’s sent me an e-mail

“Richard. Would you mind helping me later? I have a report I need to present to Mr. Jones tomorrow, and I am stuck on the spreadsheet calculations.”

I don’t need to be asked twice. Quick mail back.

“No problems Chantelle. When time would be good for you? I am free from about 3:00pm onward.”

“That’s so kind of you. I have a lot to do this afternoon. Would you mind staying late?”

I think to myself. Would I mind staying late with the delightful Chantelle? Does a dog lick its balls?

“Not a problem Chantelle. Why don’t we say 5:00pm?”

Because of my grade, I have the keys to lock up in the evening, so no-one would be surprised to see me staying late.

“Thank you Richard. I’m ever so grateful. Chantelle xx”

Whatever hot date Chantelle is going on, she doesn’t seem to be in that much in a hurry to get there.

The day drags, the clock playing silly buggers and dragging its heels around the dial.

I’m seriously looking forward to working with Chantelle. Just the chance to sit next to her, to smell her, to imagine what dirty things I could do with her. I clamp down on that last thought quickly. You’re out of your league Ricky Boy. She would eat you for breakfast, and feed the pips to her pet budgie.

It’s 5:00pm. Some people are already leaving, and I know they’ll all be gone by 5:30.

I look over at Chantelle and catch her eye. I raise my eyebrows as if asking a question, and she gives a smile and a nod. At the same time she starts to clear some papers away as if making room.

Trying to look relaxed and casual, I wonder over, and swing round the chair behind her so that I can sit on her left.

“So tell me, what’s the problem.”

“Thank you for helping me Richard.” and she gives me a 140 watt smile. “It’s these “If, Then” commands. I want to have blank cells where there aren’t any answers apart from zero”

I run through formulae on Excel, and then how to construct the particular one she wants. She nods in understanding. This has taken 15 minutes, and the office is now completely empty apart from us two.

I then ask her to show me the sheet she is working on. Once it’s up, I lean across her to take charge of the mouse.

She puts her left hand on my right thigh.

I freeze.

I look at her, and she smiles, giving me a wink. Shit – I’m the lucky bastard she’s been gunning for. I look at her, too stunned to speak.

“I’m sorry Richard, but I couldn’t think of any other way to get you on your own with me. You see, I’m a really naughty girl, and I have been hoping you would notice and do something about it.”

“Errr, like what?”

I know, stupid question, but I can be a bit slow at times.

Chantelle doesn’t seem fazed by my hesitancy. She draws little patterns on my left thigh with her finger türkçe bahis – leaving burn marks on my skin.

“Well sir. You could spank my bottom. And then I would be truly grateful. Very, very grateful in fact.”

All my dreams have come true. All my fantasies have distilled themselves into this wonderful creature beside me. She wants me to do what I have been itching to do since I first saw her. I lean back in the chair, shock making me bold and adventurous.

“Too bloody right you are a naughty girl. All those slutty outfits. All that showing off your legs to me. And now this, lying to get me on your own with me. I really do have to spank your bottom for that.”

Bless her, Chantelle looks grateful, and I watch her smile with happiness. I am certainly getting this one right.

“But first, I want you to stand up, and take off your skirt. I want a bare bottom to spank – no fabric in the way.”

Without a word, She stands up and faces me. Slowly she pulls down the zip on the side of her short skirt, and she lets it fall, stepping out of the crumpled circle on the ground.

She is wearing a bright scarlet thong – just a thin scrap of lace coving a hairless pussy, with the two strings around her hips and one diving between her thighs. One zip, and we’re down to bedrock.

“You tart. You’re dressed for a whore-house, not an office.”

Chantelle blushes, but does nothing to hide the evidence of a slow leakage from her cunny.

I stand up facing her.

“OK, punishment time. Turn round, bend over and put your elbows on the table. I’m going to give you ten spanks, five on each cheek.

She bends as requested, and I am rewarded with a tight bubble butt presented for my hand to work on.

And the second shock of the day.

Normally, a thong slips between the creases of a woman’s bottom, rubbing her anal ring like a naughty finger.

In this case, there is a purple disk pushing the string out.

I reach out and touch it.

Bloody hell. She’s wearing a butt plug. She’s come to work dressed like a whore, wearing a fucking butt plug. This is awesome.

“You dirty, sex mad little girl. You’re wearing a sodding butt plug”

She nods. In a little girl voice she speaks up, her head on her arms.

“I know sir. Is that really bad sir? Are you going to punish me even more sir?”

I pull down her thong off her hips, and the musky scent of her excitement fills the air.

“I was only going to spank you ten times. But as you have this disgusting thing in your arse..”

And at this point, I reach out and twist the plug. I am rewarded by a gasp, her stomach pulling in and her hips bucking.

“I am going…”

Another twist and a moan.

“to spank you…”

Twist and groan.

“another….ten….times.”

At each word I give the plastic implement buried in her arse another savage twist. I can tell the stimulation is driving her crazy, and there is more juice down the inside of her trembling thighs. Chantelle starts babbling.

“Oh God, please sir. Please spank me sir. Do it hard and make me cry sir. I’ll be a good girl and I’ll suck your cock. You can fuck my cunt sir, as hard as you like. If you really want, sir, you can shove your thick cock up my arse and make me take it like a proper slut until you fill me with your wonderful spunk.”

She really knows how to reach me, and her words are music to my prick, which is now banging on the inside of my trousers, screaming to be let out.

I spit on the palm of my hand, and measure up the distance.

The crack of flesh on flesh echoes in the empty office. Chantelle whimpers, and rolls her hips.

“Stand still cunt, or I’ll tie you down.

“Anything you want sir, please just do it.”

, ,

With a measured pace I deliver the first ten blows – finding some clear space free of redness each time. Her wide arse is reddening nicely, güvenilir bahis siteleri and I am mesmerized by the way the flesh bounces on impact, but returns to its position with a blush on its cheek.

I pause, for my hand’s sake. I can hear muffled sobs from Chantelle, but her bottom is still thrust out, and she has made no effort to cover it or stop me.

I slide a hand between her thighs, and reach in to inspect the ripe fig of her hairless sex. Liquid is pouring from the slick entrance. The punishment might be hurting her behind, but it’s also making her cunt hot.

I slide my left hand under her blouse and place it on small of her back, pushing it down. Before she can work out what I am about to do, I deliver ten more blows. These are much more rapid, more stinging than hard, and are delivered five to one cheek then five to the other.

This flurry of blows is like one long rumble of thunder to her bottom. The intensity of the pain on her already tender posterior grows, and with it her own climax. As the last shocks reverberate, her orgasm hits – triggered by the onslaught.

I stand, in awe, as I hear her wail of submission, and her hips jerking as if fucking some imaginary stud. Her fingers reach down to her sex and rub hard to increase and prolong the rolling waves.

She stops, her fingers buried in her wet twat, slowly pumping in and out, her breathing ragged.

“Oh God, thank you sir. That was wonderful. Please fuck me now sir. Do what you want, I am all yours.”

I stand behind this embodiment of every wet dream I have ever had. Her dark hair is lying tousled on the desk. Her head is resting on one arm while her other hand slowly frigs her cunt. Her thighs are apart – joined near the top by the thong pulled away from her two fuck holes. And nestling in her red raw cheeks, a large purple anal invader.

I don’t really have much choice.

I reach out and untwist the plug from her. She whimpers as the head stretches the raw ring of the entrance. I toss the rubber bung onto the table, and step up to the breach, which is slowly clenching shut. There is still enough lubrication from the plug’s insertion to allow me to force my way in without too much difficulty.

Pausing only to line myself up with her back door – I push myself in as hard as I can. She’s a pain slut, and she’s already stretched. She screams out a loud “Yes!!!”, and then I am buried deep in her colon, my thighs pressed against hers.

I love traveling the chocolate highway, it’s so perverted and she looks wonderful bending over taking it. To my surprise, she reaches behind and pulls her cheeks apart, giving me a better view of her ring being hammered in and out, sucking my cock like a tight hard mouth.

This isn’t going to be a marathon session – she is egging me on with her filthy slut language, promising me even more depraved fun if I will only cum in her arse. She tells me how much she loves this, dreams of this, begs me to do this every day, and promises to lick my cock clean with her wet mouth every time I have finished.

And all the while I am lost in the hot, silken shit hole of a woman who is giving my cock the ride of its life, grunting with pleasure at each hard thrust in and clenching withdrawal out.

All too soon, the top must blow. I quickly thrust in two more times before I have to stop to feel my spunk rippling up my cock and spurting into her dark hole. I am crying out with happiness and a fierce joy.

Chantelle is again furiously rubbing her empty cunt, and joins me as I unload my cum in her. My cock feels like it is about to be ripped off me, so hard do her muscles spasm and her body shake with the climax. It feels bloody wonderful, and I can hear her cries of release.

When I stop to catch my breath, Chantelle collapses, spent with the two massive orgasms. True to her word, though, she slips to her knees, and engulfs my exhausted cock in her lapping mouth. She looks up at me naughtily as she does a thorough cleaning job.

And then it hits me. I may be the Office Shy Boy, but I’m the one who has just fucked the Office Slut. And from the way she is performing – it won’t be the last time.

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