File Under XXXX

It was the little things that got Peter through the working day. After all, office junior was hardly the most exciting way to pass the nine-to-five grind; office junior in a small accountancy firm even less so. It wasn’t the worst – sure, the money wasn’t great, but how much does a nineteen-year-old need to pay the room rate at the Hotel of M*m and D*d, his bus fare to and from the office and the occasional accessory to keep your portal to the internet – and all of its delights – at optimum speed.
But it definitely wasn’t the best either. Work that was duller than dull, to the extent that shuffling paper clips around his desktop was more of an excitement. Colleagues who looked down on the youngest member of the office as little more than a servant to do their merest bidding, from a disdainful order for coffee to a last-minute command to send out a must-go-today mail run, leaving him watching his normal bus leave from the stop outside the office and his fellow workers leave, laughing and chatting with the post-work release of tension, to hit the pub while he stuffed envelopes in an empty building. He could see their self-justification in the most perfunctory glance in his direction as they left: why should it matter to him; he never went for an after-work drink anyway, so why should someone else miss out instead? And his boss: a hard-faced, hard-voiced bully who delighted in finding fault in his work, and always took the chance to explain that fault with a withering tirade delivered when the maximum audience was on hand. He hated them all.
Well, almost all.
There was Nicola. The boss’s PA, Nicola. Gorgeous, entrancing, arousing Nicola, her huge doe eyes and sallow-skinned oval face framed perfectly by her brunette bob, the occasional stray strand escaping down across her eyes and sparking a thousand daydreams, all of them involving him brushing it gently back into place before taking her head in his hands and drawing it into the deepest of kisses. Or drawing it downwards towards the most daring of kisses. Gorgeous, entrancing arousing Nicola, her firm breasts pressing against the thin material unfortunately covering them, her firm butt snugly encased by tight-fitting trousers or, on days when she blessed him by wearing a skirt or dress, slim tanned calves brushed by a hem that he wished was his lips.
Those were the little things that got him through the day. A flash of her eyes as she glanced across the office to someone sitting close to him; the sound of her voice intoxicating as she joined the most mundane of conversations; a flash of her narrow-waisted silhouette as she passed the sunlight that streamed through the large window beside the printer.
He cursed. The thoughts of those little things had had the same effect as usual. The bulge in the front of his trousers threatened to burst the fly, and he would be unable to move from his desk for the seeming eternity until it subsided. As long as no one came close enough to him to spot it. But then, no one ever did; a shout across the room was usually enough to give him his next task.
“Peter, have you got a moment?”
His chest seized in fright. The voice had come from beside his shoulder. The voice was Nicola’s.
He grabbed his desk and pulled his chair, and his offending crotch, under it with a bang. Please let her not have seen it. Please, please, please. He glanced up, trying with the full extent of his will to appear casual but knowing his efforts were in vain as his face burned and glowed.
“Yes, I, er... Of course. What is it?”
“I have a favour to ask.”
“No problem. What is it?” He knew he was repeating himself, but his mind was seizing up.
His heart, however, had the opposite problem, pounding so hard and fast that he felt it must be audible. He was acutely aware of her perfume, his breath catching as the scent grew stronger when she leant closer to place a sheet of paper on his desk. To see the small details so close – each fine hair on her forearm, the slight chip in the nail varnish where she had knocked her finger on the corner of her desk an hour earlier (not that his eyes were drawn to her every movement, of course), the small, long-healed scar at the base of her thumb – seemed almost intimate.
He turned, enquiringly, only to see the gap between two buttons on her blouse widen as she stretched across, revealing the merest glimpse of soft white cotton cupping the underside of a breast. With a sharp intake of breath, he jerked back to stare at the paper she had put down. He had thought he couldn’t get any harder. He had been wrong. He realised he was leaning forward slightly as a result of the ache in his groin, and leant his elbows on the desk to disguise the movement.
He realised she was speaking. “ would that be all right? You wouldn’t mind?”
“I, oh sorry...” he mumbled. “I was miles away. I didn’t catch what you said. I’m really sorry.”
“Oh what are you like?” She gave him a playful punch on his shoulder. He almost shivered with the thrill that ran through him. “I was just wondering if you could help me with this? I need a note of the fee charge for last year to each of the clients on this list for my report to the partners. The only problem is that the meeting is first thing tomorrow, and it’ll mean you hunting through files until after you’ve been meant to go home tonight? You haven’t got anything on this evening, have you? I know it’s a big ask, but you wouldn’t mind helping me out, would you?”
He would have worked right through the night for her if she asked. He smiled, his nerves making his lips press together more tightly than he would have liked. “No, I don’t mind. I’ll do it, no problem.”
She smiled, and at that moment he would have walked across and punched the boss in the face if she had asked him to. “Oh, you’re a star!” She leant one arm on the desk as she reached across to point at the list, the gap between them so close he could feel the heat from her body. “If you do the ones I’ve marked with an asterisk first, and then work through the rest in the order they’re typed, that would be wonderful. She turned and breathed in his ear. “And please don’t tell anyone. I was supposed to do this myself already, but I’ve run out of time. Is my secret safe with you?” He nodded weakly.
“You are wonderful.” As she stood up, the bare skin of their arms brushed against each other. He jerked as the sensation flashed through him like an electric shock.
She looked directly into his eyes. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” she said, a playful smile playing at the corner of her lips.
His dick throbbed with such power that it was all he could do not to come on the spot.


The afternoon dragged. All that Peter wanted to do was start on Nicola’s task. All that he could think about was the feel of her skin against his arm, the brush of her breath against his ear. All that he was given though, was a succession of jobs from people who weren’t Nicola: frank the mail; print off these spreadsheets; make coffee; refill the paper in the printer; nip out to the shop for cigarettes; make coffee; collate these reports; make coffee... And so it went on, the longest afternoon of his life, dragging its way towards the close of business. But he finished, half an hour before the weekly mass pilgrimage for alcohol.
He made it to the filing room before anyone else could find another task to hold him back. A feeling of exultation wept through him. It was ridiculous, he knew it. Joy at the thought of working late to trawl through dusty files was totally absurd, of course it was. But he would be working late to trawl through dusty files for Nicola. And she would be there, in the next room. Just the thought that the two of them would be alone together in the same building was enough to start stirrings in his pants once again. He smiled.
He found the first file and opened it on the table, starting to leaf through it. He found the information quickly, and moved onto the next. It wasn’t exactly complicated, and before long he was nearing the bottom of his list. He started to slow down. The others had long gone by now and, if he was going to share a building with her, he didn’t want to cut the experience any shorter than it had to be.
“How are you getting on?”
Damn, she had to stop doing that! He had jumped so much he had hit his arm against the filing cabinet with an embarrassing clang. But he didn’t want her to stop doing it. Any contact was good contact. He felt his breath quickening again.
“I’m so sorry – did I give you a fright? Is your arm ok?”
He stammered, “It’s fine. No, really, it’s ok.” Actually, it was bl**dy sore. He had struck the handle on the drawer with the point of his elbow.
“Let’s see.” She took his wrist and unbuttoned his shirt cuff, pushing the sleeve back. He hoped she couldn’t hear his breath catching. He hoped he couldn’t feel his pulse racing. He definitely hoped she wouldn’t look down and see the bulge starting, yet again, in the front of his trousers. She peered at his elbow. There was the slightest haze of a red mark.
“Oh, you poor thing. My mum used to blow on things to make them better.” She did so, pursing her soft, luscious lips, the soft luscious lips he dreamt of pressing against him. “And if that didn’t work...” She pressed those soft luscious lips against his elbow for the most wonderful second of his life. He was so hard now, she couldn’t fail to notice if she glanced down. He breathed again in relief as she looked up again without dropping her gaze to below his waist.
“How does that feel?”
“Oh, just wonderful.” The words had come out before he could stop them. “Er, I mean, it’s fine. That’s great. Thank you.”
“Well, it was the least I could do since I caused it.” She smiled. “Does your arm feel better enough to help me lift something? I need a box put up on that shelf. I can carry it no problem, but I wouldn’t be able to climb the stepladders with it.”
“Of course. Just bring it through. I’ve just got the last figure to fill in anyway.” He cursed. He had just talked his way out of any excuse to stay longer. But he was just babbling, trying to take his mind off his straining cock in the hope that it might start to subside. No luck so far, though. At least she hadn’t seen it.
“Super! You finish the list and I’ll go and get it.”
As soon as she was out of the room, he tried frantically pulling at the front of his trousers, trying to make the material sit in a looser way to hide the bulge. He knew it was useless, but he had to try. He considered pulling his shirt out to hang over his crotch, but that would only draw attention to it. He turned back to the table. At lease then his back was to the door. By the time he had jotted down the final figures, she had returned, a cardboard box held before her with several bulky box files loosely thrown into it. “Excellent!” she beamed. “You were quick, weren’t you?”
“It wasn’t too hard,” he mumbled. Oh, shit, of all the phrases to use. “I, er, I’ll get the stepladders.”
Making sure he faced away from her, he walked awkwardly across the room; he was so rigid that even moving in the pretence of normality was difficult. Gratefully, he retrieved the wooden ladders and used them to mask him as he walked back to the shelf. It was beyond her and, as he passed, she turned to move her box out of his way. He turned his back to her, too, and sidled through the small space between her and the table. Between her perfect butt and the table.
Her buttocks pressed against his as he slid past. Firm, with just the slightest soft yield, their definition was deliciously and painfully obvious as he felt them dip briefly away from him and come to meet him again as he passed halfway. It took all of his willpower not to groan.
But then he was past, and set up the ladders alongside the shelves. His back still facing her, he climbed up. The top shelf wasn’t too high, and a couple of steps up would be enough to let him stretch up and place the box up there without getting too precarious. His butt was now at her eye level. But at least it was his butt. If he could reach round for the box, he wouldn’t have to turn.
“It’s too heavy for one hand,” she said. “Turn round and lean back against the ladder, then you can use two hands and lift it up. Don’t worry, I’ll hold the ladders once you’ve got hold of the box.”
With dread he turned but, to his relief, he found that she was holding the box right in front of his waist. There was a hand-hold cut into each side and gratefully he seized it, holding it like a shield in front of his straining cock.
“That’s it,” she said brightly. “Right, hold it there and I’ll steady the ladders.”
She reached past him to grasp the ladder, her forearms pressing against his legs. He froze. How could he move? The box was all that was stopping her from staring straight at his bulging crotch. His crotch that was now bulging more than ever with the feel of her arms tight against his legs.
“What are you waiting for, silly? Is it too heavy?”
“No. Of course not. It’s just...” What was it just? There was no reason he could give for not simply lifting the box onto the shelf. He was doomed. “It’s fine. I’ll, er, I’ll just put it up then.”
“Good idea, you daft boy.” She laughed. “You are funny.”
He closed his eyes. He held his breath. He raised the box, reaching above his head.
There was a sharp intake of breath. “Oh. Oh, my.” She had seen it.
He felt the humiliation drive the heat through his face. He sighed in defeat. He would rather have been embarrassed in front of anyone, anyone, except her.
“You had better be careful.” What was that? Had she not seen it? The wooden stepladders were rather old and maybe her attention had been taken by them shaking. She mustn’t have realised it was actually him who was shaking.
“You had better be very careful. Your zip looks as if it is about to burst.” She had seen it. She had seen it and she was talking about it. Matter-of-factly, as if she were discussing the dangers of standing on a ladder without someone holding it.
He felt her arms move away as she stopped holding it. He was trapped. With the box above his head, his balance was unsteady and there was no way he could twist to put the box on the shelf. He couldn’t even bring the box forward to lower it as he would have to push back against the rungs to do so, and he was wobbly enough as it was. He had no option but to stand there and endure his shame. If he could have willed himself anywhere else at that moment, he would have already been there.
But she was continuing, in the same straightforward manner. “What would your mother say if you went home with a broken zip? In fact, you might not even be allowed on the bus. You could end up spending the night in a police cell.”
He didn’t know what to say.
“We can’t have that.”
He felt a hand fumble slightly at his trousers, and then his zip was pulled down. Oh fuck, his zip was pulled down. His cock pressed forward, restrained only by straining cotton.
“Ooh, black underwear. You’re a dark horse... if you’ll pardon the pun.” Fingers moved at the catch on his trousers and they fell completely open, falling down past his thighs. “Hey, not much fat on you! Just how I like it.”
Her nails trailed across his stomach, before easing his tight underwear down to his knees. His cock sprang out, quivering and twitching, as soon as it was released, and she laughed in delight. “You’re an eager one, aren’t you!” He had no idea if she was talking to it or him. He didn’t care.
Fingertips drifted up the insides of his thighs before one hand cupped his balls. The other slowly wrapped itself around his rigid shaft, causing his stomach to churn so hard that he gasped. “Now that’s what I call hard.” He could agree with that. The same hardness had been a problem for him all afternoon.
She paused. “Silly me! I forgot you still had the box. That’s your fault for distracting me! I’ll hold you tighter and you can reach over to the shelf, you poor thing.” She laughed again, a throaty sound. “But only if you promise to stay there when you’ve done it.”
“Don’t worry,” he croaked. She found this amusing. He wasn’t joking. If the boss came in with a shotgun, he couldn’t have moved him at that moment.
Pressing herself against him, she wrapped one arm around him and held the ladder; the other hand, sandwiched between them, was still around his cock, slightly squeezing and releasing it in a slow rhythm.
He twisted to the side and slid the box onto the shelf, trying to concentrate on the dust motes it disturbed, the sound that it made as it slid into place, the label on an adjacent box, anything to distract his mind in a desperate attempt to stop the orgasm that seemed only a squeeze away. Her tongue, tracing circles on his stomach, was no help at all.
Hesitantly, almost nervously, he looked down. Her cheek was pressed against his stomach and she was staring up at him, playful mischief on her face. “Good boy. Well done. Now, how can I thank you?”
The face turned downwards and drifted towards his waist. For a long second she stared at his cock, her slender fingers wrapped around it, before her tongue flicked out, catching the bead of liquid at the tip before it could start to run down the shaft.
She moaned slightly in pleasure at the taste, and slowly licked her lips. The tongue came out again and slowly, oh so slowly, moved back towards the tip. He willed it on. He realised he wasn’t breathing, and f***ed himself to inhale deeply. The tongue paused a fraction before its target, and he willed it onwards again with every fibre of his being. It moved, touching the tip, flicking across it once, twice, then feeling for the opening where it settled, tasting the clear liquid that was seeping forth to replace the droplet she had licked away.
She paused, her eyes closed as she savoured the sensation. He was also savouring his own very vivid sensation, but his eyes were wide open, watching her every move. Her head moved down once more, her lips closing around the shaft as her hand gripped it firmly, starting to move up and down. Her lips tightened around it, sliding along it in time to her hand, while her tongue swirled around the bulbous end.
It was too much. With an anguished cry, he bucked on the ladders, his hands gripping the rung behind his head as his hips jerked forward, his cock throbbing as it squirted, long and powerful, into her mouth.
Her lips still tight around it, she slid her mouth back off his shaft, keeping in contact all the way until the tip. Looking up with those huge brown eyes, she smiled slightly, swallowed, and wiped delicately at the corners of her mouth with one slim finger.
“I’m so sorry,” he croaked. “I tried everything not to let it happen. I couldn’t help it, I promise.”
She stood and, smiling softly, helped him down the ladders. Her heels raised her almost to his height and she stood slightly up on her toes to kiss him. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” she murmured. “But don’t apologise. And don’t you think you’re escaping just yet. I like my men to come quickly... so they’ll last longer the second time.”
The second time?
The second time!
Still gripping his shaft, she walked backwards to the table, leading him with her. She sat on the edge and, reaching up under her skirt, slid off her knickers. “Come here before you start going soft on me,” she said, her tone amused, but not mocking. “Your turn.” Grabbing a handful of his shirt, she pulled him close, her hand reaching behind his head and drawing him into a long kiss, her tongue reaching far into his mouth.
She slowly, but f***efully, pushed him downwards – not that he was resisting. Down past those firm breasts, still pressing against her blouse. Down past her skirt, pulled up and bundled around her waist. Down between her legs, those soft tanned legs, topped by a perfect dark triangle of neat hair, so different from the baldness of the internet porn stars who had filled his sex life till now, and so arousing for it.
The legs spread wide, exposing the glistening wetness, and he head was pulled towards it. His head thrust forwards of its own volition, his tongue pushing between the lips as his head filled with the heady aroma, making his still hard cock twitch as if to remind him it was still there. He moved his tongue up, between the lips, till he felt the small hardness that his computer screen had, on many a dark night, told him would be there. And there it was, throbbing with its own pulse. He pressed the tip of his tongue against it and she moaned, moving her hips slightly. He started to lick it, up and down, and her hands gripped the back of his head, pressing him in harder, as she pushed back against his mouth. He licked faster, harder, faster, harder, his head nodding to help the movement until, with a short scream, her back arched off the table and she tensed rigid, her hands forcing him so hard and long against her that he couldn’t breathe. If he had suffocated at that moment, he wouldn’t have cared.
She subsided and stared at him. “Fuck me,” she said urgently. “For fuck’s sake, put it in me.”
She reached down and he felt her soft fingers reach for his cock. She smiled. “Still hard. That’s what I like to see.”
He stood and held his pulsing shaft still for a moment, resting it where his tongue had been. “Oh, just get it in,” she growled. “This isn’t the time for farting about.”
He pressed forward and it slid inside her. She had unbuttoned her blouse while he had been licking her and her bra was pushed up, revealing breasts as firm as they had appeared when concealed by clothes, and nipples as erect as his mind had imagined many a night while lying alone in his bed. But he wasn’t alone now. Reaching out, he felt their hardness, rubbing them with his palms as he started to thrust in and out. She lay back, moaning with pleasure. He started slowly, savouring the feeling of withdrawing almost all the way before pushing as deep as he could, but her legs wrapped around him and her hips started moving with desire for more and he began to speed up slightly. She groaned and he could feel himself stirring. His thrusts grew faster and, to his surprise, he sensed the feeling grow again; the feeling of complete loss of control. He grew faster and faster. He was about to come again, he could feel it moving up his cock. She arched her back up to him, only her shoulders still on the table. With a spasm of four vicious thrusts that she matched with four hoarse squeals, he froze with a cry and, for a second time, emptied himself inside her.
She settled back on the table with a long groan of satisfaction. One hand either side of her, he leant forward heavily on the table. Neither spoke, the room only filled with the sound of their heavy breaths as their chests heaved with the aftermath of the passion.
“Fucking hell,” he gasped. She laughed.
A door slammed at the other end of the small building. “Nic, is that you working late again?”
The boss! “Fucking hell!” he gasped. She didn’t laugh.
“Er, yes. I’ll be through in a sec,” she called, trying to sound normal and being anything but.
“No problem. I’ll be in my office.”
She was already pulling her skirt down. “Quick,” she whispered. “I’ll keep him occupied and you slip downstairs and out.” She gave him a quick kiss and smiled. “And, for pity’s sake, don’t let the door bang.”
She turned back at the door. “Here.” She pressed something into his hand. “Something to remember me by on the bus home.” Her knickers, still warm and slightly damp. He felt surreal. Surreal but ecstatic.
She sneaked a look out of the door. “The coast’s clear. On you go.”
He slipped down the stairs, tucking in his shirt and with her whisper following him. “Sweet dreams...”
He softly closed the main door behind him at the same time as she walked into the boss’s room.
He was sitting back, a CCTV monitor on his desk showing the now empty filing room. The soft light from the monitor reflected from the shine on the tip of his cock as he slowly massaged it.
“How did you like it?” he asked.
“It was surprisingly good,” she said. He frowned. “Obviously, not as good as you, my love.” She moved towards him. “How did you like it?”
He grunted. “It was surprisingly not as good as I’d thought. But it has got me warmed up. So you’d better finish what you’ve started.”
She sank her mouth over him, rolling her tongue around the swollen head. “That’s better,” he grunted. “Much better than watching it. So remember where you belong and don’t let me see you with him again.”
She stopped sucking for a moment. “Of course not...”
Her mouth went to work again, but the sentence continued inside her head. “...because you won’t be here the next time.”

* * * * *

There are five books in all in the Office Tales Series. If this story aroused you at least as much as you had hoped, you can find more of the same from Quick Sex Press at – after all, sometimes we do just want a quick bang for our buck.
100% (4/0)
Categories: First Time
Posted by kcdelacey
3 years ago    Views: 560
Reply for:
Reply text
Please login or register to post comments.
No comments