The Stationary Person

At a place I worked about 25 years ago (time flies when you’re having fun…..and even when you’re not) there was a woman who I seem to remember was classed as the “office manager”. She organized the flights, travel arrangements and accommodation for various people who didn’t have the time and she also ordered the stationary etc for the office. I seldom travelled for work so I didn’t have many dealings with her as far as that went but I did on occasion need stationary. To be fair I suppose she was under pressure from the management to reign in the workers from going nuts with the stationary (as the workers sometimes do) but as I needed the occasional pen, I, on more than one occasion, went to see her at her desk. She almost invariably seemed to be on the phone, gabbing to her friends I think as she couldn’t have been ordering that much stationary or plane flights or accommodation. I would try to catch her between phone calls but as my desk was way on the other side of a big open plan office I seldom made it to her desk before she would start up yet another phone call. I took to standing in front of her desk and looking at her as she talked, waiting patiently for what seemed like an eternity. This only resulted in her lounging back in her chair and swiveling around so that she didn’t have to look at me as she continued her gabbing. In short a very officious, annoying person or am I being unfair? I solved the problem by leaving a note on her desk requesting what I wanted and with luck it arrived only a few days later.

I suppose when it all got down to it she just annoyed me, with her arrogant office manager attitude. Whatever happened to a bit of cooperation for efficiency sake?

Anyway, time passed and on occasion she was actually nice to me and other people (she did have a bit of a reputation for being uncooperative and downright ornery sometimes, so it wasn’t just me) and I somewhat sexist wise assumed she was getting herself laid and so life was a bit nicer for her and good luck to her by the way.

So, as I said time passed and apparently there was a set of shelves that were being discarded in the office and she had decided that she wanted them for her unit which was in the next suburb. There’s nothing like working locally. I had to travel for forty minutes to get to that job I seem to remember. Anyway, there I was working away one day and this shape appeared in front of my desk blocking out the light to a certain extent. Did I mention that she was a big girl? Yes I did. I looked up from my work to see what was blocking the daylight and she peered down at me with a big smile (a somewhat unnerving smile that one might see on a shark or tiger that immediately put me on guard) and started a conversation. I can’t remember what it was about but my astonishment aside, I couldn’t quite believe that she was being so pleasant until she finally got to the point of her visit. She told me about the shelves and how she didn’t have any way of moving them to her home but that she had noticed that I had roof racks on my car and did I think I could help her out? As fast as my mind was working trying to figure out ways out of this jam, it wasn’t fast enough and I found myself agreeing to the task. I must have changed as I am pretty sure these days I would have just told her no that I wasn’t available. Basically I would help out anyone who needed it but considering her obnoxious past, she was the last person I would have assisted.

A couple of days went by and there we were at lunch time lifting these shelves onto my car’s roof racks in the dark confines of the company’s underground car park. The shelves weren’t that big and I probably could have lifted them myself but what the heck, they were her shelves and she was big enough to help lift them anyway. I lashed the shelves down and followed her to her unit block in the next suburb. We maneuvered the shelves into the front door of the unit block and struggled with them up the stairs and finally into her front door and into position in her lounge room.

With all of the struggling with the bookshelves, her top had been partially pushed aside to reveal her magnificently meaty cleavage and the frilly top of her hard working bra that I couldn’t help but look at (I am a guy after all). She saw me looking and with an uncertain look on her face she pulled her top over to cover her breasts and then casually picked up something to test how it looked on the bookshelves. She stood back and admired it, asking me what I thought. I didn’t really care but I nodded acknowledgment and took advantage of her still admiring the bookshelves to get one last glimpse out the corner of my eye of her cleavage again. She must have seen me as her gaze shifted from the bookshelves and she looked to me and asked if I wanted a coffee. I shook my head and said that I would be going. She insisted since I had helped her and disappeared into the small kitchen. I heard the kettle being filled and she reappeared without looking at me and disappeared down the hallway and out of sight. I looked around and thought of shouting that I would be off but I am not really a rude person (although she is and would have deserved it) and so, somewhat disgruntled, I settled down in one of the lounge chairs to wait for my coffee. She returned from wherever a short time later and went back into the kitchen. There was a clinking of cups and a few minutes later she reappeared with coffees and biscuits on a tray placing it down in front of me on the low coffee table in the centre of the room. Her blouse had magically opened up again and the frilly bra top (and the bra for that matter) was gone, her breasts forming an excellent boner creating cleavage, as they dangled down filling up the blouse front as deliciously rounded mounds clearly on display and pressing into the front of the blouse, the nipples just visible in the satiny material.

Yes, I clearly ogled her tits. I couldn’t help it. It’s a reflex action with guys! We poor sods are doomed as soon as tits are put on show. As I said the boner was forming fast and must have been obvious in the front of my pants.

Looking down at the coffees affording me a glorious opportunity to continue to perve at her chest as her melons wobbled about tantalisingly, she busied herself placing my coffee at my side of the coffee table before looking up for approval of the coffee (and her breasts) and probably to observe the mesmerised look on my face. She looked back down at the coffees and without looking back up she enquired “Do you like them?” “Them?” I replied initially, trying for that puzzled sounding tone, but as it was obvious what she was referring to so I followed up quickly with “err, yes I do”. “We have about 30 minutes until we need to be back”. That was a clear enough signal for me and leaping to my feet, I unbuttoned her blouse as she thrust her chest out and she loosened my belt. There followed some frantic pulling and shoving of clothing until the final pieces of clobber, our undies, came off simultaneously revealing my cock standing up and her lightly haired snatch framed by her meaty thighs forming that tantalizing vee between her legs, as we both stood there naked. As I have said she was a large girl. Her thighs were about fifty percent bigger than mine and so magnificently soft and horny as I felt them up and slipped a finger between her pussy lips. Her arse was large and quivered as I ran my hand over both buns having a brief explore of her body and leaving my other hand to continue fingering her slippery snatch.

We looked into each other’s eyes as I fingered her. My tool was standing out rigid and it felt like it was going to explode with exquisitely painful hardness as I clenched my groin muscles in a perverted masochistic way to increase the hardness and the pain. Her eyes shifted from my eyes to gaze down at it as it throbbed up and down slightly to my heart beat. She took a grip on the shaft and squeezed it inflicting even more sensual pain on my already stressed member, the skin of the knob was a deep purple colour, the meatus slightly red and ready to squirt its load. She pulled it slowly with the one hand and ran the other over my slightly hairy chest while I felt the weight of her tits in turn as they drooped down showing slight stretch marks at the sides due to their magnificent weight. One filled my hand as I squelched and played with its delightful roundness, before she lifted that breast and lowered the other into my hand for my attention.

As fascinating as that was, it was about then that I proclaimed that I didn’t have a condom, to which she replied that we didn’t need one and that I should just fuck her. I assumed that she had the pregnancy part under control from her comment but on the other hand I also didn’t know whose cock she had had her vagina wrapped around. Sadly however, lust over took my wisdom and I pressed on. She had a bit of a stomach (but so did I) and while her tits weren’t enormous each one more than filled my hands as I squeezed and kneaded them. I squelched each in turn, the excess of them flowing out of my hands only to be regrasped each time, as I tried in vain to encompass their entirety. I tilted one up and sucked down on the nipple and areola, slurping and sucking before turning to the other and then back again. Two tits and only one mouth! Time was getting on. I gesture to the lounge and she turned her back to me tossing off a cushion or two readying the lounge for our fuck. As I stood there behind her waiting, I wanked my tool getting even more excited. Pre-cum flew off in all directions, some landed on her back and legs as she fiddled with the lounge and some splashed on the floor and my thighs. I was getting impatient and rubbed my tool on her arse and received a reprimand for doing so and was told to behave myself with a chuckle. It didn’t stop me and I continued to adorn her buns with my glistening strands of goo.

What seemed like an eternity to my dick and me finally ended and she bent over and grabbed the lounge, presenting her arse to me. Her tits dangled down and swung from side to side as she braced herself. I spread her legs slightly and they quivered as I peered in under at her pussy framed by the backs of her meaty upper thighs and her plump buns. I bent my knees and taking my tool in hand presented the knob to her vulva lips, wiping it back and forth between them, reveling in the lips rubbing against and tickling my knob. I felt her hand take hold of my balls, left her to handle my gear and planted my hands sticky with pre-cum, on her hips. I stood there with a sort of helpless feeling that a stud stallion must fell as it is being prepared to service a mare. I could feel her as she rolled my balls around in their sac briefly before grabbing the shaft of my phallus (somewhat roughly) and rubbing the knob back and forth in her crack (as I had been doing). She positioned it at her opening, pressed the knob in and then took hold of my balls. I pushed forward and felt her warm slippery vagina close around my shaft in such a sensually satisfying way that it made me weak at the knees. Those male hormones reducing a normal bloke, in charge of his life, to a weak quivering sexually crazed dumb animal. I could feel her take a good grip on my balls, using them as a handle and pulled me in and out of her twat until my pace was to her satisfaction I suppose and then (gratefully) she released my scrotum and the boys to flap back and forth as I went into frenzy mode. With all of my grunting, I realised why they call it “humping”.

She steadied herself under the assault, taking a better grip on the top of the lounge as I drove harder into her, my groin and her buns slapping into each other. Except for the top of the back of the lounge banging into the wall, there was no other noise in the quiet garden and bush fringed unit block. Everyone else must have been at work or out somewhere. I held her hips and pulled her to me, that lovely feeling of her buns against my groin area was exquisite. I’d like to say all you could hear was the slap, slap, slap as we slammed together and it echoed off the walls of the room as our bodies wallowed in our rooting but this woman was not exactly a quiet rooter. She turned her head and looked at my face as I laboured over her. You could see the wincing as she endured all for sexual gratification and her orgasm (she had three she told me later – bloody women!) There were lots of grunts and groans and that was just from me. Having said that, her ooohs and aaaaghs coupled with her swearing at me were drowning me out. I couldn’t tell whether her cursing me was because I was being too rough or not rough enough or maybe she was just enjoying her sex and anyway, I’ll be damned if her utterances weren’t turning me on. Such amazing language was coming out of this woman’s mouth which only made me drive into her harder. One time my tool fell out of her. Before I could try to poke it back in (without assistance from my hand) her hand almost frantically flashed from supporting herself on the lounge, grabbed my errant tool and pushed it back in with a groan of something like “keep going, don’t stop, (expletive)!”

Despite her demands, I eventually had to slow and pace myself as I was tiring. I gazed down fascinated by the sight of my groin slamming into her buns and them rippling up and back as I did so. I reached forward and groped her tit, all the time still thrusting slowly into her, listening to the slopping sound of our juices as my shaft drove in and out of her warm slippery hole. She must have been tiring as well as she had gone quiet and looked around at me still rocking back and forth as I held her hips and rooted her slowly. She somewhat coldly urged me to put my back into it and root her harder and to add to the stress of the situation mentioned that we should get back.

She was still ornery even when rooting some poor weak minded male (due to the blood being commandeered from his brain to engorge his penis) from the office who had just helped her move her bloody shelves, thank you very much! What a bitch!

I was lost in the lust of the moment and I suppose it was just as well that she was keeping an eye on the clock. I didn’t know at that stage that she had orgasmed already. Anyway, I summoned up reserves of energy and went into frenzy mode driving my hips into her, rocking my whole body, sweat dripping off my forehead onto her back and buns, desperate for my orgasm until I finally strained, held my breath and unloaded with great relief, drilling my hot jism deep inside her with a deep draining grunt that turned into an “aaaagh!” from me that seemed to go on forever, my blood pressure rising to scary heights. She told me later that my face was a bright red colour at the time and the veins were standing out on my neck. I had filled her pussy with my jism until our juices squished back out of her along the side of my tool as it squashed in and out, in little farting noises as I was reduced eventually to sporadic, sharp jabbing thrusts, as I tried to give her every last drop.

My spent tool dropped out of her and flopped down. I gave it a quick wipe as well as my ball sac and the inside of my legs as our juices had run down almost to my knees. I dragged my clothes on, stuffed my gear into my pants and hurriedly headed back, leaving her to clean herself up.

Back at work I stopped off first at the gent’s loo and washed my face, did my hair and retired to a cubical and ran my finger along under my tool to give it a final expulsion of any residual pre-cum or jism and to check for wet spots in the front of my pants. My undies were saturated and I dried them with toilet paper as best I could. Luckily they had contained the goo from forming wet spots in the front of my pants. I was still turned on and had recovered in the brief drive back to the office enough that I could have easily rooted her again, had the time and place been available. I had to store my by now semi erection sideway in my still wet undies and hope for the best. I even had wild thoughts of propositioning her to meet me down in an old seldom used storeroom at the back of the office complex for a quickie but I calmed myself down and retired to my desk to try to get some work done. I spied her returning to her desk way over on the other side of the office a short time after without recognition to or from either of us to the other for the rest of the day.

During the next few weeks in the office, it was as if nothing had happened between us. She was still the mean bitch she had always been, completely and coldly ignoring me most of the time, which was probably just as well. I heard her having terse, arrogant run-ins with a few different people over that time which merely confirmed that she hadn’t mellowed and why should she I suppose. That’s just the way she was.

The work and my contract ended up pretty much simultaneously about a month or so later and I left, never to see her again. This was just lust driven opportunistic sex pure and simple. I don’t know whether it was that she was a real bitch or not, but the whole situation of a root at lunchtime and no one in the office knowing about it (well, they didn’t find out from me anyway) made it a memorable root for me. I don’t know whether it was the slapping noise as I slammed my groin into her wobbling buns or the home unit setting (that I have always found horny for some reason) or perhaps it was being able to drive my tool into her to pay her back for all of those times she ignored me and my fellow workers and their need of simple pens, post-it notes or paper clips from the over inflated ego of the “evil stationary Goddess”- THE BITCH! Perhaps it was just that she was a mean bitch and I like fucking mean bitches as it’s so animalistic and there are no strings attached. Or maybe it was just that she had used me to get her end on yet another cock.

Some years later I met up with a fellow for coffee who worked at the office at the same time and amongst the reminiscing and gossip, I brought up the office manager and her stationery empire. After we vented to each other, I told him the whole story. He didn’t seem surprised and told me that she had bonked at least two other guys there. At least it was nice to know that there were other guys who couldn’t control the desires of their penis no matter whom it was they were rooting.