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(A continuation of my experiences with a former boss, as requested by Bill, Jeremy and Jackie).
It was one of those whirlwind days, the kind of day where the phone doesn’t stop ringing, my boss won’t stop nitpicking and my co-workers disappear and leave me to be wonder woman.
Just a normal day.
Jack O’Connor was a barrel-chested Irishman who had a hearty appetite and room-filling laugh. Sometimes he combined the two — a disgusting sight. Still, he was a pretty good boss. He was strict when it came to work hours, answering the telephone by the third ring and taking no more than 60 minutes for lunch.
Still on this day Mr. O’Connor got up on the wrong side of the bed and was nagging more than normal about this or that. I think his boss was ragging him and he merely was passing on some of that dissatisfaction about this or that to lowly me. Oh well, the life of an administrative assistant isn’t supposed to be easy!
In any event, it was a pleasant surprise when the telephone rang and it wasn’t Mr. O’Connor, his boss, or an irate customer on the line. Rather, it was K. Linford Little, my former boss and current lover. As bosses go, these two were complete opposites. Mr. O’Connor was a bit of a nudge, while Mr. Little was laid back, flirtatious and handsome.
I mentioned in prior stories, Mr. Little and I had a hot and heavy affair while I worked for him. I was young and impressionable, he was older, more mature, and handsome. Like many of my previous boyfriends, he had an insatiable appetite for sex, but he just didn’t do it, he savored the act.
At the time I fantasized about him leaving his wife for me, that we’d get married and live happy after. The curse of an office romance with a married guy sunk in after a while, and my eyes were opened. Slowly, but opened. It took a while but I finally realized the man was using me for his personal sex toy and nothing more.
Promises of marriage and suburbia and rug rats and such with him turned out to be feint hope and not reality. After coming to that realization I cried a lot, cursed, thought of wrecking his home with the revelation of our affair to his unsuspecting wife but ultimately thought better of it. Instead, I not only discontinued by relationship with the man but also left my job too.
I went on with my life, I was strong and attempted to put the past in the past. Many of my friends had no idea of what I was going through, because, after all, how do you tell those who would only point fingers and cut me off for my attempt at home-wrecking the truth. I made up some story about this or that, and soon they just figured I needed to get laid. What followed was an endless procession of guys. “You will love him,” “He’s perfect for you,” or “It’s not a date, just dinner with friends.” Right.
Months went by and I did eventually find a nice guy who loved me, adored me actually, and ultimately we moved in together. It was a good coupling, we had many similar interests and loved being with each other.
Still, I realized early on something was missing. Maybe the fire, maybe the excitement, who knows? In any event, maybe it wasn’t the hope of marriage that had sparked my affair with Mr. Little, but maybe just the naughtiness of it all? I really found myself missing the man who had done nothing but take advantage of my love for him.
So I, on my own free will, rekindled the relationship with Mr. Little while having the full understanding of what it was all about — sex. Yes, I admit it, I missed the thunder and lightening and danger. I missed the clandestine meetings, the quick and dirty rendezvous. The dark corners of shopping mall lots, the front seat of a car in a parking garage, the trips to make out lanes where we were probably the oldest couple parking.
I missed being bad.
And although I kept my secure relationship with my nice, normal, Financial Analyst boyfriend, I rekindled my clandestine relationship with Mr. Little. Somehow, I managed to keep the double life away from prying eyes.
“Constance?” came the sound of my former boss as I answered the telephone, snapping me away from my daydream and back to reality.
“Oh hi Mr. Little, how are you today?” After all this time, after all of what we had done together, I still addressed him by his last name just as I had when he was my boss.
“A lot better now! I was hoping to catch you before you slipped out of there to go to lunch.”
“You did, I’m still slaving away,” I said with a laugh. “You were a much nicer boss than Mr. O’Connor! I was able to goof off and take advantage of you! Now, what are you up to today?”
“Not much, but I’m in the area and wondered if you wanted to get together for a little bit, I’ll buy lunch.”
I knew my former boss, and lunch was the least of his desires. He wanted to get together for a little hide the salami and he knew precisely where he wanted to do his magician act…in and out of my hot, willing mouth. Yes, the man was seriously and constantly desirous of my oral talents.
“Lunch, bedava bahis or something else?” I jokingly asked.
“Okay, you caught me, honey,” said my former boss. “I want you.”
It had been a couple weeks since we had managed to get together, so the act of meeting at lunchtime was definitely appealing to me. Smiling, I leaned back in my chair and seductively whispered: “I’m hungry for something, not lunch though.”
At first I thought he was groaning, but think it was merely some sound of excitement sliding out of his vocal chords.
“I’ll met you at the mall at the usual place at 12:15.”
I glanced at my watch. “I can work that out. See you then.”
Taking care of phone coverage and the like, I slipped into the ladies room to make myself pleasingly adorable for Mr. Little. Pantyhose off, black sheer thigh high stockings on, I added some like makeup and brushed my teeth. My knee-length black skirt accentuated my shapely legs, and the plain white blouse gave an almost schoolgirl-like look to my 28-year-old body.
Minutes later I sped over to the mall and drove to the back parking lot, a four level building which had a slot in the back of the lowest floor where hardly no cars went past. It had a wall to the left and Mr. Little would park there, and I would pull in beside him. It wasn’t a hotel room, it wasn’t private, but it did offer some privacy from prying eyes and we could generally hear approaching automobiles.
I slipped my red Civic Coupe into the spot next to my former boss’s vehicle and transferred to his Element, laughing that I was hitchhiking and needed a ride. He was happy to pick me up!
I leaned over and kissed him while his arm draped my shoulder. We locked lips for several minutes before coming up for air. “Now that’s the way I like to be greeted,” laughed Mr. Little. “How have you been honey?”
“Great now,” I said with a smile, admiring his handsome face. “It’s good to see you.”
We made small talk for several minutes, catching up on this and that. All the while he was stroking my stocking encased thigh, spending most of his time at the juncture of lacey top and flesh. His touch felt wonderful, and I was tickled that he’d sneak a glance down when he thought I wasn’t looking. As if I didn’t know what he was doing!
Then it was back to kissing. The man can kiss. It’s a special talent of his. Lots of guys, especially once they get to “know” you, skimp on the kissing and foreplay and muscle right into the “action”. But not Mr. Little. He not only was a good kisser, but he enjoyed kissing me. I loved him for it, and it made me want to satisfy him for being so nice and loving to me.
On this day, though, our lip-lock was quickly ended when Mr. Little broke our embrace and muttered “Oh shit!”
At first I didn’t know what was up — other than the tent in his trousers — but then I heard the words behind me.
“Sir, don’t do that here!” came the forceful deep male voice. I turned, and looked straight into the eyes of a mall rent-a-cop. “How about moving along…now!” The man turned, and spoke something into his walkie-talkie as Mr. Little and I trembled.
Had someone caught our act and complained? Hardly possible, because we hadn’t been there that long. Or maybe we were complained about in a prior visit and made some kind of mall watch list. Three weeks ago there was the middle aged woman, tugging two kids along, who Mr. Little somehow didn’t see approaching her car (he was, you see, supposed to be lookout while I was busy between his legs). She apparently spied what was happening while putting one of the little ones in his car seat, and let out a shriek. Maybe she had tattle-tailed on us? Probably was jealous.
Whatever, Mr. Little started his wagon and we backed out of our “spot” leaving my car behind. “I’ll drop you off later,” said my former boss, glancing at the rent-a-cop who stood 20 yards or so away, watching our progress. “That way he won’t know it was your car parked there.” Sounded like a plan, a lame one, but a plan.
He drove up the ramp and out of the garage, muttering about that being a close call. Close call? Yup, but it would have been worse in a couple minutes when I most likely would have be humming sweet mouth music on my favorite flute. But still a little too close for comfort.
I suspect getting caught in the act is a little bit of what we love about doing it in the car or outdoors. On one hand, we really don’t want to get caught, or peeped on, but by the same token each of us loves the idea that it might happen. It sort of adds fantasy to an already fantasy filled relationship.
We drove around the mall circle and Mr. Little asked if I wanted something to eat. I think he meant at the food court, but I had other ideas. “Honey, I do…I want some of you.”
He smiled, called me a devil, and then set out to find a new playing ground. If our favorite trysting sanctuary wasn’t available, how about another? He drove around the mall to the other side, near one of bedava bonus those massive department stores. This was another four-story garage, and it looked packed and didn’t have a secluded place on the bottom floor like our favorite nesting place.
“Let’s try upstairs,” he said, hopefully, as we entered and researched the bottom floor. The next level wasn’t much better, nor the next, but when we went up the next ramp to open air we both saw the secluded spot we desired.
Apparently a local car dealer used this floor to park excess vehicles, because a dozen or so Chevy’s were lined up along one wall while several others were along the side wall next to it. That is, except for one open spot where the two lines of cars met.
Our place. Our new place!
Mr. Little pulled into the slot and we both looked around. Ahead, over the wall, we could see several trucks parked maybe 50 yards away and three stories down. A hundred yards to the right was an apartment building, but trees gave us some privacy from that view. To our left were the dealer’s cars, and up the ramp no cars were parked. That was a good thing, because from that vantage point they would be offered an excellent view of Mr. Little’s front seat.
“Honey, I love you,” said Mr. Little, once satisfied the coast was clear. “You constantly excite me.”
I nodded my head, knowing full well he lusted for me and that love was merely a word he said to comfort me…or so he thought. Still, it was nice to hear the compliments, they were music to my ears. Smiling at him, I kissed his cheek while reaching down to his trousers. Rubbing his manhood through the wool slacks, I kissed my lover, starting slowly then moving with him to a more passionate mingling. The making out had the desirous effect, as soon Mr. Little was writhing and moaning as we fondled each other’s horny bodies.
“Oh Constance, do me, suck me,” he begged.
“I thought you’d never ask,” I replied.
So, okay, it wasn’t worthy of a Shakespeare, but the words were from the heart.
Glancing around, it seemed as if the coast was clear. I unzipped his pants, slipped his dick out of the opening in his boxers, and marveled of his length and how it was able to become rock hard with just seconds of my touch. Reminding him to keep an eye out for guards, police, and mothers with kids in tow or any passersby, I slowed the stroking of his dick and maneuvered over it.
His, and my, favorite position for a blowjob was me kneeling on the front passenger seat and leaning over so that my head had excellent access to his mid-section. I would use one arm to brace myself, then sort of lean against the steering wheel with my shoulder. That allowed my free hand to stroke his cock or rub his thighs while I mouthed his throbbing manhood. For his part this position offered Mr. Little excellent access to my ass.
He loved playing with my backside while I was paying attention to his front. He’d toy with my panties, dipping his hand inside, playing with the crack. Sometimes he’d reach all the way around to the front and play with my pussy.
I could feel his breathing increase above me as I lowered my head and began licking the tip of his cock. It sort of pulsed as I approached, and I could swear it popped around a bit as I licked it. I held it steady with my hand and I cooed about how I had missed it and how much I wanted to suck it.
“Oh, suck it Constance. Suck my cock!” commanded Mr. Little, his voice shaking but emphatic. “Please suck it.”
So I did. I opened my mouth, not a lot, but enough to kiss the tip. Slowly I lowered my lips around his dick, first one, then two, then three inches or so. Then I tantalizingly pulled my head and lips back to the tip. I repeated the process several times before taking more of the man into my wet mouth, a move that brought a grunt from the man. Was he in pain? No, I don’t think so. I think it was more like, well, ecstasy.
I heard a car drive past as I was sucking, then another. I lifted off his cock. “Are you watching out for us? I asked my former boss.
“Yes, damn it, get it back in your mouth!” grunted my former boss.
Oops, me thinks he didn’t like me leaving my job half done. Taking his cock back into my mouth, I again worked the pulsing tip while gently stroking the base of his hardness with my small but active hand. His shank was at full extension, hard as a rock, and it tasted wonderful. Not manly, like it normally did. But fresh, as I detected the scent of baby powder. He probably came here right from a morning workout at the health club at work. I don’t know which was better, squeaky clean or a slight manly smell, but in any event his dick was enjoying my loving assault.
Mr. Little used one hand to stroke my hair, running his fingers through the long mane while bucking his midsection in a steady rhythm. His other arm was draped over my back, with his hand somehow stroking my ass. How he got my skirt up and hand into my blue satin panties I’ll never know…I hadn’t felt deneme bonusu a thing. But now the duel stroking was comforting and exciting. It was a magic moment, we were moving together and satisfying a primal urge.
I was just getting deeply into the blowjob when once again I was startled back to reality, again by Mr. Little nervous voice.
“Shit, get up Constance,” said the man, almost lifting me away from his cock. He actually pushed me away, because his right hand was buried under my skirt and panties and playing with my butt.
“What is it?”
“Up there,” he said, nodding his head toward the department store. I looked and where once was no car was now a BMW, and there was a man in the front seat with a bird’s eye view of our sleazy action. I couldn’t get a good look at him, but there clearly was a man in the front seat, and while it appeared he wasn’t looking at us I did notice that from time to time he glanced down, saw my look, and quickly turned his head away. Yes, we were again caught in the act.
“How long has he been there?” I asked, my voice shaking.
“No idea. He must have driven past and thought he saw something. I just happened to look that way at catch sight of his car. I didn’t even see him at first, but shit, he’s been watching for a while. I don’t think he’s a cop, but I don’t know. It’s weird.”
Both of our minds ran through the people we knew with Beemers, but none looked like that one. And he wasn’t snapping photos or anything, a subject Mr. Little constantly worried about. While we were extra careful and he didn’t think his wife was the least bit suspicious, he didn’t want to get caught.
Safety first, we once again we backed out and drove out of the lot.
“Honey, I have to get back to work,” I apologetically said. “Mr. O’Connor will shoot me if I am late again.”
“Okay…but we still have a few minutes, don’t we.”
“Of course, but…where?” Mr. Little was desperate, and I truly wanted to finish my job. It could wait, of course, but…
I don’t think he knew where to go. There were no more garages, and the lots around the major stores were like thoroughfares. We drove along the outskirts of the mall and back toward my car when he spied a near empty lot near the far end of the mall. A truck and a couple cars were parked, but nobody was in the back three rows. We saw a large fence to the rear, bordering the interstate, and to the right was a bridge that went over the busy route. Blocking the view from the mall’s other lots were several evergreen trees, so, while it was an open area it was not exactly in the middle of things.
“Honey, let’s get comfortable in the back,” said my boss. “Nobody will see us below the windows.”
“Okay, but only a couple minutes.”
“It’s only going to take me a minute, honey, so if it’s okay…”
Normally the request to get in the back meant he wanted to go down on me, something I loved, but given the time problem wasn’t at the top of my list. We slipped into the back of his Element, me laying back on the fully reclined back seat. Instead of hunkering down with each leg astride my face (he loved face-fucking when he wanted to get off fast), instead he scooted down and mounted my head from behind. He then lowered his head into my crotch, lifting my skirt and slipped down my panties while gently maneuvering us into a haphazard sixty-nine action.
I savored his tongue on my slit but forced myself to concentrate on his needy cock. I urgently jerked it into my mouth, stroking it as I licked the tip and then slowly sucked it. We may have been interrupted a couple times but he didn’t miss a beat, moving his hips in tune to the movement of my sucking mouth.
Reaching around, I planted my left hand on his bucking ass, guiding his stroke. After a bit I merely kept my head still as he fucked my face, but by slopping my work I could enjoy the licking of his tongue on my pussy. Damn, if we only had more time. I knew I had to speed things up, so I slipped my finger up and down his ass crack before slipping it against his anus.
Like lightning, his body began firing into my mouth. He shook, and his dick pulsed. I heard him grunt and moan and opened my eyes to watch his cock fuck my mouth. He was pounding me, and I heard him mutter he was going to cum.
That’s when I heard the girlish laugh and shriek-like “Oh my god, look at them.”
I looked up, out of the window, and right above me were three girls, most likely 18 or 19, staring down in disbelief. Mr. Little was beyond hope, however, and although I tried to push him away he only took it as desire, and he pushed right back, his cock impaled in my mouth. I couldn’t say anything if I wanted to, and I suspect my grunts of warning was thought of as moans. His pulsing cock slowed for a stroke or two then blasted forth its sticky seed. It shot several spurts into my mouth before slipping out of my hungry mouth. I swallowed as much as I could and took the rest of his eruption onto my face while my eyes bugged out at the staring eyes of disbelief from the voyeurs above.
It might not have been the best vantage point, but they clearly could see everything that was going on in the vehicle. I was embarrassed to no end, and finally swatted Mr. Little’s ass a couple times to get his attention.
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