Brad Harris: Turned on secretary

"Please!" Sheila whispered, pulling free of his embrace. She turned her face to the side as he tried to kiss her again. Her body still tingled with the excitement of his lips. Her breasts still throbbed from the feel of his chest against them.

"Why?" Walter asked her in a voice hoarse with desire. "Why not?"

He looked dawn and saw her tits heave beneath the soft nylon blouse. The sight of them made his cock stiffen. Damn, they had felt good against him. He clenched his hand, itching to cover one of her luscious globes in his palm. Her eyes were wide as she turned back to him. He saw the pleading expression and smiled warmly, hoping to reassure her.

"Look, Sheila," he told her. "You feel it. I feel it. What's wrong? After all, we aren't children any longer. You want to as much as I do."

"That's what's wrong," the redhead answered. "I do want to. Ohhh, Walt, you don't know how badly I want to."

She meant it. She did want to. She ached to have him caress and fondle her. She trembled at the thought of Walt slipping his big, warm cock between her legs. Her pussy quivered in anticipation of hard meat driving her to ecstasy. She wanted to fuck him. She had wanted him since the first time he caught her like this, in the small storage room, and kissed her.

"Then there's no problem at all. I'll meet you after work and we'll go to my place."

"No!" Sheila gasped. "Oh, no! I can't! Please, Walt, don't torment me like this. I'm married. I can't do it."

He pulled one of her hands into his groin. The girl could feel his hard cock trembling in excitement. She wanted to circle her fingers around it. She wanted to pull it from his pants and kiss it. She wanted to screw with him. She wanted that too much, far too much.

"I don't know why that makes such a difference," Walter Morrow told her. "Feel that cock? What difference does a wedding ring make to a stiff prick? I'm not asking you to leave your husband. I just think we ought to enjoy each other this evening. Then you can go back home, happy and content."

Next he would tell her that other married girls in the office were screwing around. Sheila knew that. She knew that Mrs. Farrow in the accounting department was putting out for Mr. Higgs, the comptroller of the corporation. She knew that most of the girls in the office, married or not, were available to the more handsome young executives and salesmen. She knew all of that. Then, he could tell her that Tom, her husband, was fucking anything he could get his hands on. She had heard that before. Just because Tom went don to the tavern every night, some of the girls tried to convince her that he was playing around on her. She didn't buy it.

She forced herself to struggle free of Walt's arms. She stepped back from him, making herself appear angry. She glared at him, fighting the temptation to smile as warmly as he. She shook her head.

"No!" she repeated. "And I don't care if every married woman in town is sleeping around. I don't care if my Tom is balling anything with a hole between its legs. I'm married. I… I… oh, please, wait! Don't make it harder on me."

She spun around as her anger dissolved. Tern of frustration tilled her eye. The redhead fought against her tears and ran out of the room. Walt Morrow watched her, eyeing the luscious way her tiny waist spread out into such enticing hips and ass, eyeing her lovely legs that swung through the door. He smiled. She'd come around. Yes, it was only a matter of time before that exquisite piece ended up in his bed. He took a deep breath and waited for his erect pecker to shrivel. The tall, lean, young man closed his eyes as a smile played at the corner of his mouth. He pictured the girl with her husband. Walt had met Tom Linn six months earlier, at the office picnic back in the summer. It had only taken one glance to determine that the luscious Sheila was far too much woman for that dull oaf. He had gone out of his way to try and have a conversation with Tom, a hopeless waste of time. The burly husband was practically inarticulate. He stood there and grinned stupidly, grunting answers in single syllables, while leering at any of tile broads that happened along.

Walt shuddered as he left the room, imagining the fumbling Tom attempting to screw his luscious wife. It would never be good fucking, Walt assumed. Tom Linn had nothing to offer except brute strength. Any screw would be only a legally permitted rape. Hell! Pussy like Sheila deserved better. Sheila should be fucked by an expert, by a man who could appreciate such a woman. Walt was certain that he could meet those requirements. He'd never had a complaint from any girl yet. He smiled in anticipation of taking the beautiful redhead to bed. Yes, it was only a matter of time, a very short time.

Sheila was still breathing unevenly as she went back to her desk. She was afraid that she was still blushing from the excitement. She had to stop this. Somehow she had to stop wondering how it would be with Walt. She was being unfaithful to Tom, the way she kept daydreaming of slipping into bed beside the young executive. She was being even more unfair to herself. She was causing herself all kinds of frustration.

"Hey! Have a good time in the storeroom?" a bright voice laughed from the next desk. "Steal a little nooky on company time?"

Sheila turned to face the woman, bristling at the accusation. Ruby was smiling at her, her blue eyes glowing with a secretive understanding. The brunette winked suggestively at Sheila and pretended to turn back to her work. Ruby had been trying for months to convince the red-haired girl that she would enjoy a good screw with one of the men in the office. Ruby Thompson should know. She'd fucked with just about all of them. Yes, she'd given her pussy to all of them, from Mr. Forrest to Alby, the office boy.

Ruby was always available when Mr. Forrest had special clients or any of the men from the New York office in town for a week. The brunette was older than Sheila by a good ten years. She had kept her figure, however. She was as slender as a model even though her tits were quite a bit larger than anything Sheila had ever seen on a model. Ruby was sexy. Ruby knew she was sexy. Ruby enjoyed being sexy. She also was frustrated because her younger friend wouldn't take part in her games.

"You told him where I was!" the redhead accused. "You wanted him to catch me alone!"

"I didn't have to tell him," Ruby laughed. "He'd been waiting for a chance all morning. I hope he showed you what you've been missing. Hell, girl, you've got too much class for that ape you married. A body like yours is worth a million dollars if you'll just get smart."

Sheila had heard that before. Ever since she first started developing her breasts, people had talked about what all she might have before her. Men, especially, had made their suggestions with an offer to assist her. The young woman glared across at Ruby, then sighed disgustedly.

"Why can't you leave me alone!" she snapped. "Why can't all of you just leave me alone!"

She didn't ask it as a question. She knew why the men would never leave her content. She knew that every morning when she stepped from the shower and looked at her body in the minor. Part of her problem, also, was that she didn't want to be left alone. She enjoyed the attention. God knows, Tom gave her little enough.

The lovely redhead shuddered as she recalled what passed for sex between her and Tom. If Tom took more than three or four minutes to fuck her, she feared that he was sick. Walt had touched on a sore spot. She would admit that what was worse was her growing contempt for the dumb bastard she had married. She ached for decent conversation, the kind that went on around the tables at lunch here at the office. She'd like to go out at night. She'd like to go dancing. She'd like to go to a play or a concert, even just a movie. She never did. Tom would eat dinner with her in silence, then leave the house to go to his favorite tavern. He would return about midnight to fuck her before falling asleep, the smell of beer so heavy about him that it almost sickened her.