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You Like It Like That, Don't You?
by G.Russell © 2008


You Like It Like ThatDennis replaced the telephone receiver. "The boss wants to see me right away. Why is the boss after me?" He asked, turning for answers from Lee and Dean, whose desks were nearest his. "I haven't done anything wrong."

"You'd best go smart-like and find out. It's probably nothing to worry about," replied Lee, looking up from his spreadsheets.

Nothing to worry about! Worried, Dennis walked quickly to the MD's at the end of the office. He knocked on the door and waited for the MD to reply before summoning his courage and entering. Diane Wilde, the MD, looked up from her reports and said, "Pull up a pew, love."

Smiling warily, Dennis took a seat on the other side of her desk. Diane Wilde was even more attractive than his work colleagues had said, he realised, seeing her up close for the first time. She was young for the position of Managing Director, in her mid-thirties; slim, prim looking. But she was no pushover. A shrewd leader with a temper as fiery as her red hair, her reputation as a hardnosed business woman was well established. She didn't tolerate mistakes Dennis recalled, bracing himself for the worse.

"You've been with the company long enough to know the ropes, Dennis," she began ominously, putting her reports aside.

He nodded, nervously in agreement.

"There's no reason to look so worried, I'm not going to eat you," she said, smiling. "I've called you in to tell you personally that you've passed the three month probationary period. I'm offering you the post on a full-time basis."

Her green eyes sparkled with good humour. "Welcome on board, love."

"Thank you—thank you very much, Ms Wilde."

"I've been impressed by you. Your line manager, Mike Hargreaves also wrote you a glowing appraisal." Ms Wilde smiled with her eyes as she spoke and Dennis thought she really was beautiful, in a stern sort of way.

"And if you don't mind me saying so, you're always so well groomed. I like that in a man." Her gaze travelled up his pressed trousers and ironed shirt, and shone into his face. "I like what you've done with your hair. Is that natural blonde or do you use colouring?"

"Why yes, it's my own colour," he said, surprised by the sudden compliment and also vindicated that he took that extra quality time with his hair. He liked his wavy flaxen mane to look lovely, to attract attention. Despite his wife Wendy's objections he secretly appreciated it when women wolf whistled him on the street. He didn't think it was demeaning and sexual harassment like the masculinist's propaganda said. It was harmless fun; girls will be girls, after all.

"You're married, aren't you? I respect that," Diane went on. "It shows you're not afraid of commitment, you're reliable. Sometimes I wish I had the solidity of a family behind me."

She stood up and walked to the window, her back to him as she gazed across the car park. He took the opportunity to appraise her figure subjectively without fear of being discovered. In her tailored suit she looked very slim, sexy. The flattering skirt showed off her pert derriere, her legs were long and shapely, the stiletto heels she wore elongated and enhanced the soft swell of her calves. He found it difficult to comprehend that such a sensual looking woman was having trouble snapping up the right man.

Diane came and sat close to him on the edge of her desk. Her knees brushed against his arm. "Dennis, I have a favour I need to ask," she said in a seductive voice. "Can you do overtime tonight? I need to detail a report for tomorrow's sales strategy forecast."

Of course, no problem, he volunteered, dismayed. Tonight Wendy was going to the football with her mates, so he'd planned a night in with his college friend Edward, opening a bottle of Campari, and watching the Burt Reynolds movie on the telly.

"Super," she said, delivering another of her smiles. "See you at six."

When he got back to his work station, the other secretaries, Dean, Lee and Tom were grinning. They'd known all along. Dennis grinned back, made sheepish by his earlier display of needless anxiety. Even Mike Hargreaves the office supervisor joined in with a rare show of camaraderie and shook Dennis's hand.

Precisely at six Dennis tided his desk and covered his typewriter. In the men's he splashed water on his face, combed his hair, and flossed his teeth. He hoped Diane wouldn't work him too long. He might still be able to view the Burt Reynolds film if he could get done within the hour.

He walked to Diane's office, passing Dean and Lee, who were the last to leave. She was on the phone when he entered, talking with Mrs Grey from human resources. She smiled, gestured to Dennis to sit and finished her phone call with, "See you later, Edwina. I'll get everything ready for you."

"We might as well have a drink while we work, doesn't hurt," Diane said, retrieving an opened bottle of Liebfraumilch from her fridge. "We'll celebrate your promotion. A handsome stud like you can manage one drink without falling over," she decided, topping up his glass.

Dennis nodded a thank you and dutifully drank. One glass wouldn't hurt.

"If you don't mind, I'll lower the lights while I dictate. I have a slight headache. You can do shorthand in this light, not too dark?"

No, it wasn't too dark, he agreed. Despite it being a miserable March evening it was still light outside. Besides, he could practically shorthand blindfolded. He was more concerned about her headache and said so. Diane laughed and replied, "Maybe you can give me a shoulder rub after we've finished," which made Dennis blush. He chided her softly with his eyes for being a flirt.

For a while Diane dictated. Dennis focused on his shorthand because the low lighting and the wine had lulled his senses. While she talked, Diane sat on the edge of the desk with the top two buttons of her blouse undone. He looked discreetly away. Through the window he saw the car park was deserted except for her Mercedes and the Porsche Mrs Grey drove. Night had arrived and everybody had left, he realised, envious.

"It's warm in here, stuffy," Diane said, pouring more wine into his glass. "You can loosen your tie, undo that top button."

"Have we finished, Ms Wilde?"  He asked, shifting in his seat.

Diane gave a fruity laugh. "I don't think we've finished, handsome. We've hardly begun."

Alarm bells sounded in Dennis's mind. Was she flirting or was it the wine playing tricks with his imagination?

"It's getting late, Ms Wilde; the cleaners will be here soon."

She dismissed his concern with another chuckle of laughter. "Nobody's going to disturb us while we continue our business, don't worry your handsome head about that."

"Ms Wilde..."

"Call me Diane," she said, fingering his tie. "Say it," she ordered.

"Diane..."

"Better."

Her green-eyed gaze intensified, boring into his. Deliberately she slipped from the desk into his lap and entwined her arms around his neck. Their eyes met, and her hot breath touched his skin before her lips pressed against his in an open-mouthed kiss. Dennis resisted. Diane pressed her body harder against him, forcing her mouth over his. Annoyed, she broke away. "We both know why you're here. You don't have to act so innocent and coy. We're consenting adults, after all."

Insisting, she kissed him again, violently. Dennis tried to say 'no he wasn't consenting to this' but she was determined, a huntress with her prey.

"Don't fight it. I can tell you want it, isn't that wife of yours servicing you enough?"

Diane caught his hand and pushed it inside her blouse, into her black lacy bra. A rubbery nipple found his fingers. It crinkled and hardened. She unbuttoned her blouse and unfastened her bra. Her bare breasts tumbled into his startled hands.

"Has that wife of yours got a pair of tits better than these?" She said, pulling his head off her glistening nipple. "Are your wife's tits as good as mine?"

"No," he answered truthfully; Diane Wilde had the perkiest breasts he'd ever seen.

"Then enjoy them," she ordered, rubbing the other nipple over his lips. He latched onto it and sucked, praying his embarrassing ordeal would be soon over. He was aware of her rapid breathing, her fingers squeezing the nape of his neck, the grind of her bottom as it found and described the bulge it sat on. He tried not to think about Wendy.

"Wait, let me," Diane said, easing off his lap. Smiling, she pinched the bulge in his trousers, undid his fly and pulled his penis out from its hiding place.

"What a cock, I knew it'd be a monster. I love a big stiff cock; the bigger the better. "

Laughing, Diane pushed up her skirt and thrust his hand into her lacy knickers. Dennis made one last attempt to extricate himself, but found it impossible. The swivel chair gave a complaining creak as she straddled him more firmly, her thighs wide apart on either side of his.

"I knew you'd be game for it." She pushed the gusset of her knickers aside to let his fingers start typing unimpeded. "I can always tell when a man's up for a shag."

"Diane, I'm not that kind of man," he said, sounding lame and pathetic.

"You're my kind of man. Been thinking about you all day; that nice thick cock of yours. I'm going to screw you ragged, you horny stud. Fuck! What is wrong with this fucking chair?"

The chair's headrest tilted dangerously as she leant forward, pressing her bosom back into Dennis's face. "Get across my desk," She ordered, yanking down his boxer shorts. "It's easier there."

Dennis felt a stab of fear coarse through him. Easier? What did she mean—this was getting rapidly out of control—she daren't! Not here, not with him. This was her office. He was married!

"You men are all alike, lead us on and then act all coy. It's not my fault you got me all steamed up. You shouldn't make yourself so available."

With haste Diane Wilde undid her garter belt. Her skirt, panties and blouse quickly followed her stockings in a heap on the floor. Naked, she approached him, hips swaying, a tigerish look blazing from her green eyes. Dennis stared at her attractive thighs. He had never seen such defined thighs. They looked capable of anything. While he watched, captivated, she spread her pussy lips and dipped a knowing finger into herself. It withdrew, glistening with her juices and she licked it suggestively. Then she knelt before him and pushed his knees wide apart. For a moment she contemplated his cock with admiring eyes. Then she kissed it, despite his muted protests.

"If you cum in my mouth, you're fired," she warned, dipping her head. A part of him still refused to believe that his boss was actually on her knees sucking his cock. He wanted to be outraged and upset- for Wendy's sake if not his own, as none of this was his fault. But all he could manage was a feeble groan of appreciation for the warm, wet motion of a tight mouth and a lively, coaxing tongue. She sucked him expertly. Dennis groaned. He knew he'd not last long in her mouth, despite her warning. She must have realised it too, because abruptly she straddled him, angling his prick between her thighs.

"This is what I want; a long hard fuck after a long hard day. You have no idea what it's like managing this place."

His hard-on slipped in easily because she was so wet. She groaned in ecstasy and ground down with her hips, taking him up to the hilt inside. Dennis gave an answering groan of pleasure. She was tight and hot, a silken sheath stretching around his member. He knew he wouldn't last long in that vicelike grip and covered his eyes with his arm, surrendering to the inevitable.

"Oh you sexy bastard, you like it like that, don't you?" Diane moved her waist in a faster rhythm, her arse riding him hard. She hissed obscenities and encouraged him to penetrate even deeper as she fucked him relentlessly. Her cries filled the office as her orgasm announced itself. He felt her inner muscles contract around his knob, milking his own orgasm in a gush that inundated her womb with fluid.

"Stud." Red-faced from her exertions, Diane disengaged, swinging her legs over and stepping down from the desk. "I've got your spunk in my twat," she muttered with a triumphant grin. "You're mine now. You belong to me, boy."

At last... it was over. Dennis breathed out. I've been violated, he thought, and experienced a wave of self loathing for having actually enjoyed the experience. Wendy would never forgive him. If she ever found out she'd kill him.

But it was not over. He felt cool hands on his face, soft lips kissing his. He opened his eyes and stared into the handsome features of Mrs Grey from Human Resources. Her dark hair fell into his eyes, her tongue darted into his mouth, her manicured fingers twisted his nipples until he groaned and writhed.

"Glad you could join us," Diane said to Edwina. "He's all yours. I've warmed him up for you."

Edwina smiled a predatory smile. "Don't mind if I do help myself, I've been horny all day. What I need is a ride on this naughty secretary."

She dropped her skirt and knickers on the floor, climbed onto the desk and showed him her quim. Dark silky hair framed the plump labia, the protruding pink bud of the clitoris that was clearly visible, aroused. She wiped her hand along the crease of her sex, opening the hole, spreading the pink beyond it with her fingers. The odour of female desire assaulted his nostrils and dripped onto his tongue.

"Start licking, big boy." Edwina grabbed his soft prick, caressed the smooth skin expertly, and leaning forward, began sucking his cock. Dennis cursed himself for being so easily manipulated by these two predators. He had no power to resist them, but worse than that, he was genuinely excited, and wondered how this situation could've happened.

Edwina's arse cheeks pressed further down over his lips and he reluctantly probed with his tongue. Her pussy flowed over his mouth, filling him with her taste, her scent. He used his tongue on her, employing the skills Wendy had taught him about how to satisfy a woman orally.  With startling clarity Dennis saw himself as if through Diane Wilde's eyes; lying on her desk, his head buried between Edwina Grey's thighs while the attractive brunette undulated on top, sucked on his cock and balls and deftly probed his arsehole. He felt suffused by guilt, embarrassment, and prayed it would be over quickly.

Suddenly Edwina turned round, removed her mouth from his ready cock and straddled him as Diane had. Vaguely he was aware of his boss watching, guzzling wine from the bottle. Then he felt his rigid staff penetrate the brunette. She gave a gasp when she felt her pussy being invaded and stretched. She started grinding her hips with brutal thrusts that set her wailing happily. Diane sniggered. Dennis gritted his teeth. He held onto Edwina's plump arse, hoping he could get home and shower before Wendy arrived. Thankfully, Edwina finished quickly with a series of loud cries and clambered off the exhausted typist.

"Are we going to leave him like that?" Diane giggled, indicated his still hard penis.

"Do you like a bit of bum, big boy?" Edwina demanded, slapping his wet cock. "I bet you do, a bit of arse, eh?" She shoved her backside over his prick, and spread her buttocks, aiming his cock at the puckered, brown centre.

"Got any lube, Diane?"

Diane laughed, shook her head. "You're a right cow sometimes, Edwina."

"Pity," said Edwina, casting a contemptuous glance over her shoulder at the prostate typist. "I fancy a good arse fuck off this one. Next time."

Dennis tried to sit up and speak; Diane put a warning hand on his chest. "You tell anyone about this and you're in big fucking trouble with us, okay?"

Tearful, he nodded. He'd not tell a soul.

"Ok," she gave his cheek a friendly pat.  Her expression softened. "It's not as if we forced you, you could've said no, but you didn't. You were asking for it like a cunt-teaser, weren't you?"

"Y-yes," Dennis conceded.

His boss regarded him for a long time, her head titled to one side. She squeezed his cock softly and he instantly hardened in response. "Put your hands down by your sides," she instructed him. She began caressing him, faster, softer. From behind, he felt Edwina slip the tip of an encouraging finger into his anus, and his buttocks clenched.

"You men; because you've got this piece of meat between your legs we'll always rule over you in this brave new world we've created. They're like Pavlov's dogs, Edwina; except men are easier to condition, and stupider."

Diane jerked his stiff cock faster. "I want no mess on my carpet. Do it in the waste paper bin, little doggie."

"Y-yes ma'am," Dennis replied his voice breaking.

"Hurry up, my arm's getting tired."

With a shudder, he climaxed. A jet of white sperm arced from his cock and splattered obediently into the wastepaper bin. Smiling, Diane released her hold on her subordinate. Edwina's finger slipped from his arsehole.

"Good boy," Edwina said.

Diane wiped away the memory of Dennis from between her legs with a handful of tissues and dropped the wad into the wastepaper basket. "Now off you go like a good little boy. Same time next week- and don't forget the lube next time. We want you to fuck both our arses, stud."

Diane laughed. Edwina joined in. The two women began dressing and ignored him while they talked about the round of golf they were going to play on Saturday.

He hurriedly dressed and left, banging the office door behind him in a futile pique. Outside he turned his coat collar up against the biting wind. He'd never felt so wretched, guilt ridden. It was the same as before, the same nightmare, just like at Gyllenhaals. He felt his cheeks burn with shame.

'I'm never going back,' he silently promised, and ran all the way to the underground station with tears in his eyes.

When the tube train entered a long dark tunnel, his reflection manifested itself in the window opposite and he stared, shocked at his appearance. He saw his lipstick smeared face, unkempt hair, the dishevelled jacket, the creased shirt with its missing buttons where it'd been ripped off his body. He hardly recognised himself. He reeked of wine and perfume; he stank like a cheap stud. A little way down the otherwise empty carriage, a group of young women in motorcycle leathers, obviously drunk, were looking his way and nudging one another, giggling. Inevitably, one of them stood up and swaggered towards him.

"Oi, got a light, stud?" she said, holding up a cigarette.

_______
© 2008 G.Russell. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.

Bio: Who is G.Russell? Read his bio on the Erotica Readers & Writers Association website.


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