All so innocent. Such a beginning. Carla knew that was the right words. Innocent.
Carla crossed her legs as she shook out her full mane of light reddish hair. Her mane her husband Ted had branded it years ago. Thick beautiful hair that she wore long and full growing up. It had attracted her husband even when they were in high school in that brief wild sexual fling that summer after graduation. He practically worshiped that mane, loving to have her completely naked out at the lake house his parents owned.
But life interrupted. College away for him; locally for her. Phone conversations often at first, then less and less; other boys had come around and that college graduate assistant and his hands and that night after the party where he made love to her all night long. And then her best friend had set her up with the guy in their math class and he was attentive and loving and she thought she'd marry him.
But Ted came back and they went back to the cabin and she was naked again on that lovely deck and he stroked her hair.
Was it really 35 years ago that they married, her only 20, he just turned 21? Two children, a great house, a good life, no regrets. Oh, she had discovered years ago that maybe Ted didn't quite have the same sex drive she did, but she knew how to sublimate. Parties, kid raising, events, charities and after the kids grew up, the job offer. Just some light bookkeeping work. Four days a week but she liked the work and she got better and better at it. How did she end up working directly for the CFO? And why did he tease her all the time about her 'mane' of hair?
It was innocent, she insisted to herself. After all, he was barely 35; she'd been married that long! But it was kind of sweet too, how he insisted that she should wear clothes that set off her hair and it had been innocent that he suggested that her figure was perfect for shorter skirts, even at her age! And the cute comment that day about her cleavage, well, it had been an accident that she had left that button undone. Hadn't it?
Carla shook her head. All so innocent. But today? She had come into his office, several forms, a critical short-fall in the regional office. Leaning over his desk, pointing to the figures, his face slightly turned upward toward her, her breast brushed the back of his shoulder, muscular shoulder. As she left, he said it.
Didn't he?
"Carla, light blue really is your color."
He said that right? Only her blouse was white, her skirt, maybe a tad shorter that should be..brown. Light blue?
She sat at her desk puzzled and she reached down for the folder lying on the low coffee table in her office. Looking down. Light blue. Her bra was light blue.
Innocent really. He might have been talking about a good color on her; yes, she did look good in light blue. When had she worn light blue in the office? She racked her brain. Light blue. Her bra, frilly, lacey bra, more underwire holding up her slightly sagging breasts, but very thin, her nipples always pressing against the fabric.
It was innocent. Surely.
Two hours later he walked by her desk. God, he was good looking, she thought. Barely 35, in the CFO job less than six months. Two weeks after he got there he moved the young woman out and replaced her with Carla. Experienced, he said. Knows her way around the company. Perfect for his right arm. Big raise.
"Carla," he said to her that Friday, only weeks ago, "You are absolutely valuable to me, but don't dress like an old lady!"
What did that mean? She's 55, damn it; what did he think she was, one of these young women who are always thinking of excuses to see Mike.
Mike, he insisted. Yes he was Mr. Williams to everybody else; only for her, he insisted "Mike". Innocent
"What...." she had begun that Friday, "What do you think I should wear?"
"Oh something sexier; something that shows off that body more," he laughed, and then quickly, almost too quickly, "Just kidding."
Then as he left that day, "But seriously, Carla, less old lady; you look wonderful, show it!"
She had gone to the department store that weekend. Went through her traditional section, the girl waiting on her seemed bored. She moved over a section. Still business attire but..... the silk blouse between her fingers, "You'll need a soft bra, something lacey, light to wear with that," the girl perked up. Then a skirt, a little short but her legs did look good in it. Her dimunitive 5'2" frame but strong legs, maybe her butt seemed a bit frumpy in it. "Thong" the girl said smiling at her.
Two then three outfits later she took them home and tried them again. No, no, she thought, too.....
And then Monday she wore a traditional outfit. Mike said nothing but.
He looked disappointed. She really didn't want him to be disappointed.
She tried on the new outfit that evening. Ted walked in and looked at her for a second. Maybe a second look, a comment, 'not appropriate' or 'sexy' or 'where did you get that?" Nothing. Nothing from Ted.
So she wore the new outfit. A couple of the girls turned and looked at her; she felt her cheeks flush. Mike came in. Said nothing. Well, not true, "Curtain contract, Carla; where is it?" All work.
The next day back to the careful outfit. Mike walks past her desk. He stops and turns. "What happened?" he says. She shakes her head not sure of what he is saying.
"The new look, what happened; where'd it go?" She couldn't speak.
The next day the second new outfit. Again, the looks from the girls, one even said, "God, that's really nice". But nothing from Mike until the end of the day. She brought him the contracts; signing rapidly, he glances at her and pauses. Really only pauses, nothing inappropriate and yet, she felt the blush move through her body even a little heat, maybe a little moisture too.
And so, the new comment. Light blue. She flushed again, she felt the wetness again. "My lord, girl, what is wrong with you?" she said under her breath. He's 35, single, dating that sexy girl in the photo on his desk; she looks like she could fuck him all night long, wrapping her legs around his strong back as he takes his cock and pushes it in her wet pussy, roughly, wildly.
"What the f......" Carla shook her head.
Light blue. Yeah, all so.............. innocent.
The day was long, Carla had to go to the headquarters building twice that day; walking across the sundrenched plaza. Her heels, four inches, light, toes wiggling free without hose on the warm spring day, her skirt swaying around her hips, the little string between her cheeks, feeling kind of sexy, little beads of sweat sliding down her blouse, into her cleavage, undo just a button, get a little air there. Better.
Back in the office, everyone leaving for the day, got to get the changes to Mike. Hurrying into his office rounding the corner, he coming out at the same time. Bumping into him at full speed, his hands come up probably to grab her shoulders so he doesn't knock her over, only they don't get that far.
Her breasts, his big hands slam together. The air explodes out of her chest, he holds harder, her breasts grasped tightly as she starts backward on her heels, her foot sliding out of one, turning slightly she falls back, hitting the side of the office door, he falls forward too, his hands still firmly wrapped around her breasts he falls heavily against her body. Woof, he exhales and they tumble together to the floor, her legs opening around him, her butt hitting the carpeted floor, he follows her to the floor, his crotch, his package slams down hard there. There. Right there on top of her mound.
Moments pass. Neither of them moves for seconds. Ten? Twenty? "Mike?" she says, her voice shaking.
He looks into her eyes, his face literally in front of hers. "My...um, your hands.....?" she whispers.
"Oh God," he says and rolls away from her, but as he does, his hands. Well they don't leave her breasts for another 5-10 seconds and as they do. His thumbs, do they, scrape hard across her nipples, roughly? And does his.....god, his cock, is it hard against her, does she feel him push against her mound as he struggles up, she looks down, his cock is thicker, harder in his dress slacks.
So innocent.
"So sorry," he mutters as he moves away, she hands him the papers. His eyes, yes, they are looking down. She struggles up; his hands have opened her blouse, the buttons torn free to her navel, her breasts in the light blue bra are exposed, her nipples rock hard, extended from the roughness of his hands. Her nipples burning with excitement from the roughness of his thumbs scrapping them.
She pulls the blouse together but his eyes are looking at her, she realizes at her waist. Her skirt, up, up oh so high, her little matching blue thong exposed, pressed up hard against her, maybe pushed in as well, inside her?
She struggles out of the office, pulling herself together; she glances back, he is looking at her.
So innocent? No, his eyes are flashing with desire, hunger.
That night in the shower. Alone she inspects her breasts, bruised, a handprint clearly on her right breast. Her nipples still erect. Her pussy. Pussy. She never uses that word. Pussy. Her hands slide down, opening her, "Mike," she whispers as she rakes a nail across her clit, 'ohhhhh myyyyyy' she groans as she slides down the shower wall, her fingers moving faster, 'oh Mike!" she moans as she comes quickly, masturbating wildly. Masturbating. Her? A middle aged wife? Masturbating to the image of her boss taking her on that office floor, roughly tearing her clothes off, 'fuck me, Mike' she growls as she arches her back, coming hard the water streaming over her body.
The next day she dresses conservatively. Plain gray dress, buttoned up high, down to her mid-calf. Only. Only she wears a new light pink bra and pink tiny thong, having shaved herself clean last night. My god, what am I doing? She thought. After all, it was so........... innocent.
Mike was kind, even brought her a new cup for her desk, for her tea, bright, almost cute. "About yesterday....." he began. She shook her head, "My fault; clumsy of me" "No," he said quietly standing now next to his desk, she just the other side of the desk, "No, I...I'm sorry, I hope I didn't hurt you........ there." he said.
"Hurt," she stammered for a second, "No, I. It just, you mean... um, where?"
He nodded at her breasts, "They are ok, yes?"
She blushed deeply and couldn't quite look at him.
"No really, Carla, did I hurt you there?" he said as he stepped a step around the side of the desk. Oh, danger, she thought, too close, don't come too close she thought.
"No, really, it's, they, well," she whispered looking up at him for a just a second.
And in that second, was it innocence looking back at her? No, it wasn't. It was lust, or hunger or even animal looking at her, just for a second and then 'so innocent' came back. But in that instant, god in that instant, Carla felt her pussy spasm, her moisture literally push against her little mound, soaking the little covering.
"They are fine, a little bruised," she said quietly now looking into his eyes. There! She saw it again, the flash, heat, lust, hunger. He took another step forward now less than two feet from her, his hands reached out for the dress. He took the top button and twisted it and it came free, and then a second.
"Mike?" she said quietly but he didn't stop, each button coming free one after another until he pushed his hands inside and up over her shoulders. The dress went back and cascaded down her, falling to the floor. She was standing next to his desk, her dress on the floor, in her pink sheer bra and tiny little string, swaying on her heels.
He reached down and grabbed the front closure on her little bra, "Mike?" she whispered. They were standing next to his desk, in a busy office, door open to her outer office, her door open beyond it as she felt her bra open, her breasts come free, "Mike?" she whispered as he reached around her and pushed the door closed and he bent down and kissed her hard, his hands, big hands, now enveloping her breasts, his thumbs rubbing across her nipples.
So innocent, she thought as she felt a hand move down her bare stomach and grab the little panty and pull, 'rippppp' it went as she let out a little squeal realizing in that split instant that she was naked in her boss' office! She pushed against him and he stepped back. She stared at him for a second and then reached for her dress and pulled it back up over her body, his eyes dancing over her body as she buttoned it over her nakedness. She turned and just before she left the office, her bra on the floor still, her torn panties in his hands, she smiled and said, "Later"
Because no longer.
So innocent.
Carla crossed her legs as she shook out her full mane of light reddish hair. Her mane her husband Ted had branded it years ago. Thick beautiful hair that she wore long and full growing up. It had attracted her husband even when they were in high school in that brief wild sexual fling that summer after graduation. He practically worshiped that mane, loving to have her completely naked out at the lake house his parents owned.
But life interrupted. College away for him; locally for her. Phone conversations often at first, then less and less; other boys had come around and that college graduate assistant and his hands and that night after the party where he made love to her all night long. And then her best friend had set her up with the guy in their math class and he was attentive and loving and she thought she'd marry him.
But Ted came back and they went back to the cabin and she was naked again on that lovely deck and he stroked her hair.
Was it really 35 years ago that they married, her only 20, he just turned 21? Two children, a great house, a good life, no regrets. Oh, she had discovered years ago that maybe Ted didn't quite have the same sex drive she did, but she knew how to sublimate. Parties, kid raising, events, charities and after the kids grew up, the job offer. Just some light bookkeeping work. Four days a week but she liked the work and she got better and better at it. How did she end up working directly for the CFO? And why did he tease her all the time about her 'mane' of hair?
It was innocent, she insisted to herself. After all, he was barely 35; she'd been married that long! But it was kind of sweet too, how he insisted that she should wear clothes that set off her hair and it had been innocent that he suggested that her figure was perfect for shorter skirts, even at her age! And the cute comment that day about her cleavage, well, it had been an accident that she had left that button undone. Hadn't it?
Carla shook her head. All so innocent. But today? She had come into his office, several forms, a critical short-fall in the regional office. Leaning over his desk, pointing to the figures, his face slightly turned upward toward her, her breast brushed the back of his shoulder, muscular shoulder. As she left, he said it.
Didn't he?
"Carla, light blue really is your color."
He said that right? Only her blouse was white, her skirt, maybe a tad shorter that should be..brown. Light blue?
She sat at her desk puzzled and she reached down for the folder lying on the low coffee table in her office. Looking down. Light blue. Her bra was light blue.
Innocent really. He might have been talking about a good color on her; yes, she did look good in light blue. When had she worn light blue in the office? She racked her brain. Light blue. Her bra, frilly, lacey bra, more underwire holding up her slightly sagging breasts, but very thin, her nipples always pressing against the fabric.
It was innocent. Surely.
Two hours later he walked by her desk. God, he was good looking, she thought. Barely 35, in the CFO job less than six months. Two weeks after he got there he moved the young woman out and replaced her with Carla. Experienced, he said. Knows her way around the company. Perfect for his right arm. Big raise.
"Carla," he said to her that Friday, only weeks ago, "You are absolutely valuable to me, but don't dress like an old lady!"
What did that mean? She's 55, damn it; what did he think she was, one of these young women who are always thinking of excuses to see Mike.
Mike, he insisted. Yes he was Mr. Williams to everybody else; only for her, he insisted "Mike". Innocent
"What...." she had begun that Friday, "What do you think I should wear?"
"Oh something sexier; something that shows off that body more," he laughed, and then quickly, almost too quickly, "Just kidding."
Then as he left that day, "But seriously, Carla, less old lady; you look wonderful, show it!"
She had gone to the department store that weekend. Went through her traditional section, the girl waiting on her seemed bored. She moved over a section. Still business attire but..... the silk blouse between her fingers, "You'll need a soft bra, something lacey, light to wear with that," the girl perked up. Then a skirt, a little short but her legs did look good in it. Her dimunitive 5'2" frame but strong legs, maybe her butt seemed a bit frumpy in it. "Thong" the girl said smiling at her.
Two then three outfits later she took them home and tried them again. No, no, she thought, too.....
And then Monday she wore a traditional outfit. Mike said nothing but.
He looked disappointed. She really didn't want him to be disappointed.
She tried on the new outfit that evening. Ted walked in and looked at her for a second. Maybe a second look, a comment, 'not appropriate' or 'sexy' or 'where did you get that?" Nothing. Nothing from Ted.
So she wore the new outfit. A couple of the girls turned and looked at her; she felt her cheeks flush. Mike came in. Said nothing. Well, not true, "Curtain contract, Carla; where is it?" All work.
The next day back to the careful outfit. Mike walks past her desk. He stops and turns. "What happened?" he says. She shakes her head not sure of what he is saying.
"The new look, what happened; where'd it go?" She couldn't speak.
The next day the second new outfit. Again, the looks from the girls, one even said, "God, that's really nice". But nothing from Mike until the end of the day. She brought him the contracts; signing rapidly, he glances at her and pauses. Really only pauses, nothing inappropriate and yet, she felt the blush move through her body even a little heat, maybe a little moisture too.
And so, the new comment. Light blue. She flushed again, she felt the wetness again. "My lord, girl, what is wrong with you?" she said under her breath. He's 35, single, dating that sexy girl in the photo on his desk; she looks like she could fuck him all night long, wrapping her legs around his strong back as he takes his cock and pushes it in her wet pussy, roughly, wildly.
"What the f......" Carla shook her head.
Light blue. Yeah, all so.............. innocent.
The day was long, Carla had to go to the headquarters building twice that day; walking across the sundrenched plaza. Her heels, four inches, light, toes wiggling free without hose on the warm spring day, her skirt swaying around her hips, the little string between her cheeks, feeling kind of sexy, little beads of sweat sliding down her blouse, into her cleavage, undo just a button, get a little air there. Better.
Back in the office, everyone leaving for the day, got to get the changes to Mike. Hurrying into his office rounding the corner, he coming out at the same time. Bumping into him at full speed, his hands come up probably to grab her shoulders so he doesn't knock her over, only they don't get that far.
Her breasts, his big hands slam together. The air explodes out of her chest, he holds harder, her breasts grasped tightly as she starts backward on her heels, her foot sliding out of one, turning slightly she falls back, hitting the side of the office door, he falls forward too, his hands still firmly wrapped around her breasts he falls heavily against her body. Woof, he exhales and they tumble together to the floor, her legs opening around him, her butt hitting the carpeted floor, he follows her to the floor, his crotch, his package slams down hard there. There. Right there on top of her mound.
Moments pass. Neither of them moves for seconds. Ten? Twenty? "Mike?" she says, her voice shaking.
He looks into her eyes, his face literally in front of hers. "My...um, your hands.....?" she whispers.
"Oh God," he says and rolls away from her, but as he does, his hands. Well they don't leave her breasts for another 5-10 seconds and as they do. His thumbs, do they, scrape hard across her nipples, roughly? And does his.....god, his cock, is it hard against her, does she feel him push against her mound as he struggles up, she looks down, his cock is thicker, harder in his dress slacks.
So innocent.
"So sorry," he mutters as he moves away, she hands him the papers. His eyes, yes, they are looking down. She struggles up; his hands have opened her blouse, the buttons torn free to her navel, her breasts in the light blue bra are exposed, her nipples rock hard, extended from the roughness of his hands. Her nipples burning with excitement from the roughness of his thumbs scrapping them.
She pulls the blouse together but his eyes are looking at her, she realizes at her waist. Her skirt, up, up oh so high, her little matching blue thong exposed, pressed up hard against her, maybe pushed in as well, inside her?
She struggles out of the office, pulling herself together; she glances back, he is looking at her.
So innocent? No, his eyes are flashing with desire, hunger.
That night in the shower. Alone she inspects her breasts, bruised, a handprint clearly on her right breast. Her nipples still erect. Her pussy. Pussy. She never uses that word. Pussy. Her hands slide down, opening her, "Mike," she whispers as she rakes a nail across her clit, 'ohhhhh myyyyyy' she groans as she slides down the shower wall, her fingers moving faster, 'oh Mike!" she moans as she comes quickly, masturbating wildly. Masturbating. Her? A middle aged wife? Masturbating to the image of her boss taking her on that office floor, roughly tearing her clothes off, 'fuck me, Mike' she growls as she arches her back, coming hard the water streaming over her body.
The next day she dresses conservatively. Plain gray dress, buttoned up high, down to her mid-calf. Only. Only she wears a new light pink bra and pink tiny thong, having shaved herself clean last night. My god, what am I doing? She thought. After all, it was so........... innocent.
Mike was kind, even brought her a new cup for her desk, for her tea, bright, almost cute. "About yesterday....." he began. She shook her head, "My fault; clumsy of me" "No," he said quietly standing now next to his desk, she just the other side of the desk, "No, I...I'm sorry, I hope I didn't hurt you........ there." he said.
"Hurt," she stammered for a second, "No, I. It just, you mean... um, where?"
He nodded at her breasts, "They are ok, yes?"
She blushed deeply and couldn't quite look at him.
"No really, Carla, did I hurt you there?" he said as he stepped a step around the side of the desk. Oh, danger, she thought, too close, don't come too close she thought.
"No, really, it's, they, well," she whispered looking up at him for a just a second.
And in that second, was it innocence looking back at her? No, it wasn't. It was lust, or hunger or even animal looking at her, just for a second and then 'so innocent' came back. But in that instant, god in that instant, Carla felt her pussy spasm, her moisture literally push against her little mound, soaking the little covering.
"They are fine, a little bruised," she said quietly now looking into his eyes. There! She saw it again, the flash, heat, lust, hunger. He took another step forward now less than two feet from her, his hands reached out for the dress. He took the top button and twisted it and it came free, and then a second.
"Mike?" she said quietly but he didn't stop, each button coming free one after another until he pushed his hands inside and up over her shoulders. The dress went back and cascaded down her, falling to the floor. She was standing next to his desk, her dress on the floor, in her pink sheer bra and tiny little string, swaying on her heels.
He reached down and grabbed the front closure on her little bra, "Mike?" she whispered. They were standing next to his desk, in a busy office, door open to her outer office, her door open beyond it as she felt her bra open, her breasts come free, "Mike?" she whispered as he reached around her and pushed the door closed and he bent down and kissed her hard, his hands, big hands, now enveloping her breasts, his thumbs rubbing across her nipples.
So innocent, she thought as she felt a hand move down her bare stomach and grab the little panty and pull, 'rippppp' it went as she let out a little squeal realizing in that split instant that she was naked in her boss' office! She pushed against him and he stepped back. She stared at him for a second and then reached for her dress and pulled it back up over her body, his eyes dancing over her body as she buttoned it over her nakedness. She turned and just before she left the office, her bra on the floor still, her torn panties in his hands, she smiled and said, "Later"
Because no longer.
So innocent.