Office Management

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I was very cross when I was overlooked for the job of Department Manager. My annoyance was increased when my new boss turned out to be Paul Petts, a young man, fresh from a business college, who was young enough to be my son! At least his predecessor had been older than me. Now aged 50, I found it was quite depressing to have a 24 year old manager.

My name is Rachel Simpson by the way. I knew there was no point moaning to my husband. Fred would be sympathetic at first but then he’d lose interest, preferring gardening to listening to me. We’ve been married for 26 years, but the spark had gone. I knew all about Fred’s stash of girlie magazines in his shed and he knows that I know, but we both pretend that we don’t.

Many women would have accepted their lot but I’m not like many women. I joined a gym, restyled and dyed my hair and defiantly refused to dress my age. My skirts became shorter, my blouses lower cut, my underwear much sexier. Soon I felt that I looked fabulous and I felt a renewed confidence.

Fred didn’t notice at all, but to my surprise Paul did.

When he first started I was sure Paul had felt intimidated by me and he tried to cope by putting me down. However he soon realised that he needed my help to do his job properly and we began to work more closely. Then one day, when I was bent over his desk explaining something he had done wrong, I realised that he was unable to take his eyes of my cleavage. I finally caught his eye and then he blushed very red.

The next time, just before I went into his office I unbuttoned another button on my blouse; so that my lacy white bra was now clearly visible. The way I bent over his desk ensured that Paul noticed. He went very red and shifted uneasily in his chair. I wondered if he was getting an erection! Then I sat down and by hitching my skirt up a little and then crossing my legs slowly I gave him a very deliberate glimpse of her knickers. This made me feel so in control of him. He looked very embarrassed but couldn’t take his eyes off me. As we talked I did it again, driven by the control I was exerting over him. When the meeting was over I felt a tremble of excitement — I had just flashed her knickers at my boss and he had clearly loved it. He was trying to hide an obvious bulge in his trousers as I left.

I laughed as I saw him disappearing into the toilet. “Going for a wank probably,” I thought. As I sat at her desk I had a thought. Carefully I reached under my skirt — the gusset of my knickers was damp! Moving the material aside I could easily slip a finger inside my wet pussy! I decided that I also needed a trip to the loo. In my bottom desk drawer I keep a spare pair of knickers, in case of emergencies. Taking them with me, I went to the toilet. I have to confess I was about to start rubbing herself, when someone else came through the door. Too nervous to continue, I simply changed my knickers and left. Back in the office I popped the soiled knickers into the drawer to take home that evening.

When it was time to go home I was halfway to the car when I remembered the knickers. Returning to the office I opened the drawer. To my surprise they were gone!

“That’s odd, I could have sworn I put them there,” I thought, Escort Bayan before dismissing the matter; if I waited any longer to leave I’d catch all the traffic on the ring road.

The next day I was even more puzzled when I opened the drawer to put in today’s spare pair. There I found the pair from yesterday, replaced and freshly laundered!

As an experiment I changed knickers again that afternoon and again left them in my drawer. Just like the previous day when I returned to check, they were gone, but they were back, freshly laundered, the next morning!

On the third day, having left the knickers, quite damp after another day of flashing my boss, instead of returning I watched slyly from the stairwell. Two people went into my office, Brenda the cleaner and Paul my boss. “Now hich of them is most likely to be the panty thief and washer?” I wondered.

Next morning I got in early, before Paul arrived. As I suspected he came into my office and he was very flustered when he saw me there.

“Can I help you Paul?” I asked nonchalantly.

Blushing he stammered “um, d-do you have t-the Anderson report?”

“No Paul, I left it with you last night.”

“Oh yes, that’s right, I remember now.” He was blushing a very deep shade of red.

“Is there anything else, anything you wanted to give me?” I asked sounding innocent as possible although I felt very excited.

“No its ok.” He mumbled and left looking very uncomfortable.

Later that morning I made a point of telling Paul that I was popping out of the office and would be gone for half an hour. Sure enough on my return the clean knickers had reappeared in my desk! I barely suppressed a squeal of delight. My suspicions were confirmed — he was the panty thief. For the rest of the day I tortured him by going in and out of his office, flashing my cleavage every time I leant over his desk and giving him a tantalising glimpse of my panties every time I sat down and crossed my legs; I felt so horny!!

At 3pm I went to the loo, taking the spare knickers with me. By now I was finding it hard to think about anything except my plan to confront Paul. In the loo I removed my skirt completely, hanging it from a hook on the cubicle door. “Flipping heck,” I thought, “these knickers are already soaked!” I sat on the toilet with my legs open and rubbed my panties right into me. I had intended to leave when my knickers got quite wet but it was too nice. I rubbed and rubbed before I made myself cum! Afterwards I simply changed my dirty knickers and replaced my skirt and walked back into the office holding my soiled panties. I stopped in font of his desk and held my panties to my nose muttering “Gosh they smell a bit strong” and just dropped them on his desk in front of him. He seemed mesmerized as I walked away. Next day my panties were on my desk freshly washed and ironed.

For the following week we followed the same pattern. At the end of the day I dropped the soiled panties on his desk right in front of him. The next morning he placed them washed, ironed and perfumed, back on my desk. It was lovely. I could get my boss to wash my dirty knickers, but I began to want more…

A few weeks later Paul had to go away Bayan Escort to a conference and he suggested that I should accompany him. I jumped at the chance and told my husband. Fred was so wet I had no worries about what he may have thought. He was probably just thinking which of his mucky dvds he would be able to watch.

Paul drove us both in his company car. I used the drive for two things; to find out a bit about his private life and to show as much of my stocking-clad legs as I could manage. I was surprised when he told me that he was married, but didn’t allow that to change my plan.

The conference was being held in the meeting rooms of a posh 5-star hotel in the country, just outside of Oxford. It was much nicer than anywhere Fred had ever taken me. Our rooms were adjacent, both en suite, with soft bath robes hanging on the door invitingly. The conference was very, very dull. My only interest came from, seemingly carelessly, allowing my wrap-around skirt to flap open giving a view of my stocking tops and bare thigh above, to Paul who was sitting next to me at our table. From the bulge in his trousers he appreciated it too.

In the evening, after dinner, we had a drink together in the bar. We laughed and joked together and drank quite a lot. I have to be honest I got a little bit tipsy. When Paul was at the bar, I decided to unbutton another button on my blouse. I had however underestimated the distance between the buttons and was now revealing rather more of my boobs than I had intended. It didn’t matter — Paul loved the display. I leaned over towards him and whispered “Why don’t we take these drinks up to my room, it’ll be a lot cosier.”

He nearly choked on his drink and his hand was shaking as he put the glass down. Trying to sound calm he replied “Ok, Rachel lets do that.”

We went to my room, since I wanted to feel in control. We sipped our rinks for a while when I realised that I desperately needed the loo.

I blurted our “Excuse me Paul, I need the bathroom.”

It was almost electric as he gasped “Oh Rachel, do you really?”

I remembered something my friend Emily had once said about a partner of hers who was obsessed with watching her pee. He seemed so excited and I looked at him closely saying “Yes Paul, I must go.”

I walked very primly across the room to the bathroom knowing he was watching every step. When I got to the toilet I started to raise my dress and then lost my primness and burst out laughing. I wondered what fetishes my boss had. Could I possibly suggest he watched?

“Would you like to watch Mr. Petts?” I heard myself saying.

“Really!” he said with eagerness. There was no backing out.

“Get in here now and sit in front of me.”

“Right away Mrs Simpson!” he replied.

There was no point in false modesty, so I completely removed my skirt, and as elegantly as possible slid my knickers down allowing them to fall to my ankles! There was my boss sat cross-legged on the floor, with an obvious bulge in his trousers, about to watch me pee. He watched in awe as I released a stream of pee.

After I had finished I said, “Wipe me dry Paul.”

With trembling hands he tore off some toilet paper Escort and gently wiped me dry. I stepped out of the knickers and walked into the bedroom, leaving him scrambling on the floor to pick them up, before following me. It seemed that I could do anything with him.

I just sat on a chair and beckoned him to stand in front of me. As I pulled him towards me I joked “You watched me pee so now I am going to have a look at your cock Mr. Petts.” I could see he was panting with desire and yet strangely terrified. I thought it was just guilt about being unfaithful to his wife. I unbuckled his belt, undid the button and lowered his zip. I then realized why he was so uneasy.

I looked up at him saying “You are wearing women’s panties, Paul!”

He sort of squeaked and nodded. It felt delicious as first I stroked him and then I eased his penis out and jerked it up and down a few times. I felt in total control. I asked “Are these your wife’s knickers Paul?” He squeaked and nodded again.

I was enjoying asking him questions and embarrassing him.

“So when you are holding big meetings in work you are wearing your wife’s panties.”

He nodded.

“Say it then” I prompted.

“Yes Ma’am, when I hold big meetings at work I am wearing my wife’s panties.”

“Don’t call me Ma’am, call me Mistress.” I snapped.

“Sorry Mistress.”

I wanted to laugh. Here was my boss calling me “Mistress” as I was masturbating him in his wife’s underclothes. It was so delicious.

I asked him his wife’s name. He answered “Emma, Mistress.”

I questioned him about his wife. Between gasps as I tugged on his cock, he told me that she was a high flying executive at a multi-national company and that he suspected that she looked down on him. Often at home alone he did all the washing and ironing and, unable to resist the temptation he had begun wearing Emma’s panties.

I laughed “Well from now on Mr. Petts you will be my Pretty Paula.”

He sobbed, but I was in no mood to let him off easily.

“Do you wear the panties you borrow from me?”

“Yes Mistress.”

“Do you masturbate in them?”

“Yes Mistress.”

As I was questioning him, I kept masturbating him. I felt so powerful I was so ecstatic. I wanted it to go on forever. Suddenly he came with a mighty gush. I wasn’t expecting it. I felt annoyed with myself. Paul was crying in embarrassment and apologizing.

I made him lie on the bed and knelt astride him, lowering myself onto his face; I ordered him to lick. With no concern at all for him I ground my crotch into his face as I rubbed myself until I came.

Still sitting on his face I said casually, “When we get home Paula and I are going to have such fun.”

He sobbed and pleaded with me to keep his secret. I told him that as long as he followed my orders his secret was safe with me.

He stirred as if to leave, but I told him to stay where he was.

“I thought you’d want me to go.”

“Why, don’t you want to sleep with me?”

“More than anything, you’re so fucking sexy!”

I made him clean up his mess with tissues and then gave him my used knickers to change into. I undressed completely, and got into bed, patting the space beside me invitingly.

“Now Paula, you are going to hug me and tell me again how beautiful I am, while we fall asleep.”

For the first time in ages I fell asleep embraced in the arms of a man who wanted me, rather than my pathetic husband.

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