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It was when I went for my final interview at Fleming Associates that I first noticed the unusual gender distribution at the firm.
The business has an outstanding reputation in the City as the pre-eminent yet by far the most expensive professional services boutique, employing twenty or so lawyers, accountants and other such consultants all practising at the more complicated and specialised end of the corporate finance market.
You don’t apply for a job at Fleming; you get invited for a meeting to explore potential mutually beneficial vocational opportunities. No-one really knows much about the firm, just that they are considered to the best and employees there are exceptionally well-paid.
So when I got a call from the Fleming’s Human Resources Director, a chap of whom I’d never heard called Matt McCallum, I was both flattered and astounded.
Of course I knew I was good. I’d always been the quiet bookish sort. I’d got through school with excellent grades and I’d studied Economics at university so I fell into the exciting world of accountancy without much deliberation.
Despite my slightly shy manner and somewhat subdued style, I rapidly began to outperform my peers and had quickly and consistently worked my way up the corporate finance ladder. When I was approached by Fleming I was working for a large German-Swiss merchant bank, already earning significantly more than I’d ever dreamed possible, but to be honest I was finding it relatively easy.
I met McCallum in a private room in a small yet impressively opulent hotel off the Strand. He was the kind of man whose personality immediately filled any room he was in but, despite the contrast in our styles, he obviously liked what he saw as he asked for another meeting, this time with the Managing Partner of the practice.
And it was when I went to Fleming’s offices in Holborn that I noticed that every, and I mean every, professional partner was a man. And that every assistant or secretary was an attractive woman. Although if I’d met any of them in a different context I wouldn’t have been surprised to have discovered they were glamour models.
I found the whole thing anachronistically sexist and it almost put me off the idea of working for Fleming. But the meeting with the man who ran the company changed my mind. Particularly when he outlined his offer of an implausibly high starting salary, bonus scheme and share allocation.
I went home that night to discuss it with my wife and we both agreed that I’d be mad not to take the opportunity. Even if I only worked there for a couple of years it would virtually provide financial security for life for both us and our three children.
So despite my disquiet at the chauvinistic setup at their offices, I called Matt the next day to accept their munificent offer. An enormous employment contract with pages of confidentiality clauses arrived by courier the same day and I duly signed and returned it.
On my first day, I arrived early and was shown up to my office by a typically stunning receptionist, a young redhead with terrific legs and an inviting swaying walk. She explained that my SW would be in at nine to go through my diary and induction plan.
When I asked what an SW was, she gave me a heart-stoppingly sweet smile and said that it would best that Karen herself explained her duties to me. But before I got to meet Karen, Matt found me and took me around the building to meet my peers and I didn’t get back to my office until gone ten.
I opened my office door, walked in and stopped to gasp. Bending over my desk in front of me was one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen. She was tall, taller than me – maybe 5’10”, with long slender legs, a flawless bottom and shoulder-length honey-blond hair. She was wearing a very business-like white fitted blouse and a tight charcoal skirt cut on the bias to just above her bare knees.
As she stood up to face me, I saw she had amused sparkling green eyes, high angular cheekbones, a perfect heart-shaped face and a large high bosom.
I stood there open-mouthed at just how attractive she was, straight out of any number of my fantasies.
“Hi,” she said as she walked towards me with her hand outstretched. “I’m Karen Smith. You must be Kenneth Bowles. Very pleased to meet you.”
“I, erm, yes, hi,” I stuttered. I took a breath. “I am Kenneth. Sorry, I was just a bit startled. It’s good to meet you too.” Her handshake was firm and friendly.
“It’s OK. I don’t bite,” she laughed warmly. Her teeth were perfect and the two dimples that appeared on her cheeks when she smiled were altogether enchanting. “Unless you ask nicely,” she added impishly with a raised eyebrow.
I blushed and stuttered an inane response once more as I sat down at my desk. I think it’s more than fair to say that I wasn’t in any way used to attention from such a striking woman.
In fact my track record with women had been abysmal. At school and at university my lack of confidence and, let’s be honest, my lack of good looks and charisma, trabzon escort had meant that I’d had no luck with girls at all. In desperation, I’d lost my virginity to a prostitute at the age of 21 and I hadn’t had a proper girlfriend until a couple of years later when I met my, now, wife at work. She, like me, was a lovely person but not the most outgoing nor physically attractive. Having said that, she was a great catch for me considering I was short, overweight, balding and, if not wholly ugly, somewhat heavy-featured.
Karen and I sat down and chatted for a while about ourselves. I showed her a picture of my wife and children. She told me that she was 25 and that she’d been at Fleming for three years now. She told me about her flat in Bayswater and her artist boyfriend.
Actually talking to an intelligent and extraordinarily attractive young woman, made me desperately wish I wasn’t twenty years older than her and that I was taller, fitter and didn’t have such a beer belly.
“So, has Matt explained my duties to you as your SW?” Karen asked, jogging me from my daydream.
“Er, no. He just said you’d be looking after me and that I’d be very pleased with you. I’m guessing you’re my PA although I’m not sure what an SW is exactly,” I replied.
“Oh. Well, I guess I am partly your PA but I’m really a lot more. Of course I look after your diary, field your calls, sort out your travel, accommodation and all of your admin. But the idea is that I primary responsibility for satisfying all of your needs when you’re at work.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well I guess if I tell you that SW stands for Secretary-Whore you can probably work out what other little services I might provide for you.”
She said it so matter-of-factly that it took maybe ten seconds for me to actually understand what she meant.
“You mean, you, um, you…”
“Well there are rules. Basically I’m available between 9-5 to give you manual and oral relief whenever you want. In fact all the SWs in the building will give you manual if you ask politely but you should only expect oral from your own SW.”
“But. I. Um. You don’t really mean…”
“Of course, if I or any other SW wants to do more for you then we can but we’ve got very strict personnel policies to ensure all employees are protected from bullying, harassment or coercion of any sort.”
“But why? Why would you do something like this? It’s, it’s dreadful,” I blustered. Although the bulge in my trousers under my desk perhaps contradicted my last statement somewhat.
“Really? Don’t you find me attractive? I can speak to HR about finding you another SW more to your taste if you like.”
“No! I mean, no. You’re absolutely stunning. You really are. I just don’t feel comfortable about taking advantage of a young woman in that way. It’s just wrong. I mean what does your boyfriend think?”
“Oh, I don’t tell him of course. He’d be very jealous if he knew.” Karen took a deep breath before continuing. “I honestly don’t mind giving a quick handjob or blowjob, you know. If I didn’t want to do it, I’d leave. Fleming want to ensure that the professional partners are completely relaxed and really well cared for. Let’s face it there’s nothing more distracting to a man than feeling horny and frustrated. This way you won’t ever worry about sex at work because you’ll feel satisfied all the time.”
In the face of her equanimity, her delightful thoughtful frown and her great big tits, my arguments sounded less and less sure. “But how can you demean yourself by, you know…”
“Sucking my manager’s cock?” she completed.
“I can honestly say I don’t mind doing it all. And frankly, you know how well Fleming pay. I earn more money here than I had ever thought possible. And there are lots of other benefits. The people are nice. The job is interesting and varied. The hours are reasonable. So what if I have to give a little head to my boss? I can always brush my teeth afterwards.”
I didn’t know what to say. I had a raging erection under my desk. I wanted to believe what she was saying. But surely none of this was real. Was this some sort of weird test? Was Mike going to jump out and sack me if I did the wrong thing?
“Of course we could just have a normal manager-secretary relationship if you want but it seems a shame when I’m ready and willing to help you out. You do find me attractive don’t you?”
“Karen, it feels wrong to voice it out loud, but I can honestly say you are the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever met. It’s just that I never ever thought that a woman like would ever want to have anything to do with a man like me. I just can’t believe this is real.”
Karen got up and walked towards the door. “Why don’t I show you how real I am,” she said as she locked it and made sure the blinds were fully closed.
I felt panic well inside as she walked seductively towards me.
“But, but I’m married,” I protested as I pushed my chair back from the desk.
She looked pointedly at the lump at my crotch trabzon escort bayan causing my trousers to tent upwards. “Well, I suggest you don’t tell your wife. I’m pretty sure none of the other partners tell their wives about what their SWs do for them. It can be our secret,” she added as she knelt gracefully between my legs.
“Why don’t I start by using my hand, Kenneth, and then let’s just see how it goes.” She looked up at me with those big green eyes. My heart was pounding. I licked my lips and nodded at her.
She smiled generously before running both hands up legs, over my knees and up my thighs to cup my crotch delicately.
“Oh fuck,” I swore involuntarily.
She slid her right hand over my bulge to catch my zip and slowly pulled it down before sliding her hand into my fly. My erection flew out with only the tiniest tug from her hand.
“Oh, hello,” she breathed over my cock. “I’m going to getting to know you a lot better.”
Her hand was surprisingly cool as she gently clasped me around my shaft just below my knob. She pulled my balls out with her left hand before beginning to slowly skilfully wank me up and down.
I groaned in delight as she maintained eye contact with me while tossing me unhurriedly. It had been well over a week since I’d last had sex with my wife and I could already feel myself approaching orgasm.
“Oh,” she exclaimed charmingly as she saw my excitement. I noticed her lipstick was a chic pale pink. “I can see you’re very eager. Perhaps you’d like to come over my tits?”
“Oh, shit, yes,” I agreed.
She paused, knelt back and began to unbutton her blouse, still with that teasing smile on her lips. She pulled it off to reveal an elegant creamy full-cupped bra, the upper half made of floral lace. I could see the top part of her nipples through it.
“Oh, wow,” I moaned as she reached behind to unclasp her bra. She giggled as she allowed it to drop forward.
If I were a poet, I could probably write pages and pages about her breasts and still not do them real justice. They were utterly unimaginably perfect. Not only were they big, a lot bigger than a handful, but they were high and firm and yet somehow pert. The nipples were a little above centre, two chocolate-brown vertical ovals that looked small compared to the expanse of her creamy flawless bosom.
As she began to masturbate me steadily once more, she said, “You can touch them if you want.”
“Oh thank you,” I said with such earnest gratitude she laughed once more. I reached out to squeeze them, the first time I’d felt another woman’s breasts in the last twenty or so years. They were soft to the touch yet were as firm as I’d imagined. After feeling their weight and size, I gently pinched her nipples and they popped up to rigidity in seconds.
“That’s nice,” she encouraged.
I couldn’t believe how kindly she talking to me. She looked like she really wanted to make me happy.
And without a doubt she was. She read the signs of my imminent climax well as she carefully aimed me at first her left and then her right breast, coating them with both liberally with my jism.
“Hmmm,” she approved. “What a lot of spunk. I can tell I’m going to have a lot of fun with you! Here let me get you a tissue.
I watched in disbelief as she stood, sticky-breasted and topless, and reached across the desk for a tissue. Carefully, almost tenderly, she cleaned me off before putting my deflated cock away.
“Back in a sec,” she excused herself brightly before retiring to my office bathroom to wash herself.
She was away for a few minutes which gave me a chance to calm down. If her bra and blouse weren’t right there in front of me on my desk, I would have doubted my sanity.
She swayed back in sexily, making no effort to cover her staggering chest.
“Would like me to stay topless while we go through your diary for the week, Kenneth?” she asked. “Don’t worry no-one will disturb us when your office door is closed.”
“Oh, well, OK. Why not?” I agreed.
Once more she laughed musically. “You know I was really worried about you for a while. I honestly thought you might not want to get intimate with me. I wouldn’t have been able to show my face to the other girls if you’d rejected me.”
I couldn’t really believe what I was hearing. This stunning example of female perfection was sounding like she had been desperate to seduce me. Me? Was I dreaming all of this?
“Still that was fun wasn’t it, Kenneth?” she asked as she pulled her chair around to show me the printouts from my diary. I nodded dumbly.
For the next half an hour she talked me through who was in my induction plan, what they did and why they were important to me. She explained the company structure – twenty-three partners, all male, with an all female support staff, most of whom took the role of Secretary-Whores, with all other services outsourced.
I have to say she was excellent. If her bare breasts hadn’t been touching my arm as she summarised what and whom I needed escort trabzon to know, I would have just thought her to be an exceptionally competent PA, albeit a very very attractive one.
Of course I couldn’t help staring a little at her boobs. Had I really just come all over them?
“You can still touch them you know. I think it’s understood that if I’ve got them out then you should be able to do what you want to them within reason.”
I jumped, slightly guilty at being caught but then realising she was more than happy with my ogling.
“OK,” I replied enthusiastically and I played with them as we finished our conversation. Without doubt, the best executive toys imaginable, I thought wryly as I tweaked her responsive nipples.
“Right, so you’re having lunch with Nathan Kareem whose office is next door. And then you’re spending an hour with him to understand his responsibilities. So that’s your diary done. You’ve got half an hour before lunch and I can see that playing with my tits has given you another hard-on so would you like me to give your cock a nice soothing suck?”
I had indeed managed to develop another erection – what man wouldn’t have done? Even so her directness startled me once more.
“Erm, OK,” I managed to squeak. “I mean, yes please,” I repeated slightly more manfully.
“Would you like me to take my skirt off too?” Karen asked cheerily.
“Oh, fuck, yes,” I replied losing my cool once more.
Her legs were as faultless as her breasts, long and tapering, smooth and fit. As a short man, I was fascinated with just how absurdly long they were, even after she’d kicked off her heels.
She gave me a twirl to show me that she was wearing a cream g-string that matched her bra. “Do you like what you see?” she asked enticingly.
Her arse was perfectly peachy, symmetrical and taut.
“Oh, yeah,” I purred. I so wanted to touch and squeeze and fondle and caress her beautiful bottom.
Karen looked back over her shoulder and read my mind. “Go on,” she giggled.
It was as velvety as I’d imagined, her buttocks two flawless pillows with the string of her thong disappearing tantalisingly between them.
She turned back and knelt in front of me once more. Within seconds my hard cock was in her cool hand once more. I could feel her breath tickling the end of my knob as she spoke. “Would you like me to give it a kiss, Kenneth.”
“Oh, please, yes.” I was beyond the point of any thought of control. I’d forgotten I was married. I’d forgotten I was at work. I’d forgotten everything except that Karen’s moist pink lips were an inch from my cock, pursed in the promise of impending joy.
Her first kiss felt dry and slightly sticky but it made my cock jerk powerfully in her hand. Her second kiss lingered slightly, teasingly, ending with a flick from her tongue on the very tip of my throbbing erection. Her third kiss slowly slid down over me as her mouth opened out until half my cock was firmly in her mouth.
Then she started to suck. I don’t mean a gentle slurping, I mean like she was trying to vacuum my cum out through suction alone. I groaned in bliss and she smiled up at me encouragingly around her mouthful of cock.
She then proceeded to give me the best blowjob I had ever had by some considerable margin. She planted tiny kisses up and down by dick. She flicked her tongue across my balls and up my shaft. She bobbed her head pneumatically up and down, swallowing me with casual ease. She worked my erection like it was the centre of her existence and that there was nothing more that she wanted in her life than to please me using her tongue and mouth.
I’m not sure how long it lasted because I lost all sense of time. I just knew that this was the single greatest experience I had ever had.
I warned her I was about to come and, instead of pulling away as my wife did at this stage when she gave me the rare blowjob, Karen kindly stuck out her tongue and tossed me until I had covered it with creamy jism. She then sat back on her haunches and noisily swallowed.
“Oh fuck,” I said lost in wonder at the realisation of this fantasy.
Karen laughed. “Well, maybe later! Did you enjoy that, Kenneth?”
“Oh, shit, yes. That was just amazing. I mean I’ve never, ever…” I ground to a halt not knowing how to articulate how I felt.
“Aren’t you pleased you said yes? Do I give good head, Kenneth?”
“Oh yes, Karen. That was the best blowjob I’ve ever had.”
“Good. Right, you’ve got a lunch meeting with Nathan know. I’ve booked a table in the Executive Dining Room. I’ll come with you to introduce you and to make sure you’re comfortable.”
The Executive Dining Room was as grand as it sounded, a dozen tables covered in crisp white linen with opulent oak chairs and a small staff of, as I’m sure you can guess, beautiful young waitresses.
Nathan was an enormous man. He didn’t stand as we shook hands so I couldn’t judge his height but he gave an impression of tallness. What I could definitely see though was how wide he was, fat to the point of obesity.
His voice was also huge. He boomed out a welcome causing the other two diners in the room to smile wryly and indulgently, obviously used to his ebullience. The more I met Fleming’s people the more it felt like a close-knit family.
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