Keeper of Secrets

We had just been married for 2 years when we left the Air Force. ‘We’, because Andy, my husband was an Engineer on a front-line combat squadron based in Cyprus and I, the ******** of a military man serving on the same base, met him when I was employed as the PA for the squadron commander. It was an exciting life what with all the troubles going on in the Eastern Mediterranean and beyond. There seemed to be never a dull moment and the adrenalin was always pumping.

Then there was that other aspect to service life which added spice, which was that most of us were young, virile and ‘up for it’, and there was many an opportunity to have the occasional illicit affair with someone whenever the squadron was detached away from base. The squadron was often detached, and I used to miss Andy and was often horny and up for it!

It was an exciting and glamourous life while it lasted and a huge emotional wrench when the time came for us to be posted back home and for Andy to be assigned to some sleepy training establishment in the middle of nowhere, a posting that took no account of the job he had been doing when we had been overseas. Indeed, the change in circumstances was such that it took no time at all before he (we?) decided he should exercise his option to take early retirement from the Air Force and take his specialist skills into the Defence industry, to a company that manufactured the hi-tech and very secret equipment that he had been responsible for maintaining.

The company seduced him with offering a salary that was far in excess from that he was getting from the military (not difficult!) but there was a catch, the offer came with the requirement that he would be spending time away from home when he would be visiting the very same squadrons that he had been serving on when he was in uniform.

For us, it was a ‘no-brainer’, we had no kids to worry about and the offer was too good to pass up and so I soon found myself involved in the tasks of looking for a new apartment in the town where the company was located (‘Silicon Valley’, and very expensive) and then once we had successfully found somewhere, organizing the move to our new home.

We settled in quickly and Andy became immersed in his new role as a company rep and specialist for kit that equipped the Air Force’s latest combat aircraft. He had to work long hours as he settled into his new role and while the money was still a great attraction there was no doubting that after some time our relationship began to suffer a bit, especially our sex life which had been significantly reduced. Andy was tired and exhausted after work, which made it impossible for him to fully satisfy my needs, and then there was the frustration that once the house move was done and settled that I had too much time on my hands and was looking for a job.

(The boredom wasn’t the only reason to be seeking employment, the mortgage we had taken on buying the apartment was eye-wateringly expensive and we really needed the money.)

It took a while, but job salvation came via Andy who advised that there was a vacancy for a secretary in his new company. I applied, got through the interview (it must have been the military connection on my CV that swung it) and in a very short order I was welcomed into the company to begin work as a secretary for one of the Senior managers. I was made to understand that my job would require me to be handling top secret and commercially sensitive documents and one of the first things to be conducted was a security vetting and for me to sign the official secrets act which promised charges of treason (or worse) if anything went amiss with those documents whilst in my care! Again, it must have been my military background that swung the decision my way.

Andy and I both agreed what a neat coincidence it was that once again, we were working for the same employer albeit that this time, no uniforms involved!

My boss was a nice older man whom I soon discovered to be a bit ‘muddle-headed’ and certainly in need of a secretary/PA to take care of the mundane administrative stuff while he dealt with all the complexities of whatever it was that the company was involved with. He hardly seemed to notice my preference for a uniform of a different type, that of presenting a professional appearance, in fine, tight-fitting business suits, tailored jacket and skirt, and high heels shoes. I like to think that my body presents itself quite handsomely when I am dressed so.

I'm quite tall and have slim, fairly long legs and with high heels shoes I tend to tower over other girls and attract attention (well, that’s my opinion!). I prefer skirts that end a little above the knees, so you can see a lot but not too much of my legs and, as I rarely wear tights, the nylon of the stockings that wrap around them.

I like the feeling of wearing stockings, hold-ups or attached to suspenders, and I believe it is healthier not to be enveloping my pussy in an extra, unnecessary layer of fabric of restrictive tights (especially as I seem to be forever horny!) The cut of most of my business suits emphasizes my firm buttocks, the quite narrow waist, and especially my breasts that need something to tame their still firm fullness.

Andy loves my body and especially my breasts (well, he did before he got this job and had time for me). There had been many a time when after he had fucked me properly to one or two orgasms, he would push his erect cock between my tits and then cum profusely spraying my face with his lovely hot spunk. God, how I loved him doing that (or anyone else for that matter). In any case, I was very aware that wearing the right blouse and the right costume jacket, that my breasts look extremely appealing and the sight of my cleavage and deep necklines can conjured up all manner of fantasies.

My new male colleagues, including my boss, glanced furtively toward me from time to time, but my black hair tied back at the nape of my neck, my professional facial expression and the steely-blue eyes behind the lenses of my designer glasses apparently didn't let them share any fantasies they might be thinking. Anyway, they, like Andy, seemed far too busy to have time to look too often!

It was all very frustrating as I wanted to be faithful, despite the sometimes-burning desire when Andy had a very hard week again, and I was very aware that the work that the company was involved in was very sensitive and therefore had no desire to ‘rock the boat’ by becoming either a nagging wife or a security risk.

So it was that the neglect of my marital needs finally resulted in an interim solution of new break habit. More and more often, I would take myself off to the ladies' room which was situated in the basement of the building, lock myself in the only cubicle and take out my little rubber friend, a purse-sized vibrator. Hurriedly, I would pull up my skirt, get rid of my panties and sit down on the toilet seat. Then I would spread my legs as far as I could in the cubicle, lean back against the cistern and began to stroke myself. Quickly, the pent-up juices of my starved cunt would begin to flow and then my little rubber friend’s time would come, and I would carefully insert the pleasure giver into my aroused pussy, while the fingers of my other hand continue to circle over and softly stroke my clit. I always get very wet, which makes using a lubricant unnecessary and I usually cum within five minutes when I work myself in this way.

Another thing is that whenever sex is involved, I am always very vocal regardless of if I am actually fucking with someone or whether I am masturbating on my own. I can’t help myself and I use expressions that I would never dare utter in public, expressions that extol the virtues of the size of the ‘cock’ that is slip, sliding into my wet cunt and other such observations. I don’t know why I do it, but the words just come out. Whatever, it is a lovely lunchtime treat and sometimes I would still be so excited that I have to do it a second time before I returned upstairs to my desk.

Reaching orgasm had never caused me any problems. Ever since puberty kicked in, I began to deal more intensively with my sex. Growing up, I have already done it to myself with every conceivable object. Cucumbers, carrots, bananas, corn on the cob, candles; I am sure that I am not the only person to have noticed the shape and form of some feminine deodorant spray cans. The gear stick of my first car was very handy and I even had the handle of a tennis racket deep in my juicy cunt one time. How I love sex!

However, despite getting satisfaction that way, I would have preferred to have had Andy's hard cock but as his long hard weeks began to become the routine, so did my visit to the ladies' toilet down the stairs. My colleagues don't notice anything or make any comments about my frequent excursions to the rest room, I guess they were all too busy, too nice and well-mannered. The only person in the company who displayed any reaction, was the black guy who managed the document depository which was also located in the basement. He zealously ruled over his ‘kingdom’ single-handed and seemingly was always present close to the entrance of his domain as I passed by.

In contrast to the polite, friendly people I worked with upstairs, he was extremely coarse and, dare I add, ugly man who didn’t enamour himself by his unfriendliness. My visits to the restroom apart, I often had to deal with him when coming to the depository to deliver or retrieve a file or document or something. The Archive was secured by a door which was permanently locked, controlled by a button on his desk. The door had a large window which allowed him to see who was outside and required access. Alongside the door was a hatchway/counter and, depending on the manner of business to be conducted with the archivist, that decided if the door would be opened to let you in.

The window also allowed me to see inside and when I passed by, he would usually be crouched behind his desk, which was covered with documents, and invariably would leer which added to his unpleasant demeanour and showed how little he liked me. Actually, he didn't like anyone, and I learnt that friendliness was a foreign concept to him, but his grumbling whenever I had to deal with him as part of my job him really got on my nerves.

He must have been in his 50s, but looked even older partly due to the way he dressed in tasteless, old-fashioned clothes. His coarse unkempt appearance was made even more unattractive by the distinct odour of the unwashed and of cigarettes which was emphasised by the overflowing ashtray on his desk. A totally unattractive picture … but I was to get to know this man from a completely different side.

It was a few months into my job and on a day when I was feeling particularly horny and in need of relief that I retired to the toilet for a small break session. I went through my little ritual of pulling up my skirt and removing my panties and then sat down and parted my nylon covered legs. I was already dripping (Andy hadn't really gotten it for me for almost 2 weeks) and was just about to insert my faithful dildo into my cunt, which when my mobile phone rang. Cursing, I reluctantly put the phallus aside and picked out the phone from my purse. It was my Boss who was away on a business trip to the Ministry of Defence

"Hello Mrs. Coster, listen, I urgently need some data from an old file. I forgot to bring it with me.”

I tried desperately to keep my voice as neutral as possible to hide my anger about the interruption. "Of course, no problem, what file are you referring to?"

"Go to the depository and ask for the file relating to the mod programme for the RWR from 2015. I can’t remember the file reference, but the required data should be found there”.

It sounded a bit vague, so I asked, “RWR, what does that mean?”

“Rearward Warning Radar. Don’t worry, the chap knows what I’m after. Thank you and just call me as soon as you have the file."

"I'll do it immediately. Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

‘Why now, of all times?’ I asked myself. My mood wasn't exactly the best as I quickly stowed the dildo and panties in my purse, smoothed out the skirt and left the toilet to go and engage with that disgusting black man who ran the archive.

I decided that my best approach in dealing with him would be to act as professionally and as forthright as possible. From my point of view there was nothing to be gained by being friendly, he had often demonstrated that wasn’t his style, so I approached the door which acted as a barrier to the interior of the archive and rapped on the countertop to get his attention.

He was sitting at his desk which faced the counter and made a play at being engrossed at whatever it was that was showing on his computer screen. I knocked again on the countertop and this time he looked up and gave me his customary leer.

“And what can I do for you … as if I didn’t know!” he said.

What a strange, impudent thing to say, I thought, but no matter, I ignored his remark and said, “I need the file referring to the RWR 2015 mod programme. I don’t know the reference number, but my boss said that you would know what I was talking about.”

He clicked the button to open the door and I stepped inside.

“Hee Yeh, I know what you like talking about but I’m not sure he does!”

Extraordinary thing to say, I thought as I looked at his leering expression.

“Excuse me?”

“Miss Hoity Toity, I see you come down here every day to go to your ‘little girl’s room’ and do you have any idea how thin the walls are in this part of the building? I can sit here and hear everything ….”

It took but a split second to realise to what he was referring.

“…. Yep, everything.”

He must have seen the colour drain from my face as embarrassment overcome me. He continued.

“Yep, I’m sure your boss will be very interested to know what it is you talk about when you come down here. Indeed, I think you wasting time getting your rocks off in company-time might be regarded as a sackable offence. What do you think?”

Oh My God, has this pervert been listening to me masturbating in the toilet? Obviously, I was aware that I was in the vicinity of this creep’s domain but the thought that he may have heard my very vocal and explicit dialogue was something I didn’t want to contemplate.

The colour returned to my face as a blush, thinking of the kind of things that I say when I am fucking myself with my faithful rubber friend. He noticed the change in my attitude.

“Yeah, guess I could be minded letting him know how often and what it is you spend so much time down here doing.”

I tried to defend myself, “Why would he believe you, it’s not the sort of thing that you could prove.”

Again, that stupid laugh, “hee hee, what if I was to tell you that in the old days, some areas of the building were wired for sound and I discovered that when the basement was converted to be used for being the archive, guess what, they never removed the wiring from when they constructed the girl’s restroom.

“Hee, hee, you wouldn’t believe the things that I hear going on in that room nowadays. I always record the more ‘interesting conversations’ so I can listen to them later, over and over again. So, don’t worry, there’s plenty of proof.”

I really didn’t know what to say, how to react. This man was clearly a fantasist with too much time to himself down in his lonely domain. His suggestion that the place was wired for sound was too fanciful to be believed but, then again, I supposed that there was a possibility that he had rigged up something on his own initiative, After all, he had plenty of time and opportunity to do so without anybody disturbing him.

Urggh, all that filled my head was that this disgusting pervert had been listening to every visit I made to the toilet, for whatever reason, and, if he was to be believed, that he had been privy to some of my most personal, intimate fantasies. I shuddered at the thought as I looked at his smirking face.

“Then again, I don’t have to tell anyone what you get up to, I mean, it could be just a secret that we keep between ourselves. I mean, it shouldn’t really be something to be losing your job over, is it?”

“What do you mean, ‘could be’?” I asked

“Well, I’m thinking that as you keep going on about, how do you put it, ‘needing that cock; give me that cock, hee, hee, fuck me with that cock’, that maybe I could be of assistance …” His voice trailed off as he looked to see my reaction.

My reaction was to look back at him with what I hoped was a stony expression and say, “You must be joking.”

“Uh, uh, no joke. You need to understand that any hint of impropriety when dealing with secret materials such as you and the, what was it, the RWR File? Well, it would only take one word from me to your boss, and you would be out of the door before you could draw breath.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“Oh yeah, I would, and it wouldn’t just be a sacking offence. I reckon that I could add that there has been something dodgy about the way you have been misfiling documents that hints at maybe you have been copying them, or something. Either way, as your ‘crime’ involves state secrets I reckon there would be criminal charges, treason even.”

I figured that this to be a bit of a stretch of the imagination, that this was another example of this pathetic guy being a bit of a fantasist, but what did I know. What I was aware of was that I couldn’t afford to run the risk of losing my job, not with that horrendous mortgage we had to pay. I gathered my thoughts and composure and asked again, “Uh, ‘could be’, what do you mean?”

“Well, I’m thinking that you don’t have to be coming down here to go and think about getting cock when there’s an obvious solution to your ‘needs’.” He emphasised what he was alluding to by rubbing the bulge that was tenting his pants.

I looked at him in disbelief, realising what he was suggesting, but then putting my disbelief and disgust to one side I figured that if a little ‘flirting’ was the price to pay for keeping my job then, what the hell, I might as well play along with what this odious person was hinting at. I figured that it was his behaviour that was more of a threat to job stability, but it wasn’t my job that we were talking about.

With that thought in mind, maybe the tables had turned and it was me that had the power to keep my job. “OK, you stupid asshole, let’s see how you react,” I thought to myself.

I leaned on his desk so that my breasts, pressed together by my upper arms, almost spilled out of the low-cut blouse right in front of his face. His ugly mouth gaped open as I looked at him and with his gaze fixed on my breasts, he licked his lips and once again, rubbed his pants.

“Nah, it’s going to take more than that. What else are you offering?” and he tilted his head and looked toward my waist and below absorbing all. I realised at that moment not only was this guy ugly, he was desperate and that maybe I could play this situation to my advantage; after all, he might be ugly, but he did have a cock and ‘I didn’t have to look at his face, did I?’ was my reasoning.

Then I had a ‘lightbulb moment’. If he was basing his threats on having recorded my ‘behaviour’, why shouldn’t I do the same and carry out the same bluff?

“Uh, you do know that all the while we have been talking that my phone has been recording every word?” I patted my purse.

His eyes dropped and his attention went to the bag hanging off my shoulder. Now it was his turn for the colour of his face to change as he realised what I was implying.

"Now, as we were saying, the RWR file. Get me the file and maybe when I bring it back, intact, we can, uh, discuss this matter further.”

Embarrassed and caught by my bluff, he averted my gaze and scuttled off to disappear behind the rows of filing cabinets before returning a few minutes later.

"Um, here's the file," he stammered and handed me the folder, trying not to look at me but rather at the bag that was still hanging from my shoulder. “It’s classified ‘Secret’, you need to sign the register.”

I was beginning to enjoy provoking this stupid idiot, so I patted my purse again, “I don’t think so. I haven’t got the time to waste.”

I took the file and reached over his desk to press the button that unlocked the door. Then I turned on my heels and left him goggling at my backside as I made my way to the stairs. I listened to his bluster as I walked away and climbed the stairs from the basement, and I wondered, with my personal ‘Rearward Warning Radar’, if the sight as I deliberately wiggled my bum had caused the idiot’s cock to bulge even more in his pants.

Once back at my desk, I called my boss to let him know that I had retrieved the file and how did he want me to convey the information given its secret classification. (I was hoping he would be impressed by my diligence at recognising that such information shouldn’t be discussed over an open phone line.) Instead, he infuriated me by saying, “Oh, never mind, I don’t need it now. I had what I needed all the while in another document. You can take it back and give my apologies to the Archivist for wasting his time.”

‘Wasting his time, do you know what you have put me through, you silly old fool?’ was my unspoken reaction. “Yes Sir, I’ll make your apologies,” was what I actually said before I once again picked up the file and returned down to the basement.

God, I was fuming inside. My muddle-headed boss had interrupted what had been a most satisfying wank just as I was coming to a most satisfying climax, then I had been forced to deal with that perverted idiot in the archive and now he tells me that it was all unnecessary. I decided then and there that I would make the most of the situation by continuing to pay back the pervert in the basement.

I returned to the Archive and at the sound of my footsteps as I approached to counter, his head popped out from behind the screen of his computer on the desk. (I hazarded a guess that he wasn’t looking at anything to do with work!) and he pressed the door button to let me in. The look of relief on his face as I held out the classified file was palpable; his precious ‘missing’ secret documents had been returned.

‘Not so fast’, I thought as he leaned across his desk and held out his hand, ‘you’re not getting away so easily’. Before he could take hold, I dropped the folder.

"Yikes, what a mishap," I commented innocently as the contents spilled out on the floor between us. He looked horrified. “Don’t get up, my fault, I’ll get it ...” and with that I bent down only slightly bent to pick up the folder and the loose papers knowing that by bending over, my bum could be admired in its full glory and that my skirt would slide up and my stockings tops would be clearly visible. Without turning my head, I knew that I had his full attention and that all thoughts of his precious paperwork being defiled was the last thing on his mind. I collected the spilt folder, straightened up again and tossed it on his desktop. Satisfied, that I had ‘paid him back’, I turned to leave.

"Thank you," I said mockingly. I didn't expect what happened next.

I had just reached the exit when he came from behind to grab me around the waist with his grubby black hands.

"What the hell do you think you’re doing?" I gasped turning to see a face, which had taken on a slightly crazy, expression.

"You horny bitch,. You come down here flirting, shamelessly showing off your ass and big tits, what do you think I’m doing?"

"You’re crazy, let me go. I ..." I couldn't say anything more to express my indignation because he covered my mouth with his left hand while he pushed me against the desk with his obese body. My heart was racing in panic. I felt trapped, the stench of his hand almost took my breath away and then, I felt his other hand pushing between my tightly pressed legs. I resisted the invasion but with brute force he finally managed to get my legs apart a little and finally push my skirt up to my cunt. I squirmed, trying to free myself, but without success and then with horror felt his fat fingers touching my labia, which were defenseless against his attack, since unfortunately I had not put on my panties back on when I had hurriedly left the toilet earlier.

"Just as I thought,” he sneered, “... what a Slut, Wears stockings but no panties under the skirt. Such a little slut you are and, oh, a shaved pussy which is also soaking wet. You’re asking for it, aren’t you?" he breathed hoarsely into my ear.

I cursed myself inside. Such a stupid thing that I had done. Of course, he had to think that I was just waiting for him to touch me with his dirty hands, that I had set out to be fingered by him. I was petrified as he then found my still slightly swollen clit and began to rub and massage it roughly with two fingers.

"Yes, yes, always acting cool and dismissive, but walks around in your fancy clothes, your stockings and underneath, a naked cunt. You arrogant bitch. I will give you what you need."

His voice resonated aggression and desire, his sour breath stinking of cigarettes, blew into my face. I felt helpless and, in my panic, I hadn't even noticed that I was no longer trying to press my legs together anymore, that I had just accepted having his hand between my legs. Worse still, that I was beginning to feel that his rough handling on my delicate pussy was having a surprising effect, that my clit felt as if it had begun to swell, and how my juices began to flow, how my breathing calmed down.

He noticed. "You like that, do you? The snooty slut doesn't really get it at home, does she? Not from what I hear when she comes down here, hee, hee."

His rough hands, his attempted finger-fucking, should have disgusted me but, to my shame, it reawakened my badly neglected libido and I began to feel the arousal when I had been masturbating in the toilet return. Yes, this disgusting person was right, I was liking what his hand was doing between my legs. I let out an involuntary groan.

Then, without warning, he pushed his fingers deep into my wet cunt. I couldn't help myself, I spread my legs further to make more room for his hand. He acknowledged my surrender with a triumphant grin that made him look even more ugly.

"Hee, hee, like that do we? Maybe I can take my hand off your mouth. What do you think?"

I was too confused to answer immediately as his fingers began to stroke back and forth into my swollen pussy in a sluggish rhythm, his thumb, I’m guessing, expertly rubbing my clit. I nodded at him barely perceptibly and the dirty slob had me; he seemed to know exactly how to get me horny. His grin grew wider and he took his hand from my mouth.

"How dare you, you pig, you ugly, smelly, old man," I hissed at him with all the venom I could muster but my anger was undermined by the reality that I was thrusting my hips against his fingers as I continued to enjoy his finger fucking. His reaction to my outburst was to laugh softly and to use the hand that had covered my mouth to begin work on my blouse and undo the buttons.

"Oh my, Miss hoity toity, what beautiful big tits"

I couldn’t help myself on hearing his compliment and I started moaning softly which encouraged him to thrust harder and deeper into me, rubbed my swollen clit again and again with the heel of his hand. He pulled my blouse further apart and then dispensing with niceties, grabbed my silk bra, pulled it down and threw away, completely torn. He roughly grabbed my exposed breasts, massaged and squeezed the soft flesh and, though he was ******* that maybe I liked to be roughly treated, my nipples reacted as they always do in such circumstances and betrayed me by stiffening into hard buttons. Never before had anyone touched me so roughly and unlovingly; my juices began flowing in streams.

He knew it and gave another chuckle, "Yes, let yourself go, you’re loving this, aren’t you? Let yourself go. That's what you want, right? Tell me you want it. Come."

I glared at him in hatred as he bent down to suck on my nipples. A short, sharp pain made me cry out as his stained teeth dug into my sensitive buds. He lifted his head and looked at me again, "Well, come on, say it, tell me you need this,” he purred in a hypocritically sweet voice, while a third finger joined the two other intruders.

My God, I thought, no one has ever fucked me so well with their fingers, not Andy, not anyone. My pussy felt as if it was glowing as it pulsed in reaction to his stroking hand. The area where his fingertips kept massaging vigorously felt strangely hot and swollen. He was too good. He had me. I gave up. I nodded dumbly.

“What? I didn’t hear you. What did you say?”

"Yes, do it, you dirty, stinking pig."

He laughed again that cold, spiteful laugh and as he continued to fuck me with his fingers, I felt my orgasm begin to swell inside me, the coming salvation was nigh. I moan loudly and surrendered to my lust and with a rush I was overwhelmed, and like never before, the waves of ecstasy overtook my whole body. I twitched uncontrollably as he held me tight and continued to work his fingers hard and fast and my pussy spasmed rhythmically around the tremendous orgasm.

Then something happened that had never happened to me before, I felt my quivering cunt start to squirt. I felt fluid splashing out of me in spurts, running down my thigh, dripping softly splashing to the floor. I couldn't help myself and I just had to let it come.

He (obviously) felt it too and he suddenly pulled his fingers out of my cunt and a powerful gush spurted out onto the bare concrete floor. He looked on in amazement, but his expression quickly turned into one of interest and amusement and as I lifted my head, I saw him begin to unbuckle his belt.

When he opened the button and zipper of the pants, it was my turn to be amazed, the bump of his pants revealed itself to be the biggest black cock I had ever seen in my life. It looked to be a foot long, crisscrossed by bulging blue veins and almost as thick as my forearm. The shiny purple knob looked like a ripe plum and already dribbling a sticky stream of pre-cum. He stepped out of his pants which by now were pooled around his ankles and he came back to me still spread across his desktop.

"So, my Miss Hoity Toity, now it's time to get what you keep calling out for, let’s fuck"

I looked at that black monster bobbing between us and thought, “Oh my God, that’s going to tear me apart!” and my reawakened desire gave way to panic. I tried to get up to escape this diabolical weapon, but he grabbed and pushed me back down onto the desk. I squirmed, trying to free myself from the iron grip of his grubby hands but to no avail.

"No, get off me, let me go," I cried but he seemed like a man possessed and wasn’t listening, nobody was down in this lonely basement. A hand stifled my screams and with the other arm, he somehow managed to pull up my skirt so that it was bunched up around my waist, turned me over so that I was laying on my front splayed on the desktop. He was unimaginably strong, I felt like a toy doll and then I felt his rock-hard cock touch my thighs and slide forward so that the shaft was wedged between his wobbly belly and the cheeks of my ass.

"No point in crying, bitch, you know that nobody except you comes down here.”. (I didn’t know that, but thinking about it, he was probably right, I never had seen anyone else but me visit the archive.)

“You’ve probably never been fucked by a real man, have you?” (not true but I was in no position to argue) “Let’s see how you like being fucked by this,” he hissed and then I felt him spread my legs further apart with his knees so that he could push that fat glans to part my thickly swollen labia, pushing them further apart.

“Oh my God, he’ll never fit into me,” I thought but, what did I know, after pressing hard, it happened. With a sharp pain, the fat plum parted the entrance of my vagina, and as I was still so wet after having been finger fucked by this monster, he easily penetrated deeper into my poor pussy.

The initial pain passed very quickly and never before have I felt so full, so dilated, so fulfilled as at this moment. My fear gave way to amazement that this monster cock was stuck deep in my cunt! My lips stretched around an oversized intruder as never before. However, he did not give me much time to savour this newfound sensation and achievement. He began to move in me, at first leisurely, but soon, when he realised that I had accommodated him with relative ease, overwhelmed by his passion he began to thrust his monster cock faster and harder into my slippery cunt. I felt each of his thrusts with an intensity I had never known before, my entire body was stimulated, every nerve ending tingling with the most delightful sensations. It was too much; this could not go well. I was not supposed to be enjoying this!

My mind went blank, as I allowed myself to savour being fucked by this beast. (I didn’t tell him that, of course, that would be my secret) and I lost all sense of time. In reality it must have been a couple of minutes when I was bought back to life, and I literally exploded and experienced the most unbelievable orgasm. I screamed out my climax as, once again, I felt myself squirt out of my pussy again to soak my thighs and the desktop.

"Yes, bitch, let it come, cover my cock with your cunt juice," he panted in my ear, grunting as, unfazed by my orgasm, he continued to fuck. Grabbing my waist with both hands he hammered his cock mercilessly into my soft flesh, harder and faster and, to my shame, my orgasm had barely subsided when I came again. It had never happened to me before so quickly and so violently. I cried with delight as once again I felt the waves of passion wash over me, smelling his sweat stench mixed with the scent of my juice.

“How long can he keep this up?” I wondered as I felt the beginnings of a third time a short time later.

He hadn’t heard the question, but I got my answer when he grunted, “Ready bitch, I'll squirt you full … I’ll Arrggh …” and with that, he triggered my own climax as he pumped jet after jet of his spunk into my overflowing cunt. Never before had I been able to feel a man inside me ejaculating. It was an amazing sensation (but I didn’t tell him that).

What came next was also new to me. Puffing heavily, he stopped his wild rambling and he lifted himself off my prone body and pulled at me to turn me over so that I lay on my back. I thought that would be the end of my ‘ordeal’ and I expected after his (our) violent orgasms, for him to go limp and withdraw from me, but I was shocked and bemused to see that his huge tool hadn’t lost a bit of its size and hardness. Before I could make a comment, he pulled me closer to him and started fucking me again and each thrust caused some of the enormous amount of cum he had just deposited in my cunt to pulse out and run lazily down my thighs.

"But you just came, didn't you?" I gasped out with difficulty as he continued to thrust his thing into me like a man possessed.

"I don’t hear you complaining bitch. Wassa matter, don’t you like feeling a real man’s cock inside your slutty cunt? A woman like you, ... just needs a ... right man," he stuttered, panting between his hard thrusts.

I couldn’t dispute his analysis. I just moaned in pleasure, He might be a disgusting, obese, unmannered slob but, he was right, no man had ever fucked me like that, and it was glorious.

As he continued to fuck, he turned his attention to my heaving breasts and he began pawing me with his grubby hands, digging into the trembling flesh, squeezing my protruding nipples. There was no tenderness, he was just wild and crude, defiling me with his lust. I should have been disgusted but I just couldn't help myself but moan like someone possessed, again and again until, oh my god, he made me feel the beginnings of yet another orgasm building. My cunt splattered, staining the desk and the floor beneath my legs, soaking his wonderful cock that had become the center of my existence.

His fingers clawed deep into my sensitive breasts and with a final roar and a last strong, deep thrust I felt him once again ejaculate inside me, I was duly inseminated again.

We were both drenched in sweat and the room was permeated with the smell of sex and our juices when, with heavy wheezing breath he slid to the side, and crept to the nearby wall to rest against it.

Also panting, I lay back on the desktop and tried to understand what had just happened. We looked at each other with only our breathing to be heard. I was astonished to see that his cock was still standing, with an attractive sheen, all smeared with sperm and cunt juice. He grinned broadly when he noticed my astonished look.

"Yes, sweetie, you bring out the best in me," he said, his ugly face twisted into a mocking smile.

The fuck frenzy lasted 20 minutes. 20 long minutes that were to change me forever. This ugly man gave me what I needed, confirmed to me who I really was, a woman bursting with insatiable lust, who had to be fucked by a big, powerful cock in order to get true satisfaction.

Gathering my breath and composure, I slowly lifted myself up from the desk, and, still wearing my high heels, stood up and looked down at the almost naked obese form of my attacker, his cock poking up like an obscene mast. I didn’t bother to smooth down my skirt, rather I left it bunched up around my waist where he had so forcefully pushed it so that he could see his cum begin to ooze out of my pussy and run lazily down my legs, where it soaked the lace edge of my stockings. The look on his face was a picture, he couldn’t have had a clue what I was thinking, that this dirty pig had used me in the most disgusting fashion …. and that I approved. More so that I enjoyed being treated so roughly and felt a degree of gratitude that he had used me to get rid of his own frustrations. (I also didn’t mention that now I was in love with that disproportionate cock, that would definitely be a secret).

Instead, I decided that I would taunt him, that I would regain my dignity by putting him back in his place and reminding him that what he had done had been recorded by the phone in my ever-present purse … which would be a lie, I hadn’t a clue how one would do that.

I looked at him defiantly with as much contempt as I could muster.

"So, it turns you on to fuck me like an animal? Do you think you can get away with that, don’t you think there will be consequences if I tell them upstairs what you’ve done, what you do when you’re on your own down here?"

He looked up at me in confusion, not knowing how I was going to react. He was a pitiful sight as I moved closer and stood before him, legs apart.

"You think that it’s fun to shove your stinking cock into my cunt until it almost bursts."

While I was talking to him in this strange way, I massaged my tits with one hand and with the other I began stroking my clit, which I could feel had grown. I think he began to realise that I wasn’t being serious, his ugly face was made even less attractive by the grin that began to form.

"Look at what you've done. I’m completely sticky with your slimy spunk, and sore from your reckless fucking. Do you think I enjoyed having you sticking your horse dick in me, making me have multiple orgasms?”

He didn’t reply but I saw the ‘lightbulb’ flicker as he figured that I must be playing some game with him. He shifted himself to be more comfortable, and no words were required, as I grabbed his still steel-hard black cock, crouched down with my legs spread wide, directed him and let myself be impaled with pleasure by this wonderful fucking machine.

His cock had only left me a few minutes earlier, but I already realized how much I had missed his all-filling size. I rode his whole length of the pole and felt him touch me in places never before reached, it felt wonderful. He began to move but I stopped him and let him know that, this time, it would be me doing the fucking and for him to just lay back and enjoy it.

Enjoy it he did as I fucked him, rode him, my ecstatic cunt swallowing him hard and deep, savouring its whole length as again the ecstatic moans of my orgasms filled the archive, I splashed his fat belly with my juice until he was soaked from top to bottom. I couldn't get enough.

But there came a time when I could take no more, so I let his cock slide out and heard him whimper in disappointment. Perversely, I felt pity for spoiling his fun, so I decided to give him a last treat, I spun around and straddled and sat on his face with my twitching pussy directly over his gaping mouth. I was not disappointed with his reaction when I felt his tongue lick our juices from my soaked vagina and how I was now enjoying having this pathetic slob completely at my disposal.

I told him, “That’s right, clean it up, you disgusting pig.” He responded by digging deeper with a tongue that felt as if it had equally impressive proportions to his cock, a cock that he was now frantically wanking with his chubby fat black hand. I didn’t tell him, but I was enthralled at the sight of the fat veiny shaft, the fat purple glans, his hairy balls jerking up and down in response to the tugging of his cock, all slick and slimy with our ejaculations.

My thoughts were raging as I watched his fist stroking and as he began to jerk his fat body off the floor, I realised that, amazingly, he was about to come for what must have been the umpteenth time. I was impressed but didn’t tell him so. Instead, I commanded him, "Don’t waste it, cum on my tits."

He slid his fat body from under me and clumsily got to his feet still holding onto that rigid cock. I knelt submissively before him, and I delighted in watching him resume wanking and within a few moments he gave me what I asked of him. He let out a strangled moan and began to spurt big white fountains of spunk on my face which then dribbled down on to my breasts and upper body to join the mess that he had previously made of me. Then, at last, he went limp and that horse-size cock retreated beneath the rolls of his fat belly. I found the sight to be both obscene and curiously fascinating.

For five minutes we rested from our exertions, neither spoke, we didn't look at each other, we just knew and accepted that without having had any discussion that we had both provided what each of us had desperately needed.

Finally, he got up, went over to his desk, found and gave me a towel. He waved his hand and mumbled something about there being a bathroom at the back of the room. I picked up my discarded items of clothing and made my own retreat to the room where there was little sink and I cleaned myself as best I could, straightened out my clothes and got dressed. By the time I returned to the front of the room and his desk, he had similarly tidied himself and was dressed. He acknowledged my return with a smirk. Still no words were exchanged; I picked up my purse, he pressed the button to unlock the door and I left the archive, neat and tidy, as if nothing had happened.


The next day I was still feeling sensitive from the pounding that I had taken (but in a nice way) so I didn't put on any panties figuring a little ‘freedom’ might help the healing process. Thankfully, Andy was still away on his trip so I didn’t need to be making any explanations as to why I might be looking a little red and puffy ‘down there’ but my Boss was back from his visit to the MoD and he had a few queries of his own to put my way (but nothing to do with ‘you-know-what).

As expected, he called me into his office and after the usual pleasantries, emptied the contents of his briefcase and apologised once more for wasting my time with his call of yesterday adding, “ .. the problem is that these documents are all over the place and I wasn’t aware that the data I needed was in one of the files I already had with me.” He held up the file in question. “What’s needed is for someone to go down to the Archive and thoroughly go through the data set and get the files properly cross-referenced.”

I smiled, knowing without asking that the ‘someone’ he was referring to was me.

“I know it’s an imposition, that the Archive is not the most pleasant workspace but it really needs to be sorted out so that I don’t get myself into that kind of muddle again. “

I attempted a look that expressed silent resignation at being imposed upon on by being given this extra workload. (In truth, I was delighted at the prospect.) My Boss looked at me, apologetically, supposing I had an aversion to working in the basement, “I’m sorry to have to ask you but it really does need sorting out and you have proven that you have just the organisational skills to do this. Give my apologies to that Archivist chap, never can remember his name, and tell him that you will need to be with him for just as long as it takes. And don’t worry, I’ll be able to cope without you. Just check in from time to time and give me an update on how you are progressing.”

I couldn’t believe my luck, one moment I was wondering how I could find an excuse to go and resume my adoration of that wonderful cock and now, here I was, my Boss had just given me carte blanche to do just that.

With a sigh, I thanked him for being given this opportunity to demonstrate my ‘organisational skills’ and, after the lunch break, I went down to the archive to advise the fat Archivist that, at the behest of our Boss and for the foreseeable future we would be working together sorting out the cross-referencing of documents.

I knocked on the countertop to get his attention to unlock the door, I entered, locked the door behind me, and then stood in front of his desk and slowly pulled the hem of my skirt up. Without greeting or word, he smiled at me briefly, opened his pants and took out his already stiff cock. I smiled back and, swaying my hips, walked slowly around the desk to where he was sitting. I was not surprised to see that he had been looking at some porny video on his computer screen, hence the stiff cock! I shucked off my jacket, undid my blouse and pulled down my bra, then stood in front of him with my legs apart.

For a few seconds we looked at each other and recognised the real reason for my returning to the Archive. His grin grew wider when I then swung over him, grabbed his cock and placed the plump purple shimmering glans at the entrance of my already soaking wet cunt. Almost without resistance, his fat cock slid into my vagina, which was still well-stretched from the day before.

I had my first orgasm almost immediately. He heard my cries and reacted by grabbing at my breasts roughly, then putting his fat face down he sucked and bit the nipples, and in a hoarse voice called me names like, ‘a horny slut’, bitch in heat’, ‘cock-horny nymphomaniac’. I loved being treated so roughly and within seconds, I climaxed again.

We acted like animals, under the influence of a primal lust. I rode him until he had his first ejaculation and pumped my cunt full by which time I already orgasmed four times. He pushed me off his lap and turned me around so that I was splayed across the desktop. Still hard, he rammed his monstrous cock into me from behind, first standing at the desk, then after I had cummed another two times, he pulled me up from the desk, turned me around once more and with a grunt he came pressed between my tits, and ejaculated which completely soiled my face and tits with his spunk.

We must have been at it for about half an hour when I reminded him that we had ‘proper’ work to do. He nodded and so I went to the little bathroom, cleaned up and adjusted my clothing so that I was once again properly dressed. On my return he had done likewise. We both expressed satisfaction at how things had worked out and that we looked forward to moving ahead with the project … but not too quickly.

Andy returned from his trip and expressed surprised that I wasn’t my usual uptight self that his absences usually caused. I told him that the change in my demeanour might be due to my ‘promotion’ and that the new responsibilities I had been given at work meant that I was really enjoying the new project and getting great job satisfaction.

He asked me what the new job entailed, and I chided him that he ought to know better than to ask, given the nature of the company’s business, “I made a declaration when I took this job that I would respect ‘confidentiality’. You know I can’t give you details. All I can say is that the work is classified, a dark secret, and I am a keeper of secrets.”

Since then, I have had no problem with my husband's career absorbing most of his time and strength. Almost every day I go to the archive, lock the door behind me and smile at the waiting archivist.

I have explained to my Boss that this task is a lot more complex than first thought and that I may be some time down there. He is quite happy about that and has told me to take as long as I need.