DEIRDRE, THE FRECKLED SLUT, A CAMEO

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DEIRDRE, THE FRECKLED SLUT, A CAMEO

I had over 60 girls on my shift at the electronics plant. We worked under pressure and wasted little time working hard on the line. I was the Supervisor but we had random management patrols that kept us on our toes and kept the girls at their work stations.

They were the usual mix, mostly teenagers, some picking up spot money, some saving for marriage, some married and working off debts and a fairly high percentage of older divorcees and separated spouses, not to mention a number of single parents.

I was old enough to know better and more experienced, so I kept all of them at arm’s length. Women, especially teenagers, have seductive charm. They become friendly, and before you know it, over friendly. Then they take longer breaks, longer toilet time and expect you to cover up for all their misdemeanours.

But there was no friendliness with me. I was there to work and supervise, and in any case, I was happily married. Behind my back they could say what they liked, but to my face they were respectful. I was hard but fair. They knew that and appreciated it. Our output was good and we regularly picked up the monthly Best Line Award.

Then Deirdre joined my line. She was 18 years old, short and chunky and very average looking, although her hazel eyes sparkled with youth and mischief. But she had one feature that had me spell-bound from the first time I saw her – she was freckled, not just freckled, but liberally and copiously peppered with brownish and ginger freckles. On her face they were little pin points, but hundreds of them. She wore a bright red tank top, revealing that her shoulders were covered in the same freckles but slightly larger and the upper parts of her tits, her belly and her bare back were covered in similar freckles.

The lump in my throat gave away my reaction. I had always been madly fascinated by freckled girls – probably my one and only fetish in an otherwise pretty colourless sex life. They made me weak at the knees and gave me goose pimples. My other reaction was highly visible, I just stared and stared at her and dreamily followed the clusters of spots that proliferated her belly and her shoulders. My mouth dropped open in astonishment because I was speechless.

Ideally I should have welcomed her to the line and as a new employee given her a little lecture of what was expected of her and how I was kind hearted by strict with discipline and would accept no nonsense. Nothing of this emerged. I just pointed her in the direction of her Line Trainer and motioned her to get on with it. Deirdre frowned and shrugged her shoulders. She had been tipped off about my strictness but nobody had told her I was strange.

As it was she was working on machines that were near my desk, so each time I glanced up, or walked along the line, she came into direct vision line. She was a chirpy little teenager, full of life, boisterous and got on well with the other girls.

Consciously and unconsciously I began to fantasise about her, constantly. What would she look like naked? Did the freckles cover her all over? Did freckles cover her bum cheeks and her tits? And what about her crotch – was it covered in tell-tale spots or did she have a patch of pure snow white skin, like most freckled girls had very fair skin, milk white?

Needless to say the other girls soon spotted my weakness – as women do when a man has a special inclination towards one particular girl. I was spending time chatting with Deirdre, meaningless chit-chat that gave me opportunities to affix my blazing eyes on her freckled body. She was a cognoscente little shrew and quickly ascertained my total fascination with her body.

She would bend over in my direct line of vision so that her tank top would shrink up her back and expose her bare midriff and waist. She wore her jeans low so that I could see the cleft leading down to her bum cheeks. In our conversations she was cheeky and coy, tantalising and seductive. She would lead me on with her pouting and preening, arranging her bra straps, re-arranging her jeans, running her fingers through her reddish-hued, brown hair and fluffing it.

The whole situation was beginning to affect me. When I looked at her closely my cock would stir. At home I was listless and indifferent, thinking about Deirdre constantly, visualising her shivering bum cheeks, her sturdy legs covered in those devilish spots.

At work, she made capital of the situation. She was loitering over longer breaks, was spending more time chatting, and was always producing lame excuses for lower outputs that I accepted without question. She was on top of me. I felt like a drowning man with no straws to clutch.

One day I plucked enough courage to overcome my timidity to ask her whether she was covered all over in freckles. She smiled mischievously and coyly.

“Wouldn’t you just like to find out?”

My face turned bright red with embarrassment. I had no reply to that.

From top supervisor, I became a piece of shit, losing my temper often, arguing with the other girls, and raising my voice when an argument ensued. From best line we became the worst line and I began to fear for my job. The girls were listless and miserable and treated me with disdain and contempt.

During one particularly bad afternoon, Glenda – one of the more mature divorcees – completely lost her cool when there was a heated argument between some of the girls, including Deirdre. They almost came to blows and then I heard Glenda scream:

“Oh for Christ’s sake give it to him and we might get back to normal again. He’s gagging for it!”

The other girls laughed uproariously and Deirdre smiled broadly and shrugged her shoulders. She just loved her position of being top girl, knowing the whole section was revolving around her.

We were at the company’s Christmas Party and I was in the doldrums, the only guy who seemed not to be enjoying himself. The reception hall was packed with women of all sizes and descriptions, naturally all section girls seeking each other out. I lingered on the fringe of our group, nursing a drink or two but not really being in the party spirit.

Deirdre was there looking like a miniature bundle of dynamite. Compared to me, she was about half my size and I was of course twice her age and a little more. She wore a sexy party dress that exposed all her shoulders and a good part of her cleavage, with a long skirt and an atrocious slit up the side so that every time she moved you could almost see her panties. Her legs were rounded and sturdy and covered in freckles and looked really sexy on her high heels.

She was the life and soul of our group, her usual cheeky and chirpy self. The other girls didn’t resent her for her privileges and hold over me. Rather they admired her cheek and resented my weak control of the situation, like I was a weak wimp.

I kept looking at my watch hoping time would speed to the end of the party. Then Deirdre surprised me. She marched up to me boldly and blurted “are you going to give me a lift home?” Her boyfriend was away for the week-end and, so she said, she would rather get a lift back with me then one of the girls. I readily accepted.

As soon as she entered my car she flopped onto the front seat and flung off her high-heeled shoes.

“They’ve been killing me all evening. Phew what a relief. Hey listen, my boyfriend’s away for the week-end. Fancy a cup of coffee?”

She drew up her legs on the car seat and tucked her knees under her chin. The slit in her dress slipped open and revealed a wide expanse of leg and thigh and the pink strip of panty she was wearing.

I nodded eagerly, unable to produce speech sounds.

Her apartment was small but comfortable. As soon as she entered she again flung off her shoes. Needless to say throughout all this my mind had been racing with fantasies and conjectures.
What were her intentions? Why had she set this up? Was it another stage in my humiliation and degradation?

Wha
tever it was, I was too weak to resist. I had already ruined and compromised myself so a further humiliation would make no difference. She busied herself in the kitchen and I heard coffee mugs clattering. When she emerged, her dress had gone too. She was wearing a scant half bra and very slim, pink panties. I gasped.

“You once asked me if I was covered all over in freckles? This is your chance to find out if I am or not. Look”. She twirled around on her heels. My head reeled and my cock responded. Her neck and shoulders were heavily freckled but the freckles lightened as they paled down to her tits. Her nipples area was freckle-free. The small of her back was just pure white skin but there were a few freckles on her bum cheeks and then whole clusters of freckles over her buttocks, thighs and legs.

I looked at her dreamily, unbelievingly, droolingly.

She slipped off her bra and peeled off her panties and stood naked, her arms akimbo on her sturdy waist. She was a chunk of a girl, sturdy and strong.

“Why don’t you inspect me close up? Down on your knees, here”. She pointed to her feet and I slumped down on my knees and stared at her feet. She lifted up a leg.

“Suck my toes and taste me”.

I obeyed the command and lovingly, ravenously began to suck at her stubby toes, the top of her foot and her ankle.

“Lick up to my knee”. I obeyed the command.

“That’s enough. Now, inspect my arse – but don’t touch”. She turned around, bent over and her hands parted her arse cheeks and opened her small and puckered arse hole. My face was close up to it and breathed into her hole.

“Like it?”

“Oh yes, wonderful. May I lick it?”

“No, no way. Just look, admire, but don’t touch”.

She made me stand up. I towered over her and felt like sweeping her into my arms, flinging her down and fucking the shit out of her. She showed me her back and lifted her long, silky hair, exposing an elegant white neck covered in freckles. I groaned.

“Don’t you dare touch me – just look”. She said again. I nodded humbly. She made me sit down and did a few twirls in front of my eyes, exposing various parts of her body. We sipped our coffee.

“Now, I’m going to allow you a special concession. I am going to stand over you naked and you can wank yourself off so get your prick out”.

I was so astounded I almost dropped my coffee mug.

“Well, go on then”, she said impatiently. “It’s getting late and I’m tired”.

I unbuckled my trousers and slipped them down to my ankles and then dragged down my underpants. My cock was stifled, shrunk, mortified and almost dead with embarrassment. It had never been anything much anyway.

She leaned down and gave it a few grudging pokes so that it stirred.

“It’s still alive then”, she smirked. “Get it going – we haven’t got all night”.

Gingerly I took the stem and it stirred again. I looked at the nakedness of her flesh as she stood over me. I lay down on the floor on my back and she stepped over me so that she stood over my face. I could see up her thighs and her cunt and then her belly and firm tits with her striking brown nipples.

“Just think of what you would do with me if I let you. Would you fuck me hard? Would you lick my arse hole if I ordered you to?”

My cock hardened and enabled me to get into regular motion, working the foreskin and caressing my cock-head. I didn’t understand what was happening but decided I might as well make the most of it.

It was hard now and very upright. She lowered her legs and herself closer to my face so that her labia lips almost brushed my own lips. I groaned and stroked hard, and harder.

“Let me see how much you’re going to cum for me. Are you going to cum a lot?”

“Oh yes”, I groaned, “yes”.

I felt a tight knot in my scrotum that I urgently wanted to unwind. My fingers enveloped my knob and really worked the head hard with my thumb and fingers. The cock-head was moist with pre-cum.

I wanted to show her my cum, wanted to show her what I would do with her. My eyes focussed on the freckles on her thighs and the beautiful curves of young and nubile flesh that intertwined to lead to her labia lips and cunt entrance – and my cum spewed.

In a series of groans and gurgles I unleashed a flow of cum and agonised groans and felt the hot flow trickling over my ball sac and my buttocks. Momentarily the room seemed to spin as I tried hard to focus on her belly and lovely tits.

It was over in a few seconds. She stepped away, went to the bathroom, came back with a few tissues and flung them down on my.

“Get cleaned up and get out. It’s late”.

When the Christmas holidays were over and we entered the line again, Glenda told me about it. She and the girls had got together, forked out a fixed sum of money between them and had given it to Deirdre to do what she had done.

“Now you’ve satisfied your curiosity – maybe we can get back to normal”, Glenda said.

PHOENIX4613th May 2007

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