Grace had known all morning that something was up with her assistant. Not only had Karen arrived a little early, but when Grace’s lunch break had rolled around, she’d insisted Grace go out to eat for a change, while she stayed and kept the office running.
Despite Karen’s suspicious behavior—not just her uncharacteristic helpfulness, but the odd look she’d had on her face, something Grace had sensed had little to do with gin or pharmaceuticals, but still couldn’t quite figure out the cause of—she had found herself unable to turn down such an offer, and gone on break as soon as things had died down. With her business having seen a busier-than-usual morning, she’d needed to take some time to decompress. Also, she had to admit she was still feeling kind of frazzled after the marathon of a Thanksgiving she, Will, Jack, and Karen had all been through together just a few days previously.
It was now, while walking up the hallway towards Grace Adler Designs, that she started to let herself worry over what she might be about to walk into. Whenever Karen was left in charge for even a little while, there was no telling what the result would be.
The door to the suite was open a crack, so she decided to take a quiet peek before going in. She was prepared for anything… except for what she actually saw.
The phone was unplugged, but, that was just typical. What wasn’t at all typical was the sight of her assistant sitting on top of her desk and unbuttoning her shirt-jacket.
She pulled the lapels apart… to reveal that she had nothing on underneath. No blouse, no bra, nothing. Her breasts practically burst over the lapels. Her nipples were red and hard as rubies, and even bigger than Grace had thought they’d be.
With Karen’s sunglasses off, Grace now recognized the facial expression she had seen earlier that day for what it was. It was the exact same look Karen had had last Thursday, sitting on the couch with her and Will at Jack’s stepdad’s hotel, watching the game, ogling the football players’ asses: a glazed-over, slack-jawed look of pure lust.
Swiveling and wriggling her bombshell body, Karen situated herself so that she lay stretched across the desk. She took hold of her tits, one in each hand, splaying her fingers out across the full mounds, lifting them away from where they rested against her torso, and pumped them hard.
Karen had never made any secret of the fact that she loved her own breasts. She got off on extolling the charms of her “killer rack,” wearing low-cut tops, and seizing every opportunity that came her way for her to squeeze and jiggle them, or flash her cleavage, even if it was only in a joking context.
Such boasting and showing off was more than justified, and Grace had always known it, even though this was the first time she’d actually gotten to see her friend’s bosom completely bared.
If Grace wasn’t stunned already, then she was by what she saw next. Karen sat up, cupped one boob in both hands while dipping her head forward, and darted her tongue out to bring the end of it into contact with the very tip of her round, upturned nipple. It was all Grace could do not to suck in her breath audibly at the jolt this triggered in her clit.
Karen imagined that the dildo she’d had tucked up inside herself ever since Grace had gone out for lunch was Stan’s cock. She clutched it powerfully with her pussy-muscles, and closed her eyes so she could better imagine that the tongue flitting and flicking across her nipple was not her own. It was her favorite fantasy to stroke herself off to: Stan fucking her across her desk, while Grace played with her tits.
Grace was aware that Stan had given his wife permission to seek satisfaction in other people’s beds while he was behind bars. She also knew Karen had rejected this idea, and rather angrily. But in conversations with her friends during the few days since then, Karen had dropped numerous hints regarding her quickly-increasing sexual frustration.
Even on Thanksgiving—the day Stan had made his suggestion—Karen had given it some consideration. While sitting on the couch with her at Will’s mom’s place, Grace had joked about possibly being the one to ease Karen’s tensions, even though Karen had brushed her off, calling her a “big lez.” Could it be that Karen had protested a little too much, a little too quickly? In any case, Grace had been disappointed, and responded with sarcasm to cover it up.
Giving herself up fully now to the rapture of self-love, Karen further manipulated her tit and craned her neck so that she could suck its whole tip into her mouth, until the rim of her areola disappeared between her painted lips.
While Grace kept her appreciative gaze riveted to her, she wondered how long the alluring, sex-starved woman would be able to continue on in her self-imposed state of celibacy. Everyone had a limit, past which their own touch no longer sufficed. Wherever that psychological line lay in Karen’s case, Grace was waiting on the other side of it, holding out hope.
Karen lay down again, sprawling across the desk even more uninhibitedly than before. With quick and astonishingly graceful, almost feline movements, she worked her hip-hugging pencil-skirt up until it was an accordion-crinkle around her lower waist, and her lacy panties down until they were dangling from one of her stocking-clad ankles, where she seemed satisfied with leaving them.
That was when Grace saw it: the flared base of the dildo protruding from Karen’s slit, somehow comical and outrageously arousing at the same time. Karen withdrew it until the head was barely in contact with the opening of her pussy, and before she plunged it right back in all the way to the base, Grace saw that the entire thing was glistening with a thick, sticky coating of female essence.
She massaged the insides of her thighs, but this didn’t last long. In less than a minute, she was pinching each pussy-lip between her thumbs and forefingers and separating them tautly. She rubbed and gently tugged them, purposely avoiding her clit for the moment.
Karen tried to picture them as vividly as she could– her beloved Stan, holding her pussy open and working himself in and out of her depths, and her foxy friend fondling her killer rack the entire time…
Karen’s moans were so soft, Grace doubted she really meant for them to slip past her wine-red lips. She probably wasn’t even aware she was making any noise. Grace had never seen anyone so absorbed in themselves before… and narcissism had never looked so sexy.
Before long, she reached back up to her breasts with one hand. She crossed her stocking-sheathed legs, likely to prevent the dildo from slipping out while she tensed and bucked her hips. The hot-and-bothered vixen rubbed her clit at an absolutely frenzied pace, tweaking her nipples and mouthing something as she did. Grace watched her lips carefully, and was able to make out the word: Stanley… Stanley…
This didn’t bother Grace—in fact, her heart went out to her. She could only imagine what Karen was going through, having a husband in prison and not even knowing how long he was going to be there. She’d always had a feeling that Karen didn’t mean it whenever she made joking references to avoiding sex. Without knowing how, she’d just intuitively sensed that things were better in the marriage bed than Karen let on when talking with friends.
That Karen was fantasizing about him didn’t diminish Grace’s voyeuristic excitement in the least, either. Karen, draped across her desk, in the middle of the day, her business attire shoved aside and hitched up so she could get at her own body, sizzling with sexual energy, simply made for too entrancing a sight.
The sudden O that Karen’s lips formed quite appropriately announced the onset of her climax. Grace still couldn’t believe she was getting to see all this—this was even hotter than that porn movie Karen had starred in years ago!
Karen reveled in an obviously deep, long-lasting orgasm, but was nowhere near ready to stop there. She went for it again and again, alternating between dildo-fucking herself with tight, driving strokes, and clenching her thighs together to hold the dildo in while she delicately circled her clit with her fingertips. The whole while, she never stopped caressing her breasts.
Grace heard the door to one of the offices down the hall open. Startled, and also not wanting to look suspicious, she jumped back from the door to her own suite.
Two guys stepped out into the hall and started talking. When it became clear after a minute that they weren’t going anywhere, Grace made her way to the stairwell.
She hated having been interrupted, but then again, she wasn’t sure how much longer she would’ve been able to bear standing there just watching Karen without doing something about her own horniness anyway.
Down in the first-floor lobby, she made a beeline for the ladies’ room, and was glad to find it empty. She locked herself in the first stall, and undid her jeans…
Karen couldn’t get enough with Stan, and she couldn’t get enough with herself. It wasn’t that sex was unsatisfying. It was the opposite—it was so good, and she just plain loved it so much, that no matter how much she got, she was always happy to have even more.
She thought it was hilarious, the way everybody assumed that she did nothing but drink and get high during her “extended” lunch breaks. So she *did* enjoy her gin and pop her pills, but the truth was, she also went home to get it on, either by herself, or with her husband when he was home. Seducing Stan wasn’t difficult—all she had to do was make a suggestive comment, flash him, or show even the least little bit of leg, and he practically jumped on her. His cock was as gargantuan as the rest of him, and he was such an animal. She missed him so much!
Today, she was feeling extra insatiable. She wasn’t sure if it was the charge she’d gotten out of being watched, or the thrill of now having proof that her sexy boss really did want her. After all, Grace could have barged in and put a stop to her solo fuckfest, or walked away and returned at a later time after she’d finished.
With a pretty good idea of where she would find Grace, she stood up, stuck the dildo into her purse, and readjusted her clothes so she’d be decent enough to step outside the office. Just for the hell of it, she left her panties in a frilly little heap on the floor.
She hoped the feisty redhead had enjoyed the show, and that she wouldn’t wear herself out with her own hand before Karen could get to her.
Grace heard the squeak of hinges and the click of high heels, followed by the sound of Karen’s voice just on the other side of the door to the stall she was in.
“I know you were watching me, Gracie. And I’m pretty sure I know what you’re doing right now—the same thing I was doing five minutes ago. I’m right, aren’t I?”
Grace froze, mortified. If she really wanted to, she could deny it. She could tell Karen she didn’t know what she was talking about. But she said nothing.
“You wanna let me in? There’s no one else around. Have you saved some orgasms for me, honey?”
Very shakily, Grace undid the latch. She didn’t pull her jeans or panties up, instead allowing the door to drift open and Karen to see her just as she was.
Karen grinned, exclaiming, “Good Lord, honey!” And without waiting for any further invitation, she joined her blushing friend inside the stall, locking the door behind her.
“I thought you weren’t going to take Stan up on his offer. You said you were a one-man woman.”
“I am,” Karen confirmed. “Stan is the only *man* I want.”
They had kissed before. But not like this. All they’d shared in the past had been fleeting, closed-mouthed kisses, always either in jest or under really weird, extenuating circumstances. Now, Grace sighed as their tongues slid silkily over and against each other, and there was no need for justifications.
Karen reached down and teased Grace’s clitoris out from under its hood with expert fingers.
“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”
“Yes,” Karen whispered.
They kissed again. With her back against the wall, Grace tensed her thighs, and pressed herself against Karen’s hand. She wanted Karen to kiss her pussy like she was kissing her mouth; she wanted her to make out with it… She wanted to hear Karen talk dirty to her…
Grace broke their kiss, and panted raggedly, “Tell me I’m a whore.”
“Oh, honey, you’re the filthiest whore in this whole city,” Karen purred, and kissed her yet again.
Grace moaned—yes, she was getting close, yes…
She pulled her lips away from Karen’s. They felt waxy, all smeared with Karen’s crimson lipstick. “No. Wait.”
Taken aback by this abrupt one-eighty, Karen stepped away. “No?” Standing with her arms hanging limply at her sides and her lips pouted out dejectedly, she asked, “What’s wrong? Is it Stanley? I have his permission. More than permission, in fact—he wants me to be satisfied.”
“I know. It’s not that.” Grace began pulling up her panties and jeans, and zipping and buttoning up. “I want you—you don’t know how *much* I want you, I swear—but, please, just not here, not like this.” She gestured at their surroundings. “If this is going to happen between us… finally… after how long I’ve been fantasizing about it and believing it would never happen… then I want it to be in a sexier—not to mention more comfortable– setting than this.”
Karen saw her point, and her pout curved back into a smile. She opened the stall door. “Well, then… I’ll see you at my place after work.” She exited the ladies’ room, but not before giving Grace one last kiss—for the time being, anyway—that left her reeling.
Grace stayed right where she was for a very long time, pulling herself together enough to be able to make it through the rest of the workday.